is the sixth episode from the rather gripping, yet wholly fictitious,
absolutely imaginary, completely without any doubt whatsoever
fabricated, based on characters spawned from the rather unsavory
mind of the even more unsavory author, Appointment series. For
those of you who are far more observant than should be allowed,
you might have noticed a conspicuous absence of episodes number
four and number five in the series. This was not due, as some
have suggested, a mathematical error on the part of the author;
no, their absence is strictly down to Henrick Glutonlumps receiving
several rather menacing letters of protest from the society against
cruelty to earwigs. Apparently some earwig owners felt that the
stories exhibited far too many coincidences to their beloved pets
And felt that the pieces were only written as a sarcastic commentary
on those who owned the earwigs.
exceptionally gripping, exciting, fantastic, and might I be bold
enough to suggest breathtaking narrative begins on a rather dull
Tuesday morning at just around eleven. Our dashing hero, Trevor
Steed, is doing what every manly, renaissance, modern man who
finds himself at home during the day time doeshe is engrossed
by the daytime soaps.
was just during a particularly enthralling moment in the highly
successful soap-opera, As the Publisher's World Turns, when Trevor,
his eyes full of tears, was just about to discover precisely what
might have happened to the leading character's best friend's jealous
younger brother who, over the course of five one-hour episodes
somehow kidnapped his great grandmother and whisked her off into
another universe through a rather mind-boggling time warp vortex
portal quirk in the solar system in a space craft he managed to
purloin from some careless day tripping aliens who were far too
busy watching a marathon of the Twilight Zone to notice the crime
When the door bell rang.
can that be?" Trevor said as he put down his half-depleted
box of bon-bons and awkwardly pulled himself out of the genuine
artificial leather chair, generating a particularly unsavory noise
in the process, and thusly managing to startle his half a sleep
door bell rings again
Naturally it is the theme from Alfred
coming, I'm coming, hold your hair on," Trevor muttered as
he made his way the twenty-three feet from the living room to
he opened it he was somewhat shocked to discover standing on his
doormat a rather lofty lady with long wavy copper red colored
hair flowing just beyond her not so shapely waist. Furthermore
she was dressed in an exceedingly trashy bright scarlet
dress that was distastefully shortmanaging to go
down just about four inches below her waist... Adding to Trevor's
continual nightmarish visual blitz was the fact that her
gangly thighs were barely covered by a pair of fishnet stockings,
which were ripped in various disagreeable places. Adding to the
disturbing vision she also wore black patent leather, thigh
high, spiked heeled boots. On her particularly objectionably face
lay an abundance of obviously cheap make up adorned with very
little accuracy. In addition it was quite obvious she had failed
to shave that morning, as above her pink painted pouting
lips was the distinct sign of stubble.
good to see you," she said in a deep, resonant voice, a voice
that Trevor instantly recognized.
Is that you?"
is, Trevor! How do you like the look of me? I thought it was best
if I came here in disguise," Harry said as he cautiously
peered over both shoulders. As he did this, he managed to catch
the eye of Trevor's elderly next-door neighbor, the insidiously
pious Mrs. Bates, who watched on in disgust, as Trevor promptly
ushered Harry into his house and slammed the door shut.
what do you think?" Harry repeated in a rather disturbing
high-pitched voice as he spun about.
simply smiled. The sort of smile one makes when uncomfortable
thoughts are careening haphazardly through your mind and promptly
ushered him into his kitchen,. Finally after biting his lip he
straightforwardly announced, "Let me put the kettle on. We
have much to discuss."
later they both sat there, at the kitchen table, sipping on the
hot sweet tea.
Trevor," Harry said, "I take it you got last week the
same package that I got
A Platinum-Notion typewriter, from
none other than Phil House himself."
nodded brusquely as he furiously dunked his chocolate biscuit.
do you think it all means?" Harry said as he gazed at Trevor
intently through his smudged eye shadow, making Trevor feel uncomfortable
was then that the modest sized house, slightly off the beaten
track, in the outer reaches of a quiet Seattle suburb, with peeling
blue paint on its exterior woodwork, was once more filled with
the distinct opening bars of Charles Gounod's Funeral March
for a Marionette.
both directly their eyes to the front door, just in time to catch
the distinct side profile of a stout fellow, with two flabby chins,
framed behind the bubbled glass
And as quickly as it had
appearedit was gone.
you expecting anyone, Trevor?" Harry whispered returning
the rather dainty pink rose patterned tea cup genteelly back to
its matching saucer.
I am most definitely not," Trevor replied. "Maybe you
were followed, Harry. Are you sure there wasn't anyone following
responded to Trevor's accusing words by twisting the fake red
hair in his fingers and sucking on his teeth.
he finally answered. "There was this nice fellow by the park
dressed in a long black raincoat, who kept winking at me."
Trevor said as a horrible image quickly enteredand
was promptly kicked out of againhis mind.
I finally managed to outrun the old sod
so I am sure it
and Harry ease from the kitchen chairs and cautiously make their
way over to the front door
Trevor peered through the bubbled
whoever was there, they seem to have gone."
with a shaking hand he little by little turned the doorknob as
Harry watched on.
at once the door swung open.
stepped outside and glanced all about him.
they've gone alright, whoever they were
in unison their eyes are drawn to a package wrapped in brown paper
perched ominously on the door mat.
package?" Trevor said as he eyed it suspiciously.
reached down and picked it up and carried it back to the kitchen
and placed it down on the table.
my golly, Harry." Trevor said, "It is ticking
two of them just sit there looking at each other silently for
a few minutes.
only sound to be heard was the constant ticking
seems to be getting louder," Harry said. "Perhaps we
should dispose of it somehow.
was then it happened.
completely out of the ordinary
neither of them will soon forget
and Harry screamed out loud in shock and surprise.
alarm went off.
was then that Trevor smiled at Harry.
have just realized what that package is," he said sheepishly.
"It is my free Platinum alarm clock I got for subscribing
for seven years to Epoch magazine
purchased it, it has gotten awfully good, you know. I remember
I was watching one of those late night info commercials a few
weeks ago. I also signed up for a new weight lost plan
scratched his chin.
must have been my retired English neighborAlfredwho
dropped it off. My mail is always being delivered to him."
W.B.C.?" Harry repeated as he tried not to laugh as he examined
Trevor's portly stomach. "That can't be a bad thing!"
was yet another uncomfortable pause.
Trevor, when you telephoned me earlier, you told me that you had
something that you wanted to share with me."
nodded. "I do indeed. For you see, my dear friend, I have
devised a shrewd and cunning plan."
rubbed his hands together as he continued.
I propose to do is write a story and post it on the Platinum-Notion
It will be an exaggerated, fanciful story ever so
loosely based on the Platinum-Notion empire. I have come
up with a made-up name
Plutonium- Perception Publishing
have, after nights of sleeplessness, been trying to come up with
a pen name for myself. I finally came up with a corker, if I say
so myself:Bic Parker
it? Oh, I crack myself up sometimes
I also have other characters,
I have based Bill Louse on the real and larger than
life Phil House. D.S. Griffin's fictional doppelganger is a rather
annoying Englishman who calls himself E.T Friggin
characters are Fi Shapeless, Joe McNasty and Maggie Spencer
Bill Louse's right hand girl
Marv Brand becomes Harv Grandthe
And so many more! Yes, yes, I feel it's
going to be splendid, simply splendid
In the first story
I am going to have our lovable, and rather cute hero, Bic Parker,
nervously going up Plutonium-Perception corporate headquarters
and fun and wackiness mixed heavily with intrigue and old fashioned
suspense soon ensues. And no-one will know that is I, none-other
than Trevor Steed, pulling all the strings! I daresay there will
be heavy speculation in the chat rooms as to who the identity
is of Bic Parker... Some will love him
Others will hate
him. But I sincerely hope that all take it in the spirit it is
I would never want to hurt anyone's feelings. It
is just that you and I both know how brutal the world of publishing
is, and if we can't make fun of ourselves who can we make fun
just listened to all this with a strange bemused look on his painted
but, I am sure that Phil House will never publish it."
simply winked at his co-conspirator
bet you a case of root-beer that you are wrong
I think old
Deep down, contrary to popular opinion, not only has
He has a sense of humor also."