"All right..." Kurt said as he watched me pick up and cuddle my babies. "I was going to help you out to the parking lot, but it looks like you've got your work cut out for you here...not that I could complain about taking an army of weird deformed baby monsters home..."
He grabbed our captive's arm. "C'mon, Miley. I know a place where we can get free drinks."
I was about to ask him to show me so I could get some too, but Misty already had her icer out.
"Tsk, tsk. The party's just started."
Kurt spun around to attack, but it was too late. Both he and the pop tart collapsed unconscious on the floor.
I put my hands on my hips, glancing at her. "I assume you have a plan."
"`Natch." She took a device that looked like a giant Tricorder out of her `buggage.' "Spike, please."
Oh. I forgot to mention something. Since I had the spike stuck in my bikini this whole time, I never once changed back into a human. Awesome!
Anyways, that's why I was able to carry the thing so far without an embarrassing `wardrobe malfunction.'
I turned back into a noid the moment I handed it over. "That thing doesn't give you cancer, does it?"
Misty only shrugged. "You know, I'm not really sure."
The Tricorder thing was designed to interface with the spike in a way that was kind of Freudian,but I guess really there are few cartoons that aren't in some way Freudian. Thong wearing guys with swords cutting bloodless holes in dragons, for example.
She pushed a button on this device, and all of a sudden it's like there's a hurricane blowing through, and I see a beam shooting out, ripping a big hole in reality, through which I could see Master Blaster's throne room.
I have never been so glad to see an animated world.
"Hey," I said. "Why couldn't we have done this back there? Instead of going through The Cube?"
"The Cube was moving," Misty said.
That almost made sense.
"Okay. So what about before The Cube? Why couldn't we have done this at Mickey's place, or in the Cryptkeeper's Crypt?"
Misty just sighed.
My jaw dropped. "You knew?"
"It was on the computer. I didn't want to tell you about the babies up front or we'd never complete the mission."
In response, I shouted, "Okay, Miss Let's Put The Mission Aside To Get Revenge on Drew Deebes!"
Instead of apologizing, she said, "I didn't actually know we were going through this area of the park. I thought we were going to need to make an extra trip just to find all your little darlings." She cleared her throat. "Believe it or not, I actually did intend on doing just that, but not before we got everything else done."
And then she said the closest thing I would get to an apology. "I didn't know if we were going to live. If I knew we would be standing here with the Spike..." She pushed some buttons on the device. "At any rate, let's get those prisoners, and your babies, back into Cool World where they belong."
Our adult companions were a little heavy, but between me, Chad and Sleez, we schlepped them both in, and the babies.
As much as we loved Disney theme parks, were were all too happy to leave, ourselves.
Spikes are powerful, so we got through the portal without a problem, at which point we stood before Master Blaster's floating throne with our unconscious trophies.
The first thing out of the guy's mouth was, "Not her again!" as he shook a fat finger at Miley.
Trying not to look nervous, I just smiled. "Whatever do you mean?"
But Misty said, "Here's the circus performer you requested."
Master Blaster knitted his brows together. "Circus performer! She couldn't perform her way out of a cardboard box! The only performance she knows how to do is on her back!"
"She is the Amazing Tool Licker," I said.
"Precisely. Did I say `on her back'? I meant `on her knees!'"
Well, I suppose everyone has had their turn...I'm assuming, right?
"Have you seen her lick a skill saw?" I said.
This made him stop and rub his chin.
And then he looked down. "Is that Kurt Russell?"
I shrugged. "It might be."
Master Blaster clapped his hands eagerly. "Oh excellent! Excellent! You know, the man's a little escape artist. I had so much trouble keeping him imprisoned last time. Wonderful, wonderful!"
He summoned Fat Cat to bind the two captives, then grimaced when he noticed the crowd of little flesh creatures. "And what are those things?"
"Those," I said. "Those are not things. They are my babies."
He stared at them for a few moments, floating around in his chair.
"I think I should like to have one of these. But only one. Would you allow me this honor?"
I stared at him like he were crazy.
But then, after thinking about it a moment, I decided I had too many, and Master Blaster would make a good adopted father, having three babysitters on staff and everything, so I let him have his pick.
He picked a cat girl.
Judging by his choice in servants, I suppose that's not really a surprise. He probably subscribes to Cat Fancy.
Come to think of it, you couldn't have made a better match. I glanced at my baby in the harness, then frowned at Chad.
"Honey, I don't think our little Isosceles should go through any more traumatic experiences like that. You think you'd be okay with staying here and just babysitting him for awhile?"
"Passion flower," he stammered. "I...I would prefer to travel with you, and see new things..."
"Chad," Misty said. "Wouldn't you much rather stay home and play with your dolls?"
"I..." He frowned. "But..."
"Don't you like the idea of being a home maker?"
He nodded with enthusiasm.
"Well then."
"Hey!"
I cleared my throat. "I really do need you to take these babies back to Misty's home for me. Can you do that, sweetie?"
"What about you? "Won't you be in danger?"
"I'll manage. I've got Misty and Sleez with me. Just put on your leotards and show the babies your doll collection, or something."
"Are you going to a real winery?" Chad asked.
I shrugged. "I believe so. Why?"
"Lovely snap dragon, I have never been to a real winery before, or tasted real wine. May I please go?"
"But who will take care of the babies?"
Misty whispered something to her butler.
"Mmyes," Sleez replied.
"Sleezington will take care of it, won't you, Sleez?"
"Gladly, O Sexy Mistress of Darkness."
She rolled her eyes. "Sleez, what did I tell you about pet talk?"
"You enjoy it," he answered.
She blushed, waving for him to get to work. "If you please, Sleezington."
"Mmmyes. This will be lovely practice."
He quickly loaded the babies into large jukebox bubbles, one by one.
He tried to take the one Chad carried, but when he got near, I waved him away. "That's okay. We're good."
"Now..." Master Blaster said. "The next Spike is located in a place called Ghermanntown..."
He pointed to another mirror.
"Ghermanntown?" I said. "...Winery? And why does that sound familiar?"
Misty stared at the screen. "Do you know something about Ghermanntown Cellars?"
I smirked. "I've had a few bottles..."
We walked to the mirror he'd indicated.
On the other side, I could see a dimly lit basement containing silver beer kegs, chairs, and a wine rack. Boxes contained wine, dish detergent, and toilet paper. A pool table with a tarp over it stood in the corner.
We climbed through the glass into...Viktor's Bierhausen.
That's what all the menus said when we went upstairs.
The place looked like an IHOP with a bar...and German things on the walls.
The owner's family crest, a German flag, maps and photos of locations like the Rhineland and Berlin, Dutch windmills, and Normandy as an actual beach.
If Viktor's always did such light business, the place should be renamed the Poorhausen. I saw only one couple eating there.
The air was thick with bread and burnt bratwurst, cookies and...tacos. I guess they were trying to branch out.
A gnarled old man, who indeed appeared to be German, caught us as we were coming through the hallway.
He rubbed his eyes, turned around, darted back into the kitchen.
We hurried outside.
Ghermanntown was a little north of Saint Louis, and, being almost an island, you ordinarily reached it by means of bridges.
I'd visited the place once on Oktoberfest. Cute. Very cute, but hilly.
The hills compared to that of San Francisco. You'd have to be crazy to go skateboarding on them.
At present, not nearly as exciting as it had been during October.
So maybe I've visited the place a few times. It's on the way to an independent design firm in Kansas City...before other firms pushed them out of business.
A boy skateboarded down to a gas station on the bottom of the hill. Kookoo!
If he lived there, I kinda felt sorry for him. His big career choices would be either working at the winery, working at said gas station, or some touristy place like Viktors.
Small town, not many other types of businesses. The people I met in the gas stations said they wanted to move out so they could find better work.
If you want the internet, you have the choice of dial-up, or dial-up, but they have four kinds of car companies to buy from.
Misty glanced at a cemetery at the top of one of the steep hills, then stared at her screen. "We need to be at Ghermanntown Cellars, which is..."
Rolling my eyes, I just pointed to the top of the opposite hill, to the tiny gray building surrounded by all the trellises with the green vines. "Would it be there, perhaps?"
The whole town is basically a big suburb, a lot of cozy little split level houses, occupied by old people and maybe a couple yuppies having a midlife crisis (I believe this is the case with the newer bead and breakfast).
The more run down buildings lay at the bottom of all the hills, but it's not exactly a ghetto. If you want a ghetto, you'd have go go across some railroad tracks.
We climbed a steep hill, winding our way up roads framed by bushy trees and little houses.
When I barged ahead, Misty asked me if I knew where I was going.
I told her the winery stands on the highest point in the town, so you only have to keep going up to find the place.
Sure enough, we soon reached a large vineyard, and a park with picnic tables.
There it stood. A long brick structure with large windows in front, and none in the back that I could see.
Yuppie tourists stood and chatted on the lawn, more or less about us when we passed by, because there wasn't that much to talk about out in the sticks.
They must have gotten some phones from out of town, because they were Snapchatting me and posting stuff on Facebook, I believe.
Well, if this cel phone dead zone actually allowed it...
Tired of being gawked at, we hurried through the front door.
The place was old. It looked pretty much the way it looked the last time I came there. Even the giant wooden cask that faced us when we came in.
The empty podium next to a giant wooden cask bore a sign saying something about the next winery tour being at four P.M.
It didn't say whether they were at lunch or doing a tour, but the only thing keeping me from taking my own was a rope and a grumpy looking yuppie in a suit.
Misty made short work of him with her icer, and we ran through an alley made of stacked antique casks, down a staircase, into the winery proper.
We passed through a miniature museum, displaying the racks they once used to harvest mushrooms in, and other antiquated winery equipment, then pushed past a brunette woman in a suit as she explained how they had big shiny silver mixing drums instead of guys stomping grapes barefoot outside.
You know, I never figured that one out. If you discover foot fungus in your wine, is it free?
Not important.
We kept going, rushing down a roped off area with an employees only sign.
"Ma'am!" the tour guide shouted. "Ma'am!"
But we were already running between a pair of shiny air tight vats, and down a brick corridor.
That's when I saw the weird World War II photographs, and a swastika flag.
"Um...Misty?" I stammered as I gawked at a photograph of German kids jumping around at Der Fuhrer's potato sack race "This place looks a little suspicious. Ate you sure this is where the Spike is suppose to be?"
She glanced at her computer. "This is the place!"
A few seconds later, I saw a group of Brown Shirts coming down the hall.
Not what I expected.
On one side stood an old man in an S.S. uniform...with a walker. On the other, a fatter man, also in Nazi costume, with a power chair.
A third looked almost like a worthy opponent, but he had no teeth, and carried a portable oxygen concentrator, with plastic tubing in his nostrils.
Before I could laugh and push them over, I noticed a glowing figure stepping out from behind them.
A short figure with a toupee and a toothbrush mustache.
"Ah good," he said with a thick Bavarian accent. "You have brought me the other Spike of Power! Deutscheland shall at last be restored to its former glory!"
The aged Brown Shirts commenced a chorus of "Sieg heil".
...Then broke into a coughing fit.