Breaking Him In

by Upright

Brandon couldn't sleep. Late into the night he tossed in his bed, unable to find a comfortable position. He tried counting sheep but the energy coursing through his body would not be stilled. Plus, these fucking insect bites that he'd been getting all week were still itching. He gave up trying to fall asleep and headed for the mess hall.

As Brandon ate cookies and leafed through the latest sports faxsheet, a sound he had come to dread came from outside the hall.

Shlomp, shlomp.

Ah Jesus, he thought, now I have to deal with the greatest walking snot of all time. I wonder if I can...

Snailman entered the hall. Covered from head to toe in thick, brown, sticky mucus, Snailman made a distinct and offensive sound whenever he walked. Or moved, for that matter. Because he was insulated and covered in his slime, Snailman had no need for clothing.

Which never ceases to amaze me, thought Brandon. Clothes make the man. Just check my killer threads...

"Bright Boy," greeted Snailman. He stood there for a minute, as if waiting for Brandon's reply, then turned and headed into the kitchen.

Shlomp, shlomp.

"Hi," called Brandon, rather lamely. He scratched at one of his welts and stared at the trail of slime from the entrance of the hall to the kitchen door. Shaking his head, Brandon turned back to his faxsheet.

Got to do something about that codename, Bright Boy just doesn't cut it anymore. Maybe Bright Man...

Brandon scratched his leg.

The kitchen door reopened. It was Snailman, a food tray in one arm, the other busy trying to shake the door off his hand. Snailman stared at the door, slowly looked up at Brandon, then just as slowly turned his attention back to his hand. He did this for several minutes. Brandon stared, mildly disgusted but amazed nonetheless. Finally, after a long, steady, hard series of thrashing, Snailman freed himself from the door and shlomped to an oiled chair designed especially for him. The oily residue helped minimize the amount of time Snailman needed to become unstuck from it.

Brandon tried to read the sports, but Snailman's slopping eating noises destroyed his concentration. He looked up just in time to see Snailman open his gooping maw, slime stretched out and breaking slowly over the empty space, and stuff a burger into it. Brandon turned away quickly, feeling a little sick. He got up and made to leave.

"Brandon."

Brandon, headed for the door, stopped and turned slowly to face Snailman. "Yeah?"

"Brandon. You are offended by me?"

"N- No! Not at all. Really."

"Brandon, it is understood. Perhaps one day you will come to understand me. Then, we will talk on these nights when you and I are the only ones still awake. Yes?"

"Uh, yeah. Sure. Okay."

Brandon left.

That's funny. I thought Snailman kept to himself. At least, that's what Super Hot Babe Nice Alice said when she gave that tour. Why'd he have to go and talk to me? I mean, geez, he could have goobered on me if he had spoken a little louder. I wish...

Brandon stopped in mid stride. He felt an embarrasing shame creeping up his neck and cheeks. Ah geez, the guy must be lonely. Seeing that I'm the new guy around must of made him thought... Oh well. Maybe next time.

Brandon walked a little faster, scratching.

Turning the corner to the hallway heading to his quarters, Brandon collided with a female. He instantly knew the sex of other person, though his brain had no time to react to the collision. He wondered if it was another super power coming out as he matured. But there was no time to think about that now, it was time to be cool.

"Whoa, hey, sorry!" Brandon smiled brilliantly.

The smile faded and was replaced by a look of puzzlement.

Carlotta Everyday was floating and spinning in place and staring at something that must have been rotating around her, though he couldn't see what it was. Carlotta Everyday shimmered in a rainbow hued crystal gown sort of thing, her hair shot out like rays from the sun in every direction, her hands were twisting around in some sort of ritualistic manner. Her body was firm, noted Brandon. Small breasts. Oh well. Once you got over the funky hair she'd probably be all right...

"Remember later on when you will bump into me? I think you will say earlier than when I ask you about later that you fell in love with me then though you figured in the future that you had to be older though age really had nothing to do with it, you will be a silly boy back then, High Voltage. Heehee."

Brandon edged his way around Carlotta while she spun in place. "Yeah, uh, sure Carlotta, whatever. See you later." Brandon walked into his quarters and slammed the door and leaned against it wearily. What a weirdo! Fuck, they were all weird! High Voltage? I'm just glad we have our own...

A strange light glowed from his bedroom. Brandon tiptoed to the doorway, puzzled. He stuck his head in. He brought it back out, then stuck it back in. Carlotta Everyday was dancing naked on his bed, but the light of a million fairy-like specks of light rotating about her slowly kept him from seeing things he might have been interested in seeing. Carlotta saw him and squealed. "OutOutOut! The age you are now experiencing in the linear time format is not of the ability to be understanding of the greatest act of sexual pleasure experienced by humanity! Oh no, I will reveal to you the sexual pleasure we have been experiencing! Oh, I've done it again! Now you are experiencing sexual frustration and it is driving you mad! What have I done?"

"Look, uh..."

"I have seen the new possiblities! Driven mad with lust, you go criminally insane and take on the alias Electric Evil! Oh, or you just lose all interest in me and that's the end of that. Darn! You and I never did experience the explosive and all consuming copulation that we would have had but for my error. Now I no longer remember anything between us two. That timeline is dead! Our encounter is ended!" Carlotta was crying.

"W-W-Wait! Hold on! Just wait one goddamned moment! Let's save that timeline! Let's get it on now! C'mon, let's give it a go!"

Carlotta looked at Brandon, puzzled. "What will you be talking about?"

"The timeline, the timeline! The one where we have explosive and all consuming copulation!"

"What was it you were talking about? We will never have any sort of copulation, explosive or otherwise. You propose to have it with me at this time and I get so disgusted I leave. Goodbye!"

And with that, she was gone.

Aaggh!!!

"Bright Boy. Wake up."

Brandon stirred in his bed. His back ached a little bit, but then again, the bed, he had soon discovered, wasn't that comfortable. Oh well, he'd complain to that dick Captain Dick in the morning...

"Bright Boy. Uh, wake up. Now?"

Brandon drowsily glanced at his clock. 3:15. Hell no, I ain't getting up...

His scalp itched. He scratched his head. It still itched. He scratched again. He didn't feel his head being scratched, but he was scratching a head, and who's toes were those tickling his..?

"Uh, uhm, wake up?"

"Huh, whaa...

They weren't female toes.

"AAAGGGHHH!!!"

"Hey, uh, be quiet now. Okay? Uh, we, uhm, wouldn't want any undo attention in this situation. Uh, really."

"Who the hell are you? What the fuck are you doing in my bed? Jesus Christ, what are you doing underneath me?!?"

A man in metallic green not-so-tight tights, black cape, black domino mask with thin silver attenae and bulbous faceted eye pieces tried to sit up, but couldn't, since Brandon was, afterall, on top of him. "Well, I, well, you see..."

"You're that freak Insectorama! I knew you were some kinda pervert when I met you at orientation. Jesus!"

"I'm not a freak! I'm not!"

"You're a fucking pervert, that's what you are!"

"I'm not a pervert! I'm n --"

"Bullshit! I'm calling Captain Dick!" Brandon reached for the com panel.

"NO! Wait, uh, hey wait there. Hey! Just let me explain, okay? Okay? Okay? Hey! Hey?" Insectorama's fat chin bobbed up and down.

Brandon eyed the pervert warily and left his hand hovering over the com panel. With the other he scratched his leg.

Insectorama sighed in relief. Another commotion like that would have destroyed his career. Seeing that Bright Boy was going to give him half a chance to explain, he settled back and breathed deeply.

"Now, where were we? Oh yes, introductions. Yes, I am Insectorama. No, I am not a pervert. Really, of all things..."

"So what the hell --" Brandon itched the back of his neck.

"I was simply in my natural state as a bug, you see. Yeah. Unfortunately, I was in my favorite form as a mosquito, which tends to make me an unthinking, voracious little beast in search of sustenance. Heh heh heeee, you should hear some of the stories..."

But Brandon, who was busy scratching a welt on his thigh, froze. "Is that were I've been getting these fucking bites from? You mean, you've been feeding on me since the first day I've been here? Oh gross..."

"Have I? I mean, I have! Not purposely, you know. Since you are an unfamiliar person, I probably mistook you for an intruder. Or something."

"...crawling all over me, all night, probably all day, all week, exploring every crevice, nook and cranny. Eeww, I feel so, so --"

"I didn't mean to turn into my human form. I mean, I didn't want to but, well, uh, you changed positions in your sleep and I was being crushed, soooo..."

"-- soooo violated. That's how I feel. You know what, Insectorama, you're even grosser than Snailman! One day I hope you go be a mosquito in his room and then see how you like it. I hope you get caught up in his snot like flypaper --"

At this Insectorama shivered visibly, eyes rolling up into his head.

"-- and then we'll see how your eensy, teensy, weeny brain handles that situation. Then lets see you turn human, all covered in goop and --"

"All right, all right, I get your point. You don't want me to be myself around you, is that it? Fine, have it your way. But you're going to have learn to accept a lot of things as long as you're a member of this group, Bright Boy! Mark my words --"

"Just get out of my room, you little idjit!"

With that, Insectorama crawled from underneath Brandon and walked stiffly, nose in the air, to the door. "Don't bother -- I can find my own way out."

Insectorama slammed the door. A moment passed before he opened it again, exited the closet and found his way out. "Hmmph," he said, not sure he was saying it the right way, and closed the door.

Scratching his sores, Brandon finally fell asleep.

But he didn't sleep well. Again. For the second time that night, Brandon got up and left his room. This time, he found himself in the TV room, where Bill and Teleman were watching TV.

"Ha Ha Ha!" screamed Bill at the Soloflex commercial. "Boy, this cracks me up!"

"Yeah, me too! Ha Ha!" yelled Teleman after hesitating a moment.

"Hey Bill, what's up?" asked Brandon as he walked in, dropping onto the couch between Bill and Teleman.

"Just watching TV is all." Bill scratched at a bug bite under his worn and torn t-shirt with "Bill" written across it with pen marker. He reached for some Cheez Dootles.

"Really? What's on?"

"Gilligan's Island! Boy, that Professor is a crack-up!" exclaimed Teleman.

A moment went by when Brandon said, "I asked what's on Bill."

"Gilligan's Island."

"Really? I love Gilligan's Island!" Brandon smiled as he scratched a bug bite.

"Yeah, that Ginger's a babe!" said Teleman. Nobody responded.

"Whose your favorite character, Bill?"

"The Professor. He's a crack-up."

"I like Mary Ann. She's a babe."

"I think Mary Ann's a babe also," said Teleman, ribbing Brandon manfully.

"Oh, hey Teleman, did you just get here?" Brandon looked to his other side where a thoroughly non-descript man sat next to him dressed in a thoroughly uninspiring uniform consisting of a silver jumpsuit with "Teleman" written across it.

"I've been here the whole time! I love TV! Both Bill and I love TV, right Bill?"

"I like TV," mumbled Bill around a mouthful of Crunchy Munchies.

"Oh. Well, I guess I'll get going then. See you later Bill."

"See ya."

"Oh yeah? Well, I've been voted Most Popular Hero three years running, and just about everyone's said I'm gonna win a fourth time," explained Dirk Daring to Greased Lightning.

"So what? I'm Solar Woman's Weekly's Man of the Year two years running, and women flock to me like I'm the second coming. You can hardly blame them," sighed Greased as he flexed an arm and rubbed it lovingly.

Dirk laughed and slapped a knee, bemused. "The point being...? Half the female villains out there are villains because I've broken their hearts. But what I'm trying to get across to you, Greased, is that not only am I a heartbreaker, but I'm the Most Popular Hero three years running. You get a lot of girls and stuff, but everybody hates you, men and women alike. Not me. Everybody loves me. Except for all those women villains, I mean. But I bet they vote for me anyway."

Greased smirked. "Yeah, but we know the real story, don't we? Everybody loves you, but who ends up always saving your butt? Me, that's who. I save everybody's butt one time or another." Greased removed his visor and polished it.

"Uhm, I'm sure I saved your butt at one time or another," Dirk answered quickly.

"When?"

"Uh, during that raid on the Brasculo Solar Empire? When we went in and saved Shleprock Caesar after they held him for ransom? You know, so Caesar would give up his controlling interest in the Galactic Hero Corps? And everybody tried to sneak in and surprise Brasculo, but he got the jump on us, because -"

"Yeah, yeah, I know. Cause Insectorama forgot he was supposed to be a flea and materialized in Brasculo's pants. As I remember, though, you were huddling under all the unconscious heroes while I, and I alone, kicked Brasculo's ninety-year-old butt so hard that he went and had a coronary on me."

"Was not!"

"Was to!"

"No way!"

"Whatever. Anyway, I thought that other hero had already won Most Popular Hero four times in a row... you know, that guy from the old Corps, what's his name?"

Dirk Daring laughed. "No one's ever won four times, Greased. Duck Wonder won three times, but never four times. And anyway, he's old, retired and stupid, while I'm young, active, and hard-bodied!"

Dirk struck a pose showing off his well defined arms.

"Besides, even if he were still an active hero, do you think an old duck feathered fart could touch this?"

Dirk struck another pose that showed not only his arms but his chest and abdomen. Massive waves of meat rolled underneath his tight crimson uniform covered with a fine gold mesh that acted as an exoskeleton.

Greased guffawed. "Yeah? Well check this shit!" Greased struck an Atlas Bearing The World pose, his black and white spandex uniform working wonders with all the hills and valleys of muscle running up and down his body.

"Oh yeah? Well check this out!" Dirk struck The Thinker pose, something he'd found worked wonders on women who looked for the sensitive type and yet still needed the strength of a real man.

"Hey guys! What's up?" asked Brandon as he entered through the door of the weight room. He'd been listening to the entire conversation the whole time from outside the door. He couldn't wait to be older so that he could be big and strong and well sexed like these two heroes.

"Hey Bright Boy!" said Dirk. "How would you like a new uniform and a new name?"

"Uh, no thanks," answered Brandon. It wasn't the first time he'd been offered this opportunity. It was the hundredth time, in fact, but the name Kid Daring and the idea of wearing a purple beret put him off.

"Why would he want your wuss uniform when he's got something cool already?" asked Greased. He'd given Brandon one of his old uniforms, the blue one with yellow zigzags running down the sides. Brandon had been given a uniform designed by Nice Alice - bright yellow and white with a smily face on it. Greased Lightning had felt nobody, no matter how wussy they may look, should begin a super hero career on the wrong foot.

"Hey Bright Boy," said Dirk, ignoring Greased, "have you had some yet?"

"Had what?"

"You know... some o' that poontang!" Dirk sang, dancing.

"What's poontang?"

Greased furrowed his brows. "Hey Bright Boy, how old are you?"

"Sixteen. Seventeen in eleven months," answered Brandon defensively.

"Have you ever been laid?" asked Greased pointedly.

"Almost! I mean, I played doctor with Alice Simpson when I was fourteen! She even let me kiss her with my tongue!"

Greased Lightning shook his head. He'd been afraid Brandon might be a loser, but now, seeing the wussy tendencies still appearing in Bright Boy, he wondered if he'd made a mistake in giving him his old uniform. Greased had a choice: work with the wuss and make him less of a wuss than he already was, or distance himself as much as possible from the wuss so that nobody would make a connection with him and the old uniform.

Greased walked past Brandon and out the door.

"Hey! Where you goin' Greased?" whined Brandon.

"Don't worry about him Bright Boy," warned Dirk, "he's a bad seed. But now, check out this!" Dirk struck a running pose.

It was two hours later by the time Brandon was able to get away from Dirk and go to bed. Brandon checked his clock: 3:45!

Boy, if Mom ever found out...

"Bright Boy! Get your pathetic ass in my fucking office pronto!" screamed Captain Dick over the intercom.

Brandon pressed the intercom button. "Coming... Dick."

"That's fucking 'Captain Dick' to your lazy ass, Brandon, and don't you forget!"

Brandon crawled out of bed again, scratching his thigh, and headed for the office. He passed Grunion Guy, who was floating around the hallway aquarium set within the wall. He appeared to be speaking to the fish. For a super hero, Grunion Guy has got a pretty big gut, thought Brandon, who had almost made it to the end of the hall when he heared, "Hey, wait up Bright Boy!"

Grunion Guy was running down the hallway until he had to stop, breathing heavily. "Oh boy, I gotta get in shape," he huffed as he walked up to Brandon. "Hey Brandon, have you seen my story -- the one I wrote, I mean."

"You're a writer, Grunion Guy?" asked Brandon, shocked.

"Yeah, I'm pretty good at it too. You have to read something of mine sometime, since no one else around here seems to appreciate my talent," scowled Grunion Guy as he moped alongside Brandon, leaving a wet trail behind the pair as they walked on.

"Well, what's it called?"

"Krazy Kat Killers! by G. Guy. It's about this group of guys, and they call themselves the Krazy Kat Killers, and people like them, cause cats eat fish, and nobody likes the fish getting eaten. Fish are really cool. I go into a lot of detail about fish society and culture. But then, tragedy strikes when everybody finds out that the Krazy Kat Killers are really members of the KKK, as evidenced by their name."

"Uhm, wow Grunion Guy, that's sounds... interesting."

"Think so? Think it's publishable?"

"Well, I'd have to read the whole thing to see."

"You don't need to read it! I just recited the whole thing to you!" Grunion Guy clapped his hands with glee. "I memorized it cause it's the greatest thing I've ever written. But now I have to find my written copy to send to the publisher, since he wouldn't let me tell him over the phone. And that's why I was wondering if you'd seen it. Say, you haven't stolen my story, have you?" Grunion Guy stared at Bright Boy suspiciously. "If you have, I'll sue your ass!"

"Uhm, no, don't worry about me, Grunion."

"Cool, okay then, we can be friends. Have you met Gerty and Goldwater, my goldfish? They're my very best friends and -- hey! Where'd you go?"

Brandon slipped through Captain Dick's door as he and Grunion Guy walked by it.

"Whew," sighed Brandon in relief, scratching his wrist. God, Grunion Guy was --

"PATHETIC! You're a pathetic waste of Hero Corps Payroll! I told you to be here ten fucking minutes ago. You should have been here in five fucking minutes. So why're you five minutes late? Whaddya do, run into Carlotta or something?"

"Uh, actually, Grunion Guy told me a story."

Captain Dick snorted. "That still left you four and a half minutes to get here then, you pathetic lying shit!"

"Well, go screw yourself or something. I'm going home."

"No you're not, you fuck! You signed a contract and you are here to stay until that contract expires, boy."

Bright Boy whirled around, pointing a finger at Captain Dick. "I don't have to stay cause I'm still a minor, so no contract with me is enforceable... Dick!"

Captain Dick turned very red in the face. "I'LL MAKE IT STICK, YOU BASTARD PIECE OF SHIT!"

"Anyway, did you have something for me to do?" asked Brandon. He wanted to hurry up and start doing heroic stuff so he could get famous and impress Super Hot Babe Nice Alice.

"NO! I JUST WANTED YOU TO GET USED TO ME TELLING YOU TO FUCKING DO THINGS AS SOON AS I ORDER YOU TO DO THEM NO MATTER HOW FUCKING SENSELESS IT MAY SEEM YOU FUCK!"

"Fine! I'm going to bed," said Brandon. He slammed the door behind him.

"DON'T SLAM MY DOOR EVER AGAIN YOU PATHETIC FUCK!"

Maybe I will leave, thought Brandon to himself as he scanned for any sign of Grunion Guy or Snailman. I don't need this shit. Hell, the only good thing about this team is Super Hot Babe Nice Alice. She really...

"Brandon? Is that you? How nice!" Nice Alice called out as she walked down the hallway with a huge mummy with a billowing purple cape and a golden crown. "Look Super Mummy, it's that nice new boy Bright Boy! He's such a sweety... say Brandon, why are you still up! It's almost 4:30 in the morning! What would your mother say? Not nice things, I would think."

"Uhhhh."

Wow, Super Hot Babe Nice Alice, thought Brandon. Have to play this cool, really cool. He sucked in his stomach and threw out his chest. "Hey, Alice, how's it going? Mom? Naw, she knows how late I keep my hours, she's cool about that."

"Oh. Well, that's okay then. That's really nice of your mother, Brandon. I hope you always get her a Mother's Day card, because it's always nice to show your mother how much you care for her on Mother's Day. Right Super Mummy?"

"Uhhhh." Super Mummy shrugged.

"Right. Say, where's that nice new uniform I made for you, Brandon?"

"Uniform? Uhm, oh! That uniform! Uh, well, Greased Lightning said I looked like a wuss in that uniform, so he gave me one of his old ones. Isn't it cool?"

Tears began to collect in Nice Alice's eyes. "You mean, you didn't like my nice design? It was so cheerful, and it would have brought a lot of smiles to everybody's face. I thought it would look good if the Corps had a nice representative, but... Oh, boo hoo!"

Oh man, I'm blowing it big time! Think quick!

"Uh, well, it's not like I didn't liked it. I don't really care what Greased Lightning says, you know."

"Really?" sniffed Nice Alice.

"Really! But, it was, like, too big, you know."

"Really? Too big? Hmm..."

"So, although I appreciate all the hard work you put into making a costume for me, I have to, regretfully, decline. I am so sorry, Nice Alice." Brandon looked away, and put his hand to his eyes.

"Ohhhh, it's okay Brandon, really, don't be upset!" cried Nice Alice, hugging Brandon close to her own tight hot pink spandex covered body. Brandon nudged her hooters with his chin. Accidently of course. Alice didn't notice.

At last she disengaged herself from Brandon. "Well, if it's too big, it's too big. Oh well."

"Uhhhh," said Super Mummy.

"Good idea! Maybe you will fit into the uniform! It's so pretty Super Mummy, it's yellow and white and it has a nice smiley face! You'll love it!" Nice Alice clapped her hands gleefully.

"Uhhhh?" Super Mummy looked at Bright Boy forlornly as Nice Alice led him away.

Man, am I quick thinker or what? thought Bright Boy, as he walked toward his room whistling. He was walking to his door when he heard a sound coming from the room next to his. Isn't that Ranger Ruben's room?

The door slid open when he tried it. "Lights," ordered Bright Boy, but none came on. He stepped through. He reached for the light switch, but it didn't work. Something's wrong, thought Brandon.

"AAAAAHHHHHHGGGGG!"

Brandon hit the floor and curled up into a tiny fetal ball, hoping whatever screamed wouldn't see him. The screaming continued in sporadic bouts as Brandon slowly but surely made it to a corner. He could hear a bunch of thumpings and bumpings as whoever it was kept bashing into the walls and other things crazily. As his eyes got used to the darkness, he saw that it was Ranger Ruben, dancing around stark naked.

"AAAAAHHHHHGGGGG!"

"Ruben! Calm down! What's wrong?"

"It should have worked! My camouflage should have hidden us from those bloodthirsty bastards! But instead of the low lying scrub plants native to the Gobi, I got nervous and made it appear we were Redwoods! Oh my God, if only I could do it all over again! OH MY GOD!" Ruben kept changing everything in the room into Gobi brush as he relived his nightmare.

"Well, as long as you're okay, Ruben," said Brandon as he crawled out of his room.

Brandon crawled right into a pair of huge, huge legs. Slowly, he looked up into the face of the biggest, ugliest creature he'd ever seen: Buck the Ogre. Okay, so he wasn't as ugly as Snailman, but he was certainly up there.

"Whatcha up to, little bear?" asked Buck gently.

"I, uh, well, uhm, I heard a sound and I went to investigate and so --"

"Say no more, Bright Boy. We've all done it and we all wish we hadn't. Here, let me help you up." Buck offered a ham of a hand for Brandon to grasp.

Brandon took the hand and said, "Thanks Buck."

"No problem."

Brandon lay there a few seconds while he waited for Buck to pull him up.

"Well, you gonna help me up or what?"

"I'm trying," answered Buck in a strained voice.

"It's okay, I can get myself up."

"Well, you feel like a sandwich? I'm a great cook, even if I can't lift anything over twenty pounds. Not that I don't try, it's kinda hard to go through life this big and weaker than most small children."

Brandon looked at his watch. 5:00. May as well give up trying to go to sleep. "Sure, why not. And don't worry about being weak, I think most small children can kick Grunion Guy's or Teleman's ass anyway."

"That's not encouraging, Bright Boy."

"Sorry. But I hear you make a mean steakburger! I bet Grunion Guy or Teleman couldn't do that."

"You're right, they can't," Buck agreed, a grin breaking out across his ugly mug. "C'mon, you're gonna love this, it's a new version of my steakburger that I'm calling 'The BuckBurger!"

Later on in the mess hall, as Brandon chewed on his BuckBurger happily, he said, "This is the best burger I've ever had, Buck!"

"You think so? I plan on opening a chain of fast food stands next year when my contract's up!"

"You have quite a future if you can mass produce a burger like this!" said Brandon as he happily munched on.

Well, this isn't so bad, thought Brandon as he walked back to his room. Everybody is a moron, except Super Hot Babe Nice Alice and Buck the Ogre, but it's not like life centers around them. I still got Mommy and Daddy, I still have my friends at home, I still have, uhm...

"Moowoo? Is that you? Doggy, get over here, hear?" Mr. Mystic walked down the corridor with his walker, his gigantic wizard's cap drooping down in front of his face and disrupting his vision. "Moowoo, boy, get on over here, 'fore I spank yo butt!"

"Uhm, I'm not Moowoo, Mr. Mystic. I'm Bright Boy?"

"Moowoo? Has that Savant gotten you speakin'? Why, that no good subversive traitor, he's gone an' changed the course of the natural order!"

"No Mr. Mystic, I'm not Moowoo! Moowoo? Who the hell named their dog Moowoo?"

"Why, don't you remember Moowoo? Mammy an' Pappy, they got you an' me an' my twelve brothers an' sisters, we couldn' decide on a name till you went 'MooWOO! MooWOO!' Those were good times, Moowoo, 'fore you wen' an' got keeled by that there Zamboni machine..."

"Right. So Moowoo's dead and that's that," said Bright Boy tersely. "See you later Mr. Mystic."

"Don' you worry none, doggy, I's here ta saves ya. I'll put the natural order back where it was."

"No! No Mr. Mystic, don't do it!"

Mr. Mystic did a twisty thing with his hands. "There now, Moowoo, you's back to the ways you was!"

"MooWOO!" wailed Bright Boy, thumping his tail against the floor sadly. "MooWOO! MOOWOOOOO!"