Journal of Quill Mallory

I followed the goatee wearing space wizard through three foot drifts of thickly packed snow. San Francisco after some kind of nuclear winter. Snow kept pouring down. We could barely see a yard in any direction. The parkas had been a good idea, but the negative wind chill ate right through the fabric to my skin. Worse, my Sony Walkman had stopped working, and probably wouldn't work again until we all thawed out again. No Genesis Greatest Hits today.

"Mister Mallory..." a basso profundo voice called behind me. "Could I trouble you for a lift?"

I glanced back at my physics professor. Only his plump furry head and shoulders stuck out above the thick white mounds.

Professor Maximillian "Rocket" Arturo. Throughout my time at the college, I'd politely resisted the urge to pick him up, but now he demanded it.

Smirking, I dug the rotund raccoon out of the drift, hefting him over my shoulders. "Oof! You're heavy!"

"Perhaps it's the parka."

I grunted in disagreement.

The rodent patted his paunchy stomach. "A great mind requires a great body to house it, my boy."

My red haired girlfriend Wade marched up beside us, rubbing her gloved hands together. Her antennas glowed for a brief moment. "Quill's thinking you've housed too many cheeseburgers in that great body of yours, Professor."

I rolled my eyes. "Please don't do that. I like to keep certain things private."

"Like how you think of me as the girl next door, and you're hoping for someone more attractive?"

I rubbed my face in frustration. "Sometimes thoughts are just thoughts, Mantis. Not everything is suitable for public consumption."

The Professor shifted on my back. "Hear, hear. I agree wholeheartedly, Mister Mallory."

Wade smirked. "So you do love me."

I frowned, staring into her solid black eyes. "Mantis, when we get a minute, remind me to show you the episode of Gilligan's Island where everyone could read each other's minds."

Her antennas flashed a moment, catching the rerun in my brain. "I...see. Friendship is sometimes established by what on does not say...and you like Mary Ann's legs."

I smacked my face. "Yes. I mean, about the moral of the story. And the actress who played Mary Ann is dead, so..."

"I feel as if my IQ has dropped a point from listening to this conversation," The Professor remarked.

Wade's antennas glowed. "You also liked Mary Ann's legs!"

An eyepatch wearing African American shivered, pulling his parka close to his body. "How much further, Strange? I'm freezing my ass off here!"

The bearded sorcerer pulled a gold locket out of his voluminous robe, staring at a floating magical compass. "Just another couple yards, Fury. Once we remove the anomaly, we can leave."

"And not a moment too soon!...Is that my car?"

A red convertible lay half buried in a snowdrift. Flamboyant interior, vanity plate reading CRYNMAN.

"What the hell is my car doing out here?"

Strange opened the doors, examining the interior. "Your double left it. This is where all the anomalies started."

He waved his arms, creating glowing orange runes in the air. I and the Professor frowned. We still couldn't figure out how magical things like that could exist within the framework of scientific fact.

"What are you doing?"

"Looking for residual energy. An indication of where they traveled next."

Rembrandt stared at the doors. "What kind of handles are these? I never had those!"

Indeed the doors opened by lifting the handles, not pushing a button and pulling sideways like normal cars. "Different worlds, different car manufacturing."

"Huh! Guess that explains why the steering wheel is on the left!"

Strange continued waving his hands, knitting his brow as he examined the glowing runes.

Rembrandt suddenly looked nervous. "Uh...Strange?"

"Just a second," the space wizard grunted.

"Strange, I really don't think we got a second." Rembrandt pointed to a towering funnel cloud, whirling and throwing debris just a mile away from us.

Strange's eyes shifted that way. He flinched. "Great. Ice tornadoes. Just what I need."

"Wait," Wade cried. "Did he just say tornadoes? As in plural?"

The Professor gasped, practically stomping my back. "Don't look now, Miss Welles, but it is indeed plural."