Interview Part Six
By Kapok
Teh. Now who’s playing superhero? Professor Kapok may be an obnoxious (yet justifiably so) jerk, sometimes, but at least she does it in tight black leather. You, the talk show host, is probably trying to fight in a red linen jacket and short skirt. Hrmph.
With being knocked unconscious, Kapok curled tighter into her being, retracting further and further from her surroundings. It wasas if she was becoming less and less human with each kick, each punch. From some other plane not of this world, she looked down on the fight below her. Her fans were joining in, attemting some sort of Rescue, or just getting in on the action. “Hey!” Kapok looked up. Wafting in frount of her in semi-transparency was a really good looking young man. He smiled. “what are you doing here?” she looked around. Grey shapes flitted just out of focus, several forms green, others grey or black, some a shining white. “uh . . . “ she looked back to the smiling man. “I’n not sure . . .” his grin broadened, and he scratched the back of his head, laughing. “well, I hate to tell you this, but I think your having an out of body experience.” “WHAT!” “yeah. The only way to get out of it is to either be wished ut, or be reborn, or gain your freedom from that King Guy.” (you know the one I mean. Damn mental block.) Kapok was shocked. “yeah, well, um, I guess I’d better do that then.” The guy offered her his arm. “I’ll show you the way.” With a last glance down at her mangled form, Kapok drifted off.
“Yes, Yes, More, More!” the OOTCP was having a field day. Saba grinned fiercely, blood was in the air. She elbowed and pushed her way through the crowd until she came to the Professors disjointed form, which was starting to loose some of it’s solidity, fading and becoming more and more transparent. “Arrrrrrgh!” she screamed. Saba lifted a fist, and put all her energy into it. (which I suppose is quite a bit) still yelling, she bought it down on Kapok’s scull. With a bright light, which blinded everyone in the room, every little atomie erupted, leaving only angry dark acussin scorch marks ringing a crater in the stage. Saba looked around, realising everyone was staring at her. “whoops . . .”
well the flash caught Piccolo’s attention. He stopped midair. Tasting the planes on his antennae, he sensed the change. Thoughtfully, he turned and glided back to the forest.
The Judges mallot-hammer-thingy slammed down. “Saba, the talk show host” he said sternly “you are accused of the wilful murder of Professor Kapok. How do you plead?”
:why do I have to go through with this: she thought. :I should just blow them up and run from this joint. If only I hadn’t spent all my energy deatomising Kapok.: it would be at least a couple of days untill her spent power restocked. “not guilty.”
Meanwhile, zipping around the world, Piccolo paused. :why? It’s not the only way . . . but it is the best way.: that night he lit a small fire. Gathering the objects, sacred past the point of knowledge, he called. And was answered.
It didn’t happen suddenly. One moment, Kapok was concentrated in the world of the dead. The next, she was not entirely there. Increasingly, she became aware of this other place. A forest . . . more and more she felt drawn to this place. She turned away from the plane where she was, and stepped onto the plane where she is. Slowly it came into focus, the picture of . . . Piccolo’s green inquiring face. Kapok blinked a couple of times, then took a step back, and tripped n the ground, falling over backwards. Piccolo folded his arms. “are you always so dramatic?” Kapok stood, and brushed herself off. “only when I’m dragged through different planes of reality. And if you think my falling down is dramatic, well . . . hrmph.” She spun around, ready to storm off, when she tripped again. Slower she stood. “I must be sightly . . . disorientated.” Piccolo put out an arm “here, take a seat.” He gestured to a ring of logs, circling a campfire. “huh, thankyou.” “we need to talk.” They sat.
Saba looked up. Pision was boring. Anyday now, she would break out. The television mounted high on the wall caught her attention. Yelling at the attendant got the volume turned up a couple of notches. She stepped closer. Cameras and microphones crowded around the girl, clad in her usual leather. “yes, that is correct. I do retract my precious statements. The Nameks are not plants, rather they have an intricate and detailed culture, worth not of fertiliser, but of fellowship.” Saba snarled. :won’t the (place derogitives here) ever die?: anyday now. She smiled evilly.
THE END.
Actually, it’s not. How could I possibly leave it at that? . . .
ALTERNATE ENDING II
Kapok fell unconsious. On her wrist, a small device, not a watch, began beeping. Far away, Piccolo heard thesound on his transmitters (aka antennae) :oh no! well, I suppose that’s the end o this world.: he opened a capsule, which turned into a space pod. He jumped in, and was away. In the center of central Australia, a desert began to rumble. The earth split open, and a sharp angled many cornered complex rose out of the ground.
The end of the Road.
A T junction appears.
Which way to turn, now? (pick a path, or I’ll choose for you. Times up, it’s my decision.)
U took a left Turn.:
Huge hanger doors opened, and a massive nukelear warhead slowly came out. In the moments before earth’s destruction, Piccolo looked back over his shoulder, feeling remorce for what the secrecy his race required had cost.
Saba danced on the stage, crackling with glee. She had no regrets.
Untill.
The nanosecond when it happened. May she live it forever.
Path B, the Right Turn.:
Doors on the complex opened. There was the sound of marching of many feet. The army left the building. Each one opened a shallow porthole, only capacitated to go to one destination. Go to her. To the Queen . . .
In the studio, everything was peachy for Saba. She was a hairs breadth from destroying Kapok. When. The sky turned grey, as millions of portholes opened, and . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . millions of Kapok clones dropped from the heavens. Well. The rest is short. They saved their beloved leader, Alpha Kapok. Then, since they had already disclosed their existance, they took over the world while they were at it. Alliances were made. Wars were ended. Poverty died. Everyone was happy. Except for Saba. She was frowned upon by Alpha Kapok, and some Kapok cultist took this as a signal to assisinate her. But the great Kapok took pity on those who had once done her wrong, and in her act of mercy, saved as muchofSaba as she could with a minimal effort. Saba is now a brain floating in a tank half full of blood.
Aah, Revenge is sweet.
