Showcase: Santa Claws

The Christmas Rescue

by Drivtaan

When Santa Claws has to make an emergency, he receives help from a most incredible source.

***

Author’s note: All dialogue is translated from the Kitalian language for your reading pleasure, with the exception of the traditional Kitalian Christmas greeting. Enjoy.

***

“Mayday! Mayday!”

The distress call originated high in the Alpo Mountains of Northern Kitaly and was sent out in a multitude of languages, especially those of the surrounding countries. The white-bearded polar bear raised the mike to his muzzle, squeezed the button, and spoke again.

“This is Santa Claws,” he said, “and I’ve been forced to make an emergency landing. Please, can anyone hear me?” He paused a moment and waited for a response. When none came, he spoke again. “If anyone can hear me, I need help. If you help me, I can guarantee that your name will stay on the nice list for the next three years.”

Santa Claws released the button and climbed out of the SLEIGH1000. The second his black boots hit the snow, he saw what the problem was. The fuel line running to the number two engine had split, causing the engine to quit running. Without the heat from the engine to keep itself warm, it had quickly iced over. The polar bear liked the SLEIGH1000; it had sounded good on paper. No more traveling around the world at breakneck speed in an open sleigh freezing his fur to the roots, listening to the reindeer complaining about having to work overtime on the holiday, and having an inebriated penguin sidekick sing “Here Comes Peter Cottontail” over and over — if he’d just learn a Christmas carol or two. The SLEIGH1000 was supposed to change all of that. It was a vertical take-off and landing craft that provided an enclosed cabin area with heated seats and satellite radio, and there were no whining reindeer. Of course, they thought it was a fantastic idea as well, until they received their final paychecks accompanied by a nice bright pink slip. Looking at his situation now, Santa almost wished he could hear their grumbling one more time.

“Chingedy ching. Hee-haw, hee-haw.”

The polar bear’s head snapped around so fast that his red and white hat sailed off his head. As he looked around, trying to locate the source of the voice he had heard, he called out, “Buon Natale. Who’s there?”

“Buon Natale to you, Santa Claws,” a snow-covered figure pulling a sled said as it emerged from the mountain fog. “I am Dominick, and I’ve come to help you.”

Santa watched the figure toss back his jacket’s hood and brush the snow from his shoulders. With the hood removed, the polar bear could see that his rescuer was a young donkey.

“Not to sound ungrateful, “the polar bear said, “but why didn’t you answer my distress call and let me know you were coming?”

Dominick smiled. “I heard no distress call,” he said. “I was out gathering wood for my fire when I heard your craft going down. I grabbed the sled in case someone was injured and came as quick as I could.”

“How close is your home?” Santa asked. “I’ve only been on the ground for about ten minutes.”

“My home is about twenty miles that way,” Dominick said, pointing back the way he’d came.

The polar bear’s mouth dropped open. “You actually traveled through these mountains, under these conditions, at two miles a minute?”

“I would have been here quicker,” the donkey replied, “but I was afraid if I ran at top speed I would miss you.”

Santa Claws was amazed.

“So,” Dominick said, taking a look at the downed SLEIGH1000, “what happened?”

The polar bear pointed to the problem and explained what had happened. “I need to get it repaired as soon as possible,” he said, “so I can finish delivering the Christmas presents.”

Dominick thought for a second, then said, “My uncle likes to tinker with things; maybe he can help.”

“Do you think he would know what to do?” Santa asked.

“It’s possible,” the donkey said. “You want I go get him?”

“If you think he could help,” Santa replied. “How far away does he live?”

“He lives in my village,” Dominick said.

The polar bear started to nod. Before he had a chance to actually say anything, the young donkey was gone. Echoing through the surrounding mountains, Santa could hear Dominick’s unusual call.

“Chingedy ching. Hee-haw, hee-haw.”

The final “haw” had scarcely died away when Santa heard it again.

Dominick skidded to a stop beside Santa, and an older donkey climbed off his back. The bear could only stare in amazement.

“I knew where I was going,” the young donkey said with a grin.

“Buon Natale,” the older donkey said, extending a gloved hoof to Santa. “I am Giuseppe, Dominick’s uncle.”

Santa readily accepted the hoof and shook it warmly. “Thank you for coming. “Do you think you can fix it?”

Giuseppe walked over to the SLEIGH1000 and began to look it over. After a moment, he nodded. “It shouldn’t take more than a couple hours,” he said, “although you will need some fuel to replace what was lost.”

Santa was relieved that it could be fixed, but was somewhat dismayed at the time that would be lost doing so. Giuseppe could tell what he was thinking by the look on his face.

“Why not let Dominick help you with your deliveries while I fix this?” the older donkey asked.

“Sure,” Dominick said. “I’d be glad to help.”

Santa looked at the anxious Dominick and then at the SLEIGH1000. “How much ground could we cover while this is being fixed?”

The young donkey thought for a moment. “I’ve never tried it, but I think we could get all of Kitaly.”

Santa Claws thought for a second. It was only a little less of an area that he would have covered on his own.

“If we have any time left when we are finished,” Dominick said, “we might pick up a few towns on the way back.”

The polar bear liked the young donkey’s spirit. “All right, then. We’ll give it a shot.”

As Giuseppe began going through his toolbox, Santa Claws and Dominick began transferring the gifts for the Kitalians and a few extra, just in case, from the SLEIGH1000 to the sled Dominick had brought.

Santa took his place on the sled and was ready to go when Giuseppe motioned for his nephew to wait. He picked Santa’s forgotten hat up and handed it to him.

“We can’t have Father Christmas making his rounds without this,” he said.

Santa placed it firmly on his head. “Thank you,” he said. “Expect a little something extra in your stocking.”

Giuseppe blushed. “Buon Natale,” was all he said before turning back to his work.

“Ready, Santa?” Dominick asked.

“Whenever you are,” came the jolly reply.

And in an instant, they were gone.

It was a ride that Santa Claws never forgot. Dominick ran through the snow at such a great speed that the sled’s rails barely touched the ground. Not only did they visit every house and home in Kitaly, but the small kingdom of Monacow received its gifts during this very special trip.

By the time they had returned to where Santa had made the crash landing, Giuseppe was placing his tools back in his toolbox. After Santa and Dominick poured a couple cans of fuel into the tanks that they had picked up at a Gran Prix garage, the SLEIGH1000 was soon ready to go.

Santa Claws thanked his two new friends and then climbed back into his craft. And as he took to the air and flew out of sight, the two donkeys could hear the polar bear’s voice singing over the loudspeakers, “Chingedy ching. Hee-haw, hee-haw!”

Buon Natale to you all.

The End

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Captain Carrot and His Amazing Zoo Crew

Song of the Siren Belle

by Comickook and T Campbell

The Zoo Crew’s newest foe is the Siren Belle. Since she has the power to control the minds of all males listening to her sing, it’s up to Alley-Kat-Abra and Yankee Poodle to stop her crime spree. But can these two Zoo Crewers stop fighting like cats and dogs long enough to work together?

Author’s note: This story takes place between issues #19 and #20 of the Captain Carrot and His Amazing Zoo Crew comic-book series.

• Prologue: A Mighty Fine Debut

• Chapter 1: Fickle Wanda

• Chapter 2: The Multi-Critter

• Chapter 3: One-Note Wonder

• Epilogue: Resolutions

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In the hospital room of Alley-Kat-Abra — who had been badly bruised by the mind-controlled Rubberduck — the sorcerous tabby was already having a telepathic chat with Wanda as the wand bathed Abra in a healing ray.

Wanda: “Look, I really am sorry I let myself get distracted by the Belle’s promises. If I would have stayed more focused, we could have taken her. I never meant for you to get hurt.”

Abra: “Well, if wasn’t for the opening that was provided by the distraction, Rova wouldn’t have had the chance to take her down, so it did work out for the best. Still, we only make a good team when we can actually work as a team. Therefore, if you promise never to let temptation get in the way of duty again, I’ll promise never to take you for granted.”

Wanda: “Well, I can only promise to try to never let temptation get in the way of duty again, but I can and do promise that I’ll try very hard.”

Abra: “That’s all I can realistically ask, old friend. Just try as hard as you possibly can, and I’ll do the same.”

Wanda: “Deal, partner.”

Abra: “Welcome back, friend.”

***

Twenty-four hours later:

Samantha Drake quietly stayed deep in thought. Her powers had since worn off, and she wasn’t going to get ahold of her special helmet and throat spray to recharge those powers anytime soon. She ended up getting captured in the first place because she had succumbed to the temptation to use her powers for criminal purposes. Sure, she placed two members of the Zoo Crew under her spell and came very close to defeating two other members, but trying to be a super-villainess still got her caught and meant she would be spending at least the next ten years behind bars (unless she were to get time off for model behavior).

Well, Samantha had learned her lesson. She would resolve to be a model prisoner throughout her entire incarceration and, once she got out, she would forever more straighten up and fly right. No super-villain’s fantasies about getting revenge on Yankee Poodle and Alley-Kat-Abra for putting her away. Once she got out of prison, she would not do anything to risk going back. In fact, if she were to find a (legal) way to get her powers back after she got out, she would become a super-heroine to honor the two who had captured her. But the odds of that happening were one in a billion.

The End

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The Siren Belle managed to make it to her hideout while Alley-Kat-Abra and Yankee Poodle were busy with CFRP-One, and she reached for a high-tech-looking helmet with a noticable switch on the right side, which she flipped in the upward postion. Suddenly, she was surrounded by a massive golden glow.

“Ah know ah still have six hours left on the previous twenty-four-hour charge from this telekinesis helmet, but ah also have a feelin’ that those two super-biddies will probably find a way to defeat CFRP-One, so ah’ve got to see if I can power myself up while ah’m still carrying a charge,” Samantha Drake said simply, then reached for a bottle of throat spray and squirted some of it into her throat.

After a quick test, Samantha saw that her gambit paid off; her telekinetic powers were greatly increased by the helmet’s charge, and her singing had become even more powerful (as evidenced that all of the super-sensitive sound detection equipment was registering off the scale).

“Ah knew ah was on to something big ever since ah, as a lab assistant at the Mew Orleans division of Von Bruin Labs International, just one month ago stumbled onto that special throat spray and helmet that could give me incredible powers so long as ah recharged them every twenty-four hours. This, however, is the first time ah’ve tried the spray and helmet while ah still had a few hours left on a previous charge.”

***

Meanwhile, inside the Zoo Cruiser, which was once more airborne, Fastback asked, “Whut do ya think y’all are doin’, Mista Rentals, suh? We wuz supposed ta be headin’ back ta the Z-Building ta pick up Cap ‘n Pig-Iron.”

Following the blip on the Zoo Cruiser‘s radar (Rubberduck had planted a homing device on the Siren Belle while he had himself wrapped around her), Rubberduck simply replied, “And let them hog the glory? I don’t think so, Timmy-Joe. I want this gal too badly for that.” As he took the Zoo Cruiser in for a power dive, he silently added, “In more ways than one.”

***

Back at the Siren Belle’s hideout, a flash of very bright light appeared in front of the villainess, and the figures of Alley-Kat-Abra and Yankee Poodle appeared out of that flash. “Excellent work, Wanda,” Abra telepathically told her wand just as the Zoo Cruiser came crashing in. Samantha tried singing when she saw Rubberduck and Fastback. This time, the Belle’s singing was powerful enough to take control of Rubberduck and Fastback despite their respective ear-plugs and ultra-sonic vibrations.

“Ah’d be lying if ah said ah didn’t at least half-expect you super-heroines to find a way to defeat that super-robot,” the Siren Belle said as she, along with the mind-controlled Rubberduck and Fastback, advanced on Abra and Rova. “Howevah, CFRP-One did serve his purpose, keeping you busy long enough for me to increase mah powers enough for me to stand a fighting chance against you. Having two o’ your teammates under mah control makes things all the bettah.”

Magnetic blasts and mystic force-bolts acted as covering fire as Rova and Abra retreated slowly — too slowly to escape. But it bought them a little time.

Even more so than before, Rova had no time to put her thoughts into words. But if she had, they might have run something like this:

OK. Pros and cons.

CON: Byrd and the turtle look TOtally luuded out, so I don’t think the old “Fight it off, guys” speech is going to work.

PRO: Our crooning crone CRANE hasn’t really mastered this group-strategy thing yet. Byrd and Fastback are advancing on us at normal speed, instead of their usual blitzkrieg. And we’re hitting them a lot more often than we should be.

CON: That duck is singing again, louder than ever, and Abra looks pretty stressed. I think that “Félicette” thing took something out of her, and I don’t speak stick, but it looks like the wand is getting unfaithful again, and Abra’s calming it. I don’t know what kind of support I can expect from either of them, if any. Typical.

CON: Oh, MAHvelous. Bellie’s on the learning curve. Byrd’s getting stretchier, and Fastback’s getting faster.

PRO: I’ve signaled for help.

CON: There’s no way Rod and Pig-Iron can get here in time without Fastback, Abra, or the Zoo Cruiser.

CON: Byrd’s fist just connected with Abra’s cheek. She looks bad.

CON: That doggone SINGING! She sounds like Bunny Raitt cranked up to 180 decibels! It’s worse than fighting the Squawker–

–the Squawker…

the SQUAWKER’S weakness…

Fastback’s shell crashed into her ribs, knocking her off-balance. She just managed to create a star-spangled cushion and roll him off her and onto a stripe-slide. It would take his clouded mind maybe ten seconds to figure out what had happened and run back uphill into her.

Byrd had stretched himself into a sheet and completely subsumed Felina, whose struggles were getting progressively weaker.

And the Siren Belle was singing directly to Wanda now, promising her sestinas, antique finish, and the glory and respect she truly deserved, which meant that the Belle was distracted for two shakes of a poodle’s tail.

OK, Rova, sweetheart, thought Rova (and now the thoughts were words), you get this right or kiss your tail-puff goodbye. No pressure.

She clapped her paws together, interlaced her fingers, and pushed — and pulled. Stars and stripes wove themselves into an almost-hypnotic pattern, a pattern that gushed out of her arms and directly toward the Siren Belle, and toward the Siren Belle’s face, and into the Siren Belle’s mouth.

There was a sound like an Ozzy Ostrich concert compressed into one note. Then, for Rova, there was only blackness.

***

“She’s going to be all right?”

“Cap, I’ve checked her every ten minutes since I woke up. She — she should be fine.” Byrd sounded less than totally convinced of his own answer.

“Gnuh?” asked Rova.

“She’s awake.”

There were bright lights over her. “Can you hear us, Rova?” It was Captain Carrot talking.

“Ynnn.”

“Fastback rushed you over here as soon as you snapped him out of it.”

“Whr’s hrrr?”

“St. Bernie’s Hospital.”

“Srrn Bll?”

“She’s here, too,” said Captain Carrot. “On sleeping gas, and not to be awoken until we get her into a soundproof prison cell.”

“Rnfrs cnkrt.”

“Sorry?”

Oh, she was going to have to wake up, wasn’t she? Drat it all. She opened her eyes, painfully, and saw Byrd Rentals and Rodney Rabbit standing there. Her mask was still in place, and she used it to reduce the glare. “Make sure it’s made of reinforced concrete. She… throws things… and animals.”

“Will do,” said Captain Carrot. “You know, we’ve got to get you some earplugs. I know how hard these sonic villains are on you.”

“Sounds fab. I’m gonna play dead now, OK?”

Byrd blanched, even under his feathers. Rodney smiled, understandingly, and walked out of the room. Byrd stayed. “I’m sorry.”

“Huh? ‘S OK.”

“Cap already gave me the third degree, extra crispy, but it’s nothing compared to what I was already going through. Or what you were already going through. Just because I couldn’t keep my glands to my–”

“Byrd. ‘S OK. OK? Now… I’m asleep. G’night.”

“Good night.”

Byrd walked out of the hospital a changed duck. He was tired of being a playbird, reaching around for every pretty piece of animal flesh he could find. What did they all matter, in the end? What mattered were things like integrity and honesty — and friends, friends like Rova.

His resolve lasted almost halfway through the parking lot, whereupon he met one of his typical mobs of squealing fans and received three separate compliments on how sexily he could sign an autograph.

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If you had been looking out over the docks, about ten minutes later, you would have seen a black cat, a white poodle, and a blue tortoise shell float overhead at nearly sixty miles per hour. You wouldn’t have been able to hear their words, but you would have heard that they were shouting over the wind.

“CAN YOU POINT THAT THING IN ANOTHER DIRECTION?” shouted Yankee Poodle.

“DON’T CALL HER A THING!” replied Alley-Kat-Abra. There was anger in her voice, and something else.

Rova Barkitt was pretty sure she overheard a telepathic whisper from Abra afterward: “Shhh. Shhh. It’s OK. It’s OK.” There was kindness in the telepathy, and something else. The same something else as before. It took Rova a moment to recognize what that something else was:

Fear.

If you’d asked her, Rova herself couldn’t have told you why she started thinking back to the day she got her powers — when Byrd Rentals — her best friend — had started swelling and stretching like a CGI effect, and magnetics started shooting out of her hands, smashing everything they touched.

What if she’d never learned to completely control the powers?

And what if they had a mind of their own — a mind she had to placate with improv poetry, a mind that could stop liking her at any time?

It’d be almost as bad as being married.

And despite herself, Rova felt a moment of worry on Abra’s behalf, followed by a much more typical moment of worry on her own. As they descended through the streets of Mew Orleans, homing in on the Siren Belle, Rova’s mind drifted to a line from the Super-Squirrel movie:

“You’ve got me, but who’s got you?”

A few minutes earlier, when the Siren Belle had just blasted Alley-Kat-Abra, Yankee Poodle, and Fastback with some telekinetically moved smoke from a chimney during the mid-air chase, she had landed gently for a brief rest and had hidden from her foes up until now. “Finally lost them three,” the Siren Belle said, “but jus’ in case…”

With that, the villainess telekinetically ripped out three rather large chunks of earth and flung them at Abra, Rova, and Timmy-Joe while they were still reeling from the improv smoke screen. Though the smoke and the earth chunks hardly posed any real danger to the three heroes (they’ve all certainly dealt with much worse — most recently a second run-in with Frogzilla), they did provide just enough of a distraction for the villainess to feel secure in feeling she had escaped.

That was, until she saw a flash of green drop down on her in the form of a living coil and felt that green coil squeeze around her tightly. From the top of this coil emerged a duck’s head, which made the comment, “So, you beauteous bad bird. Come to Mew Orleans often? Seriously, though, how about stopping over by the Cats-bah before I finish bouncing you over to the police.”

Samantha Drake tried singing to get Rubberduck to let her go, but his ear plugs’ protection held. Instead, Rubberduck leered at her and quipped, “You don’t need to sing to put me under your spell; I’m already under it.”

The Siren Belle then tried her gaze, but those special lens Rubberduck wore kept him protected from that aspect of her mind-control, too. “You’ve got very nice eyes, gorgeous, but I’ve still got to turn you in to the police-dogs,” Rubberduck said with a sigh of half-regret.

Finally having enough of the super-stretching would-be Duck Juan, the Siren Belle telekinetically pried herself loose of Rubberduck’s grip and then flung him right into a wall, keeping him pinned telekinetically. Oddly enough, however, Rubberduck didn’t mind that much. In fact, he replied, in all honestly, “I like a gal that plays rough and hard-to-get.”

However, keeping Rubberduck at bay took enough of Samantha’s telekinetic power to leave her wide open for one of Yankee Poodle’s star-blasts. “Back away from our teammate, you baleful bird bandit,” Rova said in a heroic tone as Alley-Kat-Abra signaled Fastback to get Rubberduck back to the Zoo Cruiser while she and Rova dealt with the Siren Belle.

Samantha got up from the blast looking rather pained, surprised the star blast didn’t make her stronger like it did the first time Yankee Poodle tried it. That’s when it hit her — the reason the star blast made her stronger last time was because the wand was protecting her. Now Magic Wanda was back with her original holder, and Rova, Abra, and Wanda never looked more focused. This caused the villainous female waterfowl to gulp loudly. After all, she knew she was no match for all three when they were that focused.

Still, she also realized that all her efforts to elude the trio would be doomed to failure, because one of that trio had her mental marking, which left either surrender or fighting against seemingly hopeless odds.

If she surrendered, she was afraid would be the laughingstock of the super-villain community. However, she knew fighting would prove futile with no males around for her to entrance into helping fight her foes.

That’s when it hit Samantha again — she let fear cloud her mental faculties. She still had one trick left open to her, courtesy of some rather lonely evil scientists she had seduced with her mind-control powers. She wasn’t going to use it unless she absolutely had to, because, though she was a criminal, she wasn’t a killer. Still, she believed in being prepared.

With that thought in mind, she pressed a button on a remote control unit she kept in her purse. In a flash of light, a one-quarter rabbit, one-quarter turtle, one-quarter-duck, and one-quarter pig monstrosity emerged.

“Say hello to CFRP-One, the Multi-Critter,” she drawled. “You will find he possesses the combined might of all four o’ your Zoo Crew teammates, though the scientists who created him found a way to make the Captain Carrot powers permanent in this critter. I truly did hate to call him in, howevah, since it seemed a bit on the drastic side, and I am, by nature, not a killer. But you left me with no othah choice.”

The words flew out of Rova’s mouth as unexpectedly as the first stars and stripes had flown out of her hands: “Joking… right?”

CFRP-One replied: “PRIMARY TARGETS IDENTIFIED. COMMENCING LETHAL–”

The poodle and the tabby’s reflexes and skills responded before their conscious thoughts. In less time than it took to tell it, there was a stripe-shaped cocoon around them both, glowing with Wanda’s xanthic protection.

“–MANEUVERS,” the robot finished, and all high holy Heck broke loose.

Samantha ran, not stopping for anyone or anything, but shouting all the way, “Y’all brought this on yourselves! It wasn’t me! It wasn’t me!”

Imagine the combined strengths of Pig-Iron and Captain Carrot in one creature. Combine that with Rubberduck’s ability to throw punches from any direction, using extended arms like twenty-foot snakes. Finally, add Fastback’s speed, which was nearly supersonic even in close quarters like these. If you could imagine all that, you could just about imagine the punishment Rova’s cocoon was taking. It would have taken an outrageous optimist to hope that they would be safe for long — and Rova was nothing if not a realist.

“Get us out of here!” she shrieked.

Abra was levitating inside the cocoon, twitching and thrashing as if half-possessed, sweating and growling, muttering, “Concentrating…”

“Concentrate faster!” Were there cracks in the cocoon already? Rova strained, shot out more stripes, and built up a second cocoon inside the first. But she couldn’t keep doing that; the air was already getting thin.

“This is much harder than — it’s the magnetism in your stripes, I can’t find the ley lines…”

“Sorry, dearie! I’ll try to–”

Abra’s eyes glowed yellow-green, a glow that spread along her cape, and she called in a voice that was not quite her own, “Félicette, spirit of the astronauts! I call upon you! Heed us! Help us! Open your doors!”

There was a blinding flash within the cocoon, followed by an equally blinding darkness, and then silence, save for Abra’s labored breathing.

After a minute, Rova pulled a few of the stripes back into her hand, just enough to open the cocoon a tiny crack, and let in a bit of air and light. She saw nothing through the peephole. “It’s… gone?”

“Oh, yeah,” said Abra, getting enough breath back to laugh a little. “It’s really gone.”

“Where?”

“About fifty miles up.”

“Uh-huh…”

“Wanda and I and… a third party… were able to teleport it up there, even through the stripes. And tough as the Captain and Pig-Iron are, even they wouldn’t survive a fall from that height. I have to give Wanda credit: I wouldn’t have thought of that.”

Rova widened the peephole. “Didn’t Pig-Iron tell us he met Rod when he caught him from falling out of the stratosphere?”

“Yes, I’ve wondered about that, too. I believe the Captain might have some latent levitational ability, which he isn’t consciously aware of. It’d be interesting to see how his powers worked on a magical world, where the laws of gravity and physics are more flexible. But I doubt the scientists who built this robot could duplicate that.”

By now, Rova had widened the peephole into a door. “Well, faaascinating as this is, dahling, we should be going. That crooning crone is a lot more dangerous than we expected. And I was hoping to get to the sauna tonight.”

She looked back at Abra and saw she was still squatting on the floor and breathing hard. “You all right?”

“Yes. I just… remind me to sacrifice a sardine on Wednesday.”

“I’ll put it on my day planner. Is that for that spirit you paged? Felic–”

“Shhh. Don’t say her name.”

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Webbed feet walked on air, not quite touching the river. Samantha Drake, the Siren Belle, shivered. Even with her powers, it was a long walk, and of course one had to dress appropriately for the party; but there was the boat, up ahead.

The Steamboat Hatchez continued down the Mew Orleans riverfront. Inside, Mew Orleans’ higher animals glittered in jewelry and sequins. The conversation drifted around how wonderful it was to see one another, how much they all loved that dress, how horrible the world situation was, and how difficult it was, since the recent unpleasantness in Afghanhoundistan, to find fresh imported caviar. Rova Barkitt was right at home.

“And now you say it all the time, whenever any old Swinefeld actor starts a new project,” said Jason Alligator. “‘This project is doomed. It’s the curse of Swinefeld.’”

“Oh, pooh-pooh, dahling!” Rova replied. “What do we simple entertainment reporters know, anyway? You’ll come back bigger than ever!”

“Ahhh, I don’t really mind,” said the short, balding, bespectacled Jason. “I mean, I used to be worried that I wouldn’t live up to high expectations, but now everybody’s expectations are through the floor! I do a Kentucky-Fried Chiclets commercial where basically all I do is smile and squint, and everybody says–”

Yankee Poodle! Stay alert!

Rova tensed but tried not to show it. “Can you excuse me for a minute, Jasie, dear? I’ve got a sudden headache.”

It wasn’t a lie. In the privacy of the females’ room, Rova tapped her communicator and hissed into it, “Don’t do that!”

“She’s close, Y.P. You were right.”

“So call me on cell! Stay out of my head!”

“I assumed you’d want me to contact you quietly.”

“Sheez, you really don’t know anything about show business, do you? Nor about your hometown, apparently. These animals are as, aheheh, ‘free-spirited’ as any I’ve met in Follywood. How did you manage to live her so long and stay such a doe-eyed innocent?”

There was a silent pause, during which Rova was fairly sure she could hear Alley-Kat-Abra doing a breathing exercise to keep her temper. “Just get into costume–”

“Already done, dearie. This little chat isn’t taking too much of my concentration.”

“–and get out there. I’ll teleport in once you make your move.”

“Just in time to steal most of the credit. Got it.”

Rova got out of the room just in time to dodge a flying hippopotamus.

Sure enough, the Siren Belle was there, and she wasn’t wasting any time. The males were all immobilized, and the females were helpless before a telekinetic storm straight out of Stephen King-Vulture. Wallets, credit cards, and jewelry were all floating out of their places and into a pile in front of her as she finished her song about lost love and missed alimony payments.

Rova had learned the best time to quip was just after the first attack, when they’re trying to think of a defense. Never quip before you attack, no matter how good it feels, or you’ll lose the surprise.

Stripes shot out of her left hand and wrapped around the Belle’s bill, duck-taping it shut. “Consider this music criticism.”

Cheers went up among the females who could still stand: “Hammerica! Hammerica! United Species forever!” Rova had been wearing the flag since before it was fashionable, but it was very fashionable this year. Of course, Rova, though a proud patriot, was hardly Captain Americat. Someone else might consider it a little declasse to accept those cheers. But Rova wasn’t someone else.

She never saw it coming. The Belle made no gesture, and the air gave no glow. Rova just felt an invisible truck smash into her, smash her into the nearest wall, and pin her there.

For a few seconds, they both struggled, Samantha Drake to open her beak, Rova to wriggle her right hand free. Rova was making slow progress, and Samantha was making none.

Desperately, Samantha applied small telekinetic bursts to either side of her bill. They hurt, but they got her mouth open, and she opened it to sing again…

And her breath caught in her throat.

There was a flash of light in front of her, and then there was a black cat, large, imposing, and levitating just above eye level. Samantha knew of Alley-Kat-Abra, had seen her once or twice before, but barely recognized her now. Abra’s eyes gleamed. Her wand gleamed. Even her tail gleamed. “Surrender,” she said, and the word was more than a word.

Samantha had never been more afraid in her life — but her words were more than words, too.

“Life is sore surrender, life gives endless pain,
But life can offer splendor if you know how to gain,
Gain trust, gain friendship, yes, gain love, the kind that makes you free,
I need a friend, a soulmate, someone who will fight for me.”

Felina Furr felt, rather than saw, the males beginning to respond, to step toward her. Rova was free, but still unsteady. ”Wanda, quickly, close her jaw! Hurry up and — clench her… maw!”

Magic Wanda sputtered, complaining, and nothing happened. ”Look, Wanda, these are ad libs! What do you want from me?”

She was unprepared for the answer. Wanda flew out of her hand and into Samantha’s. Samantha stared, not understanding.

“…what?” said Felina, wobbling in the air.

It’s always something, thought Rova darkly, shooting stripes out of her fingers, hoping to yank that dumb stick out of the battlefield before things got any–

The stripes touched Wanda, and Wanda didn’t like to be touched. She exploded with force in all directions, sending everyone but Samantha flying backward. Felina barely had time to go limp before she slammed into Rova and into unconsciousness.

Samantha looked around at the room, then back at the wand. She tried a few more rhymes, experimentally. Wanda glittered happily with each one.

And Samantha began to smile. “Y’know, ah was thinkin’ ah might want to borrow one of your lifeboats, but now… Ah don’t think Ah’ll… we’ll… be needin’ it. Thank y’all for your hospitality. G’bye, now!”

And Samantha, Wanda, and the pile of valuables levitated out a broken window, with Samantha laughing like the pealing of a bell.

“‘Oh, don’t worry, my friends,’” muttered Rova sarcastically, moving painfully under Felina, reaching for her signal device. “‘I have this totally unique, semi-conscious magical object under my complete control!’ When you wake up, I’m suing you.”

***

The Zoo Cruiser sliced into the Mew Orleans sky with more style and power than any jet. Byrd Rentals flew it in a holding pattern, caressing the curves of nearby clouds, and practiced his lady-killer smile.

The magical alarm had gone off about fifteen minutes ago, so one of two things would probably happen soon. One: Abra and Rova would report they’d captured the Belle, and Byrd would get to help with the interrogation. Two…

The alarm sounded on his wrist, and it was orange alert. So it was number two: that the ladies needed help bringing this dastardly duck damsel to justice. That was much better, especially since Byrd’s method of restraint was to turn himself into an avian body-wrap. Byrd cranked the Cruiser‘s radio to the max and began his dive.

Rubberduck saw the Siren Belle flying off with the loot and Alley-Kat-Abra’s wand, while Fastback was zipping in to grab Yankee Poodle and Alley-Kat-Abra and carry them safely out of the grasps of the attacking mob still under the Belle’s control. Confident in the precautions he took (i.e. the special lens and the ear plugs), Rubberduck steered the Zoo Cruiser right after the fleeing villainess.

Unfortunately, the radio was still loud enough to alert the villainess to the incoming hero. With an all-too-easy aerial side-step, the Belle dodged the incoming vehicle and almost nailed it with a blast from Alley-Kat-Abra’s wand. However, Rubberduck was a skilled enough pilot to dodge the blast.

As the Siren Belle was getting ready to unleash a telepathic assault on the Zoo Cruiser, she got nailed by one of Yankee Poodle’s star blasts, though the Belle was somehow able to absorb enough of the blast to remain not only conscious, but relatively unharmed. In fact, all Yankee Poodle’s star blast did was make the Siren Belle’s powers stronger.

As Alley-Kat-Abra started to come to, she looked at Wanda and telepathically called to it via the psychic link they still had, and said, “Look, Wanda, I really am very sorry for snapping at you. I should have tried harder to come up with a good rhyme. I also shouldn’t have bragged about having any real sort of control over you; nobody controls you but you. I shouldn’t have taken you for granted, expecting you to work for me. Still, if it’s not too late, I’d like you to come back to working with me as an equal partner.”

Touched by this heartfelt (if sickeningly sappy) apology, Magic Wanda broke itself free from the Belle’s grasp and started flying back toward Alley-Kat-Abra, though it was detained by the Belle’s telekinetic power. Fortunately, this tug-of-war took so much of the Belle’s energy that the villainess was left wide open for one of Yankee Poodle’s stripe-traps. Desperately, Samantha Drake started singing again, and this time Fastback fell under her control as well as every male on board the ship (Rubberduck was protected by the special ear plugs he was wearing, but Fastback wasn’t so fortunate).

Under the Siren Belle’s control, Fastback used his super-speed to grab Yankee Poodle’s stripes and zip them again and again around Yankee Poodle and Alley-Kat-Abra. Though Abra was able to free herself and Rova from the stripes with some help from Magic Wanda (help she made absolutely certain to thank Wanda for), this still provided enough of a diversion for the villainess to make good her escape — or so she thought, since Rubberduck discreetly followed her after landing the Zoo Cruiser.

A quick freeze ray blast from Magic Wanda made it possible for all the entranced males to be stopped without being hurt; well, all the entranced males except Fastback, who was able to vibrate his body until he melted through his ice block. Fortunately, those same vibrations also freed Fastback from the Belle’s control. “Much obliged ta ya ‘n yer wondrous wand, Miss Abra, ma’am,” Timmy-Joe Terrapin said matter-of-factly.

“Hey, you freed yourself with your ultra-sonic vibrations — Magic Wanda merely gave you an excuse to use them,” Abra said honestly. She added, “There is one positive aspect to Magic Wanda’s thankfully very brief bonding with the Siren Belle…”

“Which is?” Yankee Poodle asked in an annoyed tone.

“That positive aspect is that Magic Wanda now has a mental marking of our quarry. That means we can now follow her anywhere, assuming, of course, Magic Wanda is feeling up to it,” Alley-Kat-Abra answered as her sorcerous stick started leading the two furry female felon foilers as well as their fleet-footed reptilian ally on the villainess’s trail like a magic-powered bloodhound.

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Mew Orleans:

A tall (well, tall by Earth-C standards), starkly beautiful 23-year-old female duck approached a nightclub. She had bright yellow feathers, medium blue-green eyes, and bright red hair, and she was garbed in a simple but elegant navy blue dress and an expensive-looking, but quite tasteful, jewel-covered necklace.

She was stopped before she could enter the nightclub by two rather burly male rhinoceroses in black suits. “‘Scuse me, ma’am, but we’ll need ta know yer name ta check if ya have a reservation before we can let ya in. Dis is a restricted club,” one rhinoceros said matter-of-factly.

“O’ course, it could take a while fer us ta check da reservation, so I could keep ya comp’ny in da meantime,” the other rhinoceros said with a lustful leer.

With a snort of disgust, the female duck glanced casually at the two rhinoceros bouncers and placed them both under a powerful trance that immobilized them, allowing her to enter without further harassment. Once inside, she then started to sing (and since we’re absolutely no good with lyrics, you’re gonna have to use your own imagination for those), her song placing every male animal in the building hopelessly under her spell, while simultaneously producing the vibrations needed to cause the club cash register and the vault behind the main counter to both spring open.

When a few of the braver female animals in the club tried to stop this daring duck, she simply and casually glanced their way, mentally pinning them to the floor while she levitated all of the cash and jewelry from the vault, the register, and the customers’ pockets over to her side.

As she left with the loot from the robbery in mental tow, the mysterious female duck said in a seductive Southern belle accent, “By the time all y’all free yahselves from the effects of mah powers, which won’t be for another twenty minutes, ah’ll be miles away and have made a clean getaway. Ah’d say that’s a mighty fine debut for the Siren Belle.”

***

The time when she left was 9:35 PM.

At 9:55 PM, the first call came in to the police-dog department.

At 10:05 PM, the police-dog department called the super-animal emergency hotline, 1-800-SQUAWKS.

At 11:00 PM (or 9:00 PM, Califurnia time) Rova Barkitt (a trained interviewer) and Rodney Rabbit (the supervillain expert-in-residence) finished their phone interviews with witnesses and compared notes.

At 9:30 PM Califurnia time, the Zoo Crew convened in the Z-Building’s basement around the carrot-stump-shaped Ground Table. The fern in the middle of the table were dying fast, which is what you’d expect when your architect puts plants in the basement. The Z-Building’s design was actually full of headaches like that, from the diagonal elevator to the unstable plumbing, and Rodney had considered requesting a redesign. But the carrot motif was just so… flattering.

“Thank you all for coming so quickly,” said Captain Carrot, brisk and businesslike.

Pig-Iron looked at him with a mixture of pity and annoyance. He tried to hold in his reply as long as he could, but everyone else was just sittin’ there, and, flamin’ filings, somebody had to say it:

“Why the heck wouldn’t we come so quickly? We all live here! How the frig would we get here slowly?”

“Tarnation!” said Timmy-Joe Terrapin, slapping his forehead. “Ah left th’ feed in th’ oven!” And the reptilian rocket called Fastback ran out of the room, as usual creating a massive tailwind that blew all the papers off the table and further shortened the life expectancy of the fern.

“Wow,” said Rova, alias Yankee Poodle. “Even when he’s on time, he’s late.”

Rodney glanced at Pig-Iron. “Asked and answered. Moving on to more important matters — the Siren Belle. Looks like she’s got telekinetics — somewhere between Abra’s and Rova’s — and some mind-control ability. That’s something we’ve never faced before, and I want to be careful. The last thing we need is to turn our careers into a bad remake of The Invasion of the Body Poachers.”

Rova nodded, solemnly. “Two of them were enough.”

Looking defensive, Byrd Rentals opened his beak as if to speak, then shut it again. Rubberduck decided to let this criticism pass by.

“Fortunately,” Rodney went on, “her powers seem to have limitations. She entranced a couple of male rhinoceroses at close range, but to entrance large numbers of people, she had to sing, like Kitteny Spears in that Pupsi commercial. And even then, her powers only seem to affect males — or, possibly, lesbians.”

“Only sings to males, hm?” said Byrd lightly. “She must be lonely.”

Alley-Kat-Abra, Rova, and Pig-Iron all rolled their eyes at him. But Byrd looked perfectly innocent. Of course, being an actor, he had practiced looking perfectly innocent for hours.

“That means,” Rodney went on before the meeting got away from him again, “that the best thing we can do is give this one to you two, Abra and Rova. You’ll be immune to the worst of her powers.”

“Unless there’s something you’re not telling us, dahling,” added Rova, smiling saccharine at Abra.

Alley-Kat-Abra‘s eye briefly glinted, and a fang briefly bared itself. Consciously, she turned to the Captain. ”Mew Orleans is my hometown, Captain. Two of those females who defended themselves were my old students. You couldn’t keep me away.”

Rodney smiled, actually looking relaxed for a moment. “Good deal. If it gets to be too much for you, signal us, and we’ll get Timmy Joe to rescue you before she can blink.”

The moment was lost. Felina Furr could see it happening to him, word by word. He was writing, not talking — saying the things he imagined a super-hero leader should say.

“But that’s a last resort. For the most part, you guys are going to have to put the cat-and-dog-fights behind you and depend on each other.”

It was a technique that had kept them alive, so she didn’t have too much of a right to complain, but who was he really? Did she still know? Did he?

“Can you do that?”

She blinked. “Do what?”

“Work together,” he said. “The two of you, as a team.”

“Oh, sure!” said Rova, smiling sweetly. “Felinie and I just need to get to know each other better. I always felt we could be like sisters!”

“Or at least stepsisters,” added Abra. She tried to look innocent as she said it, like Byrd. But she failed.

“Ah’m back!” shouted Timmy-Joe, blowing into the room and uprooting the fern once and for all. It landed on the side of the table in a manner that looked like suicide. Fastback sat and looked around. ”Whut’d ah miss?”

“Well, Cap just assigned this Siren Belle case to Abra and Rova, because they’re female and thus immune to her mind control,” Byrd answered before asking. “But what would be the matter with me coming along if I wore special lens and ear plugs to protect myself from her mind control?”

Rodney sighed. Obviously, Byrd really wanted to go on this mission.

“Are you serious, Byrd?” Rova answered honestly. “We’ve all seen her picture. We know why you want to come along. Even with ear plugs and special lens, we couldn’t trust you around her.”

Felina nodded, even though she was more than a little surprised that she and Rova, for once, actually agreed completely on something other than the fact that they could barely stand each other without the others present.

“I’m afraid Rova’s right, Byrd,” Rodney replied. “Besides, the special anti-mind control lens and ear plugs haven’t yet been perfected enough for me to feel comfortable letting one of us accompany Abra and Rova on this case.”

“Well, OK, Cap,” Byrd sighed, though he had his fingers crossed behind his back. There was no way he was going miss out on this case, even if he had to sneak off and commandeer the Zoo Cruiser to get to Mew Orleans.

“Well, we’d better first try to figure out where the Siren Belle is most likely to strike next,” Rova said, “so we can be waiting for her when she does strike next.”

“She might be clever enough to expect us to do just that and then strike somewhere else just to spite us,” Felina countered calmly. “The most efficient thing to do is create special alarm devices, install one in every night club in Mew Orleans under the cover of an invisibility spell, and then wait her out. When she strikes again, Magic Wanda will alert us, and I’ll teleport us to the scene of the crime before our quarry has a chance to get away.”

“Well, I suppose that’s a good plan, Felinie,” Rova commented, “but I just got a stunning new dress, and I was just itching for a good excuse to use it. Swinging by a Mew Orleans night club just seems to qualify.”

That and the fact you would also have a good excuse to flirt with as many guys as possible, Felina thought to herself, though she refrained from saying this out loud. You’re as bad around guys as Byrd is around females.

Instead, Felina simply stated, “Look, let’s just agree to a compromise — you wait for her at whatever nightclub you think the Siren Belle will be likely to strike at next, and I’ll install the silent magic alarms. That way, we can use both of our plans. It’ll be better for all concerned if we just get this case over with as quickly as possible.”

“Agreed,” Rova said as she and Felina shook paws on the matter.

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Ala-Kat-Zam

Wand and Wanda

by CSyphrett

The trial of Fat Kat, kingpin of crime, is about to begin, with stoolie Matt Mouser a chief witness against him. Is it any wonder that Fat Kat wants him and his alter ego Ala-Kat-Zam dead and has hired Feline Faust to do the deed? Good thing the Zoo Crew’s Alley-Kat-Abra is around to watch Matt’s back!

***

The obese kingpin known as Fat Kat stalked back and forth in front of his visitor.

“This is the job,” he growled. “I need two guys gone. One is a stoolie named Matt Mouser. He is supposed to testify against me, but so far he has stayed out of sight, and the trial isn’t too far away. The other is this new hero guy, Ala-Kat-Zam. He has ruined two tries at acquiring pieces of property that I wanted. Can you fix it?”

“Yes, I can,” said the hit cat.

***

Matt Mouser walked into the courthouse, keeping his eyes open in search of any unusual movement. He was finally ready to testify against the biggest gangster the city had ever known since Ducky Duciano. He would have been extremely fearful except for the wand he had tucked up his sleeve.

He had changed a little every day he had waited for the trial to begin. He was afraid of what Fat Kat would do to get him, but it wasn’t crippling like it had been at first. He was almost another cat entirely.

***

Felina Furr never liked New Yak City. She had lived in the city when her team first started, but now Los Antelopes was her home.

She walked toward a small shop off a side street, keeping her hand on her Magic Wanda in her handbag. It was leading her toward something at her destination, and she wondered what was going on.

***

Matt Mouser looked around the lobby of the courthouse. Spotting a sign pointing to his courtroom, he headed that way and pushed on the wooden door.

He realized he was in trouble as soon as he stepped through that door. No courtroom existed where he had been brought. Instead, a wide, open plain under a red sky stretched on for miles in any direction.

“Hello, Mr. Mouser,” said a smooth voice from behind Matt. “I will be your assassin today.”

Matt jumped forward and turned to confront his attacker. He wasn’t surprised to find a cat in a purple dress and head gear. The guy was smiling hugely, like he’d had a good dinner.

“My name is Feline Faust,” said the cat. “Time for your death, Mr. Mouser.”

“Faust?” said Matt. “I know you. Captain Carrot’s crew put you in jail for wearing an eyesore in public.”

“What did you say?” said the assassin, swelling up in his anger.

“I said goodbye,” finished Matt, slapping his wand, which tapped against his other arm, as he thought about the lobby of the courthouse.

He popped out of Faust’s strange limbo back to his normal reality. Another wand tap, and he was garbed in his black costume, ready to do battle with the villainous villain as Ala-Kat-Zam. Matt looked around quickly, familiarizing himself with the coming battlefield.

***

Felina Furr felt a surge of energy through her system. She pulled a black wand from her purse, and a flash of light garbed her in the battle dress of her alter ego, Alley-Kat-Abra. She pointed Wanda into the air and took flight. Something was going on that needed her attention.

Suddenly, part of the courthouse blew out into the air. She waved her wand, and two giant hands caught the debris and placed it on the ground below. It wasn’t exactly what she expected, but it was trouble.

***

Matt Mouser stood ready. He had narrowly avoided a powerful blast that had ripped a hole out of the wall. Now he saw that Faust was unleashing something else.

A tornado erupted and charged Matt with a ferocious howl. He tapped the floor with his wand, and the granite tiles jumped, sending the whirling enemy into the ceiling. A tunnel quickly appeared as the thing dug through to the next floor.

A feminine figure appeared in the hole in the wall and waved her own wand at Faust from across the room. “Feline Faust?” shouted Alley-Kat-Abra. “Shouldn’t you be wasting away the hours in a jail cell on Earth-C-Minus right now?”

“Everyone needs a vacation once in awhile,” said Feline Faust, frowning at the sudden opposition. All he had wanted to do was kill Matt Mouser. Instead, the informer had escaped the trap, and these meddlers were here to cramp his style. Time to deal out some pain.

Casually deflecting the bolt from Abra with a wave of a hand, Faust brought both hands together in the one-thousand clapping hands spell. A thunder and vibration hit the two heroes like a jackhammer, slamming them to the ground.

Matt tried to clear his head from the thunderous blow he had received. He tapped the floor, and that lifted him in a wave, carrying him along in a mad flurry.

Ala-Kat-Zam scooped up Alley-Kat-Abra as he was flung through the hole in the wall to freedom. He tapped his boots so that they would absorb the impact. Then he tapped himself, willing the hesitant birds he saw waiting for him to pass out. Then he tapped his burden awake. Maybe she would have some idea how to confront Faust.

As the swashbuckling sorcerer tried to regroup, Feline Faust recited a rhyme accompanied by grand gestures. A diagram of color leaped from his own piece of wood and struck the two heroes.

Ala-Kat-Zam found himself alone in a void of darkness. He almost lost his wand in his surprise.

Meanwhile, Alley-Kat-Abra was trussed to a giant tree as big as a world. Beetles with smiley faces approached with clicking mandibles.

Matt Mouser felt the heat from his body leech away. He knew he had seconds to act. He tapped himself with his wand.

He popped from the nothingness to the courthouse. He found both enemy and new ally gone, and he frowned as he considered his options. He decided he needed to locate the wizardress from the Zoo Crew. So he needed something he could use to search for her.

His televison came to mind. It could be the perfect crystal ball, with some adjustment.

***

Elsewhere, Felina Furr tried to wiggle out of the grasp of the tree that held her. That was a bust. The beetles were almost in touching range.

Felina tried to point her Magic Wanda at the wood. She willed a beam of light to cut her free, and the beetles paused as she took flight, cape waving in a slight breeze.

She drew a circle in the air. In the middle of the glowing sketch, the courthouse beckoned to her. She stepped through, relieved to be home.

“Fancy seeing you again,” said her new ally, grinning ear to ear.

“Where’s Faust?” asked Felina, looking around at the wreckage caused by the fight.

“Flown the coop,” said Matt. He spotted local police running to the scene. “I have to go.”

“Wait,” said Felina. “How do I contact you?”

“What do you mean?” said Matt. “You are out of it. Stay out.”

Ala-Kat-Zam tapped himself with the wand and teleported away. He changed into his civilian clothes and made his way back.

Matt Mouser reported to the courtroom where he was supposed to testify. The judge had ordered a continuance until another day. He frowned at the thought of waiting for Faust to take another shot at him in the meantime. Time to put his idea into play to hunt the dress-wearing loon down.

Walking out of the courthouse toward a nearby subway entrance, he made sure to check for other familiar faces as he went. No way was he leading Fat Kat’s minions to his hideaway. It was the one place he felt safe in. He wasn’t going to give that up for the overweight mobster. Even a superhero needed somewhere to live.

***

Alley-Kat-Abra flew away after answering the questions from the police. She gave them the number of the Z-Building so that they could get in touch when they needed her. She hovered over the area, scanning for Feline Faust or the other magician. Neither seemed in evidence.

Felina decided a little meditation would help her search. She headed for her hotel and the aids she had in her baggage. She would get to the bottom of this mess and extract a certain satisfaction from Faust.

She opened the window of her room and floated in, then changed into her karate gi before making preparations for looking for her new enemy.

***

Matt Mouser reached his building without incident. Stepping into an alley beside the brownstone, he waited for any attack and was glad none came.

He tapped the brick wall, and he was sucked through to his apartment. He tapped the inner wall, cutting off contact with the outside world. He didn’t want Feline Faust finding him in the same way he expected him to use. He then went to the refrigerator and fixed a plate of sandwiches to eat before he tried out his idea. All this manipulation made a man hungry.

Matt sat down on his couch, put his feet on a stool, and ate while flipping channels with the remote. He settled on a baseball game from out of Kornsas. It was amazing what you could do with a magic wand and a desire to watch sports in real time.

Finishing his meal, Matt got up once in the seventh inning to get a couple of canned sodas to drink. As soon as the game was over, he would have to get to work.

After Matt watched the end of the game, he walked over and tapped the top of the television set. The picture changed to one of a fat cat in a slick suit shouting into the camera. Matt gave the set another little tap, and the picture shifted ninety degrees. The fat guy was shouting at a certain mystical feline in a dress.

Matt smiled. He felt refreshed and ready to rumble. He changed clothes again. Time to make a house call as Ala-Kat-Zam, he decided with a wide grin.

Tapping the screen again, he poited from his apartment, appearing behind Feline Faust just like he planned.

***

Felina Furr sat in her hotel room, her meditation aids on the floor beside her. She breathed the burning incense deeply, and she held Wanda in her hand, the tip glowing in its familiar starburst way.

The piece of wood rotated on its own accord as Felina concentrated on her quarry. A glowing arrow leaped in the air. Felina smiled.

Garbing herself in her costume again, Alley-Kat-Abra flew out of the window, following the arrow toward a townhouse in the rich part of the town.

***

Matt Mouser wasted no time. He tapped Faust on the back even as Fat Kat opened his mouth to say some warning. Faust turned, face dark with anger.

Faust made a gesture, said a rhyme. Nothing happened. He looked down at his hands, looking betrayed by himself.

Matt smiled. His plan had worked perfectly. He tapped Faust again, and the mage flew through a window in a blur.

***

Alley-Kat-Abra saw her quarry hit the ground hard. She landed lightly to one side. Feline Faust tried to work another spell. Again nothing happened.

“That’s too bad,” said Abra. “I had hoped to match you spell for spell. I guess instead I’m just going to have to do something else.”

Faust got up and tried to run, but a hand on the collar of his robe drew him up short. Then his head slammed him against the ground while his legs swooped through the air. Felina brought a foot down to let Faust hear the little birds sing.

Ala-Kat-Zam hopped through the window and smiled at the sight of his beautiful colleague. “Fancy meeting a kitten like you in a place like this,” he said.

***

Ala-Kat-Zam and Alley-Kat-Abra watched as Fat Kat told the cops that Feline Faust had been there to rob him. Faust backed the story up. Matt Mouser shook his head, turned away, and walked from the scene.

“Don’t worry,” Felina Furr said, walking beside him. “He’ll slip up some time.”

“I hope so,” said Matt. “I don’t want to have to face a lot of hired guns before that happens.”

“You’ll do fine,” said Felina. “Good luck.” She took to the air.

Matt smiled and tapped himself home.

The End

Return to Humor titles. Return to Earth-C stories.

Ala-Kat-Zam

Screaming Wheels

by CSyphrett

When gigantic metal-rimmed wheels begin destroying buildings and even whole neighborhoods, Matt Mouser, alias the wizard hero Ala-Kat-Zam, steps in to find out why. But can he find the proof linking the destruction to the crime lord Fat Kat before the screaming wheels leave him in the dust?

***

It began with a small rumbling, and then a shaking. Then a huge metal tire roared down the street, careening against buildings and smashing through brick and concrete with ease. Then, like some giant phantom, it was gone.

Walking down the street the next day, Matt Mouser surveyed the damage with blood in his eye. “First Water Fowl, and now this,” he said. “I wonder if there’s a connection. There’s a lot of damage to the neighborhood in both cases. Maybe Ala-Kat-Zam and his magic wand should look into this.”

Matt started his search by asking around the neighborhoods about anything out of the ordinary. Every place he went, he heard a story about someone wanting to buy the land and buildings at cut-rate prices. It was a start, but he needed to know who was behind the realty company’s offer. It was time for a night time visit to the offices of Birdwell, Howell, and Terrier.

He spent the time until night on the look-out for trouble, and when Matt felt the time was right, he changed into his Ala-Kat-Zam costume and rode a flying skateboard to the roof of the office building. A tap of his magic wand opened the roof door, and the wizard entered. Matt took the stairs to the office he wanted and unlocked the door with another tap. Going to the office computers, he tapped them as well, and the information he wanted slid upward into view on the screen.

“Shazam!” Matt whispered when he saw the name.

Ala-Kat-Zam knew he had a connection between the destruction and a mastermind — all he had to do was prove it. But that would be a whole lot easier said than done. Matt left the office and rode his skateboard home. He had a lot of thinking to do if he wanted to stop all of this.

He changed out of his Ala-Kat-Zam costume for pajamas as he watched TV. A tiny picture in a corner gave a roving view of the surrounding area. Something as big as those wrecking machines would be clearly visible from the roof.

Matt had fallen asleep when a clamor shook his building. He tapped his wand to put him immediately in his costume and then tapped the TV to put himself on the scene swiftly.

Two massive metal wheels bore down on the neighborhood, intent on wrecking other homes. Pausing to consider how to handle the twin attack, Matt tapped the street to send a ribbon zipping along at the dual menaces.

The asphalt ribbon sprang one of the monster machines into the air. The other rolled out of the way and rammed into an apartment building. The whole brick edifice quivered before it came to pieces in a shower of bricks.

Matt felt anger in a black cloud above his feathered hat. It was time for Ala-Kat-Zam to do something more permanent to these yahoos.

The other wheel landed in a crunch and spun in place. It rolled to a stop on one side of Matt, while the other backed out to line up on the other side. They charged the swashbuckling sorcerer in a cloud of dust and smoke.

Matt waited until the last second and then tapped the road. It zipped him out of the way with a moment to spare. The wheels collided together and jammed helplessly in a great grinding of gears.

Ala-Kat-Zam tapped one monster wheel, then the other with his wand. He stepped back as bolts and rivets sproinged from their places in a small rain. He smiled as two piles of metal descended in a mad rush on the street.

The two pilots looked dumbfounded at the sudden change. They snarled when they saw Matt standing to one side, twirling his wand. They bounced to their feet to express their fury when a single tap wrapped them in a cage of disrupted metal.

“You’ll pay for this, meddler!” snarled one.

“The check is in the mail,” said Ala-Kat-Zam smugly. A roar filled the air then, and a shadow fell on Matt.

He leaped to one side as a wheel twice as big as the other two bore down on him in a cloud of smoke. The wheel smashed the makeshift cage open and then reversed to run the swashbuckling sorcerer down. It missed in a grinding of gears and a spray of asphalt.

The wizard hero tried to think quickly but felt blinded by panic as the giant wheel chased after him like a wuz-wolf. He tapped the pile of concrete, and it flew at the wheel in a barrage. The metal monster ground the masonry underfoot as it continued to charge. He was doomed.

Matt Mouser had always been a quick thinker, however. He knew exactly what he had to do as the monstrous wheel bore down on him, and he slammed his wand into the asphalt. The street bunched up into a ramp pointing straight up. That wasn’t the end of the spell, the pilot of the wheel discovered, as the whole metallic marauder vanished in a rainbow ribbon of light and the tones of a xylophone. Seconds later, the wheel crashed back into the pavement with a roar and a ka-blam.

Shaking the cloud of dust from his eyes, he couldn’t at first see as the lesser villains tried to flee in surprised realization that their chief lay defeated amidst a pile of ripped-up road and metal.

Ala-Kat-Zam tapped his surroundings and watched everything begin to repair itself. The wrecked wheels stacked up against a building with a cloud of zipping bricks and workings putting itself back together. The pilots ran off while Matt was directing the massive reconstruction like a orchestra conductor.

He let them go after tapping a pair of shoes he had found laying amidst the wreckage. The footwear took off at a run after the leader of the wrecking wheels. They would come back when the lizard had settled in some kind of hiding place. Then Matt would have to talk the demolitionist into trading his boss for freedom and stopping all of this vandalism. He knew it wouldn’t be easy, but there must be something in his bag of tricks to help justice along.

That was for later. Some square blocks of apartments needed to be repaired. Injuries needed to be tended. Being a hero was a lot harder than it looked from the outside. “Shazam! How does the Zoo Crew do this day in and day out?” he asked himself.

Matt Mouser walked from one end of the wreckage to the other. Everywhere he went, things righted themselves with a tap of his magical wand. After an hour, the work was done. The last few pieces floated back into place as he dusted his hands. Luckily, no one had been killed in the rampage. Matt didn’t want to find out if he could raise the dead the hard way.

The empty shoes returned and waited for Matt’s attention. He tapped a piece of metal from one of the wrecked wheels, and it formed into a floating disk to carry him to his destination. The phantom walker led the way.

Floating after the animated shoes, Matt felt tired from all of the energy he expended on repairing the buildings. The shoes led to an apartment building across the city, and he let his conveyance settle to the ground. He stepped into a nearby alley and took several deep breaths to calm his nerves.

This gave the wizard an idea. He tapped his mouth with the wand and took a deep breath, then felt slightly better. He continued until he was up to par again. Now to grab a flock of felons.

Ala-Kat-Zam walked into the building, looking for his animated footwear. He found the shoes waiting for him in front of a door on the fifth floor. Listening at the door, he heard some movement and low voices. It seemed the lizard leader was reporting to an upset boss. Time to upset him more, the wand wielder decided.

Matt tapped the door and smiled as it became transparent. He jumped through the suddenly porous door, and his sudden appearance frightened the drivers into momentary stillness. He pressed his advantage by jumping forward and tapping one of the hench hounds on the shoulder. The hound howled as his shirt wrapped around him tighter than a straitjacket.

The other henchman leaped forward with a squawk as the lizard’s eyes about popped out. Someone’s querulous voice demanding answers could be heard. Ala-Kat-Zam ducked his frightened foe and tapped him on the chest. The henchhawk’s overalls suddenly expanded like a ballon. He floated above the floor, kicking his limbs unsuccessfully. Matt held up a clawed hand.

“Don’t do it!” shouted the bird.

Matt brought his claws down and poked a hole in the inflated coveralls. The driver slammed into the wall with the sudden release of air. Little song notes floated around his head as Matt turned to deal with the last one, but he saw that the lizard had escaped.

Ala-Kat-Zam ran for the window, the only quick escape route other than the bedroom door. The lizard was dashing down the metal fire escape with a cloud of dust. The driver jumped the last twenty feet.

Matt grabbed the rail and tapped the metal. In an instant, he was hanging from a descending ladder. He dropped into the alley as the lizard ran out of the entrance. Matt ran after him.

A loud screeeeeech with ka-thumpa flew to the hero’s ears as he paused at the mouth of the alley. The lizard lay face down in the street. Matt could tell he was no longer alive, even from a distance.

Matt talked to the bystanders. The lizard had run out into the street in front of a delivery truck, and the driver couldn’t stop in time. The wizard picked a telephone receiver up over protests and inquiries of what was going on. He dialed 9-1-1 and gave the police the rundown on what happened in rhyming verse.

He walked away, leaving the hirelings trussed up for the policemen. He knew that the lizard was the only link, and it was gone with the scream of smoking wheels. He would have to find another way to bring Fat Kat to justice.

The End

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Ala-Kat-Zam

Matt Mouser and the Magic Wand

by CSyphrett

Matt Mouser is nothing more than a stool pigeon on the run from thugs working for the criminal kingpin Fat Kat. That is, until he discovers a magical wand that can do almost anything he wishes it to. Using it, he becomes the super-hero known as Ala-Kat-Zam. But is even the power of the wand enough to keep him safe?

***

Matt Mouser looked over his shoulder and saw that those two thugs were still chasing him. The fleeing cat had to lose them somehow. Ducking into a small shop that caught his eye, he ran to the back of the building past the startled counterperson.

Back door, back door, back door, he chanted to himself silently but found only a blank wall. He was in deep poop now.

Matt looked all over the back of the shop. A small wooden wand said to him, “Pick me up.” As he did so, energy suddenly raced through him, and he felt like he could stop the world, like he was all-powerful.

Then he saw the two thugs, and they saw him. “Aw, poop!” he said.

“Time to die, Mouser!” said one of the thugs, swinging one furry hand at the cowering cat.

Bringing the wand in his paw up to block by instinct, Matt caused the thug to rebound in a series of somersaults across the room. The other one watched him in puzzlement. Desperately, Matt also brought the wand down on the other guy. That tough also did a series of cartwheels before crashing into the wall.

“Shazam!” cried Matt happily as he ran from the shop.

“Hey!” shouted the shop owner. “That wand is twenty bucks!”

Matt threw him a bill as he passed. He was all-powerful now. Nothing could stand in his way. Nothing — except that massive black limousine with the two goons leaning out the windows shooting at him with pistols.

Dropping to the ground, Matt accidentally slapped the wand against the sidewalk, and a wave of concrete ran under the limo, tossing it up in the air. The goons’ eyes stood out in surprise until the limo kablowied the street and all the tires zammoed apart. The cat took his cue and ran the other way.

Running like the wind, Matt’s furry head swiveled wildly, his ears bent down in fear as he looked for a place to hide. He had to get off the streets before something awful happened and needed to find a place to hide. Spotting a fire escape in an alley, he jumped on top of a dumpster, then leaped up and just barely managed to grab the bottom rung of the ladder. He climbed up to the first floor landing in a quick set of lines, then ran up to the roof of the of the building.

Looking back, he couldn’t believe what the wand had done. He had lucked into something amazing — if he could figure it out. He could open that stoolie school now if he wasn’t killed in the next few days by those mobsters he had ratted on.

Matt Mouser ran across the rooftop, wand clutched tightly in one hand. He had something magical in his hands. How had it gotten in that shop? Oh, well. No time to think about it now. Now, he had to run like his pants were on fire. Those crooks weren’t going to stop chasing just because he had a wand to wave at them.

“Stop chasing me!” a Matt Mouser cartoon said. Blam! Blam! Blam! Blam! blotted the cartoon out in a cloud of smoke. That would be way too counterproductive to his way of thinking.

Matt leaped from roof to roof until he ran out of roofs to leap to. “Shazam,” he said in frustration and fear. “What am I going to do now?”

Looking down at the street far below, he didn’t see any more killers waiting for him. He knew the kingpin of crime would keep trying right up until Matt testified, maybe even after. Cautiously heading down the fire escape a moment later, he knew he had to hide for a while until he could figure out what he could do with the wand. But where could he hide?

He crossed the street and walked into an alley on the other side. The wand tapped against his leg as he walked, and all the dirt on his pants fell from that spot. Soon, even the blue dye in his jeans had turned snowy white as the color dropped off in flakes. Matt didn’t notice, because he thought he had found a place to stay for a while. He pulled a rickety door out of the way and stepped into a dirty basement.

“I need some light,” he said. Zig-zagging streaks of light erupted from the wand, lighting the whole area. “That’s good,” he said absently.

Matt looked around, wand glowing bright. This basement would be a great place to hide if he cleaned it up and moved everything next to the door. That would take hours, he decided. Still, he had nothing better to do with those goons still looking for him.

He dropped the wand on a box, which leaped into the air and dropped by the door in a cloud of dust. Matt grabbed the wand out of the air before it hit the ground. “Why didn’t I think of that?” he asked himself.

Slamming the floor with the wand, he caused the boxes to leap into the air and stack themselves by the door. Dust became a rainbow streak of color cleaning everything in sight. Even the burned-out bulb in the ceiling lamp came to life.

Matt smiled at the scene before him, a wizard surveying his kingdom. The wand had cleaned the basement as fast as Mary Puffins. It could do anything — he just knew it — except get him out of his jam. For that, he needed a super-hero like Captain Carrot or Alley-Kat-Abra to help him. He knew the police only cared as long as he testified.

Inspiration struck. Maybe he could be a super-hero. Maybe he could make the Kingpin sing. But he would need a cool name and costume first.

“What can I call myself?” he asked himself. “Ala-Kat-Zam,” he answered himself in a fit of inspiration. “That’s it!” said Matt, beaming to match the light bulb. “I will be Ala-Kat-Zam!”

First, he needed a costume. What could he make into a costume down here? Almost anything could work if he wore it right.

He tapped each box in turn and found several pieces that he altered to fit. First he had some red boots with yellow cuffs. Then he found a pair of black jodphurs with red stripes down the seam. He found a ripped black shirt and mended it, then found a pair of red gloves. A mask was fashioned from a red bandana, and he found a red cowboy hat.

“Now I need something else,” Matt told himself, looking around. “Shazam!” He picked up an artificial flower and pinned it to his lapel. After a tap with the wand, the flower lived.

“A costume and a mask to hide my identity are wonderful,” Matt told himself. “What I need now is a plan.” What can I do to get off the hook? he asked himself, pacing the length of the basement until a light bulb went off over his head. “I just need to give him a bigger problem than a snitch,” said Matt, laughing a little.

First he would wait for darkness. Then Ala-Kat-Zam would make his debut as a super-hero. He hoped he wouldn’t regret it, and he really hoped he didn’t get killed. That would really make for a sucky day.

As soon as darkness fell, Matt left his redoubt. He tapped a trash can lid with his wand and stepped on it. The now-flying disk carried him to his first appointment of the day. Matt knew the boss had a numbers guy running back and forth through the city. It didn’t take long for him to find him and subdue him, and Matt took the money and floated away. It was time to get a real headquarters; he couldn’t live in a basement forever.

Matt decided it would be best to keep a low profile at first. That would let him operate with the low amount of risk he wanted. That’s what the mask and new identity would do for him, if nothing else good came of it.

He took some of the numbers money and rented a new apartment away from the rat hole his other place had been. Then he decided to make alterations to suit his new adventurous life as a super-hero. He was satisfied and happy as a clam when he was done with everything. He even installed a roof door to zoom into action if he needed to like a real hero. Not that he planned to do that, of course. He was a stool pigeon, not Super-Squirrel, after all.

Matt used some more of his loot to furnish his place with a couch, a bed, and an  entertainment center. This is the life, he thought as he settled on the couch to watch television. A remote button push later, and he was watching a live report of some duck from Cornada causing a flood through downtown.

Without thinking, he tapped his clothes to his costume and then tapped the TV screen to place him immediately on the scene.

He stared at the flood coming his way. What am I doing? he asked himself in a sudden case of second thoughts. “I’m here,” decided Matt. “Time to do something.”

Marching up to the oncoming tidal wave, he tapped it with his wand. The water rebounded easily from him, retreating back to its original course.

“What did you do, you meddler?” said a watery duck, his head seeming to boil in his rage.

Matt said, “Ala-Kat-Zam is my name. I’m here to stop your liquid game.”

“Ala-Kat-Zam, eh?” said the duck. “Fall to the power of the Water Fowl!”

Blue fists shot out at Matt like huge water ballons. The makeshift hero dodged behind a car, wincing as glass crashed into the air from the impact.

“C’mon out, you hoser!” screamed the watery Water Fowl.

Matt gulped audibly as he considered his options and realized he had none. He had to face the duck — that was the only way. He dodged from behind the car and tapped the street, and the asphalt became a huge sponge reaching for the liquid villain. He vanished in a splotz second.

“What the heck?” asked the villain as he expanded from the holey surface.

Matt threw himself forward and passed through Water Fowl’s body, his wand tapping the water as he went. A normal Cornadian duck in a blue wet suit stood aghast at the swashbuckling sorcerer.

“The rampage is over,” said Matt. “Time to roll in the clover.”

He tapped the street. The sponge gathered itself under the transformed Water Fowl, then blasted him high in the air in a spout of water before returning to normal again. The unlucky duck smashed into the ground in a heap.

I did it, Matt thought. He could feel his heart expand almost uncontrollably and quickly forced it back down as the news crew approached. Shazam! I have to get out of here, was his next thought.

Matt made sure the knocked-out Water Fowl would stay K.O.’d with a tap of his wand. Then he tapped the spongey street, and it contracted under him and then shot him into the air like a catapult. He landed on a nearby roof and used his wand to make some temporary transportation.

I did it! he thought to himself all the way home.

***

A criminal kingpin watching the newscast in anger slammed his fist against the top of the desk, and the furniture collapsed from the blow. First some low-life turned him in, ruining some of his enterprises. Now this Ala-Kat-Zam stopped his flooding of downtown. At least his escape from the jail had gone as smooth as anything he had planned lately.

A stool pigeon and a super-hero. They would both have to die before they ruined any more plans. The mobster known as Fat Kat threw his remote through the TV screen to turn it off.

They would both have to die.

The End

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Crisis at the Hammys

or

Hamtastic Bores

by Libbylawrence

At the Hammys — the annual music awards show — musical act after musical act is attacked. Feather Locklear, the Malibaboon-based heroine known as Duck Phoenix, soon learns a team of villains called the Hamtastic Bores is behind the attacks. Can she defeat them all, or will she have to subject the world to her singing in order to make herself the villains’ next target?

***

Feather Locklear (also known as the heroine Duck Phoenix, as well as Amora Lamour in her seldom-talked-about days in independent films) glanced around her at the crowd of stars and has-beens seated for the annual Hammy awards show.

The hottest musical acts of the last week were there to receive adulation and valet parking. Feather — not a singer herself but a highly skilled go-go dancer who had almost once made it as one of the Solid Gold Lightly Basted Oven Fresh Dancers — was with a real rock star. OK, he was a friend of a real rock star. OK, he had his own microphone! His name was Itchy Sambrello, and for a porcupine, he and Feather were tight. (He sat at least ten feet away.)

“Oh, Itchy, look!” she cooed. “There’s the Terrier Formerly Known as Prince! That purple dog collar sure looks costly.”

“Yeah, he’s been known as Fifi since that nasty neutering accident,” said Itchy.

“Look, there’s the first act!” she said, smoothing her pink and gold gown.

A blond monkey in a mini-skirt appeared. “I’m Fleaza Gibbons, hostess and journalist here to introduce the first act — the reigning queen of pop and my close personal friend! Hiya, girlfriend — Serpentina Aguilara!”

A blond snake slithered on stage, music pounding as she swayed to it.

“Serpentina Aguilara is pretty good, considering she’s off-tune and rather weak-voiced,” Itchy said.

“At least she looks good, and that’s important, too!” insisted Feather.

The young singer suddenly fell to the stage as much as a snake can be said to fall, apparently struck by some high-pitched wail that knocked her for a loop.

“Is that part of her act?” asked Feather, “‘Cause if it isn’t, I’m actually an actress-slash-model-slash-crime-fighter, you know?”

The poor girl was carried off, and the show went on. “Fleaza, here, with the reigning queen of pop and my close personal friend! Hiya, girlfriend — Chutney Ears!”

A cute bunny in a tank top started singing in between photo shoots for Penthutch Magazine. She suddenly choked as a massive hairball enveloped her tiny form.

“That’s just not entertaining!” complained Feather. “You know, if brutal attacks occur on two or three more singers, I’m going to suspect that something funny’s going on!” she added. “Hey, look! There’s Elton Fawn!” she said, forgetting her idea as she saw a star in the crowd.

“He’s a real deer,” said Itchy.

Fleaza, now in a shorter dress, said, “Our next performer is Nashville’s reigning queen of pop. Oh, no! I mean, she’s… uh…” The blonde monkey blushed and said, “Did you notice my skirt is really, really short?” Then she ran off-stage.

The next act was the rap act Dog Doggy Dog.

“I thought a country act was next!” said a puzzled Feather.

“He’s going country! His next CD is called Dog in the Cowpile!” explained Itchy.

“Ooooh!” said Feather, making a face.

But before the canine rapper could start, he was knocked off the stage by a hulking figure.

“I’m going up. Save my seat!” said Feather as she levitated on stage using her telekinesis. She soon found herself surrounded by four costumed figures, including the one who hit Dog Doggy Dog.

“We’re the Hamtastic Boars!” said the leader.

“Isn’t that Hamtastic Bores?” asked the second one.

“Boar and bore are close enough. They’re like homonyms!” said the third.

“Don’t ask, don’t tell!” warned the third.

“Excuse me, but shouldn’t we fight or something?” asked Feather, now in her guise as Duck Phoenix.

“Oh right! Sorry about that,” said the leader. “We’re the Hamtastic Boars!”

“You said that already!” admonished Feather.

“Sorry, I lost my place!” she explained.

“Villain attack, take two!” yelled Fleaza, coming back out in a bikini.

“Aren’t you Feather Thomas of The Wall Guy, about that spider stunt man?” asked the third figure.

“No, that’s not me. I’m Feather Locklear of Hen City. See my glossies?” she said as they passed around photos. “Also known as the Duck Phoenix.”

“OK, now let’s kill her!” declared the leader.

Feather saw her first enemy up close. She was a gorilla in a micro-miniskirt. Her mask hid her face, which was crowned with a huge, enormous, really big mass of hair that went down to her knees. She waved her right hand back and forth spasmodically, as if she was reaching for a high note or needing to use the ladies’ room.

A ball of her hair rolled into Duck Phoenix and tangled her helplessly. “This stuff is really brittle and oily!” she said in disgust.

The second figure (the leader) was a fat, dark-haired creature of the ocean like a seal or something else Feather didn’t recognize. She opened her mouth and sang, causing tears to cascade down Feather’s face as images of lovers lost at sea or in the supermarket or Walrusmart ran through her mind. She couldn’t stop weeping.

The third figure wore a brief top and showed a cast-iron stomach — it really was made of cast-iron and had a “made of cast iron” union label pasted on it! Her cowboy boots and dark denim outfit marked her as a country singer.

The Malibaboon Mallard fought to push the hairball away with her mental powers and did so only to fall flat when the third gang member hit her with a hard yodel. The sound solidified and spanked Feather’s bottom.

She slammed back with a mental blast that knocked the denim gal’s mask off to reveal famous feline features. (Try saying that out loud three times fast!)

“Hyena Twain — the abs-baring queen of country-pop!” she gasped.

Bowing, Hyena did three encores while her final ally pounded Duck Phoenix with hulking fists. She was a swollen boa constrictor with red hair and a Southern drawl.

“You’re Hissa Yearwood!” said Feather between blows.

“I reckon I am, sugah!” she said.

They ran together and vanished, leaving a bruised Feather on stage.

“Are you OK?” asked Itchy.

“Yes, but my gown is ruined!” she said grimly, or at least as grimly as an airheaded blond duck can sound. “I’ll make that Hamtastic Bores group pay! Next time they shriek, I’ll be ready!”

“How will you know when or where they’ll strike next?” he asked.

“I’ll make myself their target!” she said.

“But they only attack singing superstars, according to the program their left behind,” said Itchy.

“I know. I’ll just have to become a singing superstar and the next queen of pop by next week!” said Feather with her hands on her hips.

“Ohhhh!” said Itchy.

***

Feather Locklear was true as her word, although it did require several Boast-It notes for her to remember her plan. She went straight (after a quick styling session) to the source — Ted Source, music mogel and Hamway dealer. He had managed the greats and the lesser greats like the Backyard Boys, Samantha Fox, and N-Stink (the hot skunk group).

“Soa, youa wanta toa bea a stara!” he said.

“Why do you end every word with an ‘a’ sound? Is that some tacky ethnic slur?” asked Feather on her soapbox. (And in spike heels, it was not easy to get up on a soapbox, believe you me!)

“Noa! Ifa Ia endeda thema witha a ‘Y’ ita woulda bea silenta!”

“That makes perfect sense!” said Feather as she climbed down from her soapbox.

(Author’s note: Now that this vowel joke died, we’ll conveniently forget it.)

“So, you need some hit songs and an album,” said Source. “I can get those written today, costume you, and get some press going!”

“Great!” squealed Feather. “Oh, by the way, I can’t really sing!” she added.

“No problem. That’s really not important. It’s image that sells!”

“I prefer DC,” said Feather loyally.

***

In three days, Feather Locklear was a superstar, and Fleaza Gibbons was sleeping on her yard. Her album, Feather Bed: The Duck Tapes hit number one, and then backed up to hit it again with greater impact. The sales were due to the album cover, which featured Feather in fishnets.

Soon enough, she sat drying her nails and waiting to be attacked by the Hamtastic Bores. They suddenly appeared out of nowhere (Nowhere, U.S.A.) and the battle ensued.

“I’m Feather, not Sue. She’s married to that rubber guy!” said Feather.

“You mean Mr. Fantastic?” said Itchy.

“No — Elongated Man!” she answered huffily. “Can’t you see the DC label in the upper corner?”

The Hamtastic Bores ran toward her. As Duck Phoenix, she was ready for the team. Using her mental powers, she tossed a box of hot rollers at the gorilla, who screamed as her mass of hair was suddenly curled so tightly around her skimpy dressed body that she could not move.

“And I’d use conditioner, too!” scolded Feather.

The gorilla’s mask slipped off to reveal Mariah Hairy, pop diva.

Her teammate Hissa Yearwood stomped over, which was amazing since she had no legs. The Southern belle gasped as Feather tossed a plate of grits at her.

She smiled and sucked them down, only to gasp as she realized that they were low-fat. “I’ve broken my fat and greasy food twelve-step diet! Okra will kill me when I go on her show!” she wept.

As for Hyena Twain, Feather merely stopped her and cleverly said, “See that line on the lawn? It’s the dividing point between rock and country. I dare you to cross over!”

Hyena smiled and flaunted her cast iron stomach before doing so. Since she could not read, she did not realize the line really was the thin line between humor and sarcasm. She plunged to her doom as jokes about her musical ability exploded around her.

“You know, I thought that was the line between disco and hard rock,” said a puzzled Feather.

“It looks like the line between good and bad taste!” burped Hissa.

“Clever, you pin-up duck!” said the leader, who was revealed to be Sealion Dion, the Frog-Cornadian queen of sad love ballads.

“Here, look at your record sales! They’re really funny!” said Dark Phoenix.

Sealion saw them and couldn’t help but laugh. She laughed so hard she could not make Feather weep as she did before.

“Well, I’ve put a stop to their evil scheme to get rid of all other musical acts!” mused Feather. “Now, it’s only two o’clock. I’d better record my second album now if I want to be ready for my dinner date with Itchy!” she said.

And she did.

The End

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Diva-ation

by Libbylawrence

When fading starlet Feather Locklear panics about her declining career, she gains super-powers from the stress and uses them to become the Duck Phoenix. But when the star of Feleena: Warrior Persian goes on a rampage as her warrior character and Cowthie Lee Gibbons uses a machine to make everyone just like her, will Feather be able to handle both threats at once?

***

That famous Malibaboon mallard, starlet Feather Locklear, was facing a crisis of epic proportions. She was turning thirty! (Gasp!) In Hollywood, that was equal to sixty-five years old in the Midwest. Pacing back and forth for several moments, she only stopped when she realized that stress could cause wrinkles. Instead she stomped her high heels in a patented Feather temper tantrum and thought hard… for a blonde actress, that is.

“I’ll never go on that creepy Irish Setterman Late Night Show again!” she vowed, fuming. A fuming duck was a sight for sore eyes (and a Chinese treat). “The nerve of that gap-toothed canine — asking if I’d had highlights put in my feathers. The very idea!”

“Ms. Locklear?” an aide said through the intercom. “It’s time for your stylist to add those highlights you wanted!”

She tossed a high heel at the speaker and pouted. I star in Hen City! she thought. I made Melrose Coup what it was, and I won’t even mention my days on T.J. Plucker! Still, she worried her career was heading for a decline. Hey, Jaybird Loono never even booked her on the Tune-out Show anymore.

Strangely enough, the stress that Feather was experiencing resulted in an unforeseen metabolic reaction within her body. She wasn’t sure how, but she knew she was developing latent mutant powers of telekinesis without even knowing how to spell the word.

“That’s it!” said Feather resolutely. “I shall save my career by getting adored as a super-heroine,” she vowed. “Yes, my career shall rise from the ashes like the — what do ya call it? Tuskon! No — Phoenix! The Duck Phoenix shall be my name!”

Soon enough, she put together a stylish costume from her large wardrobe that showed off her legs (take that, Ally McVeal) and, wearing it, flew off to find crime… or terror… or something like that.

***

Little did our heroine know (very little, as shown by her score on Celebrity Jeopardy with Alex Treesloth) that, as the leggy mallard made her way to fight crime (and tan a bit, too), another famous woman was having a crisis all her own.

Cowthie Lee Stiffherd, star of daytime talk shows, singer, and employer of many hatchlings, was very sad. Thumbing through the newspapers (actually her aide turned the pages for her to avoid that icky newsprint), she sang. Cowthie Lee tended to sing instead of talking much of the time. She’d had lessons, don’tcha know, and it made her seem even more talented — or so she imagined.

“The news has crime and war,
It’s plain to see!
The world would be much better
If everyone was me!
If every bear, lion and flea
Wore the clothes I design,
And sang my hit songs
Each thought would be MINE!”

Cowthie Lee cheered up for a while, then decided that, gosh darn it, she’d do it! She’d make the world over in her technicolor, ready for close-up image. But where to start? Equipment, magic?

No, another song.

***

In a world with meaningful programs like 60 Minnows and the aforementioned Ally McVeal, people needed light entertainment and escapism.

One show that offered fantasy like that was Feleena: Warrior Persian, which starred Mousey Clawless as Feleena, the brave warrior kitty who made life exciting and wore a little black number.

Mousey was getting ready to tape a scene where her sidekick, the perky redheaded turkey Gobbyrielle, was being basted to death by the evil Cowlisto. Running forward, Mousey suddenly tripped on her tail and hit her head. When she awoke some moments later, she thought she really was Feleena the Warrior Persian.

With her battle cry ringing out, “Meow! Meowwwi meow!” she charged out of the studio to slay dragons, stop traffic, and bat at strings. She would also soon meet up with the heroic Feather Locklear.

While Mousey Clawless rampaged down the busiest streets of the city of stars, she imagined that, as Feleena, Warrior Persian, she was fighting her old foes Airedale the Dog of War and Cowlisto, the blonder swords-heifer who wore leather — which was odd and somewhat disturbing, since he was, after all, a cow.

“Come on!” she cried. “Face the blade of Feleena! Meow! Meowww!”

Seeing a tour bus, she thought it was a monster and tossed her special milk dish at it. Whirling through the air, it sliced the tires on the bus, which promptly crashed. The tourists on the bus gawked eagerly at the sight.

“Oh, Harold!” said a fat female rabbit. “Look — it’s that lovely Mousey Clawless who caused us to wreck and nearly killed us all! Do you think she’d sign an autograph?”

“I want to see Moo Grant, that British actor,” said another tourist. “Why couldn’t he go on a rampage?”

“He was in that film 4 Wettings and a Being Put to Sleep,” added another.

“I like that star of Flocks!” piped up a kid as Feleena sliced through the bus door and charged the tourists. “The one with that divine mane — Hennifer Aniston!”

At that time, Duck Phoenix (Feather Locklear) floated down to see what she could do to help but was puzzled by the sight. “Say, that’s not part of the tour. I mean, you aren’t supposed to try to kill them, are you?” she asked no one in particular.

As if in response, Feleena the Warrior Persian purred and swung at the shapely Duck Phoenix.

“Cut that out!” Feather cried. “No! Forget I said that!” A telekinetic shove sent Feleena backward, and she rolled through the air and landed on her feet (being a cat and all).

“Big deal. Can you do this?” asked a miffed Miss Locklear. Turning away from Feleena, who tossed the sharp milk dish at her head, she whirled back around with a sultry look on her face. “It’s time the two of us got to some hot and heavy molting,” she breathed.

Feleena continued her attack, and Feather barely deflected the dish in time with a mental shield. “That is so not fair!” she said, pouting.

“Hellooo! Kisses, kisses!” said a blonde ape with a microphone. “I’m Fleaza Gibbons, and I’m here on the spot to report that two costumed figures resembling Feather Locklear in a green mini-dress and Mousey Clawless in character as Feleena: Warrior Persian are battling it out in the street! I’ll see if I can get an interview before that annoying Bah-Bah Walters or Mareidith Wheeera gets it.”

Suddenly, Feleena slapped Fleaza Gibbons silly and then fled across the street.

“No comment by Feleena!” said Fleaza. “There you have it, folks. Cats who carry swords!”

Feather, in her costumed identity as Duck Phoenix, was really miffed by now. Her trademarked coiff was mussed, and her pantyhose had a run in them. She pouted, creating a psychic blast that knocked Feleena flat.

At that moment they stopped their battle, for — to their horror (and this is pretty scary, mind you) — every person in sight had turned into an exact copy of Cowthie Lee Stiffherd!

The two heroines were immune (due to the fact that — if they weren’t, I’d need a new heroine, and I’m really busy on four other story sites, OK?).

“We must band together to stop this evil!” vowed Feleena.

Feather agreed bravely. “Whatever!”

They gasped as men, women, and hatchlings alike sported red hair and sang songs about cruise lines and being a suburban superstar.

You know, this super-heroine stuff is really, really scary! thought Feather. “So, how do we track down the real Cowthie Lee?” she asked.

“Simple,” said Feleena. “We do what any huntress would do in our case.”

“Follow the sound of really bad singing?” suggested a hopeful Miss Locklear.

“No — look it up in TV Guide!” offered Feleena.

“Oh!” said Feather, smiling.

Sure enough, in the Cheers and Jeers section, there was one of those preview grids that read:

“Cowthie Lee Stiffherd tries to take over the world by making all residents exactly like her! Take over bid starts at 8:00 (7:00 central). Parental Guidance is suggested, ’cause things could get rilly silly.”

“It’s so simple when you think!” said a giggling Feather.

“Isn’t it?” replied Feleena.

They headed to the TV station named in honor of the famous talk show queen: Faceland. Entering after a wait, which really steamed Feather, they saw the one and only (well, up to an hour ago she was the one and only — now she’s one of about six billion, but I digress) Cowthie Lee Stiffherd posing for photos with herself!

“Now that’s vain!” said Feather, who herself had stopped to pose for a few wallet-sized photos herself before continuing on with the life or death struggle.

Duck Phoenix and Feleena the Warrior Persian approached the starstruck Cowthie Lee, who was stuck on herself. “We’ve come to order you to… uh, excuse me a minute,” said Feather. “What are we here for, again?” she whispered.

“World conquest thingamjig!” hissed Feleena.

“Oh, right,” said Feather, grinning. She put her hands on her hips and, in her best Melrose Coup attitude-voice, said, “OK, as I was saying, you’ve got to stop this whole mad scheme!”

“Never — I’m making the world a better place by making everyone a little me!” said Cowthie Lee, tossing back her head and causing sound to echo out. The worst and creepiest part of it was that the notes were visible and cracked in mid-air.

Feleena, Warrior Persian gracefully walked across the floating notes in a way that would have made her producer proud, landing at Cowthie Lee’s throne, where she tackled her. They rolled around, clawing and scratching at each other for several minutes.

Suddenly, a photographer walked up and Cowthie said, “Could ya hold that pose for half a sec?” She had a few more photos taken (some with kids rented for the event).

Feather ran up to Cowthie as she crawled away from the fierce Feleena. “My psycha… psycho… um, my mental boo-boo will stop you!” she said. Then she looked down and squealed, “Oh, wait — I adore those shoes!”

Cowthie Lee got up and said, “Darling, I got these at the little place on Wilshire! We must do lunch sometime, if I don’t kill you today!”

“That is sooo nice!” said Duck Phoenix. Then the two suddenly resumed battle as she blasted Cowthie Lee.

The truth began to sink in, and Cowthie Lee shrieked in terror. “If everyone looks like me and sounds like me,” she said, “then — then I won’t be special anymore!” She burst into tears as Feleena and Duck Phoenix adjusted her evil but so chic Me Machine.

After the Me Machine was put in reverse, everyone soon became normal and the heroines flew off arm in arm.

“You know, I think we make a good team,” said Feather. “But I’ve got to get top billing!”

“I’ll wrestle you for it!” declared Feleena.

“Can the National Nosy Supermarket Checkout Trashy Glossy Thingy have someone there to take photos at the time?” asked a curious Duck Phoenix.

“Of course!” replied Feleena.

The End

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