The astonished people of the world gaped at their TV sets. On the screen Bionic Bunny, defender of truth, justice, and multilateralism, stood at a podium surrounded by an army of reporters, camera operators, and anxious fans. A man in the crowd held up a sign saying, 'Thanks for saving my daughter,' while a nearby woman waved her own sign, 'You're so cute!'. Newsman Wolf Blitzen held up a microphone to the superhero's mouth, and he began to speak:

"Ladies and gentlemen, members of the press, in the face of recent events I have decided that the time for secrecy has passed, and the time has arrived to reveal to the world…my secret identity!"

A collective gasp rose up from the entire planet as Bionic Bunny grabbed himself by the ears, yanked off what turned out to be a mask, and appeared in his true guise, that of…

"Pokey!" exclaimed Francine, bolting upright in her bed. The newscast had been a dream, but the pounding in her head was terribly real. Even the small amount of sunlight that streamed through the blinds felt like daggers through her eyes. I'll sleep it off, she resolved, and pulled the quilt over her as she lay down.

Morning came far too quickly. "Wakey wakey, Frankie," said her mother, whose head and wet, straggly hair was peering at her through the doorway.

"Uuurrghhh," moaned the girl. "My head…"

"What's wrong?" her mother asked with concern. "Headache?"

"Better call the circus," said Francine, her face half-visible under the quilt. "I think an elephant just sat on my head."

"Oh, honey," said Mrs. Frensky. As she gently rubbed her daughter's scalp, a raised, soft area came to her attention. When she applied pressure to it, Francine yelped with pain.

"That's one scary lump," the monkey woman remarked. "You banged your head, didn't you? When? How?"

"Um…uh…I don't remember," Francine lied. "I think I've got amnesia. Who are you? What's my name? Am I a girl?"

While the other children were preparing for a day of school, Francine was buckled into her father's garbage truck, en route to the nearest hospital. "Amnesia's a serious condition," said Mr. Frensky to his daughter, who had hastily changed into her usual red blouse and jeans. "It has to be dealt with right away. Fortunately, they've come up with a new, non-invasive treatment."

"What's that?" the girl asked.

"I don't know exactly," replied the sanitation worker, "except that it involves leeches."

"Ewww," said Francine. "If I were Muffy, I'd be losing my breakfast about now."

"So you don't have amnesia," said Mr. Frensky triumphantly. "You remember who Muffy is."

"I do too have amnesia," said Francine determinedly. "It's the kind of amnesia where I remember some things, and forget others. I think it's called selective amnesia."

Her father only harrumphed.

"Okay," she said with resignation. "I'll tell you all about what happened last night, but when we get home, I want to call Pokey. Promise you'll let me call Pokey."

"Okay," said Mr. Frensky, "though I'm not so sure Pokey wants to talk to you."

It didn't take long for one of the doctors to see Francine, but in the few minutes afforded her, she idly perused a copy of the Elwood Daily Scoop that someone had left behind in the hospital's waiting room. There was a feature on the inadequacy of the city's arts budget, another about a strange-looking alien girl from the planet Kressida, and an extensive listing of local cultural events appealing to various lifestyles. Near the back there were personal ads, which she found quite amusing:

"SWM, 32, psychiatrist at mental hospital. Looking for SWF who's not afraid of commitment."

"SWM, 47, looking for SWF. I suck at summaries."

"In a world of lousy blind dates, one man has the power to set you free. The critics are raving! 'A feel-good hit!' 'A non-stop roller coaster ride!' 'Grabs hold of you and never lets go!' If you date only one guy this year, date me!"

The top of the last page was dedicated to advertising a Christian music festival. She gave it little regard, until a familiar name in the list of participating bands caught her eye: Techno Testament. She glanced at the date: Hey, that's this weekend!

"Hey, Dad," she said to her father in the next seat over. "Can I go to a Christian music festival?"

Mr. Frensky looked down at the ad his daughter was holding up. "Why would you want to do that?" he asked indifferently.

"Uh," said Francine, thinking hard, "to promote understanding and tolerance between different cultures and religions, and stuff."

"Sounds like a waste of time," said her father, "but if you can get one of your friends to take you, and if you finish all your homework, I don't have a problem with it. You'll have to get your mother's permission as well, of course."

"Thanks, Dad," said Francine. You are truly the mother of all fathers, she thought.

The doctor pronounced a verdict of good health on her. "She can go to school, as long as she doesn't engage in any strenuous physical activity," he stated. "That includes sports."

"Oh, man," grumbled Francine as she squeezed back into her blouse. "Today's the day of the big soccer game."

"You'll have to wait until the next big soccer game, I'm afraid," said the doctor.

"But that's not until Monday!" Francine protested.

Heeding the physician's warning, Mr. Frensky drove his daughter to school rather than let her walk. From her vantage point on the sidewalk where she had disembarked from the garbage truck, the journey up the concrete stairway to the Lakewood entrance seemed like a hazardous jungle trek. What if I run into that man again? she worried. What if he brings his friends? Where's Pokey now that I need him? Are you there, Pokey? It's me, Francine…

"Frankie?" uttered a well-known voice. She lifted her eyes, and saw Beat Simon sticking her rabbit-aardvark head through one of the glass doors.

"Oh, hi," she said weakly.

"It's almost time for second period," said her British friend. "Are you coming in, or are you going to stand there until you start calcifying?"

"Uh, right," said Francine. Sucking up her fear, she began to move forward. Baby steps, up the stairs…baby steps, into the school…baby steps, down the hallway…

"Blah blah blah blah blah," droned Mrs. Krantz, but Francine's thoughts were occupied by her memories of Pokey, and how safe she had felt while riding in his Volkswagen.

Binky's thoughts, meanwhile, were focused on the object of his desire, Sue Ellen. In his mind he pictured himself grasping the bands in her hair, stretching them, and removing them, allowing her orange locks to fall and bounce. I should walk right up to her, beat my chest, and ask her to be my girlfriend, he thought. Yeah. She has to say yes, because that's what Clive saw. Or is it? What if he didn't see me, but a smart Binky from another universe, a smart Binky who knows exactly what to say?

Fear not, Binky. The answers will be revealed…in the next thrilling chapter!