Dominic Clancy carefully leaned the eight of hearts next to the three of diamonds.
“That’s not going to stay up,” April Alice Apple told him.
“It will,” the Paragon of Power replied from his seat at the Lair Legion Living Room table, “Why are you here, April?”
The woman laughed, “I’m not April. I’m Hallie.”
Dominic stacked the ten of clubs atop to the Jack of diamonds. Not bothering to look up and check, he said, “No, you’re not. Hallie is green.”
“How would you know? You see everything in black and white.”
“Huh,” Dominic noticed the zaftig young woman in the angora sweater did appear monochromatic in hue, “Curiouser and curiouser,” he said to Alice.
“Hallie,” April corrected, perching a shapely haunch on the edge of the table, “Does Kat know you’re playing cards?”
“Kat is at work weaving babies.”
Again the young woman laughed, causing the counter and its contents to quiver slightly, “You don’t make babies that way, silly.”
“Don’t move the table!” The Man of Might held his hands around his house of cards in a futile gesture to keep the construct from falling.
“Oops. Sorry. Give me ten lashes with a limp noodle,” April/Hallie cooed. She picked up one of the cards, the Queen of hearts, and the color of the suit flooded into her own body. Her hair was now a vibrant red, her cheeks ruddy from her previous humor.
“I can’t make babies at all,” Dominic confessed, “Defective parts. But that’s the government for you.”
The young woman pouted with moist, ruby lips, “Poor Kat. Always a bridesmaid; never a bride.”
"Yeah, she deserves better," The Exemplary Man nodded and went about shuffling his deck, “I suppose you and Visionary will be getting married now, and be one big family?”
“Not for a while, yet. I want a white wedding, not prison gray.”
“Oh, yeah,” Dominic bowed his head, “Sorry about the Virtual internment.”
“It won’t be so bad,” the woman petted the big man’s scalp consolingly, “Hallie’s writing a program for an ‘All You Can Eat’ omelet bar with all the fixin’s.”
“Wait, aren’t you Hallie?”
“I told you, I’m April, see?” the young woman performed a little twirl, her pleated skirt rising from the centrifugal force.
“Yeah, but, wait,” The Star Spangled Splendor was confused. He wished Glory was home. She always helped him fill in the gaps of his memories.
“Glory’s not here,” the woman noted as she bounced into the big man’s lap, “She’s off being butchered by the Parody Master.”
“I really hate that guy,” Dominic groused as he made yet another attempt to stack his cards.
“That’s not going to work. You need spit to keep them up.”
The Man of Might gestured to the bowl of snacks by his side, “I can’t spit. These pretzels… are making me THIRSTY.”
April/Hallie took Dominic’s thick, knotted wrist and guided up to her mouth. She sucked on his fore and middle finger for several moments before returning them to his custody.
“That’ll work,” he admitted with a gasp.
“Oh, Mr. Epitome, are you ready to give me teh sexxor?” The girl fervently cried as she mashed Dominic’s face up against her impressive bosom.
Caught in this embrace Dominic Clancy made a desperate pat down of his shoulder and belt pouches, “I can’t, I seem to have misplaced, where’s my permission slip?!”
And that’s when he woke up in his bed, his mattress riven with great gouges formed by his clenched fingers. He watched as several springs launched themselves around the room with a boisterous boing.
“Oh. Hell,” he muttered, realizing his problems were continuing to manifest in ways he could not control.
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