Disclaimer: Alright, this is going to be a bit different for a disclaimer. Most the characters in this story are actually mine, just based off the characters from Harry Potter. The story line, however, is not mine (that belongs to J.K). I have though 'improved' on it by my standards. Tweaked it here and there. Enjoy!
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Mr. and Mrs. Fiedler, of number 3 Empryreanview Drive, were happy to say that they were extremely normal, though it is none of your business. They were the last people you'd expect to be involved in anything unusual or bizarre, since they just didn't believe in such tom-foolery.
Mr. Fiedler was the Vice President of a company called Shmunnings, which made the handles on hammers. He was a skinny man with gangly arms and legs and a very thin mustache. Mrs. Fiedler was pudgy, had snowy-white hair and also nearly twice the size of a normal pait of ears (which were very useful for hearing private conversations). The Fiedlers had a rather large daughter named Gale and in their opinion there was no better girl in the whole world.
The Fiedlers had everything they desired, but they also had a secret, and what they dreaded most was that someone would find it out. They didn't want anyone to know about the Seeders. Mr. Seeder was Mrs. Fiedler's brother, but they have hardly heard from each other in years; in fact, the Fiedlers pretended they weren't even related to them at all since her brother and his wife were as nonFiedler as possible. It made the Fiedlers sick to imagine what the neighbors would say if the Seeders arrived at their house. The Fiedlers unfortunately knew that the Seeders had two children as well, a boy about the age of 3 and a new baby girl. This was yet another good excuse for keeping the Seeders away; they didn't want Gale consorting with kids like that.
When Mr. and Mrs. Fiedler woke up on the drab, slatey Thursday our story begins, there was nothing about the overcast sky outside to suggest that unusual and bizarre things would soon be occuring all over the country. Mr. Fiedler whistled to himself as he smoothed away the creases in his dullest gray slacks for work, and Mrs. Fiedler listened intently to outside neighbors while trying to pin a clean diaper onto a wailing Gale.
None of them noticed a small, feathery owl crash into a nearby tree and burst into flames.
At a quarter to eight, Mr. Fiedler picked up his briefcase full of hammer handles, kissed Mrs. Fiedler on the cheek, and tried to pat Gale on the head but missed, because Gale was now having a tantrum and fidgeting and rolling on the changing mat. "Tiny tot," giggled Mr. Fiedler as he left the room. He got into his van and backed out of number three's drive.
It was on the end of the street that he noticed the first sign of something odd -- a cat was getting out of a taxi and paying the driver. For a second, Mr. Fiedler was unaware of what he had seen but when he had become aware of it, he whipped his head around to look again. There was a fuzzy black and white cat standing on the corner of Skyview Drive, but the taxi was gone. What was he thinking? He must have got something in his eye and it tricked him. Mr. Fiedler rubbed his eyes and looked at the cat. It looked right back. As Mr. Fiedler drove away, he watched the cat in his rear view mirror. It was now doing some obscene gesture with its paw -- no, it was scratching itself; cats can't hail taxis and make rude signs. Mr. Fiedler gave himself a shake to get the cat out of his mind. As he drove to the city he thought of nothing except a huge order of hammer handles he was going to get that day.
But on the edge of the city, hammers were driven out of his thoughts by something else. As he sat at the longest stoplight on the way to his office, he couldn't help noticing that there seemed to be a lot of oddly clothed people around. People in capes, men wearing funny hats and even some wearing dresses! Mr. Fiedler couldn't stand people who dressed in bizarre clothes -- the things youth would wear! He guessed it was some ridiculous new fashion. He strummed his fingers on the dash board and his gaze fell on a group of these freakoids standing nearby. They were whispering excitedly to each other. Mr. Fiedler was angered to see that a few of them weren't young at all; why, the woman closest to him had to be older than he was, and wearing a royal-purple cape! The nerve of her! It then occured to Mr. Fiedler that maybe this was some silly prank -- the people were obviously trying to get others to dress like freaks...yes, thats it. The light turned green and a moment later Mr. Fiedler had arrived in the Shmunnings parking lot, with hammers back on his mind.
Mr. Fiedler always sat with his back to the window...that is if he had one. If there were a window in his office, he might have discovered it would have been more difficult to concerntrate on hammer handles that morning. He didn't see the assortment of large birds running (and in some case waddling) through the streets and swooping around in broad daylight, though many people in the street did. Most of them had never seen a bird before in their life and they stared open mouthed (which unfortunatly for some was a big mistake). Mr. Fiedler, however, had a perfectly calm, bird-free morning. He made a couple of nearly important phone calls, yelled a bit, and even fired someone. He was in a very good mood, as he thought he'd get up and walk somewhere for lunch.
He had forgotten all about the people in capes and such until he passed a group of them gathered near the deli he was going to. He glared at them angrily as he walked by. He didn't know why, but they made him feel queasy. This bunch was whispering too. It was on his way back past them, stuffing half of his ham sandwich in his mouth, that he heard a few words of what they were discussing.
"The Seeders, that's correct, that's what I heard--"
"--yes, their daughter, Kelly--"
Mr. Fiedler stopped and choked on his sandwich. Coughing and gagging he looked back at the whisperers as a feelling of dread filled him. He almost said something to the gaggle of freaks but stopped himself by running back to his office.
He shouted at his secretary not to disturb him, picked up the phone, and had nearly finished dialing his home when he changed his mind. Placing the receiver back down, he twirled the end of his mustache around his finger, thinking....No, he was being foolish. Seeder wasn't such an unusual name. He was positive there were plenty of people with the last name Seeder and had a daughter named Kelly. Come to think of it, he wasn't even sure his neice was named Kelly; he had never seen her before. It might have been Kathy, or Katy. There was no point in worrying Mrs. Fiedler; she'll get upset at any mention of her brother. He didn't blame her -- if he had a brother like that....but all the same, those people in capes....
Working that afternoon was much harder and when he exited the building at four thirty, he was still so concerned about the people with capes, he opended the door right into someone.
"Sorry," he wheezed, as the little man toppled over and it the wall. It was then that Mr. Fiddler realized that the man was wearing a green cape. The man didn't seem at all upset at being knocked into the wall. Quiet the opposite, his face had a wide smile on it when he stood back up and he spoke to him in a fairly deep voice (which was weird since this man was so small), "Do not be sorry, you clumsy fool, for nothing could upset me today! Celebrate, for That-Person is gone at last! Even Buggles such as yourself should party down on this happy, happy day!"
With saying that, the man hugged Mr. Fiedler and kissed his knee, then waddled off.
Mr. Fiedler was shocked and didn't move. He had been hugged and kissed by a complete stranger. He also had been called a Buggle, or something like it. He hurried to his van and sped home, hoping he was crazy, which he never hoped before, because he didn't like crazies.
As he pulled into the driveway of number three, he instantly saw the black and white cat he spotted that morning. It was now sitting on his wife's car. He was sure it was the same cat; it had the same tuft of bright red hair in between its ears.
"Scat!" shouted Mr. Fiedler roughly.
The cat didn't budge. It just gave him an up-yours type of look. Was this normal cat behavior? Mr. Fiedler pondered. Shaking it off, he went inside the house, still not intending on saying anything to his wife.
Mrs. Fiedler had had a wonderfully normal day. She gabbed on during dinner about the neighbors behind them and how Gale had learned a new phrase (Bite me!). Mr. Fiedler continued to act normally. When Gale had been put in her crib, he went into the t.v. room to do what he did best; watch t.v. He went straight to the most boring thing he could find, the evening news.
"And finally, people everywhere have reported that there have been several things flying about that resemble planes but much smaller and they flap their wings to stay aloft. Experts later identifed them as an assortment of birds. Most Peculiar. And now, over to Betsy McMuffin with fashion."
The camera pans over to a woman wearing a flaming-bright red cape.
"Well Ned," said Betsy, "The latest fashion just sprung up this morning which involves people wearing bright funny looking capes and --"
Mr. Fiedler turned of the t.v. furiously and sat on his sofa. Large birds all over America? Strange people wearing silly capes everywhere? And gossip about the Seeders...
Mrs. Fiedler came into the t.v. room carrying a beer for her husband. It was no use, he'd have to say something.
"Um...Pat, honey....you haven't heard from your brother lately...have you?"
Mrs. Fiedler's nostrils flared in surprise and anger. And why wouldn't they? They normally pretend she doesn't have a brother.
"Of course not," she snapped. "What makes you ask such a stupid question?"
"Strange things on the news," he muttered. "Large birds...lots of strange-looking freaks in the city....and well I thought that maybe....it was involved with...his type of people."
Mrs. Fiedler sighed heavily. Mr. Fiedler wondered whether or not he should mention the name 'Seeder.' He decided against it, but instead he asked, "Their daughter -- she'd be about Gale's age now, wouldn't she?"
"Perhaps," she huffed.
"And her name....Kathleen, isn't it?"
"Kelly. I think it's a positively plain and ugly name."
"Mr. Fiedler could feel his stomach twisting now, and nodded his head in agreement.
He didn't say another word and they both went to bed. After Mrs. Fiedler was asleep and snoring (quiet loudly at that), Mr. Fiedler silently snuck to the side window and looked outside. The blasted cat was still there, gazing down the road like it was waiting for someone.
Was he really seeing things like they were? Did all this have to do with the Seeders? If it did...and if it got out that they were related -- never mind...
He snuck back into bed thinking lightly to himself about how they couldn't be involved in all this and that it would never affect them.
But he was so very incorrect.
Though Mr. Fiedler may have eventually fallen asleep, the cat outside didn't bat an eye until nearly one o'clock in the morning.
A man got out of a taxi on the corner of Empryreanview Drive and paid the driver. The cat wiggled its nose and blinked.
This man was something a person would not see on Empryreanview Drive. He was tall, thin, and very old judging by the white in his long hair and the wrinkles on his face. He was wearing long robes, a dark blue cape that dragged on the ground, and high heels. His green eyes were glassy, dulled, and slightly red from behind his small oval glasses. The man's name was Callus Fumbledoor.
Callus Fumbledoor was unaware that he was in a place where anything from his name to his shoes was not welcomed. He was busy looking through all the assortment of pouches that hung on his belt, looking for something.
He at last found what he had searched for. It seemed to be what looked like a silver bong. He put it up to his mouth and took a deep breath. The closest street lamp went out with a small burst of light. He sucked again -- the next lamp faltered into darkness. After each time he inhaled, he would hold his breath for a moment, then exhaled a light colored smoke into the cold night air. Ten times he did this with the Blow-Outer, until the only lights left on the street were the eyes of the cat. This took Fumbledoor by surprise.
"Ack! What the --!" He moved closer toward number three and saw that is was just a lousy cat. He stumbled over and leaned up against Mrs. Fiedler's car.
"Imagine meeting you here, Professor McDonaldal."
He closed his eyes and smiled goofily at the cat, but when he re-opened his eyes he was grinning at a silly-looking man who had poofy bright red hair, the same shade the cat had on its head. He was also wearing a bright golden yellow cape.
"How could you tell it was me?" he asked.
Fumbledoor shrugged. "Dunno, lucky guess."
Professor McDonaldal looked Fumbledoor over and raised an eyebrow. "And I see that you have been celebrating."
".....Celebrating....?" Fumbledoor scratched his head in confusion. Professor McDonaldal huffed haughtily.
"Oh! For the defeat of Sir Immadorkk! Uh..yeah...sure, that's why I've been celebrating...."
"Well everyone is celebrating now, and not being too careful either. Even the Buggels have noticed something is happening. It was on their news today." He jerked his thumb back toward the Fiedler's house. "I saw it."
Fumbledoor shrugged again, "We haven't had anything to party for in a long time...like...at least a week."
"It's been longer than that," McDonaldal said with an eye roll, "A week ago was when you last 'celebrated.' For everyone else it has been about 14 months."
He threw a sharp sideways glance at Fumbledoor, which he caught and put in his cape pocket.
Professor McDonaldal sighed heavily. "It would be a shame for on the day when That-Person seems to be gone finally, all the Buggles find out about us...Do you really think he is gone Callus?"
"It appears that way," mumbled Fumbledoor as he pulled out an enchanted shroom from a purple pouch. He held if out to McDonaldal, offering it to him, but McDonaldal shakes his head in refusual.
"As I was saying, even if That-Person is gone -"
"Ronald, can you call him by his real name?" Its Immadorkk, not That-Person, or He-Who-I-Make-Referance-To-That-Is-Mean-And-Bad or any of that other junk. His name is just Immadorkk." Professor McDonaldal nearly threw up at the second mentioning of Immadorkk's name, but he quickly regained himself.
"Anyway," Fumbledoor continued after taking a bite from his 'pick-me-up,' "There's nothing really that scary about saying Immadorkk's name."
"Yes, but everyone knows that a) you are the only one who scares That-Per -- okay, Immadorkk and 2) you aren't afraid of anything."
"But that's probably because you're always stoned..." Professor McDonaldal muttered under his breath.
"Well that brings me to the point I wanted to ask you...Are the rumors true? About who defeated him and such?" He looked to Fumbledoor anxiously. He desired to know if what people said was true, but he waited to hear Fumbledoor's insight.
"What everyone is saying is that early yesterday morning Immadorkk showed up in Snodbic's Valley. He went after the Seeders. The gossip is that Janean and Mike Seeder are -- are -- dead...."
Fumbledoor hung his head sadly and Professor McDonaldal shrieked and ran to Fumbledoor's arms.
"Mike and Janean..." he sobbed. Fumbledoor rubbed Professor McDonaldal's back soothingly.
"And that's not all," said McDonaldal sniffling as he pulled back, "It was also said he killed little Michael and....Kelly. But -- she couldn't die. He would kill her for a moment, but then she would come back. This is what destroyed him eventually. Immadorkk's power was broken..."
"Yep," said Fumbledoor, "I think she was killed nine or ten times before Immadorkk gave up or blew up or whatever."
"But why did Kelly survive?"
Fumbledoor shrugged once again, then took out a watch. On the face there were numbers one through thirteen and a single hand that didn't move at all. "Nuts," he said, "I keep forgetting this stupid ghetto thing is busted. Oh well, I'll just assume that Zelig is late, he always is. I just hope he hasn't squashed the baby somehow."
He gazed up into the inky sky searching for his assistant while Professor McDonaldal stared shocked at Fumbledoor.
"Why is Zelig bringing her here?! You're not thinking of --"
"I'm giving her to her Aunt and Uncle. Its one of my best ideas ever, and I'm sure she'll be fine; they'll tell her everything when she's older, I've written it all in this note," Fumbledoor held up a dirty and torn napkin.
"But her Uncle and Aunt are horrible!" cried McDonaldal.
"Zip it!"
"But - "
"Zip it. Zip it!"
"But they're - "
"ZIP it!"
Professor McDonaldal sighed angrily and closed his eyes. "Oh well, at least her fame won't be able to go to her head. Everyone will know who she is except for her."
"Yeah, yeah, blah, blah, blah...Oh! Here comes Zelig!"
From a distance a vrooming sound could be heard and it continued to grow louder until they looked up and a giant tricycle fell from the sky with Zelig sitting behind the bars.
"VROOM VROOM," said the huge person behind it. He stood up showing his true stature. He was about eight feet tall and had so much hair on his face and head that only his eyes were visible.
"Took you long enough," said an annoyed Fumbledoor. "And does Cumulus White know you are borrowing his tricycle?"
Zelig nodded his head, "Yes sir, he does know." As he spoke, his mustache moved to the sound of his voice, making it look very funny when he talked.
Zelig turned around and picked up a pink bundle of sheets. Fumbledoor and McDonaldal moved closer to look at the baby. Inside, barely visible, was a baby girl. She gazed up at them with her large blue eyes and cooed. Underneath her thin blonde hair, a strange looking scar had formed on her forehead in the shape of a curly-q.
"She'll have that scar forever," whispered Professor McDonaldal.
"Well no duh," said Fumbledoor. "Please give her to me Zelig," he said while reaching for the child. During the transfer from Zelig to Fumbledoor, Kelly was dropped and hit the ground.
"Well," said Fumbledoor, "If she survived through Immadorkk, she can live through a little fall."
The three of them laughed as Fumbledoor picked her back up. Zelig patted Kelly on the head one last time, then broke into heavy sobs.
"I can't belive it -- Janean, Mike and even little Mikey dead -- now Kelly has to go live with some of the most normal type Buggles -- its just awful!" wailed Zelig.
"Oh shut up Zelig. She'll be fine," muttered Fumbledoor while placing Kelly on the front porch. He then put the napkin -- er note -- next to her and stepped back with the others.
"Well, that's all. Now lets go paaahhh-tee!" exclaimed Fumbledoor.
Zelig moved over to the tricycle and got on. He made a few vrooming noises before lifting off and disappearing into the night's sky.
Professor McDonaldal nodded to Fumbledoor once more, then turned into the funny little cat and disappeared into a row of bushes.
Taking one last look at Kelly, Fumbledoor took out his silver Blow-Outer and with one mighty puff, he blew all the lights on and disappeared in a hazy smoke.
A light wind blew over Kelly Seeder as she shut her eyes, not knowing that she was special and not knowing that at that very moment people were toasting to her in hushed voices saying: "To Kelly Seeder -- the girl who died momentarily!"
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Mr. and Mrs. Fiedler, of number 3 Empryreanview Drive, were happy to say that they were extremely normal, though it is none of your business. They were the last people you'd expect to be involved in anything unusual or bizarre, since they just didn't believe in such tom-foolery.
Mr. Fiedler was the Vice President of a company called Shmunnings, which made the handles on hammers. He was a skinny man with gangly arms and legs and a very thin mustache. Mrs. Fiedler was pudgy, had snowy-white hair and also nearly twice the size of a normal pait of ears (which were very useful for hearing private conversations). The Fiedlers had a rather large daughter named Gale and in their opinion there was no better girl in the whole world.
The Fiedlers had everything they desired, but they also had a secret, and what they dreaded most was that someone would find it out. They didn't want anyone to know about the Seeders. Mr. Seeder was Mrs. Fiedler's brother, but they have hardly heard from each other in years; in fact, the Fiedlers pretended they weren't even related to them at all since her brother and his wife were as nonFiedler as possible. It made the Fiedlers sick to imagine what the neighbors would say if the Seeders arrived at their house. The Fiedlers unfortunately knew that the Seeders had two children as well, a boy about the age of 3 and a new baby girl. This was yet another good excuse for keeping the Seeders away; they didn't want Gale consorting with kids like that.
When Mr. and Mrs. Fiedler woke up on the drab, slatey Thursday our story begins, there was nothing about the overcast sky outside to suggest that unusual and bizarre things would soon be occuring all over the country. Mr. Fiedler whistled to himself as he smoothed away the creases in his dullest gray slacks for work, and Mrs. Fiedler listened intently to outside neighbors while trying to pin a clean diaper onto a wailing Gale.
None of them noticed a small, feathery owl crash into a nearby tree and burst into flames.
At a quarter to eight, Mr. Fiedler picked up his briefcase full of hammer handles, kissed Mrs. Fiedler on the cheek, and tried to pat Gale on the head but missed, because Gale was now having a tantrum and fidgeting and rolling on the changing mat. "Tiny tot," giggled Mr. Fiedler as he left the room. He got into his van and backed out of number three's drive.
It was on the end of the street that he noticed the first sign of something odd -- a cat was getting out of a taxi and paying the driver. For a second, Mr. Fiedler was unaware of what he had seen but when he had become aware of it, he whipped his head around to look again. There was a fuzzy black and white cat standing on the corner of Skyview Drive, but the taxi was gone. What was he thinking? He must have got something in his eye and it tricked him. Mr. Fiedler rubbed his eyes and looked at the cat. It looked right back. As Mr. Fiedler drove away, he watched the cat in his rear view mirror. It was now doing some obscene gesture with its paw -- no, it was scratching itself; cats can't hail taxis and make rude signs. Mr. Fiedler gave himself a shake to get the cat out of his mind. As he drove to the city he thought of nothing except a huge order of hammer handles he was going to get that day.
But on the edge of the city, hammers were driven out of his thoughts by something else. As he sat at the longest stoplight on the way to his office, he couldn't help noticing that there seemed to be a lot of oddly clothed people around. People in capes, men wearing funny hats and even some wearing dresses! Mr. Fiedler couldn't stand people who dressed in bizarre clothes -- the things youth would wear! He guessed it was some ridiculous new fashion. He strummed his fingers on the dash board and his gaze fell on a group of these freakoids standing nearby. They were whispering excitedly to each other. Mr. Fiedler was angered to see that a few of them weren't young at all; why, the woman closest to him had to be older than he was, and wearing a royal-purple cape! The nerve of her! It then occured to Mr. Fiedler that maybe this was some silly prank -- the people were obviously trying to get others to dress like freaks...yes, thats it. The light turned green and a moment later Mr. Fiedler had arrived in the Shmunnings parking lot, with hammers back on his mind.
Mr. Fiedler always sat with his back to the window...that is if he had one. If there were a window in his office, he might have discovered it would have been more difficult to concerntrate on hammer handles that morning. He didn't see the assortment of large birds running (and in some case waddling) through the streets and swooping around in broad daylight, though many people in the street did. Most of them had never seen a bird before in their life and they stared open mouthed (which unfortunatly for some was a big mistake). Mr. Fiedler, however, had a perfectly calm, bird-free morning. He made a couple of nearly important phone calls, yelled a bit, and even fired someone. He was in a very good mood, as he thought he'd get up and walk somewhere for lunch.
He had forgotten all about the people in capes and such until he passed a group of them gathered near the deli he was going to. He glared at them angrily as he walked by. He didn't know why, but they made him feel queasy. This bunch was whispering too. It was on his way back past them, stuffing half of his ham sandwich in his mouth, that he heard a few words of what they were discussing.
"The Seeders, that's correct, that's what I heard--"
"--yes, their daughter, Kelly--"
Mr. Fiedler stopped and choked on his sandwich. Coughing and gagging he looked back at the whisperers as a feelling of dread filled him. He almost said something to the gaggle of freaks but stopped himself by running back to his office.
He shouted at his secretary not to disturb him, picked up the phone, and had nearly finished dialing his home when he changed his mind. Placing the receiver back down, he twirled the end of his mustache around his finger, thinking....No, he was being foolish. Seeder wasn't such an unusual name. He was positive there were plenty of people with the last name Seeder and had a daughter named Kelly. Come to think of it, he wasn't even sure his neice was named Kelly; he had never seen her before. It might have been Kathy, or Katy. There was no point in worrying Mrs. Fiedler; she'll get upset at any mention of her brother. He didn't blame her -- if he had a brother like that....but all the same, those people in capes....
Working that afternoon was much harder and when he exited the building at four thirty, he was still so concerned about the people with capes, he opended the door right into someone.
"Sorry," he wheezed, as the little man toppled over and it the wall. It was then that Mr. Fiddler realized that the man was wearing a green cape. The man didn't seem at all upset at being knocked into the wall. Quiet the opposite, his face had a wide smile on it when he stood back up and he spoke to him in a fairly deep voice (which was weird since this man was so small), "Do not be sorry, you clumsy fool, for nothing could upset me today! Celebrate, for That-Person is gone at last! Even Buggles such as yourself should party down on this happy, happy day!"
With saying that, the man hugged Mr. Fiedler and kissed his knee, then waddled off.
Mr. Fiedler was shocked and didn't move. He had been hugged and kissed by a complete stranger. He also had been called a Buggle, or something like it. He hurried to his van and sped home, hoping he was crazy, which he never hoped before, because he didn't like crazies.
As he pulled into the driveway of number three, he instantly saw the black and white cat he spotted that morning. It was now sitting on his wife's car. He was sure it was the same cat; it had the same tuft of bright red hair in between its ears.
"Scat!" shouted Mr. Fiedler roughly.
The cat didn't budge. It just gave him an up-yours type of look. Was this normal cat behavior? Mr. Fiedler pondered. Shaking it off, he went inside the house, still not intending on saying anything to his wife.
Mrs. Fiedler had had a wonderfully normal day. She gabbed on during dinner about the neighbors behind them and how Gale had learned a new phrase (Bite me!). Mr. Fiedler continued to act normally. When Gale had been put in her crib, he went into the t.v. room to do what he did best; watch t.v. He went straight to the most boring thing he could find, the evening news.
"And finally, people everywhere have reported that there have been several things flying about that resemble planes but much smaller and they flap their wings to stay aloft. Experts later identifed them as an assortment of birds. Most Peculiar. And now, over to Betsy McMuffin with fashion."
The camera pans over to a woman wearing a flaming-bright red cape.
"Well Ned," said Betsy, "The latest fashion just sprung up this morning which involves people wearing bright funny looking capes and --"
Mr. Fiedler turned of the t.v. furiously and sat on his sofa. Large birds all over America? Strange people wearing silly capes everywhere? And gossip about the Seeders...
Mrs. Fiedler came into the t.v. room carrying a beer for her husband. It was no use, he'd have to say something.
"Um...Pat, honey....you haven't heard from your brother lately...have you?"
Mrs. Fiedler's nostrils flared in surprise and anger. And why wouldn't they? They normally pretend she doesn't have a brother.
"Of course not," she snapped. "What makes you ask such a stupid question?"
"Strange things on the news," he muttered. "Large birds...lots of strange-looking freaks in the city....and well I thought that maybe....it was involved with...his type of people."
Mrs. Fiedler sighed heavily. Mr. Fiedler wondered whether or not he should mention the name 'Seeder.' He decided against it, but instead he asked, "Their daughter -- she'd be about Gale's age now, wouldn't she?"
"Perhaps," she huffed.
"And her name....Kathleen, isn't it?"
"Kelly. I think it's a positively plain and ugly name."
"Mr. Fiedler could feel his stomach twisting now, and nodded his head in agreement.
He didn't say another word and they both went to bed. After Mrs. Fiedler was asleep and snoring (quiet loudly at that), Mr. Fiedler silently snuck to the side window and looked outside. The blasted cat was still there, gazing down the road like it was waiting for someone.
Was he really seeing things like they were? Did all this have to do with the Seeders? If it did...and if it got out that they were related -- never mind...
He snuck back into bed thinking lightly to himself about how they couldn't be involved in all this and that it would never affect them.
But he was so very incorrect.
Though Mr. Fiedler may have eventually fallen asleep, the cat outside didn't bat an eye until nearly one o'clock in the morning.
A man got out of a taxi on the corner of Empryreanview Drive and paid the driver. The cat wiggled its nose and blinked.
This man was something a person would not see on Empryreanview Drive. He was tall, thin, and very old judging by the white in his long hair and the wrinkles on his face. He was wearing long robes, a dark blue cape that dragged on the ground, and high heels. His green eyes were glassy, dulled, and slightly red from behind his small oval glasses. The man's name was Callus Fumbledoor.
Callus Fumbledoor was unaware that he was in a place where anything from his name to his shoes was not welcomed. He was busy looking through all the assortment of pouches that hung on his belt, looking for something.
He at last found what he had searched for. It seemed to be what looked like a silver bong. He put it up to his mouth and took a deep breath. The closest street lamp went out with a small burst of light. He sucked again -- the next lamp faltered into darkness. After each time he inhaled, he would hold his breath for a moment, then exhaled a light colored smoke into the cold night air. Ten times he did this with the Blow-Outer, until the only lights left on the street were the eyes of the cat. This took Fumbledoor by surprise.
"Ack! What the --!" He moved closer toward number three and saw that is was just a lousy cat. He stumbled over and leaned up against Mrs. Fiedler's car.
"Imagine meeting you here, Professor McDonaldal."
He closed his eyes and smiled goofily at the cat, but when he re-opened his eyes he was grinning at a silly-looking man who had poofy bright red hair, the same shade the cat had on its head. He was also wearing a bright golden yellow cape.
"How could you tell it was me?" he asked.
Fumbledoor shrugged. "Dunno, lucky guess."
Professor McDonaldal looked Fumbledoor over and raised an eyebrow. "And I see that you have been celebrating."
".....Celebrating....?" Fumbledoor scratched his head in confusion. Professor McDonaldal huffed haughtily.
"Oh! For the defeat of Sir Immadorkk! Uh..yeah...sure, that's why I've been celebrating...."
"Well everyone is celebrating now, and not being too careful either. Even the Buggels have noticed something is happening. It was on their news today." He jerked his thumb back toward the Fiedler's house. "I saw it."
Fumbledoor shrugged again, "We haven't had anything to party for in a long time...like...at least a week."
"It's been longer than that," McDonaldal said with an eye roll, "A week ago was when you last 'celebrated.' For everyone else it has been about 14 months."
He threw a sharp sideways glance at Fumbledoor, which he caught and put in his cape pocket.
Professor McDonaldal sighed heavily. "It would be a shame for on the day when That-Person seems to be gone finally, all the Buggles find out about us...Do you really think he is gone Callus?"
"It appears that way," mumbled Fumbledoor as he pulled out an enchanted shroom from a purple pouch. He held if out to McDonaldal, offering it to him, but McDonaldal shakes his head in refusual.
"As I was saying, even if That-Person is gone -"
"Ronald, can you call him by his real name?" Its Immadorkk, not That-Person, or He-Who-I-Make-Referance-To-That-Is-Mean-And-Bad or any of that other junk. His name is just Immadorkk." Professor McDonaldal nearly threw up at the second mentioning of Immadorkk's name, but he quickly regained himself.
"Anyway," Fumbledoor continued after taking a bite from his 'pick-me-up,' "There's nothing really that scary about saying Immadorkk's name."
"Yes, but everyone knows that a) you are the only one who scares That-Per -- okay, Immadorkk and 2) you aren't afraid of anything."
"But that's probably because you're always stoned..." Professor McDonaldal muttered under his breath.
"Well that brings me to the point I wanted to ask you...Are the rumors true? About who defeated him and such?" He looked to Fumbledoor anxiously. He desired to know if what people said was true, but he waited to hear Fumbledoor's insight.
"What everyone is saying is that early yesterday morning Immadorkk showed up in Snodbic's Valley. He went after the Seeders. The gossip is that Janean and Mike Seeder are -- are -- dead...."
Fumbledoor hung his head sadly and Professor McDonaldal shrieked and ran to Fumbledoor's arms.
"Mike and Janean..." he sobbed. Fumbledoor rubbed Professor McDonaldal's back soothingly.
"And that's not all," said McDonaldal sniffling as he pulled back, "It was also said he killed little Michael and....Kelly. But -- she couldn't die. He would kill her for a moment, but then she would come back. This is what destroyed him eventually. Immadorkk's power was broken..."
"Yep," said Fumbledoor, "I think she was killed nine or ten times before Immadorkk gave up or blew up or whatever."
"But why did Kelly survive?"
Fumbledoor shrugged once again, then took out a watch. On the face there were numbers one through thirteen and a single hand that didn't move at all. "Nuts," he said, "I keep forgetting this stupid ghetto thing is busted. Oh well, I'll just assume that Zelig is late, he always is. I just hope he hasn't squashed the baby somehow."
He gazed up into the inky sky searching for his assistant while Professor McDonaldal stared shocked at Fumbledoor.
"Why is Zelig bringing her here?! You're not thinking of --"
"I'm giving her to her Aunt and Uncle. Its one of my best ideas ever, and I'm sure she'll be fine; they'll tell her everything when she's older, I've written it all in this note," Fumbledoor held up a dirty and torn napkin.
"But her Uncle and Aunt are horrible!" cried McDonaldal.
"Zip it!"
"But - "
"Zip it. Zip it!"
"But they're - "
"ZIP it!"
Professor McDonaldal sighed angrily and closed his eyes. "Oh well, at least her fame won't be able to go to her head. Everyone will know who she is except for her."
"Yeah, yeah, blah, blah, blah...Oh! Here comes Zelig!"
From a distance a vrooming sound could be heard and it continued to grow louder until they looked up and a giant tricycle fell from the sky with Zelig sitting behind the bars.
"VROOM VROOM," said the huge person behind it. He stood up showing his true stature. He was about eight feet tall and had so much hair on his face and head that only his eyes were visible.
"Took you long enough," said an annoyed Fumbledoor. "And does Cumulus White know you are borrowing his tricycle?"
Zelig nodded his head, "Yes sir, he does know." As he spoke, his mustache moved to the sound of his voice, making it look very funny when he talked.
Zelig turned around and picked up a pink bundle of sheets. Fumbledoor and McDonaldal moved closer to look at the baby. Inside, barely visible, was a baby girl. She gazed up at them with her large blue eyes and cooed. Underneath her thin blonde hair, a strange looking scar had formed on her forehead in the shape of a curly-q.
"She'll have that scar forever," whispered Professor McDonaldal.
"Well no duh," said Fumbledoor. "Please give her to me Zelig," he said while reaching for the child. During the transfer from Zelig to Fumbledoor, Kelly was dropped and hit the ground.
"Well," said Fumbledoor, "If she survived through Immadorkk, she can live through a little fall."
The three of them laughed as Fumbledoor picked her back up. Zelig patted Kelly on the head one last time, then broke into heavy sobs.
"I can't belive it -- Janean, Mike and even little Mikey dead -- now Kelly has to go live with some of the most normal type Buggles -- its just awful!" wailed Zelig.
"Oh shut up Zelig. She'll be fine," muttered Fumbledoor while placing Kelly on the front porch. He then put the napkin -- er note -- next to her and stepped back with the others.
"Well, that's all. Now lets go paaahhh-tee!" exclaimed Fumbledoor.
Zelig moved over to the tricycle and got on. He made a few vrooming noises before lifting off and disappearing into the night's sky.
Professor McDonaldal nodded to Fumbledoor once more, then turned into the funny little cat and disappeared into a row of bushes.
Taking one last look at Kelly, Fumbledoor took out his silver Blow-Outer and with one mighty puff, he blew all the lights on and disappeared in a hazy smoke.
A light wind blew over Kelly Seeder as she shut her eyes, not knowing that she was special and not knowing that at that very moment people were toasting to her in hushed voices saying: "To Kelly Seeder -- the girl who died momentarily!"
