strange worls of lunacy

Strange Worlds of Lunacy The Galaxy’s Silliest Anthology

Edited by Crystalwizard & Lyn Perry

Compiled by Cyberwizard Productions & ResAliens

~*~ ~*~ ~*~

The Galaxy’s Silliest Anthology

i

Published by CyberAliens Press, an imprint of Cyberwizard Productions, 1205 N. Saginaw Boulevard #D, PMB 224, Saginaw, Texas 76179 Cover Artist: Richard Svensson Previous publication credits: Failure to Communicate by Ed McKeown first published in Planet Magazine, Sept. 2004

No Quarter by Francis W. Alexander first published in Flashshot #759, Dec. 5, 2004

First Day Jitters by Jeannette Cheney first published in “Between Kisses”, Sam's Dot Publishing, June '07

Getting Lucky by Jeff Parish first published in 55 Words, March 2007

The War (In Two Parts) by D. Richard Pearce appeared in NFG - The Magazine, Issue 2

Answer Me This by Casey Fiesler appeared in The Town Drunk, August, 2007

Princess Lily's Wedding by Robert J. Santa first appeared Blood, Blade and Thruster, issue #1

Plausible Deniability by Wesley Lambert first appeared in From the Asylum, July 2004

This is a work of fiction. All the characters, places and events portrayed in this anthology are either fictitious or used fictitiously. Strange Worlds of Lunacy: The Galaxy's Silliest Anthology Copyright © 2008 Cyberwizard Productions ISBN 978-0-9795788-9-2 (paper) ISBN 978-0-9815669-0-0 (electronic) Library of Congress Control Number: 2008922916 First Edition: April 2008 All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or any information storage and retrieval system, without the prior written permission of the publisher and the individual authors, excepting brief quotes used in connection with reviews. Copyright for individual works reverts to individual authors. Clipart by Richard Svensson or from various Public Domain sources.

Strange World’s of Lunacy

ii

Table of Contents

Princess Lily’s Wedding....................................................................... 3

Knight’s Tale 1 ................................................................................... 10

Over Time ........................................................................................... 11

One Paradox and a Funeral.............................................................. 14

Flighty Fairy ...................................................................................... 16

The Surgical Option........................................................................... 17

Tongue Twister................................................................................... 28

Tone Deaf ........................................................................................... 29

Shock the Monkey.............................................................................. 31

The War (In Two Parts)..................................................................... 33

Shake, Rattle, and Roll ...................................................................... 35

The Sole of a Giant ............................................................................ 38

Getting Lucky ..................................................................................... 40

What the Queen Found ..................................................................... 40

Instant Water...................................................................................... 43

The Keys ............................................................................................. 45

First Day Jitters.................................................................................. 49

Wayward Magic.................................................................................. 52

The Perils of Wizardry ....................................................................... 52


iii

Too Many Crooks............................................................................... 54

Blind Taste Test.................................................................................. 56

The Preacher ...................................................................................... 57

The Leprechaun’s Tale...................................................................... 59

Failure to Communicate.................................................................... 60

A Hero’s Guide to Saving a Planet ................................................... 61

Mirthgar ............................................................................................. 63

Newton the Baker’s Boy .................................................................... 71

Parrot as MacGuffin.......................................................................... 75

The Foolish Apprentice ..................................................................... 84

The Reluctant Page............................................................................ 90

Chinese Eye ...................................................................................... 103

A Royal Pain..................................................................................... 121

Surely You Jest................................................................................. 123

Knight’s Tale 2 ................................................................................. 123

Plausible Deniability ........................................................................ 124

Dead Fred......................................................................................... 127

The Shoes, the Giant and the Wizard of… ..................................... 128

Baby Truth........................................................................................ 133

Stitches.............................................................................................. 136

Who? Me? Wrong Guy .................................................................... 138

The Fortuneteller ............................................................................. 143

No Quarter........................................................................................ 143

The Affairs of Wizards..................................................................... 145

Wizard in Robes ............................................................................... 152

King on a Throne ............................................................................. 152


iv

Kaiburr the Rotund .......................................................................... 153

Answer Me This ............................................................................... 163

Alien Landings ................................................................................. 169

Let Down Your Hair ........................................................................ 170

Billy Steadman, the Dragon, and the Virgin Bride ........................ 173

Motherly Advice ............................................................................... 188

A Single Snapped String .................................................................. 191

Shapeshifter...................................................................................... 194

An Alphabetical Glossary of Critically Important Silly Terms ...... 196

Author Bios ...................................................................................... 200


v

Illustrations Artist Page K\V[TeW LiXaffba

Ie\aVXff E\_l -

M[X <[T\e`Ta -,

M[X :gTiTe /3

LbeX ?XXg 03

ITeebg Tf FTV@hYY\a 2/

KblT_ IT\a ,-+

;TUl Mehg[ ,.-

:ag[bal TaW g[X Lc[\ak ,1-

;\__l LgXTW`Taa ,31

L\aZ_X LaTccXW Lge\aZ ,4+

@ab`X >aW ITZX

M):) FTe^\gTa

L`\gX Rbh .+

EXg L_XXc\aZ =eTZbaf E\X /-

LT\_be#f ?TagTfl 1-

ETWl KXTcXe 34

<b_\a I) =Ti\Xf

?\efg <bagTVg ,.

I[ba\aZ Ab`X ,+-

Mb` PT__TVX

Ieb]XVg BaiTf\ba ,-' ./' /,' 0.' 2+' 33' ,//' ,2-

FTk O) G\`bf

B__XZT_ :_\Xa ;TV^ <biXe


vi

Welcome message from the editors:

Hello, and welcome to our silly little corner of the universe. We're glad you're here and hope you have some fun. Prepare to laugh yourself silly...wait, you probably are silly, aren't you? If you weren't, you wouldn't have bought this book. Let us rephrase that. Prepare to laugh so hard you die of asphyxiation... no, that doesn't work either. Who wants a book that makes people expire? Other than funeral directors that is.

Speaking of funeral directors, we once knew a guy... what? Oh, sorry, lost our train of thought there. Let's try this again. Prepare to laugh... what's that? Get to the point? We're trying, okay? Have you ever tried to write a welcome message for a book? Let me tell you, it's not easy. You should see the pile of paper... well, no, we didn't use real paper, we typed it on a computer. Of course we didn't use real paper. That's just a figure of speech. What? Say what we mean? We were trying to until you interrupted us. Sheesh! Some people.

Now let's see, where were we... Oh bother. Now see what you've done? Our minds have gone blank. Which isn't all that surprising. Hey, stop grinning like that! The silliness is that way! Go read the book already and leave us alone!


1

One more page to

Silliness


2

Princess Lily by Richard Svensson


3

Princess Lily’s Wedding by Robert J. Santa

“I love him, Daddy!”

King Frederick breathed deeply. It had been a very long conversation with his youngest child, punctuated by much pouting and exasperated sighing and stomping of pretty feet. Frederick stood over her while she held her face in her hands and cried. He wanted to do nothing more than pout and sigh and stomp his feet. Of course, he couldn’t, even in his daughter’s bedroom with no one else to see. Kings had to uphold higher standards, especially with sixteen-year-old daughters.

“Lily, dear.” He tried to soften his voice. “I have never stopped you from doing anything, regardless of appearances. Remember when you wanted to learn swordplay?”

Frederick heard a pause in her sobbing and knew she was paying attention.

“I did not stop you then, and I seem to recall having to remind the fencing master that I was not simply a willful father.” Frederick, in fact, had to stand in the training room and shout at the top of his lungs “I am the King!” He had been much surprised when Lily expressed interest in fencing, much more so when she ignored the light rapiers and selected the broadsword during her first lesson. She could barely lift it then. Three years later she was applauded for her gioco stretto technique.

“You’re going to tell me not to see him,” Lily said through her hands. Frederick searched for a way to say “yes” without using the actual word.


4

“You are a princess,” he said. It sounded like “yes” to him.

“I love him.” Lily lifted her head.

“You have mentioned that.”

“And we’re going to be married.”

“Please don’t make me raise my voice to you,” said Frederick.

“You let Andrew and Helena marry for love.” Lily looked her father squarely in the eyes.

“Yes, I did. But your five oldest brothers and sisters married the people I told them to.”

“That’s part of their duty to the family,” Lily said. “You don’t have any more political needs. The kingdom is secure.”

Frederick looked down at his daughter and once again admired her for her intelligence as well as her beauty. He certainly didn’t have to arrange another marriage.

“I allowed your sister and brother to marry whom they chose.” He shook his regal head. “I did, however, meet their betrotheds.”

“You’ve met him, Daddy.”

“Lily, I feel I am showing remarkable restraint.”

“It’s not like there hasn’t been a precedent. Princess Elizabeth in Montebene. Princess Ekaterina in Parvograd.” Lily stopped speaking when she saw her father’s shoulders slump.

He was defeated. There was nothing he could say to his daughter to make her change her mind. And unlike other times when he had raged his opinion, he knew from experience the effect would be lost on one of his children.

“But it’s a frog, Lily.” He wondered if saying it for the twentieth time would produce different results.

“He’s a frog prince, Daddy,” she said for the twentieth time.

“I have no choice, do I?”

“I love him.”


5

King Frederick breathed deeply again and let the air out in a long sigh.

“All right, Lily. Kiss your frog, and then you can marry your prince.”

“Oh, I can’t kiss him.”

Frederick looked down at her with newfound surprise dredged from a well he thought already dry.

“Why not?”

“Because we’re not married yet. It wouldn’t be proper.”

“But,” the word came out in a series of b-sounds, “how will you know he’s a prince?”

“I just know, Daddy.”

“You have to kiss him.”

“Daddy!” The word exploded from Lily’s mouth as if she had been insulted. Considering her reaction, perhaps she had been.

“Do you know how many frogs get kissed by girls that turn out to be just frogs? A lot more than frogs who turn into princes. What makes you think this one’s a prince?”

“Because he is,” said Lily.

Frederick tried to think of something to say and couldn’t focus his thoughts on less than ten words at a time. He raised his arms and lowered them, then did it again. Had anyone but the King done it, he would have looked like a flapping duck. Instead, Frederick looked like a distressed king as he stopped in mid-flap. Then he left the room.

~*~

“I will not sanction a marriage of my youngest daughter to a frog, Gossamer.” It had taken Frederick all afternoon to gather enough control to remove the exclamation points from his speech.

“Lily is a willful girl,” said the Queen. “She is accustomed to getting her own way.”


6

“I don’t understand where she gets her stubborn streak.” Frederick glanced sideways at his wife as he smiled, the first of the day.

“It’s a mystery,” Gossamer replied, the corners of her mouth mirroring Frederick’s.

“I don’t think I can do this,” he said.

“I’ll talk to her.”

“Thank you.” Frederick held her hands and relaxed. His moment of peace lasted exactly three seconds.

“Mommy! Daddy! Look at me!” Lily came into the room in a twirl of white lace. Her gown was almost as beautiful as the glow on her face. She clapped her hands and hopped up and down. She ran from the room with all the excitement of champagne bubbles rising in a glass.

Frederick and Gossamer stared with open mouths.

“Should I still talk to her?” she asked after a long moment.

Frederick did something quite unkingly, which involved much cursing and a little crying, and won’t be discussed in detail here.

~*~

The sky was a bright, cloudless blue, the kind poets with higher educations call cerulean. The gods of the air exhaled the softest puffs of wind in ways that caused flags to flutter but not snap. The rose gardens around the castle chose that morning to explode with blooms, to bless the air with their perfume. Songbirds alit in the parapets and sprinkled the morning with melodies, and it was all just barely over the top.

Frederick wore his purple robes beneath a sable-lined cloak. He stood on the balcony and looked out at the assembled crowd in the courtyard. There was a great deal of purple out there.

“Will you make it through this?” Gossamer asked from behind him. He only nodded.

Soon thereafter, Frederick stood beside the Queen at the top of the steps. Red carpet covered the stairs. Below them stood the Royal Priest, Princess Lily, and a page.


7

The priest wore his highest hat, his most officious robes, and plenty of golden jewelry on his wrists and fingers, yet it was as sackcloth compared to the bride.

Princess Lily was as radiant as a sunrise on a calm sea. Her hair was woven with ribbons and flowers, held in place by a circlet of spun silver. Her dress, that had appeared as a twirl of lace a month before, proved to be a masterpiece of tailoring when standing still. Beadwork of diamonds and pearls covered the delicate fabric. It somehow made her look prettier than she was, and the bride was indeed beautiful.

The groom, of course, wore nothing.

He was carried by a page, whose uniform was starched to cardboard stiffness, on a soft lilac-colored pillow fringed with golden threads. As the page stood beside the bride, he was clearly trying his hardest to think invisible thoughts.

“Your majesties,” the priest began, indicating the King and Queen without actually looking at them, “lords and ladies, honored guests...we come together on this glorious morning to unite Princess Lily and...” Then the priest floundered. Clearly he was trying to follow a speech he had made hundreds of times before under normal circumstances.

“...her betrothed,” said the priest after a pause long enough for everyone to notice. “With the blessing of King Frederick, this couple begins today their life together.”

Then he continued with the prayers, the songs, the scattering of the flower petals, the anointing with oils, and the waving of incense. It was, indeed a glorious day, but despite the blooming roses and cerulean sky it was still a very long service.

“Do you,” the priest eventually said as if out of nowhere, “Princess Lily, take this...groom to be your husband, forever and always?”

Lily gazed deeply into the frog’s eyes. Frederick heard snickering in the crowd below and hoped he didn’t flush too badly.

“I do,” said Lily, and there was more twittering.


8

“Do you,” asked the priest, looking as serious as possible, “take this beautiful woman to be your bride, forever and always?”

To everyone’s surprise, the frog straightened up and looked directly at the priest. He croaked deliberately and loudly, one retort. Frederick couldn’t help but feel it had also been delivered haughtily.

The priest opened his mouth, but no sound came out. After a moment he said, “Uh.” Frederick was impressed he managed even that.

“I pronounce you husband and wife,” the priest said after only a bit more uncomfortable silence. “You may kiss...” And he obviously wondered if the groom could follow his prompt.

“Yes,” the priest said, “that’s all. You may kiss.” It was another masterful recovery.

The page took his cue and lifted the pillow. Lily bent only slightly, her lips puckered. She pressed her mouth down onto the top of the frog’s head and held it there. She lifted her head to the accompaniment of a little “smack.”

Lily looked down at the frog. The frog looked up at his new bride. The moment, more uncomfortable than any other up to that point, persisted long enough to make every single person in the courtyard, especially the page, wish they were far away.

Then the frog jumped off the pillow, a suicidal leap for such a small frog. Frederick was filled with mixed emotions as he simultaneously envisioned dancing up and down the halls of the castle and cradling his grief-stricken daughter in his arms.

A pink glow that did not offend the eyes covered the stairs. The page fell back, retreating from both it and the center of attention. Frederick blinked, and when the glowing vanished a handsome man stood beside his daughter.

He was tall, with dark hair that shone in wavy locks down to his broad, strong shoulders that topped a frame fit for wrestling bears. As a frog he had worn nothing, but as a prince he was garbed in a black and silver robe over black pants and boots. A circlet of matching silver held his perfectly parted mane out of his green eyes.


9

Frederick’s mouth was dry. He searched his mind for something to say and found it empty. Still, as Lily and the prince leaned into each other and kissed, he smiled as the assembled people burst into cheer-filled applause. Suddenly, Frederick found his hands together as well, and in his heart he knew that of the thousands of people there, he was clapping the loudest.

~*~

Lily and her prince waved to the crowd as they descended the steps. Another page held the carriage door open while they climbed inside, and to the sound of cheering and horses’ hooves the happily married couple exited through the castle gates.

Far away, in the company of four white horses and a driver who could hear nothing below him, Lily leaned into her husband and kissed him again.

“I love you,” she said when they separated.

“I love you, too.” The prince lifted his hand from hers and wiped his nose on his black and silver sleeve. It was not as if he hid this movement from Lily, but she softened more inside as she realized her husband was sensitive enough to cry in front of her despite his lumberjack’s build. When he pushed aside the curtain over the carriage’s window and spit through it, her brow crinkled. But only after he shifted himself onto one butt cheek and did his best to imitate a trumpet did her happiness finally crack.

“I can appreciate keeping a facade for the general public,” Lily said, a smile nevertheless on her face, “but you don’t have to drop every Prince Charming demeanor when we’re alone.”

“Silly girl.” The prince raised a finger to his nose and inserted it up to the second knuckle. He continued to speak while he excavated. “Prince Charming chops through walls of thorns and fights dragons.” He pulled out his finger and did little to disguise the bit of greenery on its tip from his new bride. She did equally little in hiding her disgust.

“I am,” he wiped his finger on the front of his shirt, “a frog prince, after all.”


10

Lily sat open-mouthed. Her husband leaned to his left and blew the trumpet again.

And the two of them lived happily ever after. Well, perhaps “happily” is too strong a word, but we’ll just leave it at that.

~*~ ~*~ ~*~ Knight’s Tale 1 by D. Richard Pearce A dragon did spy a young knight And said to himself with foresight: I should eat him right quick, Or I fear I’ll be sick— Lord knows that those cans aren’t airtight.


11

Over Time by Stoney M. Setzer

“What is this place?” Pewt the ogre asked as he turned about.

“Some sort of inter-temporal dungeon,” replied Derbin as he analyzed the cylindrical walls surrounding them. “If you look out the windows, you’ll see that the timeframe is constantly changing.”

The old wizard was right. Dinosaurs were in plain sight one moment, only to be replaced by Roman soldiers, cowboys, spacecraft, and everything in between.

“Surely there must be some way out of here!” exclaimed Princess Mara. “Quick, everybody pull at some of the panels!”

The three of them tried desperately to find a loose panel, but only Derbin had any success. He shouted in alarm as he found not an escape route, but rather a swarm of fruit flies.

“Disgusting!” Mara protested. “Try something else!”

“No, please don’t!” Pewt objected, a smile of childlike exuberance on his face. He was grabbing as many flies as he could and tossing them into his mouth like candy.

“But we’re in an inter-temporal dungeon,” Derbin said, trying to reason with him. “Do you really want to be marooned in time forever?”

“Why not?” Pewt replied. “Time’s fun when you’re having flies!”


12

Project Invasion

By Tom Wallace


13

First Contact by Colin P. Davies


14

One Paradox and a Funeral by Colin P. Davies

When I die, I’m going to leave my body to science fiction – Steven Wright

The funeral went without a hitch. It also went without a body.

When the minister had finished his readings and descended to stand before the altar, Richard Careless stepped up to the pulpit and surveyed the congregation. All his father’s friends and business associates had turned up. In the circumstances, that was gratifying and somewhat surprising. Gossip rumbled beneath the high roof of the church.

“Thank you for coming today.”

The congregation quieted.

“You all knew Dad. You knew his quirks and failings, his drives and weaknesses, but most of all you knew his strength of character. His determination. His sixty-five years of inventive brilliance.” He gazed from face to face. “That’s more than I knew.”

He caught a whisper of sympathy from the front pew.

“It’s been said before, but bears repeating — I wouldn’t be here today if not for him. But, equally, it can be said that he would not be here today if not for me.”

Someone laughed.

“Except that, as you know, he is not here.” Richard gestured at the open, red velvet lined coffin. “Yet.”

He held the dramatic pose through a battery of camera flashes.

“I’m twenty-five now and it’s been a hard life, or half a life…thanks to Dad. We shared a world, but could not share a time. So


15

we took turns. An hour for me, an hour for him. All I knew of him was the photos and films and recorded messages. Sometimes there would be his lingering scent, aftershave and machine oil. And, of course, the poems he would leave for me.” Richard raised his gaze Heavenwards, as though recounting some of those emotive and personal words. Then he shook his head.

“If Mom was here today, instead of in the asylum, she would curse him.”

The minister stood, hands clasped behind his back, shuffling his shiny black shoes.

“And who can blame her?” said Richard. “Imagine, if you will, two people who are one, who cannot co-exist. Imagine a machine that traverses time and a man brilliant and crazy enough to take a chance. Imagine going back forty years and being stranded in that time — your machine destroyed.”

It had become so quiet in the church that Richard could hear sparrows singing beyond the sunlit stained glass windows.

“Are you all imagining?”

He noticed the minister had slipped away behind a curtain and now had his fingers in his ears.

“What did my mother think when I was born and my father disappeared? Just like a man? She was both wrong and right. Wrong because he had good reason for going, and right because, after all, he was just a man.”

Richard again cast his gaze over the uplifted, expectant faces, and cleared his throat.

“Now, before I go, I’d like you to imagine one more thing — being me. Imagine knowing that in the not too distant future you will invent a time machine and lose your mind and go back in time and get stranded and meet….”

In the front row, a woman fainted.

“I see you are imagining.”


16

Richard checked his watch. “I’ll be going shortly and, at the very moment I fade out, Dad will fade in to his coffin. I know I can trust you to finish things.”

A murmur swept across the church.

“I’ve just time now to leave you with a poem of my own. I’m not yet my Dad, but I know I’ll get there eventually.” He waited for the congregation to take the cue and fall silent.

“See you in an hour.”

Richard raised his head and spoke loudly enough to be heard by the reporters at the back of the church, and by the hordes of the curious gathered outside watching the screens.

I am not yet a poet, but I am a poet’s son, The poet that my Dad once was, is the poet I’ll become. His muse is apt to travel time, and he was apt to follow,

That’s how he met the paradox, a twist that’s hard to swallow. So follow Heinlein down the timeline, but you’ll likely wind up hurting,

And if you meet your future Mom, refrain from careless flirting.

~*~ ~*~ ~*~ Flighty Fairy by Lyn Perry A flighty young fairy named Styxx Used magic to turn guys to chicks. The dust was expired; The magic backfired! And left her in some kind of fix


17

The Surgical Option by Gustavo Bondoni

The inscription on the door indicated, to anyone who might have been interested, that the chamber beyond it was Galactic Senate meeting room #12, and did so in the usual seven million major galactic languages. Sadly, its being a somewhat average-sized door meant that the seven million beautifully tooled inscriptions were too small to be read by any known sentient race save the Grinbeggs of Wornpool, which was ironic because Grinbegg was not among the inscribed languages because it had never been very major. Also, the Grinbeggs had blown themselves to glowing bits in an atomic war several billion years before.

Despite this tragically typical example of compromise politics, it was still possible to find the chamber. At some point, someone had simply carved twelve deep lines into the wood, allowing any sentient being, regardless of language, and even galactic politicians, to identify it correctly, thereby saving themselves the embarrassment of sitting in on the wrong meeting, or, even worse, attending the correct one and being tricked into doing work.

In any case, no one was likely to wander in to this particular meeting by mistake. In the solemn, hallowed hallways of the near-sacred Galactic Senate Building, revered through the ages as the center of all sentient civilization, the sound of bickering, whining and occasional minor


18

violence could only mean one thing: the bimonthly meeting of the Permanent Committee for Complaints Against Humans was in full swing.

The Chairman, a one-eyed multi-tentacled Lo’Ohik resplendent in his twelve-inch jeweled yellow monocle that looked somewhat like the lens on a planetary defense laser, surveyed the room. He did so with an air of considerable despondency. The meeting had been an absolute disaster so far, and there was no end in sight.

Half the room had been roped off by a cleaning crew who were busy scraping the remains of the Twilliz senator off the roof. He had been delivering an impassioned diatribe on some heinous human behavior or other, had become too emotional and had exploded. Perfectly normal behavior for a Twilliz, of course, but it tended to put some of the other species off their lunches, not to mention make a large mess.

The rest of the room was not much better, marred as it was by the fact that it contained the surviving senators, and further marred by the fact that they were all talking at the same time.

“Order!” shouted the Chairman. He had reached his exalted position within this group not through any talent or political acumen, but by the happy fact that he had twelve tentacles. Each was capable of holding a gavel, the combined noise from which was enough to bring even the loudest rabble to silence when banged simultaneously. Which is what he did now.

With much shuffling of torsos and rearrangement of pseudopodia, the senators from the other races turned to look at him. He gave them the eye (for which he was also particularly suited) and, satisfied that they were all silent for the moment, continued.

“According to the agenda, on this, the fourteenth day of the meeting, we will be taking a complaint from the Gluban ambassador.”

A pink ball of flesh dressed in a gunmetal battle-belt acknowledged the call. It was hovering about a foot above his chair on a column of air that was sucked in through two gills on the top if its torso, passed through a complicated bladder system inside the sphere, and expelled at high speed from orifices in the lower half of the body.


19

He was quickly given the floor by the other senators, who, despite their own concerns, were more than happy to let the Gluban have his say, and leave. Air, which has been passed through a Gluban, is never quite the same.

The ambassador jerked nervously from side to side on secondary air jets, making small, spasmodic motions similar to the death throes of Betelgeusian amphibo-poultry, a sign of supreme agitation.

“I have sad news to report,” it said. “Zend Plurez the Twelfth, leader of the Blue Star Trio, has died.”

Momentous as this news surely was to Gluban race and culture, it must be admitted that Gluban Trios, (who make music by whistling notes of different pitches by varying the wind output from their bodies), were not something that had caught on in the Galactic Senate. Partly because the members of that august body had an almost infinite number of recreational alternatives available to them, but mostly because Gluban Trios were not really very good.

A chorus of “Who?”s, and “What’s that?”s, and even a muted but distinct, “Yes, that’s right. Double cheese with sulphur-eel topping to chamber twelve” greeted this statement. The buzz was loud enough that the Chairman was forced to raise his gavels threateningly before silence resumed.

The senator gravely pondered the Gluban’s news before responding.

“So?”

“He’s dead!” said the Gluban

“I still fail to see the relevance of it, although I extend my condolences to your race.”

“He didn’t just die, he was killed.”

And then, after pausing for effect, he added the punch-line.

“By humans!”

Pandemonium ensued. Senators yelled at each other that here was the opportunity they’d been waiting for all these years. The murder of a galactic celebrity, no matter how minor, was surely a crime that nobody


20

would pass off as ‘just an accident’. If they could pin this murder on the human race, maybe they could finally stamp out this menace!

The Chairman, having been through scenes like this a dozen times in the last year, was a bit more circumspect. He wouldn’t get his hopes up. Lifting his gavels, he put all his tentacles to use in restoring order.

“Could you give us the details of the death of Mr. Ploopy?” he asked the Gluban.

“Plurez.”

“Huh?”

“His name was Plurez, he was the greatest high-octave whistler in the galaxy,” said the ambassador petulantly.

The Chairman just looked at him, seemingly on the verge of bashing the table again, absently lifting one gavel and returning it silently to rest, only to inadvertently lift another. It was a look that said that he was seriously contemplating a career change, and that plastics and multiple homicide, not necessarily in that order, were his current top choices.

Despite the wide differences in species and facial expressions, the Gluban got the message. He continued hastily.

“He died in a starship accident, taking evasive action to avoid humans.”

“Ah, so he was under attack?” said the Chairman, a tiny glimmer of hope just starting to emerge. Could this prove useful after all?

“Er… No. Not exactly. You see, he was embarked with an entire Krenoid sex-set when the humans came up on him.”

“Soldiers?”

The Gluban deflated and bounced off the chair beneath it. “Paparazzi,” it said.

The chairman threw a gavel at him. Of all the stupid wastes of time…

“Why didn’t he just shoot them?” said the Chairman in exasperation.


21

The Chairman by Richard Svensson


22

Galactic law, after careful consideration and analysis, had judged that the only way to maintain a civilized galaxy and decent relations between members of diverse professions and social classes was to make it mandatory for citizens to shoot paparazzi on sight. Initially, the law had made it acceptable to fire warning shots, but in the end, common sense and compassion had won out, and head-shots were required.

“We tried that,” said the Gluban, “but the humans always send us these snippily worded letters of complaint afterwards. We’ve explained the law to them thousands of times, but they just don’t seem to get it.”

Agreement was signaled around the table with nodding heads and waving pseudopods, but the Chairman just sighed heavily.

“There’s nothing we can do about this. Sorry. Dismissed,” he said. Disappointment rippled through the chamber.

“Next?”

The senator from the Sillybeest confederation stood up. Roughly hu-manoid, he was covered in blue fur and was about average height for a sentient.

“What kind of name is Sillybeest? I’ve never heard of the race,” said a tiny voice from somewhere near the middle of the table. All present immediately recognized it as the Aznid ambassador, although not all were able to see her, owing to the fact that she was about half as tall as the coffee mugs, and also hidden behind the agenda sheet. She put the sheet down and was revealed as an exoskeletoned biped in black aluminum armor seated somewhat precariously on the placeholder for the Zilg ambassador, (a triangular paper sign that stated that the Zilg race regretted its absence, and, while morally supportive of the crusade, would not be physically attending the meetings because they found all other races unbelievably boring).

“Good question,” said the Chairman. “What’s a Sillybeest? You look like a Cleengon to me.”

The Sillybeest seemed embarrassed.

“Well, that’s what we used to call ourselves,” he said. “Unfortunately, the humans hit us with some kind of copyright infringement, claiming that our species name was taken from a copyrighted entertainment show.


23

We scoffed and ignored it of course, but they sicced their lawyers on us. So we produced documentation proving that we had been called Cleengons long before their earliest smelly simian ancestors climbed down from the trees.”

“So what happened?”

“They took one look at the mountain of evidence and dismissed it, arguing that not only was it in a foreign language, it also hadn’t been duly notarized. Then they sued us for damages.”

There was a pregnant pause. Nobody wanted to ask what happened next. It would likely be the same sad story, repeated over and over since humans had been discovered a mere thirty fiscal periods previously, and invited to join galactic society.

Finally, the Chairman prompted him.

“And?”

“Can you believe the Galactic First Circuit Court upheld their claim? And the most ridiculous part of it is that they made us pay for damages all the way back to a time ten thousand years before humans as we know them even existed, using our own evidence to prove it!” The Sillybeest seemed close to tears. “We’re appealing, of course, but that could take centuries!”

“Tragic. But why Sillybeest?”

“Everything else was taken. The humans presented us with a list of acceptable names,” here the senator paused to shudder, “and this was the least embarrassing.”

“It really doesn’t seem like we can do anything, except to wish you luck with the appeal. You know we can’t go against the courts. I’m sorry.”

“We weren’t expecting a resolution,” the ambassador said, eyeing the assembled beings with lightly concealed contempt. “We came to make an offer. The Sillybeest… No. The Cleengon Space Navy is prepared to blow humanity out of the galaxy. No more problems, no more sessions. Just poof! And they’re gone.”


24

“No can do. And I’d have to report you,” said the Chairman regretfully.

“Please! They only control four systems! We can have them gone by the end of next week. Nobody would miss them.”

“They are a sentient race and part of the Galactic Brotherhood, no matter how annoying.”

“But all they contribute to the brotherhood are cheap sleazy lawyers!”

A sudden loud noise from an unexpected quarter made everybody jump. The Rurrugr senator, silent to this point, stood to his full height, horns nearly scraping the roof, and began to pound on the table, screaming at the assembly.

“No!” he roared, “that’s not all they export! Oops, sorry about that.”

This last, far from being part of his rant, stemmed from the fact that, while pounding the table, he had inadvertently impacted the Aznid senator, instantly transforming her into a puddle of green goo and a very dented suit of black aluminum armor.

The assembly was forced to wait patiently while the cleaning crew took a timeout from scraping the roof in order to respectfully push the inanimate remains of the Aznid off the table and into a wastepaper basket with a paper towel.

While the killing of the senator for one race by that of another would normally have resulted in a bloody, centuries-long war, it was not the case in this instance. The Aznids, due to their small size, had seen accidents of this type, (and the assorted bloody warfare that invariably followed), so many times that they had eventually grown monumentally fed up with the whole thing and had decided to make the best of a bad situation. Aznid ambassadors were now habitually shipped off in six-packs, and all came with a complementary roll of super-absorbent kitchen towels.

A slightly subdued Rurrugr senator continued.

“They don’t only export lawyers,” he said. “They also seem to have an inexhaustible supply of suicidal crackpots. And, since their systems are nearest to us than any other race, we seem to be bearing the brunt!”


25

All present settled in for yet another tale of woe. They knew the drill, having been in countless meetings just like this one.

“The first group of human missionaries to land on our planet were the vegetarians. They claimed that enlightenment could only be achieved through the complete renouncement of animal meat. They talked about how animals have feelings too, explained that even livestock has rights. Oh, and they also spoke passionately about cholesterol.”

“Ah, yes,” said the Chairman, “our first contact with humanity was similar. They told us not to eat animals. Sadly, a translator mix-up made us think that they were offering themselves in place of the animals, so we had one of history’s great barbecues. We thought everyone was happy. Until we got the complaint letter, of course.” He shrugged, an impressive gesture on someone with so many tentacles.

“But,” continued the Rurrugr, “can you even imagine the stupidity of trying it on us? I mean, we’ve been eating meat since the dawn of time, and our bodies are adapted to hunting, skinning and cutting flesh. Not only that, but the hunt has always traditionally been a rite of passage, and a determinant factor in assigning social status.”

He paused for a long time, shaking his horned head.

“I still don’t understand how they managed to succeed,” he said finally, “but they did. We soon discovered that our bodies couldn’t digest vegetation, and half our species was dead inside a fortnight. By the time we came to our senses and were gearing up to wipe them out with what remained of our star fleet, all that remained of the Rurrugr was a weakened core, which turned out not to be strong enough to resist the preaching of the second group of missionaries.”

“More vegetarians?”

“Pacifist vegetarians!”

Everyone sat, (or reclined or hovered), in absolute silence, hanging on every word as the senator continued.

“As we speak,” he said, “there are only fourteen Rurrugr left alive anywhere in the galaxy. Insufficient for our procreation ceremonies. We are doomed to extinction.”


26

A very solemn silence followed this proclamation. In a galaxy this size, of course, races are becoming extinct all the time, but it is still considered bad form in polite society to inquire about the size, mineral resources and location of soon-to-be-vacant planets in situations such as this one.

“There being no hope for our race, I have come to make one plea in their memory. I move for this committee to declare humans vermin and wipe them from existence.”

“You would need a unanimous decision for this,” said the Chairman, “it’s not to be undertaken lightly.”

“Even so, I call for a vote.” ~*~

There were twenty senators with voting privileges on this particular

subcommittee. A short time elapsed while those not physically present were roped in and put up to speed on the situation, and each went into his sealed voting booth for the secret proceedings.

The Chairman fumed while he waited. He was not allowed to vote, except as a tie-breaker.

In each booth were two buttons on a console which relayed the vote to the central computer. This, in turn, displayed the results on a large scoreboard on the wall: green numbers for favorable votes, red indicating disagreement.

The number nineteen lit up in green almost immediately. All conversation stopped in the chamber as the tension mounted. Just one more vote was needed! But then, after a pause, a single red light blinked on. Motion failed.

The voting senators looked around accusingly as they emerged from the booths and saw the results, trying to identify the culprit. It became very quickly apparent that the Weevil senator was attempting to blend into the crowd with exaggerated innocence, while at the same time, edging towards the nearest exit. Rapidly collared, he was herded towards the spot where the Chairman was presiding over a small group of sentients.


27

“What in the name of the Galactic Brotherhood were you thinking?” thundered the former Cleengon. “We had our one chance of finally removing this cancer from our galaxy and you ruined it!”

“I’m sorry,” said the Weevil, body language exuding contrite sincerity, “I had no choice.”

“Why the hell not?”

“Our race can’t afford to do away with the humans just yet. We’re all hooked on something called Coca-Cola, and only they have the formula. Not even all of them. A small group of them. A priesthood, or something, within what they call a “company.” But we’re not too worried about it. We’ve got our best people studying their plant life and working to reproduce the formula. We should be OK in a couple of years, and then you can go right ahead and wipe them out.”

Despite the anger, heads nodded and pseudopodia waved in agreement and commiseration. All of these races had had some sort of similar encounter with these thrice-damned humans. All could sympathize.

The Chairman, for his part, breathed a small sigh of relief. He was not completely averse to waiting a couple of years, despite these bimonthly meetings making his working life a living hell. His particular concern was that humanity seemed to be the only race capable of keeping the new office software up and running. This was somewhat understandable, since it was a human system, but how could it possibly be that nobody else in the galaxy could decipher the logic, (or illogic as a programmer friend had put it), of the latest version? He was confident that the bugs would, as promised, be fixed in the new Hyperspace Windows 2634 due out in a couple of years. And then humanity could be wiped out with minimum fuss.

He only hoped that it wouldn’t be too late.


28

Tongue Twister by Francis W. Alexander

“Aliens abducted me,” Jeter, my best friend, had told me. He became my candidate for the psycho ward when he added that, “They implanted part of an alien’s brain in mine and now Zaul shares my body.”

From that point on Jeter refused to get out of bed and I had to run errands for him. I had to do something or he was going to be one of those half ton guys on the front page of The National Inquirer.

He also told me, “Zaul suffers from motion sickness because his sense of balance is tuned to outer space, not earth. Somehow, the aliens made a mistake and now the wrong kind of movement can kill Zaul.”

One day I came by earlier than usual and noticed that the door was open. Stepping inside, I spotted Jeter on his belly.

“What are you doing?” I didn’t mean for it to be a question. He was inching across the floor like a worm.

“My name is Zaul, nitwit,” a deep voice interspersed with a shrill voice said. “You should mind your own business.”

I placed the groceries on the floor and left, contemplating ways to have my friend committed. That night while surfing the internet, I saw something about astronauts having bone loss and difficulty with balance after returning to earth. Maybe there was something to what Jeter had told me. It gave me an idea.

The next day, I brought him a rocking chair.

“What’s this?” Zaul eyed me suspiciously.


29

“I think you’ll love this,” I said.

He let me place him in the rocker. Then I took a rope and wrapped it tight around him.

“Let me out of here,” Zaul demanded.

“Rock-a-bye baby.” I rocked the chair with all my might.

“Stop it!” Zaul tried standing. He screamed and cried.

“On the treetop.” I rocked with fervor.

His head moved in circles. I saw dizziness in his eyes. I rocked with more passion as his head staggered and his chest heaved. Then, he let loose buckets-full of bluish-green vomit. I thought he was going to die and stopped rocking. My stomach turned at the sight of the huge puddle. I untied the ropes and rushed to the door before the fumes overcame me.

“Thanks,” Jeter shouted as I looked back at my friend. He sounded like his old self again.

“It’s nothing.” I hunched my shoulders. “Just rocking Jeter to slay Zaul.”

~*~ ~*~ ~*~

Tone Deaf by Heather Kuehl There once was a pretty young thing, Who mistakenly thought she could sing. She opened her mouth But her vocals turned south, And the ears of the village did ring.


30

Smite You by T. A. Markitan


31

Shock the Monkey by Lyn Perry

“You strapped in?”

“Eee eee eee.”

“Quit complaining, it’s regulations even for experienced space monkeys.”

“Ooo ooo eee.”

“Yeah, okay. When we jump to light you can move about the cabin. But no smoking, in case you were wondering.”

“Eee eee ooo.”

“I know you don’t want to go but your testimony is vital.”

“Eee…”

“Look, Mazaru, we’ve been over this. The Emperor of Alpha Orionis is accused of orchestrating the invasion of Beta Eridani. You and your two ship-mates intercepted a vital communiqué that proves his guilt. You must appear before the Galactic High Council and condemn this monstrous evil.”

“Eee.”


32

“The Jungle World of Beta Orionis could be next, you know.”

“Ooo eee eee.”

“What do you mean that’s none of your business. Don’t the three of you care that the entire Galaxy is threatened? Our case is unraveling thanks to your friends. Mizaru now claims he didn’t see the Emperor’s holocast and Mikazaru says she didn’t actually hear him give the order to attack. Mazaru, you’re our last hope. Your evidence against him could put an end to this evil threat once and for all.”

~*~

“Is Mazaru prepared to testify?”

“No, your Honor. He’s refusing to speak.”

“I thought something like this might happen. Mizaru and Mikazaru aren’t cooperating either. They claim they didn’t see or hear any transmission about the invasion of Beta Eridani. Seems the Emperor got to all three of them.”

“Maybe our space monkey friends simply need a bit of incentive, your Honor.”

“My thoughts exactly. Strap that one into the quanta-flux memory jolt-alizer. A zap to his tush should help him find his tongue. Ready?”

“EEE!”

“So my friend, ‘See no evil, hear no evil, speak no evil’ only goes so far when it’s your butt that’s on the line, eh Mazaru?”

“ooo.”


33

The War (In Two Parts) by D. Richard Pearce

Part 1

The generals glared at each other over the vinyl battlefield. The line had been drawn. The weapons were readied, jeers and catcalls issued. One crossed the line, withdrew, then the other. Again and again. Finally, the skirmish became war.

Part 2

Dad stopped the car. The war was over.


34

Project Invasion

By Tom Wallace


35

Shake, Rattle, and Roll by R. L. Copple

The phone rattled the air with its ringing. Jeremy sighed. It had been a long day. He thought about not answering, but a few minutes remained before closing time. The customer had to be served.

“Hello, Bandi Breads, how can I help you?”

“I need some bread, and a cake for my son’s birthday party. But I hoped you could recommend one.”

Jeremy let himself fall against the wall as if he held it up. Not the First Lady again! Doing a job for the President, while an honor, tended to produce a lot of stress.

“What does your son like?”

“Well, he’s patriotic and likes sports.”

“I’ve got the perfect cake. A strawberry cake, topped with slivers of strawberry and blueberries on white frosting to make a flag. Then I’ll infuse it with the ‘Star Spangled Banner.’ How’s that?”

“Oh, I knew you would have the perfect cake. I’ll take it and a loaf of oat bread with Bluegrass for my husband, please.”

“Got it. Anything else?”

“No thanks. I’ll be over in three hours to pick it up.”

Jeremy sighed internally. How do you tell the First Lady when to pick up her bread? “Can you make it in two? I had hoped to be gone by then.”


36

“Two? I suppose I could have one of the staff pick it up by then. Thanks so much.” The line clicked to a busy signal.

If he hurried, he could have her order ready to go into the oven before the others had finished. He pulled out a mixing bowl and whipped together the ingredients for the cake and then the bread, but he left out the baking power and yeast. His bread rose on the beats of a song, none of that artificial stuff.

He had discovered long ago that starting with a certain rhythm had an effect upon the rising, and by playing a particular song, the spirit of the melody would permeate the dough. People marveled how their lives burst into the emotions of the songs when they bit into the breads. People came from miles around to purchase his confections.

After mixing, he put the oat loaf into a soundproof chamber, sat down at his drum set, and rolled out the beats for The Star Spangled Banner. As each beat rapped upon the snare, bulges of dough would push into the air. Within ten minutes the cake had risen to a fluffy height that any red-blooded American would be proud of.

Jeremy wiped his forehead. He had been doing this all day long; he needed something to pick him up. He reached over to his personal stash of breads and pulled out a Hard Rock muffin. That should do the trick.

While he chewed the rockin’ bread, he pushed the cake into the oven and pulled out the dough from the soundproof box. After licking his fingers of the last crumbs, he sat down to inject the oat bread with a snappy bluegrass beat. If only he had an extra set of arms to play the banjo too.

Before he could put stick to skin, the front door bell rang. He hurried to the counter to find a man with a half-eaten loaf of sweet bread.

“Yes, Sir?”

“You see this loaf? Does it look eaten to you?”

“Well, part of it.”

“It didn’t work. I thought she liked country music, but she asked for a divorce.”


37

“I told you ‘Take This Job and Shove It,’ might not be the most romantic piece you could find.”

“I don’t care, I want my money back!”

“You’re missing a great opportunity here. Why don’t you take this to work and share it?”

His eyes squinted at Jeremy, then relaxed as they scanned upward. “Hum, that has some merit. I could probably get a raise.”

“Meanwhile, maybe you should go with my original suggestion and get another loaf infused with ‘You Are So Beautiful.’”

He nodded. “Sold.”

“I’ll have it tomorrow. I’m maxed out tonight.”

They exchanged money and Jeremy returned to his set. The loaf of bread for the President of the United States of America lay flat on the kneading board. An idea formed in his mind.

“Bluegrass indeed! I’ve noticed your graying hair and haggard look, Mr. President. I know just what you need.” Jeremy rapped out the discontented beats of Take This Job and Shove It as the bubbling bread filled with musical life.


38

The Sole of a Giant by Dan Devine

Terry sipped deeply from his tall, dark lager and sighed with satisfaction. It was just what the little man needed after a long day in the fields.

The tavern was unusually quiet tonight, but it wasn’t too difficult to figure out what was missing. Terry motioned for Tubby, the bartender, to come closer. “Where’s Erg tonight?” he asked.

The half-giant’s looming presence was a near constant at the Homey Hearth. Sure, he wasn’t much for intelligent conversation, in fact it was a bit of a stretch for him to put two syllables together, but Terry missed his exuberant cheer just the same.

“Had a doctor’s appointment to go to,” answered Tubby with a shrug.

“Is he all right?” asked Terry. The only thing kept Erg’s actions from being fatally stupid was the fact that he was very hard to kill.

“I think so,” replied Tubby, leaning in and lowering his voice. “I heard he’s been seeing a she-ogre lately. Wants him to clean up his act – watch his diet, get routine physicals and all that.”

Terry snorted beer through his nose. “Good luck to her!” He raised his mug in mock salute.

Just then, the door flew open wide, slamming hard against the far wall. Terry reflected that if Erg didn’t drink several times his considerable weight daily, he wouldn’t be worth what Tubby paid in insurance.

The ugly, mismatched eyes of the half-giant peered over his bulbous nose, searching the tavern as they adjusted to the darkness inside. Erg visibly brightened when he made out Terry and Tubby talking together and he started towards them purposefully, upending a few tables.


39

“Hey there, Er...ulk!” began Terry, his greeting interrupted by Erg’s enormous foot when it made contact with his chin and launched him flying into the air. Erg was on him in an instant, battering him repeatedly with kicks to the head and stomach, giving the tiny little man no chance to recover.

“Erg! What in blazes is the matter with you?” yelled Tubby, dousing the half-giant with a pitcher of cold water to distract him from homicide. “What could Terry have possibly done to you?”

Erg stopped and shot a well-practiced puzzled look in Tubby’s direction.

“Nothin’,” he answered. “But the doctor said to stay in shape I had to kick my drinking hobbit.”


40

Getting Lucky by Jeff Parish

Pete watched his half-dressed girlfriend leave the car and gingerly reach out toward the horse that had interrupted them.

Slowly, the beast approached and sniffed her hand. It nuzzled her hair and allowed Rose to stroke its single, glowing horn. She beamed; a beautiful, triumphant smile.

Great, Pete thought glumly. Now I'll never get lucky.

What the Queen Found by Lyn Perry

There was an old king on a throne

Who left his queen’s bed quite alone. She gave a berating

To her ladies in waiting When the king was found pleased to the bone.


41

Project Invasion By Tom Wallace


42

Let Sleeping Dragons Lie by T. A. Markitan


43

Instant Water by Crystalwizard

The sun shone upon a small patch of tilled earth, baking it to a crisp. Marigolds blossoming around the edges wilted, and drooped. An old woman stood with her left hand on her hip, and squinted through one eye. “This garden ain’t gonna grow.” She turned a small card-board box around, and peered at the label on the front.

Instant water.

She tossed a dirty look over her shoulder at a near-by bungalow, and wrinkled her nose. “Stupid late night T.V. shows... sellin’ mah husband all sorts a’ rubbish!” She gave her attention back to the box, and tried to make out the directions on the back.

Add water...

She raised an eyebrow at the box, and snorted. “Yeah, instant water all right. ‘Fool an’ his money be parted!” She ripped the shrink wrap off the box, tore off the top and peered inside. A fine white, glistening powder filled the box almost all the way to the top. “Looks like sugar...” She turned the box upside down, poured its contents into the grass next to the garden and tossed the container away. “Idiot husband. Gotta fall fer every scam that comes along!” She hobbled toward the house, leaving a pile of glittering white crystals behind.

strange worls of lunacy

Documents

strange worlds of lunacy

galaxys silliest anthology

cyberwizard productions

individual authors

richard pearce

individual works

saginaw boulevard

planet magazine