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Part VIII: 1896- Hate's Consequence
"Ack! Stop it! Stop it!" Stogie tried to slap her arms away but her blows were quick and many, as they landed, one on top of the other. It seemed Stogie would die the death of a thousand cuts!
***
Atop his toilet, Joseephus heard some noise upstairs. He would go up and check but he had been holding this in for far too long.
It was probably just Timothy running up and down the hallway as he was inclined to do. It was past his bedtime but Joseephus was in a generous mood, considering the good news he received just ten minutes ago.
No, he would focus on his gastric concerns, first and foremost.
***
"I'm still hearing things!" The tall Klansman said, starting to get nervous.
Barnaby furrowed his brow. "You don't think the Chinaman came back with...help?"
"From his homeland?" Walden scoffed. "That'd be a marvel of a trip to make in a day!"
But the youth persisted. "But think about it: how did he get here to begin with? And would he not be here without some of his kin?"
The burly man stroked his chin. "So you think he's come here with an Asiatic army of some kind?"
Scared silence.
"Spread out," The tall man got to his feet and placed his hood over his face, as did his fellow Klansmen. "I'll go up and investigate the missus. You all spread out around the house and block the exits, search for any more intruders." He turned to Netta. "You stay here, holler if you see an Chinaman. Understand?"
***
Evangeline was on a mad rampage, as she cornered Stogie in her closet! Little did she expect he'd use her garments against her, throwing them at her in a bundle. "HYAH!" He slung the dress after dress at her, doing his best to stave off her volley.
"Take that!" Stogie said unnecessarily.
"What's going on in there?" A voice from outside asked.
"Oh shit," Stogie mouthed. He sprinted to the door, locking it and for good measure, dragging the dresser to blockade the entrance.
"Hello?" Knocking on the door. "Mrs. Lennox?"
Stogie turned on his heel to face Evangeline, who was buried in a mound of her own dresses. Not sure what to do, he sprinted over to her to try to make sure she wouldn't cry for help.
-Stogie and Joseephus
"Oh!" Evangeline gasped as though she were drowning, struggling to surface from the mound of fine garments that had been piled upon her, "Oh, it's the Chinaman! He's gotten into my clothes! Oh, oh!"
-Evangeline
"Fellows! To me!" The Klansman called out to his comrades. "The Chinaman lives! And he's committing preverted actions to Mrs. Lennox!"
"Merciful Jesus!" Two of his comrades heard the cry and tried to force the door open. "It's blocked! Should we get the others?"
"They'll be here soon enough! Whatever the case, we have to open this door immediately!" He banged the door. "You hear that, Chinaman? We're coming to get you!"
***
Stogie was having troubles of his own trying to quiet down Evangeline, as she pushed him off her and landed on their nightstand, nearly cracking his skull. Groaning in pain, his vision was blurry. He had to get up, he had to think of something...
"You think I'm frightened of you, you bloated sack of marmalade?" Evangeline shrieked, her hair hanging raggedly into her face from beneath the fedora, producing a quite impressive-if-discordant effect,
"For 15 years, I was paraded along every ball, festivity, and ceremony in this town. I've danced with ranchers, planters, bankers, and diplomats! Your peculiar attitudes will not frighten me! I will see you strung from a gibbet for the torture's you've inflicted upon us, this I swear!"
Poising the more jagged edge of the deposed Lord Tuckuston like a knife, she lunged as if to pierce Sto-Gee's heart…
-Evangeline
Stogie's vision cleared as Evangeline ranted and raved. It was a book, The Lady's Guide to Social Darwinism, the Lennox wife's nighttime reading!
"Ya heard of book club?" The hero rasped as Evangeline began her charge. "Well, how about a book club sandwich!" In a powerful swing, he decked her across the face with the racist book, sending her flying back!
Evangeline barely had time to gasp before the book (280 pages of social science, eugenics, and charming diagrams of the same) connected. She went momentarily cross-eyed, staggering drunkenly (perhaps concussed) before her legs gave out from under her and she collapsed into an unconscious heap on the floor.
-Evangeline
Victorious, Stogie got to his feet, fatigued from the duel. "Crazy bitch..." He muttered, bending down to take what was his. "Thank you very much." Dusting it off, Stogie placed his trusty fedora on his head for the first time since he travelled back in time. Things seemed to be right once again.
"Get the axe!" The pounding from outside continued.
"But what if Joseephus sees we've damaged his home?"
"A Chinaman is having his way with Mrs. Lennox and you're concerned about property damage? We're getting this door open. Ready your rifle, Dooley!"
"Shit." Stogie had to act quick. Having nearly forgotten the object of his quest, he turned his attention to his prize: his long sought-after Heelies. "Oh yeah, baby..." He pushed aside the pages of notes Joseephus had written on the footwear and rubbed his hands with excitement.
More banging from outside. An axe digging into the fine wood.
"Just you wait," Stogie commented. "This calls for a celebration. Some music." He turned on his phone and was about to put on some Biz Markie yet again...but he decided against it. It had been done. That was the music of a clown. Now it was time to play the hero.
The axe started to get some penetration. The forces of evil were closing in.
"Yeah, that'll do." Stogie selected the song he wanted to play. The classic beat dropped. The time-traveler smiled.
It was time to suit up.
***
The sound of queer music from inside the room slowed the Klan members' attempted infiltration. "Wait! Listen to that!"
It was a strange percussive beat, something these born-and-raised racists had never heard before.
"Is that...music?" One Klansman asked.
"Not any kind of music I ever heard," remarked the tall hooded member leading the charge. "How peculiar..."
Suddenly, a voice to go with the music.
"Keep your hoes in check."
The Klansmen recoiled in confusion. "Hoes?" They looked at their assorted tools of rifles, sickles, machetes, and cleavers. "We have no ho..."
Out from the door burst the Heelies Hellion with such explosive force that on colliding with the tall Klansman, he was sent reeling over the railing and landing on the piano, wrecking the grand instrument and his spine. Stogie finished the attack with a stylish twirl on his newly acquired Heelies, smirking confidently with a tip of the hat.
His foes suddenly intimidated, all Stogie had to say was this: "Checked."
"SUPER!"
The Klansmen recovered from the shock, as one cried out, waving his blade this way and that. However, he could not keep up with Stogie as dodged gracefully, sliding left and right...
"I got this girl and she wants me to duke her/I told her I'd come scoop her around 8, she said 'SUPER!'"
...until he caught the racist's attack mid-swing throwing him down the stairs and right into another Klansman coming up, sending both down a rowdy tumble!
The other Klansman at the master bedroom's door charged forth with his club, pursuing Stogie into one of the Lennoxes' many lounge rooms. Stogie played the retreat card, Heelying backwards and ducking under the long table that stood center in between the room's four walls. However, he did so while, latching onto the tablecloth, his momentum from underneath dragging the fabric and all that stood atop it...
"That sounds great, shorty girl's a trooper/No matter what I need to do, she be like 'SUPER!'"
...and right into the face of the pursuing Klansman, knocking him out of commission! But Stogie was far from out of the woods yet as from the adjoining room came a rifleman. He aimed to shoot, Stogie ducked...
"Own his own throne, the boss like King Koopa/On the microphone he flossed the ring. 'SUPER!'"
"Sweeping leg kick!" Stogie announced as crouched down, he spun, knocking the gunner off-balance and causing him to misfire. Handy for Stogie, the shot hit the wall, knocking a painting of General Robert E. Lee off it's hook...
"Average emcees is like a TV blooper/MF DOOM, he's like D.B Cooper..."
...and into Stogie's hands, slamming it on the rifleman's head. Not done yet, Stogie dragged the Klansman by the frame into parlor from whence he came, slinging him against a China cabinet. However, two men armed hammer and machete entered the room, charging in unison.
"Out with the moolah, I let her get a outfit/Just to cool her off, she said, 'N*ggas ain't about shit.'"
Stogie hopped on armchair, tilting over and resuming his Heely slide, juking the one with the knife and twirling around the one with the hammer, first left than right. All turned around, the Klansman with the hammer was prone to dizziness, which made it easier for Stogie to tap him on shoulder, causing him to swing...
"I wonder if she meant it, I doubt it/The way it be in her mouth she can't live without it..."
...right at his fellow racist's jaw! A case of friendly fire manipulated by the Heelies Hellion, the Klansman was so in shock, he was unable to anticipated Stogie pulling the hood over his eyes. The fool swung madly, desperately, clumsily heading out onto the second floor landing...
"And can't live with this, handle your business/Villain'll stay on a scandalous ho's shit list..."
...and out over the railing, knocking him out cold. From across the landing all the way on the other side, though, came a duo of Klansmen firing their pistols! Stogie crouched low and slid, the shots knocking off bits of the bannister.
"One pack of cookies please, Mr. Hooper/It's fun smacking rookies, he is the 'SUPER!'"
Timothy peered out from his room, demanding to know, "What is going on?" He looked to his left to see Stogie rolling his way. "The Chinaman!" Still armed with his daddy's knife from the night before, he charged...
"Look like a black wookie when he let his beard grow/Weirdo, brown-skinned'd, always kept his hair low..."
Stogie was quick to respond, jumping up onto the stair railing while also grabbing Timothy by the collar. "AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!" He screamed as Stogie wheeled down the railing with great velocity...
"Rumor has it it's a S-Curl accident/DOOM was always known to keep the best girls' backs bent..."
...ending the downhill slide with a kick to the face of an approaching rifle man! "You're overdo for a timeout!" Stogie quipped, landing effortlessly on his wheels and spinning, slinging Timothy underneath a nearby table. Scared, frightened and defeated, the burgeoning racist curled up there in fright, shaking like a leaf.
"Some say it's the eyes, some say the accent/A lot of guys wonder where they stacks went..."
Away from the that grand living room in which Stogie performed those two nights ago, the Heelies Hellion wheeled into dining room, where the burly Klansman was awaiting his arrival with a cleaver. He charged, swinging, causing Stogie to wheel backwards into the kitchen...
"I call her thunder thighs with the fatty swolla/Only mess with high rollers, do what daddy told her..."
...into the arms of another hooded devil! Stogie seemed to be trapped and ready to be butchered as the Klansman raised his cleaver high...
"No matter the city she with me do the thang-thang/Work in the coochie, hooptie chitty chitty bang bang..."
...but Stogie still fought, using the momentum of his Heelies break free! But not before the Klansman lowered his cleaver, right into the shoulder of his comrade. "ARGH!" He yelped in pain, collapsing to his knees like the wounded whelp he was.
"Same name on the titty as on the name ring/Pretty like Baby D off 'All in the Same Gang'..."
Unable to wedge his cleaver free from his compatriot's flesh, the burly Klansman was vulnerable to attack...which was just what Stogie did, wheeling forward and shoving some leftover sponge cake into the racist's so hard, the momentum of the act shoved the strongman's head into the wall, knocking him unconcscious!
"Keep my eye on her, really don't trust her/But I treat her like a daughter, taught her how to bust a nut..."
Stogie moved to go into the hallway from the kitchen but the gunmen from upstairs were at the end of the corridor, one firing away and the other moving to flank him! The hero had to think quickly...
"And the heat turn to beef to horsemeat chalupa/Teach her how to hold it, of course he is the 'SUPER!'"
The time-traveler grabbed a pot lid from the counter and wheeled forward, using it as a shield. And would you believe it, but it worked, blocking the shot and then colliding with the Klansman, sending him so far back he fell into a faux-suit of armor!
"See most cats treat her like Foofur/Or beat her to a stupor, take it from the 'SUPER!'"
Then there was the gunman who tried to flank to Stogie, who turned his step to shoot but the Heelies Hellion was already making a move of his own, throwing the pot lid like a frisbee...
"You need to make her feel cuter/And lay down the G like Luther, everything'll be 'SUPER!'"
...hitting the Klansman right in the head, concussing him! Stogie kept on wheeling to the other side of the house, into yet another parlor room.
"Do for her, keep her in a new fur/So she look sweet when she go to meet the 'SUPER!'"
Little did Stogie know he cruised right past the bathroom, where Joseephus was still occupied. "Helllo?! Hello?! What is going on out there?!" He made to get up but he was still battling the dangerous foe of stress-induced incontinence! Here, the master of the house had to remain but for a little while longer.
"Got the buddha get the Grenadiers, twist it/Put it in the air, come here, kiss it..."
Into the next parlor Stogie went, but not without his wrist getting entangled in a Klansman's lasso! The racist began to pull, foolishly convinced he had Stogie in his clutches...
"Listen here scooter, let her try to bag you/When she's on the rag, never let her fry the Ragu..."
...as Stogie proved swiftly, wheeling around and around the wanna-be bigot cowboy until he was entangled in his own rope! But the Heelies Hellion didn't have time to relish in his achievements as out came a Klansman with a sickle that covered so much range, Stogie didn't have a chance of getting close. He could only dodge and dodge...
"Which'll have you under some type of spell crying 'dag boo'/Her name on your back in a tattoo..."
...but not without strategy, as Stogie ducked as the attacker wedged his sickle into to the wall. And so Stogie jabbed him here and there, the Klansman trying to wedge his weapon free with one hand and swinging madly with the other.
"Whether a bougie broad, nerd ho, street chick/Don't call her wifey if you met her at the Freaknik..."
The volley persisted, until finally, the Klansman made one final punch...and fell over, exhausted.
"You don't want her don't waste her time, I'll duke her/And be a father to your child like the 'SUPER!'"
Joseephus's army persisted, as three more came from the adjoining room. Stogie accepted the challenge, because the longer he fought, the more time Netta would have to get what she needed and bust Gregaro outta here.
"He keep his hoes in check/Sends 'em out to get glows from off frozen necks..."
"C'MON!" Stogie bellowed, as the forces of good and evil charged towards each other. The hero hopped on a table, wheeled along its surface, and tackled one foe by the shoulders. Rolling effortlessly from the tackle, he punched another bigot right in his manhood with titanic force!
"Tell 'em 'Take his clothes, leave him posting naked for real/Better yet, get him off for the check off the record deal...'"
As that villain fell to the ground, the third tried to tackle Stogie, but the time-traveler caught him mid-leap. Channeling one of his heroes back home, Stogie used his weight to slam the Klansman down, giving the Klansman an "attitude-adjustment" ala John Cena!
"'Find out where he keep the Tec and the blue steel/Make sure for extra wreck, let him know how you feel...'"
The tackled Klansman got to his feet and lunged, screaming desperately to land a hit. Stogie entered a battle-ready position, on his heels, ready to slide...
"'And while he's running down to All-Star Weekend to ball/I'm coming with U-Haul.' 'SUPER!'"
...which he did with a near perfect elegance, Heelying in a figure eight only rivalled by the Olympic athletes. The Klansman stood in the middle of it confused.
"SUPER!"
Stogie closed in to finish the formation, fist raised high, ready to battle the villainous forces that seek to divide humanity rather than unite it. He moved with fierce determination, no longer the reluctant clown he once was but a hero, determined to fight for what was right, to protect Netta and Gregaro, to defeat evil, to become...
"SUPER!"
The punch landed, the Klansman was sent flying headfirst into the unlit fireplace. Rubbing his knuckles as the song came to a conclusion, Stogie smirked victoriously. "Yep. Hoes in check."
From the next room came a few dazed Klansmen, still convinced they can engage the Heelies Hellion in a fight.
Stogie laughed at this. "You want some more? Because I got a whole playlist to kick your ass to!"
They stepped forward, weapons in hand.
The Heelies Hellion shrugged. "I'm game if you are, assholes." He pressed play on the next song and slapped his chest, roaring, "LET'S GO!!!"
And the grand battle raged on!
-Stogie, Timothy and Joseephus
Netta watched in rapturous silence as Sto-Gee went ripping and roaring through the house, tossing about Joseephus's cruel colleagues like slightly pointier ninepins.
Remembering herself, and the urgency of her purpose, she jarred herself into action, ducking away from the chaos largely unseen to duck into the service passage behind the kitchen.
She'd have to be quick and methodical, tempering her breathless, anxious excitement with as much reason as she could. She could not afford to fail now, not when she was so impossibly close to freedom.
As she neared the door to her sparse annex, Netta recalled Gregaro. Sto-Gee had charged her with helping free him as well, and she knew it was her responsibility to do what she could for the unfortunate Lennox child, no matter how much he frightened her. Netta wasn't sure what sort of life Gregaro could be expected to have, but it would surely be better than what he was living with now.
With a giddy laugh, Netta threw aside the latch on her door, making to open the door…
Only to find it slammed shut before her stricken eyes.
"Not so fast, colored girl!" one of the Klansmen, a reedy-necked creep with a lazy eye and a wen on his neck, had caught up to her.
"I-I was merely going to my room," Netta stammered, struggling to reassume the role of the frightened servant (which, all told, wasn't very hard), "Please, sir…"
"Yes, please," the man said wildly, "Please me!"
He grabbed her by the shoulders, pushing her against the door, which swung inward, taking the both of them with it.
"No!" she cried, "No, let go! Let go!"
"You know how many times I've seen you makin' eyes at me in Lennox's meetings?" he licked his chapped licks with special relish, "I know you want it, girlie, now take it!"
Netta struggled forcefully against him, feeling her hair fall into her face from its bun, "I...I don't even know who you are!"
This was mostly true. In fact, Netta did remember looking at him a few times during Joseephus's meetings, but that had been because of that distracting thing on his neck. This was hardly something she could say to get him off her though.
Improvising, Netta reached for the nearest possible weapon...a tray of leftover spongecake!
"You get off of me!" she cried, picking up the cake and striking it with it. Spongecake, naturally, doesn't make much of a bludgeon, but the Klansman was so surprised by the mere fact of her resistance that he stumbled back all the same, giving Netta ideal opportunity to shove the rest of the cake into his gaping mouth.
"You want something sweet, huh?" she demanded into his wild, bugging eyes, "Well here you go! Sugar, eggs, and milk! Real nice and tasty…as long as you remember to chew!"
The man attempted to fight back, spitting searing profanities into her face, though these were all muffled by the cakey obstruction in his windpipe…and it only got worse the more he tried to say.
Eventually, the man's writhing slowed. Netta briefly feared he'd choked himself to death, but he was still breathing, however shallowly. She decided he must have finally managed to swallow enough of it, though not before he'd blacked out.
"Good riddance to ya!" she spat on him for good measure, returning to the nightstand where she kept the key to the toolroom, where such implements as were used for groundskeeping were kept. There was a good-size hammer there, quite heavy, but surely strong enough to break Gregaro's chains…
If she could get back to him in time.
Keys in hand, Netta lingered briefly in the doorway, contemplating the prone man on the floor. It might be sensible, she imagined, to make sure he wouldn't get up. But what had seemed like such a natural, even inevitable, thing when he'd been moments away from killing her only made her skin crawl now.
She couldn't do it. Perhaps she should, but she couldn't. Practically, she knew not how much time she had left...but more to the point, she wasn't sure she could bring herself to do it.
Whatever else she was, she was no killer. Perhaps it would be better for her if she was.
-Netta
Amidst all this chaos, the craven Walden and young Barnaby sought to hide from Stogie's rampage!
"Good God, Walden!" Barnaby whimpered. "Mr. Lennox wasn't lying when he talked about those Hermetic Slippers! The Chinaman is a demon with them! A demon!"
"He's going this way and that!" Walden cried. "I'd run for the door but suddenly, there he stands, ready to show us what's for!" Suddenly, an idea. "The basement!"
Barnaby paled. "But...Mr. Lennox was very clear when I asked..."
"Oh, that Joseephus Lennox is done for once he leaves the bathroom!" Walden stormed down the hall towards the basement door. "It's best we hide there, where the Chinaman won't look. Maybe then we'll be able to live to tell the tale!"
Barnaby followed Walden, insisting, "But Walden, I don't..."
But the overweight Klansman already busted the lock with the butt of his rifle, heading down the stairs. Reluctantly, Barnaby followed.
"Close the door, young Barnaby!" Walden urged his cohort. "We'll survive this tragedy yet! All we need to do is..."
CreeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAk!
Walden's weight pressed on the floorboards, the sound of the pressure resounding through the entire room. In response, a scuttering sound.
"...rats?" Barnaby unsheathed his cleaver. "D-do you think it's rats?"
"OF COURSE I THINK IT'S RATS!" Walden snapped defensively. "This is p-probably a larder of some kind! Yes! Even though it's empty...and those...are bones..."
Suddenly, a snarling sound, similar to that of a dog, waiting to pounce.
"WHO ARE YOU?!" Walden aimed his rifle, ready to shoot first and ask questions later.
Barnaby shivered in fear, left to ponder what wild animal was kept in this room.
A figure becoming more and more clear in the shadows.
Walden squinted, trying to make it out. "What in..."
The figure pounced, latching onto Barnaby, clawing at his skin.
"AHHHHHHHHHH! AHHHHHHHHH! HELP! HELLLLLLLLLLP! IT'S KILLING ME!" Barnaby cried as he fell onto his back, barely able to fend off the creature.
"SWEET MERCY!" Walden froze, unsure of what to do.
"I'M GONNA DIE! I'M GONNA DIE!!!!!" Barnaby wept as the creature clawed and clawed.
BLAM!
***
Stogie heard a gunshot from the other side of the house! But..,who was it intended for if he was currently the center of the Klan's attention?
"Hyah!" Stogie dodged another hatchet, trying his best to dispose of these goons as quickly as possible so he could investigate the source of the gunshot and better yet, see if Netta was alright.
***
Joseephus was quick to buckle his trousers, finally having finished his long held-in gastric issue. However, on leaving the bathroom, the master of the house was beholden to the ruins of his manor and the decimation of his army.
"By Vishnu..." He muttered, wondering what could have done this. It couldn't have been Stoh-Gee. Could he really have surviv...?
BLAM!
A gunshot...in the direction of the basement?
Joseephus paled like a ghost, contemplating that his worst fear had come true. "No. No, no, no, no..." He ran to the basement door. Busted open. "Please...please, on all that his hol-ee..." Down the stairs he went, frantically anticipating the worst.
There stood Walden, scared stiff with a smoking gun. Barnaby, wounded severely, was trying to get to his feet. And further, in a pool of his own blood, was Joseephus's firstborn, with a lethal wound in his chest.
"Oh, Daniel..." Joseephus stepped forward and fell on his knees, cradling his deformed son in his arms. "My sweet child..." He was crying freely, surely more than any man had seen him cry before.
Walden and Barnaby looked to each other, confused and frightened.
"I never wanted this for you." The Lennox patriarch sobbed. "I thought you were safe, pro-tected...oh, what have I done?"
A terrible feeling welling in his stomach, Walden suddenly feared for his future. "Joseephus, I'm...I'm sorry. I-I didn't know he was your..."
Joseephus silently got to his feet, his back turned to both of his minions.
"He attacked Barnaby, you see." Walden tried to feebly explain. "I-I had no choice."
The master of the house remained silent.
Walden took off his hood as if to show the sincerity in his face, but all he accomplished was demonstrating how much he was sweating. "It was Barnaby's idea to go down here."
Barnaby's jaw dropped. "Walden!"
"You heard how he pried before about this place!" Walden pressed his hands together. "You have to believe me!"
Joseephus began to turn, reaching forward.
"PLEASE!" Walden begged, sobbing like a child. "PLEASE! PLEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEASE!"
A gentle caress on the cheek. Walden felt the touch, confused.
"You don't need to ecks-plain to me." Joseephus said earnestly.
"I...I don't?" Walden caught his breath. "Thank you, Joseephus, I really..."
In one quick movement, Joseephus picked up Barnaby's cleaver from the floor and attacked relentlessly, swinging again and again and again as Barnaby watched in horror and Walden screamed in agony! Each blow was stronger than the last, his sixth swing coming down so powerfully, the blade was wedged in Walden's skull! Not done yet, Joseephus took Walden's rifle and clubbed its former owner's body again and again until it broke in pieces! Joseephus was red in the face, tears welling in his eyes.
Eventually, the rage had subsided, and there was only Barnaby left to deal with. Young Barnaby, who was left without words at what he had just witnessed.
Joseephus turned to the boy and spoke precisely. "You will take the boy's body," He pointed to his son's corpse. "Weigh it down with stones, and lay him to rest in Wren Lake. Do you un-der-stand?"
Barnaby nodded, his eyes bulging out of his skull.
"You are not to tell another soul of what you've just witnessed, lest you want the entirety of the brotherhood hunting you down for the rest of your days. Do you un-der-stand?"
Barnaby nodded again.
"Say it!"
"I understand, Mr. Lennox!"
Joseephus closed his eyes, taking a deep breath. "There is an anger welling within me, Barnaby." He tried to attain the level of meditation he achieved on his first trip to the Himalayas, where he conducted some of his most relevant studies. "None of this would have happened if it weren't for Stoh-Gee." Finally, Joseephus opened his eyes, a burning resolve shining bright. "It is time for me to end him." He clenched his fists, a plan forming in the recesses of his brilliant mind.
"And I know just how to do it."
-Walden, Barnaby, Gregaro, Stogie, and Joseephus
Netta hastened back down the service passage toward the basement, the heavy hammer weighing her arms down. She was mere steps from the head of the stairs when she heard the shot from below.
She stopped short, her heart skipping a beat. It took all her strength not to let the hammer drop from her suddenly slackened hands.
Had the men breached the basement? If they were shooting, there was only one target they could possibly have been aiming at...
There were other noises. Screams, the horrible shrieks and moans of a man being butchered. Feeling she was about to be sick, Netta dropped against the wall, shaking like a leaf.
-Netta
The frayed figure of Joseephus emerged from the basement steps. Gently, he called, "Netta." He looked around. "Neeeeeeeeeeeeeeettaaaaaaaaaaa. Where are you?" His calls were gentle, delicate. "I won't hurt you."
Netta squeezed her eyes shut at Lennox's voice, coaxing her as though she were a skittish horse. Had he discovered her duplicity? What had become of Gregaro?
Her first thought was escape. Sto-Gee had mentioned a carriage at the edge of the property, with help aboard. But to sprint for the front door would mean dashing across the drawing room. Joseephus would catch her in an instant. If she went back...
Well, Joseephus would assume she'd be in the servant's quarters, in or near her room. It would be the first place he'd look.
She eyed the stairs. It would be rank foolishness to mount, but there was a possibility she could reach a window and climb down, or at least hunker down until Joseephus had gone off in another direction. It was her only chance!
Moving as soft-footedly as she possibly could, Netta began to scale the stairs.
-Netta
"C'mere, Netta. I'm not mad." Joseephus called out, looking about. "It's just the house is an awful mess right now. We need to cree-ate a plan as to how fix it. You un-der-stand." He reached into drawer near the front door, pulling out his blunderbuss.
Stepping over the unconscious bodies of his fellow Klan members, Joseephus prowled the area. "I just want to talk."
Knuckles white around the hammer's handle, Netta gritted her teeth as she crested the top of the stairs to the landing, avoiding a trick step that she knew would creak loudly enough to alert Joseephus to her presence.
-Netta
"OVER THERE, FATHER! OVER THERE!" It was the frightened form of Timothy. tucked underneath a nearby table pointing up at the second floor landing.
For indeed, there stood Netta! "There you are!" Joseephus ran up the steps in pursuit of her.
Timothy, desperate for comfort, called after him. "What's going on, father?! What's happening?! WHERE'S MOTHER?!"
But Joseephus ignored his son's cries for help, the thought of vengeance haunting his mind.
-Timothy and Joseephus
Netta screamed, having enough presence of mind to throw the hammer at Joseephus, knowing she lacked the strength or balance to take a swing at him. Not even checking to see if it connected, she turned and made to run down the corridor.
-Netta
The hammer nicked Joseephus in the shoulder, but it did not hinder him. "C'mere! C'MERE!" He sprinted after her, the adrenaline pumping in his veins.
***
Stogie heard Netta's scream resound through the walls. "Oh no."
The last remaining Klansman swung his club futilely, as Stogie dodged it and punched the foe out. Putting an end to his music, he wheeled on ahead to see what was going on.
But on creeping into the entrance hall, Stogie was met with a morbid sight. The scrawny Klansman, beaten and battered, carrying the prone form of...
"Gregaro..." Stogie realized in horror. That gunshot from before...it was for him. He never considered it because Joseephus had that basement locked down tight.
Yet there was the lifeless husk of Gregaro, the misshapen Lennox child and more importantly, Stogie's friend.
A friend who he let down.
As the Klansman left the house with his body, immense grief washed over Stogie as he cursed himself for being so powerless, so inept. He was so close to getting Gregaro out of there! How could he be so stupid?
-Joseephus and Stogie
A bloodcurdling scream echoed through the house.
"STO-GEE!"
-Netta
Stogie looked up, quickly reminded of his other friend in danger. "Netta!" He darted up the stairs in such a hectic haste, he nearly slipped going up. The time-traveler had to get there in time, before he failed another friend.
The cry came from Timothy's room. Carefully, Stogie opened the door...
"My high-PAH-tho-sis was correct." Joseephus stood behind Netta, pinning her arm to her back with his blunderbuss aimed at the back of her skull. "Your heart's just as soft as your belly." His hair was a frazzled mane, and his eyes possessed a manic glare. He was far from the polished aristocrat Stogie met that first night.
Stogie looked Netta in the eyes, terrified another person would die on his watch. "Joseephus..." He held his hand up, as if to calm him down. "...take it easy, alright?"
"But for every correct high-PAH-tho-sis is an IN-correct one." Joseephus shook his head with disdain. "You have proven much more ree-zilient than I could have ever imagined."
Stogie again tried to keep his cool. "Please, let's just talk this out..."
"No smart remarks?" Joseephus cocked his head. "No sass? How peculiar."
Taking a deep breath, Stogie gently spoke to Netta. "I'm going to get you out of this, OK?"
-Stogie and Joseephus
"Sto-Gee," Netta struggled to speak through her tears, "Sto-Gee, don't you listen to him! He'll kill me no matter what. He's gone mad!" but she paused, adding with more venom than she had ever used before in her life, "He's always been mad!"
-Netta
"Hm." Joseephus tightened his grip on her arm. "They say 'the truth will set you free' but here you remain in my grasp." He scoffed. "Wrong again, girl. Wrong again."
Stogie tried to play this diplomatically. "Look...I saw what happened to your kid..." He recalled the name Joseephus used. "...to Daniel..."
"You dare mention my boy to me?" Joseephus chortled, his chuckles laced with menace. "It is because of you that he's dead. If you had left well enough alone and returned whence you came..." He held back his tears. "...none of this would have ever happened."
Treading carefully, Stogie answered slowly, attempting a deal. "You want this to be over, Joseephus? Because I can end this here and now." He paused, fishing for the right words. "I'll give myself up. You can do what you want with me, take my Heelies for observation, whatever." The hero pointed to Netta. "You just let her go."
-Joseephus and Stogie
"No!" Netta cried, "No, Sto-Gee, it's not worth it! He'll just kill us both!" she shook her head, "There's no world where he'd trade the likes of me for the likes of you."
-Netta
"The girl's right, Stoh-Gee." Joseephus declared. "Why would you dare assume that your life would be equal ree-com-pense for the life of my firstborn? Scy-en-tiffic-lee, it is impossible. An EE-logical bargain."
"Then what do you want?!" Stogie cried out. "Because even if you kill me and Netta, that isn't gonna bring him back! If anything, you're gonna kill the only two people who gave a damn about him."
"Watch your tongue, boy!" The manic academic hissed.
"It's true!" Stogie held his stance.
Joseephus was quiet. "You asked what I wanted...I'll tell you." He pressed the blunderbuss lower, to Netta's back. "I want you to see the life leave her eyes, I want you to cradle her body, kneel in her blood..." The heinous villain narrowed his eyes. "...I want you to learn what true loss is." He placed his finger on the trigger.
"No! Don't do it!" Stogie begged, helpless. Tears welled in his eyes, which remained fixed on the captive Netta. "Please!"
-Joseephus and Stogie
"It's alright!" Netta told him, "Sto-Gee, it's alright…" her eyes glimmered with tears, and a strange sheen of resilience as well, "Whatever he does to me now, to you, to anybody...he's beaten! He's lost the one thing he wanted more'n anything else! There won't be a soul in this town who'll look a Lennox in the face ever again and say 'There goes a respectable gentleman'. He's just a cowardly bully and a killer, who shoved his firstborn son in a hole...who scared my mother so she was too sick to work, who killed my father so he could feel like a great big man, who made a slave out of me!" she smiled defiantly, "Well, maybe folks won't care about that. But they'll care about the rest. They'll care what a fraud and a liar Joseephus Lennox really is. And if that means anything, then we've won over him after all, no matter what."
-Netta
The worn-down hero balled his shaking fists, tears streaming down his cheeks as Netta decried the monster at her back. Powerless to do anything, he began to speak. "Netta...I'm so sorr..."
BLAM!
Netta's body fell to the ground, a bloody wound through her back and out her chest. Stogie fell to his knees, too shocked to speak, too traumatized to stand.
Joseephus began to reload the blunderbuss nonchalantly. "I personally found it funny, her of all people talkin' about respect. Not to mention she was talking to you."
Stogie's eyes looked into Netta's dull pupils, his mind going over the tragedy again and again and again...
"And what are you but a fool, with your peh-cue-lar-eh-tees and your sayings." Joseephus cocked his blunderbuss shut and readied to shoot.
The time-traveler didn't move, as his psyche lingered on the people he let down and how helpless he was to do anything.
The crazed academic aimed, placing his finger on the trigger. "If only you continued to play the court jester. Then, maybe, we could have been friends."
BLAM!
Call it gut instinct: Stogie snapped out of it and wheeled backwards, missing the shot by a hair. Timothy's train set was not so lucky.
"Oh ho ho!" Joseephus laughed, reloading yet again. "Still, you seek to enter-tain me to your dying breath. How kind."
"Fuck you..." Stogie rasped, barely coating the sorrow he felt.
"I suppose it would only be fair if I returned the favor..." A cat-like smile crept onto the scientist's face. "...with a surprise."
"What are you talking about?" The time-traveler demanded to know, ready to wheel and slide as needed.
Joseephus opened his arms wide. "Attack me, Stoh-Gee. I invite you." He leered, showing his wicked smile. "Charge."
Breathing hard and with severe contempt, Stogie took the villain up on his invite. With a yell, he hurled himself towards Joseephus...
SWISH!
He moved like the wind and Stogie fell forward onto Timothy's bed, causing it to break. "Wha..." Stogie turned around, only to find Joseephus a few steps to the left.
The master of this house of horrors lifted up his leg to reveal...a wheel in the heel! "An enn-O-vate-evv invention, I must say. Besdies making me laugh, you inspired me, Stoh-Gee."
Recalling to when he recovered his Heelies from Joseephus's den, the hero's eyes widened. "Those notes...they were blueprints! You were crafting a pair of your own Heelies!"
"Night and day," Joseephus replied with pride. "Evangeline didn't quite care that they kept me away from her lovin', sen-SHU-uhl arms but after your escape, I knew I could not delay. I had to prepare for your return. So I went right to work." He showed off his pair further. "Fitted for my size, as you can see, with a mod-E-fick-ay-shun: greased wheels for extra speed, as you surely noted. Your pair proved to be a good model, though they are now the in-fee-ree-ur pair. They would have made a fine exhibit at next year's World's Fair..." He cocked his blunderbuss. "...replacing you, of course. Now..."
Joseephus trailed off, when he realized Stogie was...laughing? Not just laughing, but cackling.
"What's so funny?" Joseephus demanded to know.
"Netta was right." Stogie shook his head, wide grin on his face. "You're a coward and a bully. But she forgot one thing: thief." He got to his feet, and in turn, Joseephus readied his weapon. "Your antiques, your drugs downstairs, your 'happy workers'...you've stolen them because you know that without them, you aren't worth a single shit."
"Tread carefully, Stoh-Gee!" The academic warned.
"Your cute little painting of those cotton fields?" Stogie chuckled. "That's not even your dream. You just want so badly to fit in with the other racists. It's pathetic."
Joseephus aimed his gun. "I'm warning you! That is enough!"
"The self-made man, Joseephus Lennox!" Stogie declared as if he was at the World's Fair himself. "Wait, did I say 'self-made'? I meant to say, 'unoriginal jackass!'"
"STOP IT! STOP!" Stogie held up his hands as Joseephus raised his weapon. "Utter your last words now, and if they are so ah-gree-uh-bull, I might make your death swift."
Stogie nodded, smile still plastered on his face. "Alright." He leaned forward, waiting for what seemed like an eternity. "BOFA."
Joseephus cocked his eyebrow and lowered his blunderbuss in confusion. "Bofa? What do you..."
"BOFA DEEZ NUTS!" Stogie got low, spun on his wheels and hammered his fist right in Joseephus's unmentionables!
"GAHHHHHHHHHHHHH!" Joseephus cried in pain, misfiring the gun into Timothy's bed.
While Joseephus was stunned, Stogie got up on his feet and put his dukes in the air. "Got 'em."
Fuming with rage, Joseephus cried, "In-so-lent wretch!" And so on his Heelies of his own, he charged, engaging Stogie in a hand-to-hand duel on wheels!
Out onto the landing they slid, grappling his way and that. Stogie took advantage of Joseephus's greased wheels, pushing him far and away into a grandfather clock. Joseephus was no slouch, though, as once he made impact, he reloaded quickly and fired! Stogie ducked into the second floor bathroom to dodge the blast. By the time, he peeked out, Joseephus was already there, grappling with Stogie again!
Being forced out and backwards, Stogie was nearing the stairs. He might have been heading downhill, but he wasn't going alone! Dragging Joseephus by the collar, the duo tumbled down the stairs all the way to the drawing room!
Dazed from the impact, it took a while for Stogie to get up. But Joseephus was quick to recover, lunging forward and pressing his blunderbuss over Stogie's head and against his neck in a ploy to strangle the hero! Amongst the unconscious bodies of Joseephus's Klan bretheren, they two did battle!
As Stogie tried to get the madman off his back, Timothy cheered on his father in the distance. "Get him, father! Kill him! Kill him!"
Joseephus was oblivious to his son's cries of encouragement, as bloodthirst clouded his mind...
...and a desperation to live another clouded Stogie's! Into the dining room they went, Stogie jumped up and landed on the table back-first! Joseephus not only lost his grip but he was winded to boot!
Stogie had his own breath to catch, though, getting to his feet to recover. But Joseephus would not relent, slinging a dinner knife right at Stogie's head! The hero dodged it narrowly, wheeling into the kitchen as Joseephus reloaded his blunderbuss yet again.
Now a clear game of cat-and-mouse, Stogie was on the movie. Left with very little choice, he headed down the wine cellar, with Joseephus right on his tail.
However, when the master of the house got to the foot of the stairs, there was no sign of Stogie. Just racks upon racks of wine.
Joseephus smiled, willing to play this game further. "I always knew you'd be special, Stoh-Gee. The moment I laid eyes on you, I knew you were something to behold." He peered around the next corner, only to discover nothing but more bottles of wine. "An English-speaking Chinaman in Lakewood? Why, not even I could con-seeve of such a thing."
Movement behind him. Joseephus turned and fired, only to have destroyed his collection for Barcelona.
The twisted academic continued his search, reloading his next round. "I suppose I can still have you in my collection." He paused, a perverse smile creeping on his face. "Tax-EE-der-mized, perhaps. But you'd still be mine..."
In a dark corner in the wine cellar, Stogie hid with bated breath. He wasn't sure how much longer he could keep this up. Then, out of the corner of his eye...an idea!
"Come on out, clown." Joseephus challenged Stogie, his gun reloaded for yet another blast. "Sing and dance for me. Show yourself."
Swift movement to his right! Joseephus fired...only to realized he shot at his lab coat, thrown aside by none other than Stogie...
...who wheeled behind Joseephus. "Sure. I take requests."
Joseephus laughed. "Oh ho ho, Stoh-Gee. I suppose I should cry because you played with my laundry?"
Stogie chinned to where Joseephus's blast landed. "Take a look again, pal."
And so Joseephus did...realizing his shot landed on the door to the work area underneath the property. Moreover, he busted the lock.
His smile faded in an instant, Joseephus turned to face Stogie who held in his hands... "Your special whistle, lifted from your 'laundry' over there."
The door behind Joseephus pounded, along with the sound of a more than dozen pairs of hands clawing the wood.
"You've already pissed them off with your popgun there, considering how loud and scary that thing is." Stogie said confidently. "I blow this like you showed me...well, consider them mega-pissed off. They're not gonna be happy, man."
Another pound at the door, the sound of rasping and hissing resounding from the other side.
For the first time in their brief but nevertheless intense rivalry, Joseephus looked to Stogie, scared and with pleading eyes. "Please..."
Stogie's smirk faded. "You're always talking about your adventures out East but we all know that in the end, you're ending way, way South."
The force collided with the door again, near knocking it off its hinges with no lock to hold it in place.
Tears streamed down Joseephus's cheeks. "Stoh-Gee...don't..."
"Don't worry. It's a free trip." Stogie pointed to the door. "It's on them."
"STOH-GEE!" Joseephus cried, wailing like a baby.
The hero blew the whistle hard and for a moment, time seemed to freeze.
Then, slowly, Stogie raised his finger, pointing to Joseephus. "Kill."
The door burst open, the horde of Joseephus's victims overwhelming the villain! "AHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!! AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!" He screamed and screamed as his creations tore him limb from limb!
Stogie didn't have time to relish in the madman's slow demise, as these creatures had longer memories than even he suspected. Recalling their plight with the hero before, the mob pursued Stogie!
Up the stairs he went, the makeshift zombies nipping at his heels! If he could make it to the drawing room, he could head out the door...
"You!" It turned out a lot of the Klansmen had woken up from their Stogie-induced naptime.
"Fuck." Stogie cursed, as they stood in the way of his escape. Turning around to see his other problem quickly catching up with him, he cursed louder. "FUCK!" He wheeled the only way that wasn't littered with Klansmen and vicious creatures: up the stairs.
One of the Klansmen looked to where Stogie fled. "What in God's name has him so AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!" The creatures pounced on the hooded devils, mauling them as they had done to Joseephus mere moments ago! Looking upon the chaos from atop the stairs, Stogie considered that perhaps their memories were longer than he or even Joseephus considered. And perhaps that when hearing the voices of their captors, sensing their presence, and recalling the tyranny enacted on them...they weren't so blind. As the victims-turned-creatures spread around the house, laying waste to the racists that littered its quarters, Stogie understood that even these misbegotten creatures, deprived of their sight, knew evil when they encountered it.
Because they remembered. They'd always remember.
As would little Timothy, who in the chaos ran out the door, weeping hysterically for his parents, begging for the monsters to go away. Stogie almost felt bad for the boy as he saw him run out into the yard. His life was destroyed, his father's crimes against humanity engulfing his home.
Soon enough, the zombies started making their way up the stairs and after Stogie. Their numbers were so great that even the army of Klansmen were too little for them. With haste, Stogie wheeled away, only to find more coming through the servant's stairs. It seemed Stogie, despite all his efforts, was trapped.
-Stogie, Joseephus, and Timothy
Evangeline lifted her head from the floor, looking dazedly around the room. She could hear screams and shouts from all throughout the house and, somewhere beneath that, the distant and ever-receding cries of her son.
"Timothy!" she cried out, getting unsteadily to her feet.
She hurried to the landing and stopped short at the chaos, seeing Joseephus's creatures running amok among the prone, cloaked floors. There was blood too, so much blood.
"What...what is…Ohhhhhh!" she felt the blood drain from her face, her gasped words dissolving into a despairing moan as she saw a severed arm lying carelessly across the balustrade, as if flung from one of the dead men.
This proved to be a mistake. Innumerable glassy white eyes were raised to her…
And they saw.
"No…" she stumbled backward, "No, you...you back away! Away! I command you!"
But she had no authority here, and she knew that.
"Joseephus!" she called, "Joseephus, please! Help me!"
He had always answered her calls before. There were no answers now. With a horrible sinking feeling, Evangeline realized she would never hear his voice again.
"No!" she moaned, sinking to her knees, "No, no, no!"
Her cursed, brilliant, beautiful husband… She had warned him about the dangers of his experiments, but he had been distracted by his own genius.
"Get back!" she shrieked, "Get back, you black devils! Oh, oh!"
But to no avail. They moved toward her with slow and steady deliberation, not as an angry mob, but a herd of ponderous, curious animals. Evangeline began to believe they perhaps meant her no harm...that they perhaps did not view her as the same sort of thing as the berobed men they had so recently savaged.
And, of course, in their own way, weren't they right?
"I...I'm no villain," she said softly, "Only a...a genteel Southern lady. Y-you wouldn't harm a lady, would you? All I-I ever wanted to do was...was to defend my family. It's a lady's responsibility, you know, to one's fa-fam…"
One of the things-that-had-once-been-men drew near, so close she could smell the foulness of his breath. Evangeline suspected he had not long been in captivity. That he, perhaps, had been brought in as recently as yesterday. His scars were quite fresh.
With one hand, he reached up to touch her. Evangeline recoiled, but the touch was gentle, curious.
"Just a lady...a gentle woman of gentle birth," she said at last, "I don't deserve this. I'm not like them. I...I only ever wanted things to be nice. To...to have nice things. Is that so wrong?" she laughed softly, hysterically, "It isn't, of course. It isn't wrong at all to want nice thi…"
The man took her head in his hands and twisted her neck at an exact 90 degrees. She had no more excuses.
-Evangeline
"JESUS CHRIST!" Stogie cried when he saw the creatures snap Evangeline's neck. Although to be fair, he could have said that about the guy getting his intestines clawed out his stomach or the other guy whose ears, eyes and nose were clawed off yet somehow he was still alive to scream. The graphic murder was becoming commonplace.
But the Heelies Hellion was on borrowed time, for soon those creatures would be done with the Klansmen and all who would remain would Stogie. Evading the creatures, Stogie wheeled and slid around the creatures, looking for some way out, the mob right on his tail.
***
Barnaby walked up the hill back to the Lennox house, the dirty deed having been done...but was troubled to hear the cries of a child. The Lennox child to be precise!
"Hey!" He walked up to the tyke. "What troubles you, Little Timothy?"
Blubbering wildly, Timothy cried, "T-t-t-t-the Chinaman, he s-sent a bunch of m-m-m-m-monsters! T-t-t-they're all over! Mother and F-f-father are inside!"
Barnaby smiled, patting Timothy on the head. "The Chinaman? Monsters?" He guffawed. "Hey may be on wheels but he doesn't have OH MY GOODNESS!" For indeed, in the window he looked to find a horde of their captives ravaging the place! How'd they get free?
And what if they'd come out here?
Thinking quickly, he picked up a nearby branch, wrapped his hood around it and attempted to start a fire, from the sparks of his handy knife rubbing alongside the steps. "W-w-w-what are you doing?" Timothy asked, legs shaking.
The torch now lit, Barnaby explained curtly, "I'm burning the place down, before those things come out after us!" He pressed the torch against the wooden side-paneling and the dry October leaves surrounding the house, starting the blaze he so desired.
Timothy tugged at Barnaby's cloak. "B-b-b-but what about my family?"
Barnaby turned and smiled in an attempt to console the boy. "Oh, Timothy. I promise, they'll be alOHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH MY GOODNESS!" His sleeve had been caught in the blaze. "PUT IT OUT! PUT IT OUT!"
But Timothy didn't know what to do. He only watched helplessly as the flame spread over Barnaby's white linens and engulfing him as he rolled desperately on the ground in pain. Behind the suffering soul was a bigger blaze, one that Stogie found himself right in the middle of.
***
Stogie paused his Heelying to sniff the air. "Is...is something cooking?" He looked downstairs, to see a fire had started. "OH, WHAT THE FUCK?!" Now both Klansmen and creature were getting caught in the blaze, which means Stogie had nowhere to go!
That is, he did...wherever the horde wasn't chasing him. Stogie wheeled and wheeled, his pursuers right behind him. There had to be some way out...
Joseephus's den! Stogie barged through the door, the horde right behind him. Up ahead was the giant hole in the wall Stogie had made when he flew out of there the night before! He could jump out...but could he survive the fall?
The snarling of the zombies behind him didn't give him much time to think. With wheeling headstart, Stogie jumped!
Everything went quiet, his sense numbed, for a moment feeling like he was floating in the air, his life flashing before his eyes...
But there was no impact. Stogie looked down and he realized he wasn't falling anymore. He was gliding?! Riding on these glowing, translucent rails, Stogie was Heelying in the sky.
Lip quivering in awe and shock, he suddenly heard a voice...Galdamez's. "Your quest is done, Stogie. The tragedy of 1896 has been solved. On to the present you'll venture via the cosmic railways."
Normally, this is where Stogie would answer with "What?" or other, more profane versions of "What?"...but all Stogie could do was look behind him, the horde that had followed him falling into the fire started below.
So instead, Stogie looked up to the disembodied voice of the doctor that had sent him here. "Is it going to be a long ride?"
"120 years to the present is a long while, even via the cosmic rails." The doctor responded matter-of-factly. "I recommend you put some music on while you ride."
Figuring Stogie wouldn't get more than that, he sighed, solemnly taking out his phone. The next song on his playlist was another MF DOOM classic, though far from the upbeat tunes he'd listened to during that grand battle earlier.
Makes sense. Stogie thought, the losses of Gregaro and Netta weighing heavily on his mind.
He pressed play, that classic accordion beat dropping with ease.
"Livin' off borrowed time, the clock tick faster/That'd be the hour they knock the sick blaster..."
Stogie closed his eyes, tears streaming freely down his face, as he took this time to mourn his friends and lament his failures.
"Dick Dastardly and Muttley with sick laughter/A gun fight and they come to cut the mix master..."
***
I-C-E cold, nice to be old/Y2G steed twice to threefold..."
It was hard to distract the traumatized Timothy from the destruction of all he knew and ever held dear. However, some music above caught his ear and he looked up.
"He sold scrolls, lo and behold/Know who's the illest ever like the greatest story told..."
There in the sky flew the Chinaman. Timothy's jaw dropped. It was the Chinaman who did this. Destroyed his life, his home, his family. And he was just flying away, like the angel of death.
"Keep your glory, gold, and glitter/For have half of his n*ggaz'll take him out the picture..."
Yet Timothy could do nothing. Just sit and watch the monster fly away, the image of the Chinaman flying amongst the stars plastered in his mind.
"I hope you fail, Chinaman..." Timothy sobbed softly. "I hope you fail..."
"The other half is rich and don't mean shitta/Villain a mixture between both with a twist of liquor..."
***
"Chase it with more beer, taste it like truth or dare/When he have the mic it's like the place get like: 'Ah yeah!'"
But those words could not mean anything to Stogie now, as he was far away, nearing the end of the Lennox property. Which meant...
"It's like they know what's 'bout to happen/Just keep ya eye out, like aye, aye cap'n..."
There was Jasper's carriage, with him sitting atop it, waiting for Stogie to arrive. Little did he know Stogie was coming through the air rather than on foot.
Feeling it was appropriate, Stogie called out, "Hey! Jasper!"
"Is he still a fly guy clappin' if nobody ain't hear it/And can they testify from the inner spirit (no)..."
-Stogie, Timothy, Barnaby, and Galdamez
Leroy forced himself to look away from the blazing inferno on the Lennox property at the sound of a familiar voice. Tears had already begun to form in his eyes at the thought that they had failed, that he had allowed Stogie to go blundering into a situation from which he would not return, that all their noble endeavors had been for naught…
He laid his eyes upon the young man now, seeing him flying, unaided by any cumbersome device, seeming to be propelled by nothing other than the air himself.
He took off his top hat, tear-streaked face slackening into an expression of speechless wonderment.
-Leroy
"In living, the true gods/Givin' y'all nothing but the lick with two broads..."
Stogie raised his fist back in salute. This was the second time he'd taken flight in two days. At least Jasper got to see him this time, with or without his invention.
"Got more lyrics than the church got 'Ooh Lords'/And he hold the mic and your attention like two swords..."
He took a deep breath, reflecting on the memories he made here, the adventures he had, along with the losses he suffered. Of them all, Stogie wished the best for Jasper and Clarice, even if the eccentric inventor faced inevitable defeat. Joseephus's dream might have died tonight but the dreams of good men are never laid to rest, so long as they held onto their convictions. And Jasper Leroy was one such man.
"Or even one with two blades on it.../Hey you, don't touch the mic like it's AIDS on it..."
***
"'...and by our decree, we can verily so verify the sighting of an angel on the aforementioned date and time.'" Minister Chapman read off the document to the beaming Elise and Thomas, who had not stopped holding their hands since the three of them sat down in their cozy little kitchen. "Just sign your initials, 'TE'..."
Thomas interrupted. "Please. 'ET.' For it was sweet Elise, who saw the angel first."
"Oh, Thomas..." She bashfully, blushing a bright red.
"Fair enough. 'ET.'" Minister Chapmen slid the document over to the couple. "Just sign your signatures here and you'll forever be etched into Lakewood's history as the first in the town's history to catch sight of an angel."
Elise's smile faded. "But what of the endowment you mentioned? Gifted to those who had witnessed a true miracle of God?"
The minister chuckled at that. "Well, the church can't give you money for the sighting of a miracle lest an ordained member witnesses the act as well. Only then can the sighting be verified and you can be gifted by the..."
"It's like the end to the means/Fucked type of message that sends to the fiends..."
Thomas lit up. "Hark! That music! It's coming from the heavens!" The couple rushed to the window, the minister crowding around them to investigate the source of the sound.
"That's why he brings his own needles/And get more cheese than Doritos, Cheetos, or Fritos..."
"IT'S HIM!" Elise exclaimed in jubilation. "The angel! And he has another hymn for us!" For it was true! There flew the figure in the moonlight once more, with another heavenly tune to go along with him!
"Just in the nick of time for the minister to see!" Thomas embraced his wife, kissing her tenderly. "We're rich! We're rich!"
The couple celebrated as Minister Chapman stood in awe, as what was once a mildly endearing bit of folklore turned into a reality, the angel gliding along the starry night sky.
***
"Slip like Freudian/Your first and last step to playin' yourself like accordion..."
Stogie took a deep, shaky breath. Leaving behind the friends he made here, Stogie realized he'd soon be reuniting with his friends of old in the present. He hoped Darcy would be alright, and that Ty and Beth were faring OK on their own adventures, that they'd be back in that White Castle, sharing stories of their adventures. Heck, he hoped those other people were fine, too. The nun and her sister, the short guy in the heels and the Costco worker--all of them. He couldn't wait to tell them that he flew (twice!) and how he uncovered a secret Klan drug-running operation and how he then kicked the Klan's ass on his Heelies. He couldn't wait to talk about how after meeting Jasper, Stogie wanted to get back to his tinkering and modifying his Heelies. The dream wouldn't die when he returned to the present, just as the story of what unfolded in October of 1896 in Lakewood, Louisiana would never die.
"When he at the mic you don't go next/Even pussy cats like why hoes need Kotex..."
Sailing the cosmos, Stogie's goofy outfit almost seemed fitting, though it did clash with his fedora just a tad. Maybe that's who Stogie was: a bit of a contradiction. Sure, he had come of age as a hero now but that old comedian of before who sang Biz Markie and snorted salt for the amusement of his friends...that would always be a part of Stogie. He smiled with that consolation in mind, proud of who he had become.
"Exercise index won't need Bowflex/And won't take the one with no skinny legs like Joe Tex."
Soon enough the stars approached him more rapidly, and Stogie's Heelies propelled him faster and faster. Those stars then became a rapid spectrum of colors which then morphed into a uniform white, nearly blinding Stogie until he was one with the light, the accordion of the song fading out on a peaceful note.
Then...silence.
For a moment, Stogie thought he faded into nonexistence...until Galdamez's voice welcomed him yet again.
"Welcome home, Stogie. You've done well."
Stogie smiled at that.
-Stogie et al
FIN