by Dann Gershon
“Who you calling an old coot?” Greeley said, materializing beside him. The ghost handed a crumpled piece of notebook paper to Einstein and nodded.
“You’re late, Greeley,” he said, smiling.
“Take it out of my paycheck, Houdini,” the ghost cackled.
“Well?” Einstein asked. “Did you find it?”
The ghost nodded.
“Excellent!” Einstein said, barely able to contain himself.
“Did you keep your end of the bargain?” Greeley asked.
“It’s all ours, partner. We can break ground on the new camp as soon as we get back.”
“What are you two talking about?” Roxie asked.
Einstein handed her the piece of paper. It contained a series of long numbers scribbled along the margin. “It’s the coordi-nates for Mucho’s monster zoo. I wasn’t sure if it was possible for us to travel back through the wormhole, so I bribed Gree-ley to take a test flight. Let me tell you, the old ghoul drives a hard bargain. He insisted that I buy back the camp or no deal.” He leaned over and whispered to Roxie, “Between you and me, I had nothing to lose. If Greeley didn’t make it, I’d just back out of the deal.”
“I heard that, sonny.”
“Are you saying what I think you’re saying?” Roxie gasped.
Einstein shook his head and smiled. “Care to take a ride via intergalactic g-mail, comrade?”
Roxie hugged Einstein so tight that his eyes crossed. She released him and he started to laugh.
“What’s so funny, Fleet?” Roxie asked.
“I was just thinking about Bucky, Curly, and Nurse Knock-wurst,” he replied. “Do you think they’ll be happy to see us?”
“Let’s go find out,” Roxie replied.
They formed a circle and held hands with Greeley. The ghost looked at them and smiled. “Hold on tight,” he warned. “It’s going to be a bumpy ride.”
“It always is, comrade,” Einstein replied as they disap-peared. “It always is.”
11
E p I l O G u E
One Month Later
The three moons of Gorza were peeking over the jagged ice- capped mountains, which were barely visible through the wispy patches of pink clouds that surrounded the peaks. It was unseasonably cold for this time of year, but not cold enough to keep anyone who was lucky enough to receive a private invitation to Mucho’s Monster Zoo away. After all, it was a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. Those who turned it down would never be invited again.
The guests were told where to meet at the last moment, blindfolded, and taken to a private spacecraft. As always, it was a top-secret event and the location was not disclosed. The trip cost them dearly, but was well worth the price of admis-sion. Despite the fact that it was illegal to attend the zoo, it was considered an honor to be invited. Oddly enough, an in-vitation to the zoo was also considered the ultimate status symbol for the rich and ridiculously bored.
“Here they come,” Curly announced to the others as a large crowd of tourists filed out of the spaceship. “Looks like Crotons.”
“Crotons?” Bucky repeated, moving in for a closer look. Despite having three heads, three plump rumps, and a rather hefty physique, the women of Croton were completely irresist-ible to Bucky. His eyes zeroed in on one of the females and his pulse soared. He pointed at the three protruding humps on her backside and elbowed Curly in the rib cage. “Check it out, my man. That is one fine-looking Croton mama.”
Thirty days ago Curly wouldn’t have given the Croton fe-male a second look, but after the last month in the zoo, his standards had definitely been lowered. “You thinking what I’m thinking?”
“BOOTY CALL!” they yelled in unison. They slapped each other some skin.
“Triple the pleasure, triple your fun,” Bucky said.
“You can say that again, brother!” Curly replied.
“You two are pigs!” Nurse Knockwurst growled.
“Not according to the sign,” Curly reminded her. He pointed at a large black plaque with white block letters that was prom-inently displayed on their cage. “Can’t you read?”
“Read this, you idiot!” The nurse punched Bucky in the nose and walked away. Big Al got off easy, she decided. The sec-ond they had materialized on the other side of the wormhole without the merchandise, Mucho Fahn had them thrown in a cage. He put them on exhibit as a reminder of what happened to those who failed to do his bidding. Although they were not one of the more interesting exhibits in the intergalactic mon-ster zoo, they were certainly one of the most amusing. They were constantly bickering amongst themselves and calling one another names. Occasionally, the crowd was treated to a good old-fashioned fistfight. The best part of the day, however, was
1 1 feeding time. Courtesy of Einstein, Mucho Fahn had been left the recipe for Twinkies, along with a note. Whatever the note said, Mucho must have found it amusing. He installed a vend-ing machine right outside their cage and filled it with Twinkies. Above the machine, a flashing neon sign read feed the morons. It lit up like clockwork every hour on the hour, all day long.
Nurse Knockwurst noticed that Curly was ogling her. He had been doing it for days and it was getting on her nerves. “What are you staring at?” she growled.
“A whole lot of ugly,” Curly replied. Nurse Knockwurst pummeled him mercilessly with lefts and rights as a crowd gathered around the cage to watch the Mo-rons go at it. She ripped off one of his eyebrows and tossed it to a member of the audience. The crowd cheered. While she was taking a bow, Curly jumped on her back and tried to pull her bun off. She bucked up and down like a bronco, trying to shake the cook loose. He was able to hold on for about ten seconds and then went sailing across the cell. The crowd went wild.
Suddenly, the light above the vending machine began to flash. “You clowns gotta chill,” Bucky said, pulling them apart. “It’s time for the two o’clock pelting.”
They moved to the very back of the cage. It was feeding time.
“Who wants to feed the Morons?” a three-headed Croton asked his tribe of three-headed children. All sixteen of them raised their claws and began to squeal. They wagged their curly little tails with�
��anticipation as their father dropped a few coins into the slot and the Twinkies began to flow. He distributed the golden brown treats equally amongst the kids. They made their way back to the cage and squeezed up to the front. The father pointed at Nurse Knockwurst. “That big ugly one looks really hungry. Go ahead, kids. Let’s feed the Morons!”
The barrage of Twinkies began. Hundreds of golden pro-jectiles were tossed into the cage, the cream-filled centers exploding upon impact. As always, Nurse Knockwurst seemed to take the brunt of the attack. Once feeding time was over, the crowd moved on to a new attraction. Those who missed the two o’clock feeding could always come back in an hour.
“This is all his fault,” the nurse muttered as she wiped the goo from her face. With every Twinkie that was tossed in her face, her hatred for him grew stronger. One day she would have her revenge. She didn’t know how or when, but she swore that somehow she would get even. Nurse Knockwurst raised a clenched fist at the sky and screamed loud enough for him to hear her millions of light-years away. “I’m going to get you, Einstein P. Fleet!” she bellowed. “I’ll get you if it’s the last thing I ever do!”
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