Soliloquy Addams
03 / 2002
Prelude Stuff: Courage isn't mine; he belongs to Muriel!!!
Other elements of this story are inspired by (taken from) music videos by Gorillaz (see http://gorillaz-usa.com) and another band, both of whom I hope would be flattered by appearing here.
"Cult of Music"A small dog yawned, stretched to course blood through dormant muscles, and crawled out of bed. He completed a trip to the bathroom and returned with a glass of ice water to the bedroom he shares with his owner. Idly, he walked to bed via the scenic route, past the window. Clear crisp air, immense star ocean, and tranquil flat horizon greeted his eyes. So did spine-chilling lights in the distance. The little dog climbed into bed.
He had just calmly settled on the blanket with his head on his paws when his sleepy gaze returned to the window. Spine-chilling lights?! He held the chilly, perspiring glass to his forehead and muzzle to wake himself until his skin broke out in puckered goose bumps, and pressed his face against the cool glossy glass. Yes, the land definitely had luminosity that didn't belong in Nowhere. Courage didn't like it one bit.
He quietly exited the house and followed the bright flicker. With no trees or vegetation to obscure perspective, visibility in Nowhere is particularly high, and these signals are on the periphery of that range, making the site of this oddity a few miles off. The dog crossed this distance in no time.
He learned more facts as he got closer to view. To begin with, the creepy radiance came directly from shifting cracks in the earth as if something huge and glowing was about to birth itself. Second, in the midst of all these tremors and ruptures stood a man paralyzed with fear. Courage's first instincts were to jump in and lead him out to safety. But more detailed observation as light's rotation illuminated showed the stranger was actually at ease and unperturbed in the phenomenon. Further flashes revealed he dressed in all black, not like an "MIB" suit but like a goth or punk. Courage could not see a face at all.
Courage did, however, gather further particulars as he approached the limits of what he considered to be a safe zone. When the stranger moved, Courage could make out a guitar silhouetted in his hands. Once he recognized the object, he tuned in to a song he hadn't noticed before amidst the noises of shifting earth.
The song changed. From the notes Courage could tell a verse would begin if there were singing. As a new line started the ground did a new performance as well. Objects burst from the dusty soil. Tombstones! Courage screamed in fear, yet went unheard in the snapping, thundering, and crashing of unholy creation. Whenever there was a light or a fissure, a cross- or half-oval-shaped grave-marker erupted, until he faced a fresh yet aged cemetery. Just when he had a sense of that phase being over, shapes like teeth from a jawbone popped up beside him, and the canine ran away before the graveyard closed in around him. Above the crackling matter, his galloping heart and panicky thoughts, a tiny objective witness within himself noted a new unpredicted sound, so he peeked back as he ran.
Outlined in hair-raising light, something the size of a house climbed out of the earth. Courage raced home.
Courage lied awake most of the night and didn't rest his mind either until the sun rose and his family got up. Neither the apparition-like human nor the enormous monster attacked the farm, and he was grateful. Night was over, and only then did he dare peep in the direction of the anomaly. He responded to his family's conversation as best he could, but privately wished them out of the room - just this once. He took a deep breath for composure and looked out the window.
He beheld in the distance a building like a barn with a sign and fence. In sunlight it looked innocent enough but that didn't compare to the nefarious sheen from below. The violet pooch took binoculars from his invisible pocket and used them to face the intruder.
The building resembled an old church with a steeple and cross on top, appearing antiquated though it was built yesterday. Built? Nay, disgorged from the abyss. Widely spaced small stakes made a low, sparse picket fence and claimed a yard. The front half was bare like the rest of Nowhere; the back section was indeed a cemetery. Of the furtive weirdo, there was no sign.
"Booga booga booga!"
"Ooooow!" The dog leapt to the air and gripped the ceiling with the thick blunt claws on his feet before losing his grip and falling on Eustace and his mask, knocking him goofy.
"For peace's sake, ye aren't teasing the dog again, are you, Eustace?" Muriel asked crossly. She received no answer from the stunned man with yellow stars, blue moons, green clovers and purple horseshoes bursting before his eyes, so she climbed the stairs to investigate. She could readily read between the lines of the scene she found so she smacked her husband.
That revived him. "Ow. What'd I do?" He knew very well.
Courage followed her. He tried to tell her something unnatural happened last night, but they should be fine as long as they aren't near the abnormalities. "A blubblub bla blabluba blubblub blub blaba."
The old woman regarded him. "We'll play later, I promise."
The dog went with the flow. It amounted to the same thing, and there was no real reason for his owner to worry. They each passed the morning with the usual activities.
Courage had nothing to be alarmed about until Muriel informed Eustace she required additional items for her craft project. Since he refused to let anyone handle the truck but him, he agreed to take her into town. Intuition told Courage to shadow them. He approached Muriel. "Can I come with you?" came out "Ubbubla" in dog.
She surveyed him. "Do ye want a ride with me?" He nodded. "Hop in." The family left the house, and she held open the cab door and let him inside.
Eustace asked what the dang dog is doing here but Muriel gaily replied, "We all could do with a change of scenery and a bit of fresh air." Courage did his best to placate, and Eustace didn't say another word about minding his presence.
The farmer started the engine and put the truck into drive. They rolled off their homestead and onto the unpaved road. As they passed the oddity, Courage got a good eyeful. One thing he hadn't seen from his earlier vantage was the sign. It read, simply, "salvation." What could that mean? Just as Muriel announced, "Eustace, we have new neighbors," danger started.
A curve appeared, forming into a gray disk that rose from the land and approached them. A flying saucer?! Courage yelped and tore out chunks of fur from the top of his head. "Calm down," Muriel implored. "You've been on rides before." The two humans faced front watching the road and didn't see as Courage did, witnessing in slow motion through the rear window. Laser shots fired from a ray gun mounted on the disk's lower axis. They zapped the ground just behind their vehicle. The guardian could only helplessly watch the terrible machine overtake them. The next laser swipe singed a long crater in the road directly in front of the truck. Its wheels bounced in the groove of gouged earth causing the old man to swear. "Dang potholes," Eustace cursed. The dog reasoned, or rather intuited, the craft's guidance system, however it worked, had finally made an accurate assessment of the truck's velocity; the next strike would obliterate. Courage acted quickly. Enveloped in a chrysalis of consciousness, all outside motion ceased as well as all sound, save blood pumping a double pulse every eternal second as he contested with time. He got out colored construction paper and a black magic marker. He began with a square and filled in words, then put the finished product on the windshield in front of the driver. He exhaled clenched breath and prayed.
"Eh? What's that in my face, dog." Eustace glared about, then read the flier. "'Special free giveaway to the first 100 Elected Official Burger customers starting at 12:15.' That's in five minutes." Eustace scowled for not seeing the notice earlier, then grinned. "Free." He stepped on it just as the UFO discharged, causing the laser to slide past them, singeing the bumper.
"Yes!" Courage cheered. He had no idea what he would do about the next shot, or the next. His panicked mind came up with many scenarios more improbable than the one they were already in, such as biting the tires to make the car swerve or digging a tunnel to hide his family underground. Or he could shove the gear into reverse, halting the truck and sending the engine as well as all three passengers flying.
Instantly the UFO stopped in its path. Courage gaped with even more incredulity as it hovered in place while a hungry Eustace sped off. It acted as if the flying saucer could travel so far and no farther, but the dog had no idea why. Or why it had attacked them in the first place. In any case, he took many deep breaths and allowed his adrenaline-ridden body to return to normal.
They stopped in Elected Official Burger for an early lunch; eating out is a rare treat. Eustace slammed open the doors at exactly 12:18 according to his pocket watch and demanded his free meals. The high school boy behind the register didn't know what the irate customer was talking about. The old man surveyed the restaurant. It was pretty full with families, friends, and solitaries, but not packed with a hundred lucky winners. Eustace was on the brink of accepting it anyway when he saw the clock on the wall, 12:28. "Me watch died and the prizewinners came and went already. Stupid dog. Making me miss a free giveaway." Of what the dog had to do with it he had no notion, but he liked the sound of it.
The dog faced the opposite direction and folded his arms. "Blame me as much as you want. We're safe and I don't care." Naturally the man didn't listen to a word of it.
The seniors ordered and sat at a table, leaving the pup to order and carry the food tray. He scanned the menu and came up with an idea. Under the clerk's attention, he made his body a shape of the custom box, pointed at the correct panel of the picture menu, and held up seven fingers for the meal number.
"…and a number seven Subjugation children's meal, cheeseburger. Boy or girl?"
Confused, the dog looked to his family for help comprehending the boy's gist. They were chatting in their seats across the room and couldn't be asked. "What?"
"Girl or boy?"
Courage climbed a ladder that spontaneously popped into existence, to the counter so he could eye the cashier face to face. "What… are… you… talking about?"
The high-schooler pointed to a poster of two sets of toys. "Boys get robots and a tool kit; girls get plush beanie animals and a doll vet."
Courage scratched his head. "What does that have to do with boy or girl? Why didn't you just say 'robot or stuffed animal?'"
The cashier made an exasperated groan. The line behind thickened, and their expressions soured. He tried again. "Which - toy - do you - want?"
Courage would have rather had a stuffed animal, especially if he were lucky enough to get the blue dog or pink squirrel, but he had a really super idea of what to do with the robot set. "I'll take the robot."
The employee gave a very dirty look for taking up all that pointless time for a question so meaningless (according to his mind). He got another employee to throw toy, fries, and cheeseburger into a sack and listlessly plop it on a tray with the Baggs' meals. Courage took the platter and sat at his family's table.
They dug in. Eustace enjoyed his burger because the sizzling fried oil and fat made it extra delicious. Muriel was more extraordinarily happy than usual because she didn't have to cook, clean, or wash anything. The married couple caught up with each other. Instead of talking about day-to-day happenings, they reminisced the many private jokes and stories they accumulated over the years. After that long a time, there isn't much left that needs to be talked about. When they were done, they pitched their garbage and left. Courage pocketed his toy surprise and spared some time to climb the top of the playground fort and ride down the spiral slide. "Whee! Heeheehee." He caught up with his slow folks as they made their way to the truck and took his place on Muriel's lap.
"Did you have a good time, boy?"
"Arururoo." ("Yes. Thank you.") He gave a hug around her neck as she stroked his back.
The next stop was Muriel's craft shop. Eustace parked, and Muriel cracked open her passenger door. "Aren't ye coming?"
Eustace declined. He'd rather sit in the pickup and wait. Courage mentally apologized to his owner and stayed also. As soon as she was in her supply store, he made his move. He opened the wrapper of the toy pack. What luck! This robot came with a miniature plastic screwdriver and wrench. He kept the toy for himself and presented the tiny instruments to the farmer. The man examined the play tools packaged in Elected Official Burger trademarks, and exclaimed in astonishment. "You got me a free prize anyhow. How'd ye know I misplace my old set of micro tools."
Courage blushed. Praise from the set-in-his-ways elder was rarer than a blue moon, planetary alignment, and a supernova explosion.
"Look at me sitting on my duff when I got my own errands ter do." He pulled the keys from the ignition and headed for the hardware store in the same plaza. Courage sat for a minute, then left the pickup and locked the door behind him.
Inside Joan's plenty of sales help and customers were too occupied with each other to notice him, but one patron did a double take. So he put on a loose t-shirt, hat and shades, and if anyone asked he would act like someone's grandkid.
He quickly found his special favored human. Muriel was debating in front of a display of colored wire. She held a few spools in her hands. He removed the clothing to prevent distracting her and approached. She patted him. "Hello, Courage. I've narrowed it down to size according to thickness, but I'm not at all sure about colors. What do you think?" The shelf contained one of every color of the rainbow in two shades - bright and deep bold. Courage didn't know what her creative vision was, but he voted for the yellow that at a glance resembled gold. "Oh. I see what you're trying to do. Without your advice I would have made it colorful instead of fancy. I think I'll do both."
Ultimately, Muriel was happy. "Yes!" he barked. They got in line to pay for the wire. Unfortunately they couldn't get any closer to the register because mobs of customers kept swarming up asking where to find such-and-such, so the cashier couldn't ring up any orders. They would never make progress. So Courage sprinted through every aisle of the store and halted in front of the counter. The witty dog passed out copies of the list he made of the inventory and directed customers himself. Muriel bragged about how proud she was of him.
He walked her to the truck; Eustace was already waiting. After they climbed into the pickup, the farmer proudly showed of his heirloom pocket watch from his Pa. "New battery," he beamed. "Installed it meself and saved a few dollars, thanks to my new micro tool kit. His eyes had a twinkle rarely shown except when everything's going just right. "Saving money with a tool I got for free!"
"Isn't that clever," Muriel replied. She wasn't happy for the money or thrift; she was happy for him. Courage was as pleased as could be his gift came in so handy and had such a good effect. He had done something good for both his family members today.
The pickup rumbled into action. A thought balloon popped into up over the dog's head, with a vapor trail of smaller bubbles connecting to his cranium. In it, chibi copies of him and the Baggs rode back along the same road as earlier, and blew up into a charred profile. As the chibi trio sat there with only eyes showing in the burn, the balloon popped. He needed a plan.
For starters, they could return home using a different route. The UFO thingy had activated on their local road as they passed the new unnatural building between their farm and the turnoff towards town. They had a chance, if they could circle around the deadly trap and approached their street from the opposite side. He would find a way.
Courage paid attention to signs as they whizzed by. One pointed "Interstate ahead." The freeway, of course! But how would he make the turn without attacking Eustace for control of the wheel? Everyone knows the same trick - or solution - doesn't work twice. He pondered, and snapped his fingers. "Got it!"
He whistled an aimless tune. He rolled his eyes skyward, at the seat, anywhere but at the radio. When he didn't think anyone was looking he stretched out a paw and turned it on full volume, expecting a blast of noise. Nothing came. Staring straight at it carelessly, he snapped it off, on, and off again. Dead. He hopped off the seat and looked up at the underside from the floor between his folks' feet. Come to think of it, he hadn't heard the radio in some time, and he'd assumed the reason was that the farmer preferred silence. But here he found a loose connection. Hastily he tried to twist it back together, but was zapped. His fur looked moused, gelled, and spiked, with one gigantic skewer as long as his face sticking up like a unicorn at an angle from his forehead. He resolved to endure electrocution and repeated the attempt. Alas, it was too much. Now he had a row of shorter spikes straight up where his bangs would be. He cast his gaze about. Next to him was the bag of Muriel's purchases - more wires, no help there. Eustace had the plastic screwdriver and wrench, which would work since plastic insulates, but Courage didn't know which pocket. But wait-he still had the robot! He examined it for the first time. Its arms ended in rubber clamps instead of hands - perfect! Courage activated a switch on its back that made each clamp close, and he used those to grip the wires and restore function. Time to test his repair. He reached up and twisted the radio on full blast.
And what a shock it was. Eustace and Muriel jumped out of their seats. As the sudden music blared Eustace frantically scrambled to shut it off and bring relief. The pooch climbed over him and nudged the steering wheel clockwise just as the truck neared a curving incline.
The old man's eyes bulged out at the sight of climbing a winding entrance ramp. "How'd we wind up on the freeway?" He scratched his head under his permanent cap. However, it was too late to do anything about their position. "Stupid radio. Break for months and then yer make me do this," he grumbled.
"I think it was the bouncing earlier over those potholes that did it," Muriel chirped.
"And get this. 'Get the cool shoeshine'? What passes for music these days…" he complained.
She put the music back on - at low volume - and tuned in to something old fashioned and good natured, the epitome of Muriel, and hummed along. Courage jumped back on the seat.
This stretch of Nowhere, like most parts, was devoid. Only a handful of vehicles passed them by as they cruised, and they were hot rods moving too fast to glimpse well. Courage relaxed into a state of mellowness during the monotonous journey. Under the circumstances, monotony was good. If this kept up he and Muriel would be safe at home in the rocking chair in no time. His back slumped and his eyelids drooped.
But this ride didn't stay uniform for long. He believed he was looking at a mirage while it was still many miles off. An optical illusion made the thing appear as if someone build a vertical wall on the highway. It must actually be a tall government building or something large right next to the lanes.
As the distance closed Courage's eyes widened. It wasn't a building or optical illusion. Somehow, a wall towered over their path. His body stiffened.
He scanned for the angle where the wall and road met, and could find none. The pavement rose over a hill, intersected smoothly, and then… merged with the wall. What?! The highway became the wall. The highway was the wall. It climbed vertically, flipped backwards, and continued on its way. By some accident, the Interstate was built into a vertical loop.
Courage was bewildered. How do you "accidentally" build a mile high roller coaster loop in a concrete road? They were already beginning to tilt. Even without looking, he could feel himself leaning forward to stay level. What could he do? There was no way off of this! "Ab-blabablubublablululualuba!" he barked. ("Don't you see what's wrong here? Stop!")
"We should come into town more often. I do so enjoy seeing new developments," Muriel sighed. She tried to hold Eustace's hand but he shrugged away with a "Yeargh!"
Hold it a second. Maybe they wouldn't need to do anything. The violet canine pulled out a pad and began calculating a formula. He burned through lead in the algebraic expression. He plugged in the right numbers and drew diagrams. "If the truck is 30 years old its remaining horse power is X and if the height (diameter), radius, circumference of the loop are… And if our present speed is…" He checked the dash. "…45 miles per hour…" He did another calculation. "The answer is 30 degrees!" He had harried the pencil down to a one-inch stub. The bottom of the page contained a circle representing their circuit with a point marked off. "When the incline reaches 30 degrees, two parts horizontal to one part vertical, the truck will lose momentum and backslide."
As he said this, the pickup reached a spot with that precise slant and stopped, unable to proceed. It would never reach the far side of the wall, never be upside down, and never fall off. Its weakness kept it grounded. Eustace made one more effort by flooring it, but the truck made one more surge and then threw in the towel. Inevitably, it skated back down the slope.
Eustace had been doing things for himself and scoffed at hiring outside help his whole life, so he had adapted to being his truck's mechanic and personal confidant. Fighting gravity would burn through tires and going backwards in gear would ruin the engine. So he did the only deed he could - shifted to neutral, faced the rear and steered with one hand. No vehicles passed them from behind, luckily, so they were in no danger of collision. They simply coasted back the way they came and rolled to a stop at the previous exit.
The old woman was the one to break the silence. "We'll have to notify our Representatives and tell them they made a mistake."
Her husband snarled, "You see what happens when people try to improve things? They muck it up. Ignorance."
With nothing else to do, they took the only course left, the exit. Courage pulled out a map. He wasn't well-versed with this part of Nowhere or he wouldn't have sent his family at the bizarre Loop in the first place. Now they were on the state highway which would also take them home the way he wanted to go, avoiding the snare.
He was just double-checking the lines and symbols of the map when the squealing shriek of brakes slammed hard shoved him roughly against the dashboard. Muriel scrambled to scoop him up in her solid arms and rubbed the sore spot on his head where he'd been knocked about; he regained his footing and put pressure on bruised muscles. He cleared his noggin and looked wonderingly at what had frightened or assaulted the driver, but the way his owner was holding him he could see only inside the cab.
Eustace was scared by the second, rather third, interference with his driving that day, but he was more angry at any inconvenience for himself. Meanwhile Muriel marveled. Courage craned his neck and twisted his back, popping a few out-of-place vertebrae, but it was no use. He whined with effort, but Muriel was so astounded she wasn't aware how tightly she had him wrapped up. "Ablablab-a?"
Fortunately Eustace answered his query by throttling the horn in one loud, continuous stream. "Dang moose! Get off the road! Where's me rifle." Courage blanched. The mad senior didn't have a rifle, did he?
"But it's a living creature, Eustace."
"Not for long it ain't."
"You don't know what you're saying. You haven't had a gunrack on your truck since the last one, and that was when you were a young man of forty."
This was the wrong thing to say. "Aaergh! I'll get rid of it with my bare hands."
He opened the truck door, but his wife gripped his right hand tightly. "Don't be foolish. You can't put yourself in danger," she exclaimed. She hesitated thoughtfully. "Courage dear, would ye kindly chase it away?"
"Aru?" He peered into her face with questioning eyes. It was a fact that his owner, as good as she was, didn't always have the best judgment. He was used to perceiving danger before his family, but this took him by surprise. Sheep run from dogs nipping their heels, and he could bluff a few cattle. But a moose? It could be two thousand pounds to his twenty, literally a hundred times heavier. One kick from its hooves could kill wolves by shattering skulls and crushing every bone struck. But he had to go through with it. Who was he to refuse?
Eustace wasn't ready to relent his position, however. "It's my job. I'm not having the stupid dog take all the credit." He resisted his wife's handhold.
"It'll be all better if you're stubborn enough, is that it?" He let go the door handle but pouted with crossed arms. She appealed to his peculiar sensibilities. "You've already done your job today, taking us both to town and back. Courage will pitch in."
Courage wouldn't have minded Eustace going to fight the animal in his place. Some days he wished for a trivial accident that would reduce his energy for heckling and antagonizing. He didn't really desire anything bad to happen, though, and he knew Muriel would be heartbroken at anything more than a mild injury.
At last the old man yielded. Now he switched to gloating. Since it was someone else's job, protecting the way was no longer a duty and privilege he would get to do but a chore the dog would have to do.
Muriel opened her door and set the dog down on the ground. As soon as he stepped past the car, his ears drooped and tail withered. Lips trembled. Knees shook on legs that almost caved in. His eyes shrunk to marbles in their sockets.
The moose was a giant the height of a NASA shuttle and probably weighed 2000 tons, not pounds. In comparison, each hoof was larger than their vehicle.
The purple pooch climbed one of the scraggly trees in a nearby copse to reach a fraction of the moose's stature. One eye, much larger than his whole body, rolled lazily towards him. Otherwise, the beast remained statuesque. "Helloooo," he called energetically. Would it even hear him?
One ear flicked, but that could have been an itch.
A thought bubble fermented from his noggin. In it he scaled the moose itself with mountain climbing equipment until he shouted with cupped paws into one cavernous ear. He lost his balance, slipped headfirst into the ear canal and rattled on down inside the skull. The real Courage gasped and the balloon evaporated. "Ooow, I hope this works, or my name's-" he foresaw an early demise that wouldn't leave enough of his squashed body for an open casket funeral. "-Puddle of Mud."
He inhaled and his chest enlarged, swelling up until it concealed his arms, then legs, then face. When only his stubby paws and little black nose were visible sticking out of the mass, he released as loudly as a megaphone. "If it's not too much trouble, could you kindly step aside and allow my family to pass?"
Every bird within range squawked and made a tornado formation. The twister galloped across the road, scooped up the Baggs' truck, circumnavigated the grove and moose to the distant side where it could resume travel home, and insolently set it unshaken back in its former place blocked by the creature, neatly lined up with its tire tracks. Then the flock zoomed outta there. "Thanks a lot," Courage snapped. The moose's fur ruffled during the impromptu windstorm, but that was it.
Courage frowned. He considered daring the moose to budge - so it would stay put while the Baggs drove between his hut-sized hooves, but couldn't take the chance that it would smush them just for spite. He tried again with yet more lung capacity. "Do you need anything in return? Is there anything I can do for you?" All he got was surliness. With that he took a rope, tied himself to the branch, and meditated in lotus position. His astral body, which looked like his regular one in every way except transparent and more pastel, hovered into the open beyond his limited physical range.
{No one understands me}, materialized a voice. Think the actor for "Trent" in Daria.
Courage checked. Yes, it was whom he wanted to talk to.
{I want more attention and I want people to leave me alone.}
Courage tried to picture a solution for that oxymoron, and could think of none. "Wanna tell me about it?"
In a drawn-out telepathic flash the moose revealed all the dilemmas of its life.
"You have too much drama," Courage observed sympathetically.
{You're telling me. And do you know what else? I want an eyebrow ring and no shop would give me one.}
He could imagine why. It would have to be pierced by a tank's mortar.
{They want me to wait 4 more months to my eighteenth birthday. Four more months! Do you believe it?}
He wanted to stay but could feel his inner resources weakening. "I'm sorry but I have to get back to my body now."
{That's okay. You're a good listener, man. That's all I really needed in the first place.}
Astral Courage fell sideways as if gravity was flipped horizontally until he crashed back into his body. His eyes spun like a carousel. He waved goodbye and gathered up his rope and tucked it inside his pouch. As he did, a metal clunking noise caught his pal's attention. This time the giant was the one who made the effort to be understood, and asked to see it.
He didn't remember putting it in his pocket, but he had been carrying a 30 ft. extra thick, extra wide, super duper load bearing capacity, heavy duty, $3.79 a foot, chain from Home Despot all day.
{Can you do me a favor?} The moose told him a scheme and lowered an antler adjacent to the tree, and Courage tied one end of the chain around its outer point. At a twist of the head, he fastened the other end to a spoke more towards the horn's middle. On the being, the industrial chain resembled a bracelet-sized cable dangling in a loop. The moose tested its balance, swing, and heft. {Thanks, little guy. This jewelry is more radical than a boring piercing anyway. Bye!} And with that the acquaintance trotted off laughing, putting enormous craters in the dusty earth.
He waved, though his pal wasn't looking back to see. His friend hadn't been in Nowhere long, and Courage pictured plenty of people staring at the freaky life form yet being too conservative and afraid to come near. "I guess you can get attention and be left alone after all." He scrambled down the tree and into the cab with his family, more glad than ever to be on the way home.
Muriel squeezed him and patted his head. "Good boy," she told him with all the emotion she could muster. He was.
"What took yer," Eustace spat.
As soon as they arrived (uneventfully) at the farm, Courage briskly walked upstairs to the attic and flicked on the computer. It buzzed to life, hummed monotonously, and paced in screen saver mode. In the meantime, the intelligent dog amused himself with a yoyo. After consecutive attempts, he accomplished a decent Eiffel Tower. He glanced. The PC was still in screensaver. He practiced longer and performed two more stunts. Bored and frustrated, he tapped the space bar experimentally. "Aren't you up and running yet?" he demanded.
"I've been up for several minutes. I was merely waiting for you to say something," it reported insolently.
Courage growled under his breath but put it behind him. This could be tricky…. At the Search prompt he typed church.
"Do you know what you're doing? There are thousands of churches in each state, let alone the world. And that's only literal Christian/Catholic based churches. If you include all places of worship, you have millions upon millions of hits."
Was that supposed to be intimidating? "Find something on a new church in Nowhere," he typed.
"Getting religious now, are we?"
Courage scowled. He should take that as an insult?
"Here we are. Nowhere has several religious houses. The most recent has been in use for one year-"
"No! That isn't the latest."
"But you know how you yokels are. You call a property the old Jones place after they've moved away for twenty years and had another family grow up and bury themselves there.
"I want to learn about the church that was built last night."
"Twerp. If it was built overnight it hardly had the time to put up a web page, now did it? I suggest looking up other branches of the foundation. What is the name?"
He had to admit he did not know. The only sign he'd seen was "salvation."
"The results are several inconclusive or indefinite matches. Do you have anything else?"
Courage thought about it and entered what he really wanted to know.
"UFO + church. You think there might be a connection between a church involved with UFOs? How could you ask such a thing?"
Now Courage was peeved. "I'm still smart! Being smart means figuring things out, not automatically knowing every fact in the universe in advance."
"Loading," it chimed. "And here I thought everyone knew what UFOs had to do with churches. It's SOOO obvious and common knowledge, much like how cultured the civilization of rats is."
"Huh?"
"Church of the Divine Extra-Terrestrial Elvis has worshiped Elvis, the King of Rock and Roll, since his appearance on Earth and to this day has multitudes of fans throughout the country and world. According to their doctrines, he came from outer space; his music is the best of all time; and he returned to outer space at the end of his earthly life. Hence the flying saucers. They are a symbol to remind followers and also demonstrate to outsiders the glory and mystique of the establishment." It created a presentation interspersed with photos.
"That doesn't tell me everything," he thought. "I'd rather ask Jeeves or Lycos - she was such a cute Lab in commercials – but… here goes." He typed, "When would Elvis' flying saucers attack?"
"When members turn aside from the flock. Former believers who recant - ooh, they hate that," it purred.
"But we didn't do that. We never belonged. We were just driving past when it happened."
He hadn't typed it, but the computer ignored such a technicality when it chose. "You can't do your own analysis? Very well, I'll do it for you…. Uh oh." These two words took up most of the greenish screen. "In the loosest sense of the phrase, I suppose driving away when you could have gone inside equates with turning away or turning your back. Either they're obsessively dedicated to scaring up a congregation or the program is unbalanced and hadn't been adjusted yet, as new as it is."
"I'd like to give it a good tweak," Courage muttered.
"Did you get it? 'Scare' up a congregation?" No answer. Though his only companion was a dense caninis familiaris, it did desire attention. "Do you want to hear more about the Divine Extra-Terrestrial Elvis?"
"No, I have just one more question. How do the flying saucers know their good members from goon nonmembers?"
"Why, the baptismal seal, of course."
Downstairs, Muriel accosted him. "Courage? Where are you going? You'll miss dinner, and it's lemon butter pepper fish and rice pilaf. I made it special."
Courage cringed. How could he sit and eat at a time like this? He had to get moving! But he reconsidered. His family would be safe until morning at least, assuming they wouldn't go anywhere. Besides, he couldn't disappoint Muriel. That decided it. He took his place at the table.
The atmosphere of the house was subdued and restful. The day's events left Eustace more surly than usual but too exhausted to do more than grumble, so the setting was normal in that respect. Muriel's naturally cheerful demeanor was even more upbeat because her project would go splendidly with her additional materials and she had had a lovely afternoon shopping. She absorbed the good inside her and didn't let the bad sink in at all.
Eustace grouched, "Why couldn't I have meat and potatoes like normal folks without all this health food nonsense?"
Courage smacked his own forehead with a paw at the man's lack of appreciation. It was totally irrational to want to hurt Muriel's feelings especially after what she does. He hadn't let her down by making her meal less than a hit, and neither would her husband; Courage knew he could get Eustace to eat. Taking a huge bite himself and showing how much he genuinely liked it works when the farmer is halfway interested, but this time it would only prove he's just a weirdo dog who likes health food. So Courage would do the opposite and pretend to refuse it by pushing his plate back, prompting Eustace to shake his fist in the air. "Stupid dog. Ain't ya got any gratitude? Eat what's in front of yer, and like it." And Eustace would follow through to prove himself right.
But this time Muriel stepped in first. She told Eustace to take a bite and if he still wasn't happy, she'd take it away and make a meatloaf. He called her bluff and scooped up a mouthful. His whole sulky face changed to enchantment.
"Do you still want me to take it back?"
Eustace made the sputtering noise for when he's trying to avoid admitting someone besides him can be right. "No, rather you not do that… kinda tasty when you get down to it," he mumbled.
"Glad to hear it meets with your approval. It has a secret ingredient, you know."
Courage wanted to congratulate his owner, but he knew she would just ask "About what, dear?" She has manipulated Eustace, but only on rare occasions. She's straightforward and sincere, which is one of the many things he loves about her. Her offer to prepare a new meal wasn't a bluff; she meant it.
The valiant pet enjoyed dinner very much. Then he got ready for his mission.
No lights streamed up from the ground this time; only the neon sign lit the way. He took a flashlight just in case and left without anyone seeing him. The sun was creeping towards the purely flat horizon, and a gradient of dusk was tinting the landscape. Full night was still a ways off and for now light was stretched thin but present. Objects were visible but grainy, with indistinct borders. Nothing cast a shadow on the dim ground. The violet dog hurried before it got darker.
Courage walked directly towards the church and reached it safely. The same strange man was in the fenced-in land in front of the cathedral, standing with his legs spread and his arms embracing a sleek guitar, leaning his whole body and pouring his soul into the music coming forth. Courage took the opportunity to scrutinize him at length.
Hard boots of glossy black leather up to his knees, corseted with straps and buckles. Long black jeans secured with a heavy, studded, black leather belt. Black shirt under shiny black leather jacket. Gargantuan tangle of curly black hair covering and shrouding his face and head. Topped off by a black top hat. The music was throat-catchingly beautiful, levitatingly eerie, and comfortingly familiar all at once. The man played with utter passion and unselfconscious abandon. Courage liked the tune, but not him.
The hero left his hiding place behind a fence post and scurried around to the rear side of the yard. A wide tract sprinkled with grave markers waited between him and the back entrance. Only Courage's curved nose poked through the fence as he surveyed the terrain. He'd seen with his own eyes the tombstones pop out of the soil along with the rest of the church grounds. What else could emerge from the void should he set foot on taboo property? Would one miscolored hand break forth, then a platoon of arms all clutching for him, preceding an legion of surrounding, closing-in ghouls? Still, he would take the risk of likely threats over the definite presence of the Weird Musician out front.
"There's only one thing to do. And I won't like it," Courage sighed. He slipped his small body between the widely spaced posts and put one paw on the ground inside the church zone. Hesitantly, he took a few more paces away from the divider. Nothing stirred. With that he trotted inside.
The interior was less scary than he supposed, which didn't really take the edge off. Inside he found pews, walls, and floors of a uniform sturdy wood construction that appeared to have been built a century ago, though he knew better. The seats all faced one small dais at the head where a pulpit should be. Low-key sound, all rhythmic bass, came from somewhere. Conspicuously absent was a tub or ceremonial bowl, in addition to holy water of any kind. He searched around some more, and found and a pamphlet proclaiming the Creed. "We believe music expresses every emotion experienced in humanity. We believe songs describe every situation and circumstance of the human condition. We believe in the supreme band, Guns N Roses, the best of all groups, and its lead singer Axl Rose. We observe their work and we guide our lives by their inspiration."
"So it's not Elvis; it's for Guns N Roses," he mused aloud. "But none of this helps me get baptized."
A noise, enormously loud in the bleak chamber, snapped his tension-sharpened senses. Boots. On. Floor. Courage dived under a pew.
He lied alert and trembling, ready to bolt away on all fours. If he could, he would keep himself away from the Weird Musician's view by crawling from pew to pew. But the echoes were confusing, and it turns out the Strange Musician naturally steps in time to the beat, so Courage couldn't judge his huntsman's location. Until the man sat on the bench behind him, that is. "Hello, little doggie."
"Oooooow!" Courage screamed and shot upwards, overturning his bench with a heavy clatter. Once he landed on the floor he cowered on the other side and peeked above it.
Weird Musician sat facing him (as far as Courage could tell with all that hair). His body language was far from menacing - slouched forward with elbows on thighs in relaxed muscularity. "Church of Holy Axl Rose welcomes visitors. You may take a seat." He knocked on the wood on which he was situated. "I'd like to tell you more about us."
If he tried anything, Courage would see it coming. Besides, this is what he was looking for - learning how to get baptized so he can be rid of the UFOs. Besides, the church is supposed to attack heretical outsiders and not its own members, right? Warily, Courage climbed to the pew - the far end.
"I see you have our creed," the Strange Musician spoke in a voice like a rock tumbler. "So you know we honor Guns N Roses as the finest creator of life's music. I alone cannot convince you, so witness firsthand the majesty and sensitivity of Axl Rose." He withdrew a remote control from a pocket in his jacket and clicked a button. A panel of the wall by the dais slid aside to uncover a huge screen and an entertainment center. Within a minute the background music silenced and a video played.
"Hey, that's the same song you played outside," Courage thought to himself. "And that IS you!" The Weird Musician was in the video. A young man and woman met, fell in love, and wed. The curly-haired man in black presented the dainty ring on the tip of his pinky finger after pretending to lose it. The dog made a low howl in admiration for the poignant couple as they kissed passionately. The newlyweds exited to begin their official life together¼ only to lose each other by her death seemingly that same day. Her traditionally flung bouquet transitioned from one shade to another in midair then landed on her coffin. Her groom attends her funeral with the reciprocal emotions of the same magnitude as earlier. At the end of it all, he sits forlornly in the rain while the bouquet gracing her casket returned to its earlier hue, symbolizing the persistence of her love.
At the end of the 12-minute film, Courage had tears in his eyes and streaming down his fur. He was also sitting close beside the performer, who offered a handkerchief to tend himself with.
This man was the first to speak, as Courage was too choked up. "I can tell November Rain moved you very much. Is your life also touched by someone special? Do you wish it to be?"
Courage poured his heart out in his own language, telling how every part of the cinematic music video made him feel, then saying he already has a loved one who had changed his life forever. With a poof he transformed to a purple-tinted image of the saintly woman to show his new confidant. "Ablubblubbla blabbluba." ("Muriel means the world to me. She's always in danger too, and I don't know what would happen if I ever lost her.")
The clergyman understood all that. "She sounds exceptional."
"Oh she is!"
"If this woman likes music, bring her here as well. You can come partake of the words and notes of GNR as often as you want," he intoned.
That reminded Courage of his business. "Ablaba bla." ("Can I get baptized? It's not too early, is it?")
The cleric patted him on the back. "No, you sound pretty sure. Get ready by selecting your own personal song." And he offered a hymn book.
Courage opened the cover. It was actually a CD-holder-book filled with disks and booklets without the jewel cases. The back held space for the collection of music videos on VHS. The man's picture was in the booklets as well as the film covers. "Who are you?" Courage asked.
"My name is Slash; I am now Reverend Slash."
He flipped through lyric sheets until he found a perfect theme song. "A blubbla." He showed the reverend.
"Ah, a fine choice. Follow me." He walked to the entertainment center carrying his guitar with him, inserted the disk and held his instrument in position. "Do you…" Reverend Slash queried every statement of the GNR Creed, and Courage responded by reading off the card with conviction. When the oath was completed, the musician manipulated the controls of the CD. He advised his new devotee to sing or otherwise enjoy himself, and then the first beats played. Reverend Slash performed his part on guitar live.
The music, the theme, and the emotions uplifted him. Courage felt like he was flying or skydiving as he belted out the lyrics as if they were meant just for him. Finding the music that suited his life made him elevated. Between verses, he took a peek. "OooOOow." Reverend Slash was several feet below him on the floor, whereas Courage was …in the air. The guitarist played on. During a particularly stirring riff the dog bobbed up almost to the ceiling. "So that's how he did it, the creation and everything," he thought. Then it was time to continue singing, and he was no longer inquisitive but elated.
Courage did not rue the song's finish. Only a small part wanted to keep singing and floating forever; the rest perceived the perfection and completeness. A wooden pew settled beneath him. He opened his eyes. Not only his mind but body as well felt so good, restored like the way one is cleaned out and empty after a long cry. Reverend Slash sat on the stage. Courage hopped off the bench and gave him a hug. Slash hugged right back.
Courage spoke first. "Thank you, Slash. It's getting late and I have to get back to my family."
"Go with music in your heart."
"But first, can I have something to bring back with me?"
Reverend Slash pulled out a copy of the CD songbook. A cash register sound came from thin air. Courage wasn't ready for a complete collection just yet; he would savor Guns N Roses one piece at a time. "I was thinking more like--"
From behind his back the musician pulled out the score to Courage's song.
"Yes! You really do understand me."
"You're welcome back anytime day or especially night, Courage. I like you. And I am always... here."
The dog thanked him again, but wasn't satisfied with taking off after all the performer had done for him. So he took out object after object from his pocket (a ball of mulberry yarn, more iron Home Despot stuff, and a pair of hot pink fuzzy dice) until he found his coin jar of all the loose change he had saved from the furniture and on the floor. He placed it in the reverend's hand and went on his way.
He trotted home happily, still singing his song. "This 'music in your heart' really works," he interrupted, and continued all the way to the house. He put the lyric sheet on Muriel's citar so he would show it to her when they woke up. As a precaution he also hid the keys in case Eustace by chance wanted to drive anywhere in the morning. Thoroughly placid, he curled up to sleep at Muriel's feet.
The mattress shifted and roused Courage. Muriel was up! He licked her hand. "Good morning!" he barked.
"Good morning, dear. Take it easy, you," she said fondly. Courage sat like a good dog and patiently observed her begin her routine. He thought about the citar and, aaaah, Guns N Roses, but figured he should wait while Muriel takes her morning shower, dresses herself, and fixes and eats breakfast. She wouldn't want to do anything else until then anyway.
Eustace got up and got dressed too. As soon as he did, Courage went to the kitchen and brewed coffee. By the time the man came to the table with the morning paper Courage put a mug in his hand. Eustace grunted and began reading in his own mobile cave. The dog smiled. Eustace didn't thank him or show appreciation, but then he never would. He does complain as soon as anything bothers him, so silence is a token of contentment.
Muriel entered, wearing her usual dress, apron, and combat boots. :) Her hair smelled like blueberries from the shampoo. "Ooh. You made your own coffee this morning. You're such a help around the house." Each of the males mumbled and took credit in his own unintelligible language. She got started right away preparing breakfast; today it was farina. It seemed like only seconds before Muriel served up bowls on the place settings. She stirred in a spoonful of honey; Eustace loaded on butter. Exultation and nervousness tore Courage. Can he convince his family to save themselves? Then again, he's OK; they're in no danger right now; and he gets to visit Slash later. Yay! He scooped on brown sugar and dug in.
Muriel quickly took care of the dishes -- Courage struggled with patience. Finally chores were over, and Muriel was free to do as she wished like some members (Eustace!) of the household did all the time. Courage ran over to her instrument.
Instead, Muriel retrieved her craft kit and sat on her rocker in the living room. From the citar leaning against the wall, Courage whined up at her. "You don't need to be afraid of my new tools. They're just for making jewelry," she admonished, and held out a plier to show how harmless it was. Courage picked up the citar and yowled hopefully. "Maybe later. I want to put together few charms first," Muriel answered. He sighed and put the citar away. He might as well lie down on the rug next to her and watch her create. She twisted the metal and shaped it, and after a time she proudly displayed the first ornament.
"A Japanese character?" Courage wondered.
"Look at this. It's an 'M'."
He squinted. "Yeah, now I see it."
"If I make two more letters, I can have a monogram. Or I can do five more and have a nameplate. I think that's what I'll do." Through pondering, the lady made a second charm and was about to show it to her pet when her spouse clomped down the stairs.
"Fergot a part for the ...(incoherent mumble). Need to go to the hardware store again."
The dog shrieked. He waved his arms at Eustace and transformed into a hovering flying saucer shooting out ray beams. Eustace stared down at him, then kicked him aside with one flat shoe. Courage barely noticed. "Ablaba!" He transformed into the farmer's truck on fire and exploding. He shoved him once more, with extra emphasis this time. The family's protector raised his paws to his cheeks and bayed in fear.
But the truck keys were missing from their hook. The old man ranted and blamed everything in sight but that didn't put his keys in his hand. "What am I supposed to do, walk?"
Muriel slipped her materials into her kit and closed it with a snap. "That's a grand idea; it's such a lovely day. I'll join you too."
Eustace sputtered and tried to retract his phrasing. But it was too late. Muriel hooked her plump arm around his skin and bone bicep, and she had her large purse anchored over her other shoulder. He growled in bewilderment but yielded. Courage walked along on Muriel's other side.
The trio strolled peacefully, but the Holy Axl Rose Church loomed closer with each step. Courage spoke and tugged Muriel's shirt. "There's no need to hurry," she rebuked. He pulled out a flashing arrow pointing at the route. "Maybe on the way back." He transmuted into his best impression of the minister, which came out Chibi Slash, though he knew the real man was much more impressive. It didn't work. Any minute, the couple would pass the driveway, triggering the UFO to fly from its resting point and storm the heretics, zapping bolts of energy at his helpless family on foot. The pet whimpered. Then Courage did the only thing he could think of.
What came out of his mouth sounded like neither his usual canine babbling nor articulate verse but instrumental strains. Muriel stopped in her tracks. Because she gripped Eustace, he could proceed only two feet further as long as he was attached. "What a clever dog you are. How did you learn that fine trick?" Courage paused and pointed down the path. At that moment, the still air of level Nowhere messengered the guitar stirrings of the Weird Musician. From inside the building he was performing Courage's song instead of his usual. Muriel listened to it faintly. "It's intruiging," she breathed. "Do ye hear that, Eustace?"
"Argh," he countered. His feet ambled on but he couldn't get anywhere.
"I changed my mind. Let's go see the new attraction right away, and then complete our shopping list."
"I. Don't. Wanna," the old grump pouted.
"Oh, Eustace, try it once and if you don't like it, you never have to go again."
"But if I don't go this time, I'll never have to go at all," he pointed out rationally, but it was no use. Muriel lovingly dragged him. She hummed along; Eustace silently folded his arms and let himself be pulled while his stiff heels plowed grooves in the path. Courage bounced with trepidation behind them, praying nothing would go wrong at the eleventh hour, forty-fifth minute. All three entered the gated area and marched inside the building.
Inside, Slash continued to play but did so at a volume that would permit speaking and not explode human skulls. He nodded to Courage, who made chopping motions across his throat. It turned out to be unnecessary; Slash knew better than to greet him which would expose in front of his family his being out after dark. "You must be the Baggs, my neighbors."
"How do you do," Muriel uttered.
Reverend Slash gave them a better tour and introduction than Courage had. At the end Muriel said, "You're a nice boy. How old are you? Because I have a granddaughter who would like you. She's had a bit of a hard time of it since her boyfriend left her."
He politely demurred. "Thank you for consideration, ma'am, but I'm older than I look," said the talking blob of hair.
Next he played November Rain as he did before. By the ending Eustace and Muriel were as close to each other as they could get without him sitting in her lap. He was actually holding her hand too! Courage was astonished. The Weird Musician offered a hanky to both. Muriel took hers and unabashedly blew her nose between wails and tears. Eustace knocked Slash's hand aside but couldn't conceal his tears completely. "I'm allergic to yer cheap wood! ...and the sawdust! Yer workmanship is shoddy!" he hollered with a betraying cracked voice.
Reverend Slash directed them to the GNR Creed and the ultimate songbook. "Would you like to select a favorite?" At first Eustace interfered and Courage gasped, but with a little help the argument was resolved. "All services are donation only."
"Meaning free. Go on, lamb chops."
Muriel chose Don't Cry Tonight and floated to the center of the room as Courage had. He stared vicariously, as her joy was contageous. "I haven't been this giddy in years," she exclaimed.
Her baptism was complete, which left only Eustace. "This racket gives me a headache," he insulted audaciously.
"Meep!" Courage experienced fleeting fear. The old man would refuse to get baptized then get cremated alive. Everything was too close to being solved to let that come to pass. Since he felt close enough to Slash, he exhibited the question he hadn't last night, "Can you reprogram the UFOs to be more picky when they attack?"
The musician looked alarmed. "That was you? I'm sorry, Courage, but that is in the hands of the higher-ups. I'd have to go to the Bishop for that."
Which wouldn't help right now. He didn't want to hear about the Bishop anyway, whoever that might be. What he needed to do was... He snapped his fingers. He picked out a song and whispered instructions to the reverend. Slash unplugged his guitar and plucked the taut wires without electronic assistance and generated the notes to Live and Let Die, unplugged. Eustace fell in awe instantly. "Why didn't you say yer had decent tunes here." He agreed to recite the creed. The old man too had his own heavenly float and completed the ceremony. Muriel was happy for him, that they could share something together.
And the UFO from the Church of Holy Axl Rose would distress them no more.
One day, later...
Muriel peered down at her pet lounging on the rug. "Do you want to visit our neighbor today?"
"Mm-hmm," he happily nodded.
She brought a few things and the duo strolled the short span. Their friend greeted them from the shadows in the doorway and Muriel presented him with a gift: a necklace of a handmade monogram, GNR. He accepted it cordially.
"I've been practicing the sheet I took home. Let's see who can match this," she declared, and strapped on her citar. Slash selected one special guitar for the occasion. And the two played a lovely duet to Paradise City.
Courage held up a sign scrawled in permanent marker: END
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Soliloquy: Phew! That took a lot. Been working on that one since December, and here it's March. For 10,000 words you better believe it. And I thought it would be 4-5 pages, not 16!!! That's what you get when you pay attention to detail.
Anyway, those of you who are still here, you listened to me for so long; now it's your turn to share your mind. Well?
(At least tell me you read it!!!!!)