Alex Reynard
The Library
Alex Reynard's Online Books
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
Ectopia Cordis.
Ectopia Cordis!
It's... It's... It's freakin' ECTOPIA CORDIS for crying out loud!!!
How does one even begin to describe such a place? The biggest city and the tallest structure in all of Phobiopolis. Home to approximately one-fifth of all Phobiopolans. Most other citizens have visited, and all the rest want to. It could be easily named world capital if there were any governing body to make decisions about such things.
For starters, let's begin with the most obvious fact: it is a city made of ferris wheels.
Hundreds upon hundreds of forever-turning steel wheels, piled up into the sky like a stack of brilliant hotcakes. Every section of the city is in constant motion. The whine of metal on metal is omnipresent (most residents successfully tune it out after a month or so). The first hundred feet of the city is structural supports and giant motors. From this foundation rises a vertical mile of metal rings. Each one teeming with life. The top stretching up almost high enough to pierce the heavens.
Ectopia Cordis is sometimes called The Light In The Wasteland, and for good reason. From a distance, it appears as a pulsing, dazzling rainbow popsicle defying the surrounding region's eternal night. Every spare inch of its architecture (not used for real estate) explodes with colored light. The carnival bulbs number in the billions. Neon flows through the city in a million miles of glass veins. Imagine all the brightness of Las Vegas rolled up into a tube, planted like a wizard's staff in the middle of a sea of asphalt.
As the Fearsleigher streaked towards this mother of all lighthouses, both Piffle and Toby stuck their heads out the window like eager puppies. The mouse's friction with Junella was whisked away from his thoughts. He was a forgiving furson anyway, and it is nigh-impossible to feel anything but giddy awe when getting one's first look at the city.
Even though they'd barely crossed a third of the parking lot, Toby could already see the astonishing intricacy of Ectopia's design. At first it had all looked chaotic. A house of illuminated cards that might topple at any second. But no: looking closer, everything was all balanced and interconnected perfectly. There were vertical ferris wheels and horizontal ones. Everything meshed together like the gears of a clock tower. Every ninety feet, a massive horizontal monsterwheel spanned the full diameter of the city. From within them, more wheels of decreasing size arose and descended. Wheels within wheels within wheels. As Toby watched, he realized that, where a normal ride would have small dangling cars for passengers, some of EC's were so unimaginably enormous, they instead had city blocks. It was hard to make out clear detail from this distance, but some of the sections looked like they had apartment buildings and malls and even parks. Tiny rotating forests! And all of it was designed to facilitate residents getting around. Since trying to drive in the city would be suicide, the wheels kept people and cargo in constant motion to wherever their destination might be.
It was boggling Toby's mind. He tried to imagine living in a place where, if you wanted to go down to the supermarket, you'd just stand at the edge of your sidewalk and wait for the store to rotate into place in front of you!
He wondered if there were faster ways to get places. Races to the top. There had to be. It was just the sort of thing people would naturally challenge themselves to.
Zinc was bouncing in his seat, practically wetting his pants from excitement. He tore himself away from the sight of the gleaming tower-city to ask in the back seat, "This your first? I mean, I know it's yours, Toby. How 'bout you, Piffle? Ever feast your peeps on anything like this before?"
She pulled her head back in and shook it. "Nuh-uh! I don't think I could even dream a place this nifty!"
"I'm..." Toby sputtered. "I can't even think of words..."
Junella had seen it all before though, and was less than impressed. She was more concerned about how the city's defensemen would feel about George. She had no idea what kind of upgraded weaponry they'd have compared to Coryza's flaming arrows.
The parking lot they were traveling through was packed full of every kind of transportation imaginable. But only those with a gambling problem, or a stupidity problem, parked too close to the city's base. This was due to the mountainous ring of garbage that encircled it. Just try to imagine how much junk, stuff, debris, odds, ends, and people might fall off the edges of a skyscraper-sized tower of spinning discs. Here's a hint: you can't. Crews work around the clock trying to keep it from piling up too high. They are both helped and hindered by the giant nightmare hogs that come to feast on this smorgasbord of trash. Scabby-skin, curved-tusks, and mullet haircuts. These beasts would be welcome if all they did was eat up the city's detritus. The problem was, they also liked eating parked cars. And tourists.
As Junella watched one of the snorting, oozing porkers galloping towards a cluster of pedestrians, a streak of light and smoke was launched towards it. The pig-like creature had about half a second to oink in terror before it exploded in orange and green flames. What parts of it that didn't burn up were corroded away into nothing by the rocket's antibiotic chemicals.
George saw this too. "Madam Brox, I would not like that to happen to me. Perhaps we should let them know I pose no threat?"
"My thoughts exactly," she acknowledged. She was racking her brain for a way to signal the tower guards ('A flare maybe? A white flag?'), when the guards themselves surprised her by making first contact. A mailmouse squirmed its way out of the cigarette lighter in the dashboard with a handwritten note.
Junella read:
DEAR OCCUPANTS,
IS THAT NIGHTMARE KIDNAPPING YOU OR TOWING YOU?
BECAUSE WE'VE GOT A SHITLOAD OF MISSILES POINTED STRAIGHT AT IT.
-SGT. CANKER
"Nice of them to ask first," she sang. She fished a pencil out of the glove compartment and circled 'towing' several times. Then added a smiley face and "THANKS". She handed the note to the mouse, who folded it up between its paws and dove out of sight into the nearest hole. Zinc's ear.
"Yow!!" he said.
A moment later the mouse reappeared and handed the note back. This time, on the opposite side was written:
THIS NEEDS TO BE DISCUSSED.
MEET ME @ BASE OF CITY, SUB-QUADRANT 13
ALSO: DESIGNATION "FEERSLEYR"???
-SGT. CANKER
Junella wrote an acknowledgment, then added a P.S.:
It's Fearsleigher. My co-pilot cannot spell
and sent the note back. This time, Zinc covered his ears, so the mailmouse dove into a cupholder instead.
Closer now, Toby could hear music in the air. Hard, sharp, dirty, grease-soaked sounds. Like harnessed snarls. He looked out across the chromed fields of parked cars. Some factory-shiny, some old junkers. Some, he couldn't tell how the heck they moved. (Had he really seen an ice cream truck with octopus tentacles?) Up in the sky he saw dancing movements. He thought at first it was giant mosquitoes, but it was actually several citizens hang-gliding down from the upper levels to look for their cars. 'Makes more sense than walking,' he had to admit.
Looking upwards, he could also see a few orange construction cranes with insectlike legs. They scuttled up and down the city, repairing broken sections or hauling additions into place. Toby guessed that, just by the fact he could see them so clearly from this distance, they were probably immense. 'Like domesticated rustbeasts.' In fact, one of them seemed to be carrying an entire restaurant. It looked like a toy playset compared to the massive orange arm it dangled from.
Toby also saw the vast ring of garbage around the city. It reminded him of wintertime when all the snow in a big parking lot would get shoveled up into a huge, sooty mountain. But this was even taller, and uglier. Fursons with big electrified sticks were herding the pig-nightmares towards the pile, letting them eat their fill, then giving them sparking slaps to make them move on. More junk was always raining down, so it was a never-ending race to clear away lanes for people to pass through. Toby even saw clusters of trash-pickers rooting through the piles, searching for free treasures.
The lights of the city made the moon look dull in comparison. The stars weren't even visible. But below the glare was the city's guts. As Toby's gaze slowly descended its length, he noted that each section seemed subtly distinct from the ones above and below. Hard to put a finger on it with everything moving, but sometimes a shift in brightness, colors, or architecture. Toby wondered if the residents in each one defined a unique culture for themselves, making the levels like boroughs in a city.
At the bottom of the stack, impossibly massive diagonal beams criss-crossed to form the base of the structure, which had to be as wide across as all of Coryza. Between the beams, Toby could see ancient machinery turning. Huge gears and screws and chains and pulleys. Toby didn't see any smoke. He wondered if maybe there was a huge exhaust pipe that emerged at the very top. Or maybe it all just ran on magic.
Closer still, Toby could see ant-like swarms of people lining up at big gateways spaced evenly around the base. Scanning over them, he gained some insight into the city's personality. Most of these people looked tough. Sometimes physically, sometimes technologically, sometimes just by the way they carried themselves. But aside from the obvious gawping tourists who stuck out like sore thumbs, these were people who all looked like they could take care of themselves in a nasty situation. Toby was rather glad he was traveling with others who could fill that role for him.
The gates were all numbered, and beneath an ornate, wrought-iron 13, a little guy in a glaring green vest was waving at the Fearsleigher with those light-up popsicles they use on airport runways. Junella shouted for George to head towards him.
There was rather a lot of screaming as George and the Fearsleigher made the scene in front of so many Ectopians. Some stared, some fainted, others threw soda cans and whatever else was handy. George once again tried to appear nonthreatening. The crowd wasn't buying it though. Flinching from all the projectiles and dirty looks, the spectral stallion halted in front of the man with the cones.
The guy's cigar fell out of his mouth and he turned tail in the opposite direction as fast as he could.
Junella swiveled in her seat. "Disembarking time! Someone called Canker wants to talk to us about George. I figured as much." As her passengers piled out, Junella swung herself around to the front bumper so she could retrieve something important from storage. Seeing the stares George was getting, Toby walked right up to pat his ribcage. The others picked up on his intent and flanked their transportation too.
Seeing souls emerge from the sleigh-thing and cluster protectively around the undead nightmare horse made some of the Ectopians relent. Not all, but at least George had to duck less junk. "A thousand thanks for your loyalty," he told his friends with much relief.
"You're welcome!" Piffle said. She hopped up to kiss George's nose, then held up Doll so she could too.
Sergeant Canker emerged shortly. This was doubly accurate, since he was a full-grown man who stood barely taller than Toby. Even stranger, ferrets are known for being long and slender, not squat and bulky. He was dressed in a spangly, impressive uniform with lots of medals and a hat as big as his head. He was surprisingly quick on his feet as he ran up to George.
"What in the fuckety flyin' hell is goin' on around here!? This thing can't exist! My eyes can't be seeing this! Are you trying to give me a heart attack, asking me to take it seriously that you wanna park a goddam nightmare construct outside my fair city? I got property damage to consider!!"
Junella nudged Zinc. "Play tour guide for a bit while I deal with the asshole, kay?" Zinc nodded heartily and the skunk went off to attempt schmoozing the sergeant.
Toby and Piffle were both staring up at the bright lights of the ever-rotating metropolis. Zinc plopped his wrenches around their shoulders. "It's the most, ain't it? Nothing else like it in this world or any other. Questions?"
"Yeah!" Toby blurted. He thought back to the hall of Coryzan history. "How in the heck did this get built!?"
"Good first question," Zinc said. "See, a few hunnert years ago, there was this big-time bad news evil sorceress called Scaphis Tarrare. A real cocksucker, and not in the good way. Dunno all the details, but 'ssentially she was powerful enough to magic up this big clockwork tower. She'd sit at the top and cast an eyeball down at all the poor shnooks she wanted to put the hurt on. Anyway, that's where Luxy comes in."
"I think I heard that name before," Toby and Piffle muttered simultaneously. "Jinx!" said Piffle.
"You probably did," Zinc said. "Luxy Bleeder is more famous than Aldridge. He's like... He's..." As the canine searched for words, the mouse and hamster could see an almost fanatical admiration in his eyes. "He's the Einstein of murder! Even that doesn't do him justice. He's the most brilliant homicidal maniac to ever live. And he ended up here! Holy cow, are we lucky to have him or what?"
Toby blinked. "Lucky to have a homicidal maniac!?"
Zinc winced. "You don't understand, man! With Luxy, killing is art! His brain's got illuminations like no one else. Nobody knows what he was like back on Earth. But here? Where there's no permanent death? He's a rock star. He's Zeus. If they had an election for president of the planet, he'd be the only candidate anyone would vote for."
"I still don't understand," Toby said.
Zinc snarled in frustration, trying to think of a way to convey the man's supreme coolness. "Okay, the sorceress I mentioned? Think about how powerful you'd hafta be to create somethin' this size. AND LUXY KILLED HER!!! That's how souped-up his brain is. He outsmarted magic! I don't even know how! No one does. But not only did Luxy kick the bitch's ass, he somehow caused a... Like, a reality-quake. Like when you smack the set to change the channel. Except somehow, he did it to the tower. Changed the whole thing on the spot to ferris wheels instead of clockwork. 'I thought that'd be more fun,' he said."
"He was right," Piffle said. "By the way, is that him over there?"
"WHERE!?" Zinc hopped a foot in the air as he whirled around. But it wasn't the man himself, just a billboard. Zinc rolled his eyes at himself. It was admittedly unlikely that the mayor of Ectopia Cordis would be hanging around in the parking lot. Instead, several feet away there was a big purple banner with a cartoon raccoon on it, smiling brightly. Above the raccoon's head was "Luxy sez". And in his word balloon:
ACROPHOBIC? YOU MIGHT HAVE A BETTER TIME SOMEWHERE ELSE.
Toby had an intuition he'd be seeing a lot more of these billboards inside the city.
Zinc said, "Yeah, that's him. There ain't a snowball's chance we'll meet him, but his face is everywhere. People line up for miles to be his victims. He could beat Junella in a knife fight with a blindfold on; no contest. Hell, with just one knife he could beat both of us! He's an artist. He's a maestro. To be killed by Luxy Bleeder is an honor people would do anything for."
"I'll take your word for it," Toby said, looking uneasy.
Seeing that the mouse was still unconvinced, Zinc continued. "Well, he doesn't just kill people. He runs the city too. And does a damn good job. Infrastructure, development, police stuff, holidays. You name it, he does it. He's basically dictator-for-life, but he's fair about it. If anyone thinks they can do things better than him, he usually gives them a job so they can prove it. His whole deal is: whatever's best for EC, whether it comes from him or not."
"Huh," Toby said. "Reminds me of this superhero show I saw once where the bad guy mastermind actually did take over the world. And the heroes were kinda stunned that he was pretty good at it. They still kicked his butt though."
Zinc laughed. "Sore losers."
He rhapsodized about Luxy's many legends and accomplishments for a while longer until Junella came striding back over, looking pleasantly surprised. "I take back what I said. Canker ain't an asshole after all," she chirped.
George, unharnessed, followed behind her. "A blustery fellow, but quite willing to listen to reason!" he added.
"So what's the scoop on Fido?" Zinc asked. (George gave him a slightly-offended look at that.)
"The scoop is, our pony pal can't come in-" The others made sounds of disappointment. Junella held her hands up. "He can't come in like this," she clarified. "Canker said folks'd crap their pants and be jumping off the edges wherever we took him. Plus he's too damn tall. They typically don't allow in anything bigger than a bike, except in zoos."
Piffle gasped happily. "Oh, so we can just shrink him again!"
"Or..." Junella held up the corked bottle she'd retrieved from the Fearsleigher, "...we can use this."
George leaned in to sniff it.
"Transformation potion I bought at the hospital. Thought it'd be useful."
"Will it work on George?" Toby asked.
"It's made for nightmares," she sang, grinning at her cleverness. "People use 'em as weapons. Nightmare's chasing you? Splash 'em with this and they'll turn into something harmless for a while so you can make a getaway. Usually only works for a few minutes or so. But George, if you don't resist it, it oughtta hold for as long as we need it to."
The stallion backed up a few steps, looking very reluctant. "Could we not use the resizing window instead? I actually enjoyed the novelty of being diminuitive."
Junella arched an eyebrow. "It's safe, don't worry."
"That is not the source of my reluctance, Madam Brox..." He whined like a dog being given a bath. "It's just that... I rather like my outward appearance. I am averse to its alteration."
Junella growled. "Look, I bought this before I knew the otter was gonna sell me a shrinky-thing. I spent money on this juice! Just try it!"
George sighed in resignation.
Piffle gave him a pat on the forelock. "It'll be fine. Getting turned into new things is fun!"
"I appreciate your help, Madam McPerricone," he said sincerely. Then he straightened up and snorted, banishing his hesitance. "If in taking this action I am doing what is best for my compatriots, then so be it! Apply the potion, Madam Brox!" He kept a stiff upper lip, despite not having one.
Junella popped the cork (the stuff smelled like grape jam, surprisingly), and hurled the bottle's contents.
The liquid made sparks when it touched George's bones. He barely had time to let out a shout of surprise before he started whirling around in a tornado of lightning bolts. Everyone covered their ears at the sound, which was like seven bottle rockets firing off at once.
In less than three seconds it was over. George the illuminated horse skeleton was gone. In his place was George the multicolored mechanical parrot.
Junella whistled. "Didn't expect THAT!"
The others gathered around George as he peeked his head out from under his wing and got a glimpse of his new self. Immediately, he recoiled in protest. "You have made me into a clockwork toy! An automaton! How insufferably degrading!" He clanked and clinked as he ran around in circles, flapping his wings and gnashing his beak. He looked like he'd been assembled by an unusually bright child with an Erector set. His eyes were camera shutters. His wings were jointed with rivets. His feathers were made of tin and wire.
"This is absolutely unacceptable!" George shrieked, continuing his tantrum. "I will not stand for this! I will not tolerate... Oh. Oh my goodness!" It was at this point that George had flapped hard enough to get off the ground several inches. He tried it again. Soon he was hovering a few feet above the asphalt. "This is unexpectedly enjoyable. I may have to reconsider this form. Hm."
Junella grinned smugly. "See? Ain't I always right?" She tapped her shoulder and George flew in to perch on it.
"I like it," Zinc appraised. "With the scarf and the cutlass, Juney, you already look pirateish. He completes yer ensemble."
The others all complimented George on his new looks too, which did make him feel somewhat better about having his noble species swapped for a squawking feather-duster.
Piffle meanwhile picked up the empty bottle of potion. She licked a remaining drop off the lip. It gave her an alligator tail. She squeaked with delight at this new addition and was already thinking of things she could do with it and how she might have to sit differently in chairs, when it vanished away, turning back into her normal stubby fluffball. "Aw blueberries!" she swore.
Junella marched back to where Sergeant Canker was standing with a few other Ectopian guards. "Everything's all cleared up now!" she called out. "I let my horse run off to, uh, graze or something. So he's not a problem anymore."
The sergeant chuckled at her transparent ruse. "And where did this fine specimen of parrotdom happen to come from?"
"He was in the trunk," Junella immediately lied. "He likes it in there. It's dark."
"Cheep. Cheep," George said in monotone.
Canker very nearly broke his facade to guffaw. "Allright you shifty minx. So long as that 'parrot' doesn't suddenly get a lot bigger and bonier, there'll be no problems. You may continue to the elevators with your posse once you get that crazy wagon parked."
"Thank yuh kindly," she twanged as she moseyed past. Her grin when she rejoined the others was nearly wider than her head.
"See, this is why I like EC so much," Zinc said. "You can get away with anything so long as you keep the chaos to a minimum."
Junella slapped the side of the Fearsleigher. "Everybody listen! Assuming our client will want to do a bit of sightseeing again, we'll probably be here until late tomorrow. Might even wanna spend two nights, since God knows we won't find better accommodations on the road to Dysphoria. So if there's anything you want outta the car, best get it now before I shrink it."
Zinc dove for his current hot rod magazine. Toby was about to look around for his paperback when he realized it was still safe in his pocket. Junella retrieved a travel satchel from the front compartment, already pre-loaded with essentials: maps, cash, mace, grenades, etc..
Piffle felt a very urgent tugging at her leg. "What is it, Doll?" She looked down. Then she looked back up once she realized Doll couldn't reply until she did.
A little plastic finger wrote on her skirt fabric: P-A-P-E-R-?
Piffle nodded to her. "Does anybody have something to write with? I think Doll needs to say something!" Zinc tossed her the pencil from the front seat and was about to start looking for some paper when Piffle winced. "Oh I am such a big goof! Sorry, everyone!" She quickly dumbfounded a tiny notepad for Doll. "Here you are. Sorry I didn't think of that right away." She looked around for a place where Doll could write unobserved, then sat her on the ground in the shadow of the skate blades and stood guard in front. "No one look at her!"
"Try not to anyway," Junella quipped.
Meanwhile, Toby tried to decide whether he'd need the throwing weapons and bracers he'd got from Dorster's place. He cast an asking look at Zinc, who nodded in a 'Couldn't hurt' kinda way.
A few moments later, a hand patted Piffle's ankle.
The hamsterfly swiveled around and scooped Doll up in a hug. "Let's see what you wrote."
Since she didn't have to rely on her fingertip this time, Doll's handwriting was actually quite pretty:
'This city looks too bright and noisy. I'm tired.
And I feel like a burden, needing to be carried around.
May I please stay with the car?'
"Oh of course you can. I understand." Piffle said, patting her wrist. "Hey guys! Doll wants to stay with the car and have a nap! Izzat okay with everyone?"
"I could not possibly agree more to this," Junella deadpanned.
Piffle blew a raspberry at the skunk. "How come you're so mean to her?"
"Because I'm mean, that's why," she replied. Fetched the resizing window, she stood in front of the Fearsleigher. "Everybody got all they want?"
The hamsterfly fluttered up to the door to set Doll down on the backseat. "You have a good rest, okay?" she said, and gave her plastic friend a kiss. "Sweet dreams. I'll miss you."
Piffle barely got out of the way in time when Junella began reducing the car. Their mighty fortified carriage became a miniature for action figures. And then it was sitting in Junella's palm, the size of a cranberry. She opened her mouth and dropped it inside.
Piffle winced. "Oh my! Won't the blades hurt your throat?"
"Nah. Thanks for the concern, but my insides are mostly liquid. They'll coat the car in a little vinyl pill. Safest place for it."
Piffle lightly touched Junella's tummy. "It's weird to think Doll's in there now."
The skunk's eyes shot wide open.
She hadn't realized the implications of what she'd just done.
That creepy-ass doll was inside of her. Microscopic. Just the right size to crawl into her bloodstream and swim up to her brain to cause an aneurysm.
She bent over to heave. After a couple of cacks, up came a black wax pill. She immediately fished it out of her spit and shoved it in Piffle's mouth. "YOU take care of it!!"
***
The wait for the elevators wasn't too bad. Toby and the others crowded in between a duck family and a very fat viking. Guards passed by and waved literal magic wands around everyone: little wooden sticks with sparkles at the tips. Toby thought they might have been checking for weapons, but Zinc said with a grin that weapons were encouraged here. The wands were to sniff out spores and residues that might be clinging to clothing, ready to do some infesting.
Zinc anticipated the Toby's worry at hearing about the weapons. Ectopia Cordis had a police force, he began explaining. A fleet of wheeled robots with gold stars and nightsticks. But the general rule was that you should at least try to solve your own problems before calling in the fuzz. Luxy believed that a citizen who expects a government to act as their parents needs to start acting like an adult themselves. So Ectopians were expected to settle minor quarrels with fisticuffs or duels (or in some rare cases, actual communication! Gasp!). The cops would intervene in clear abuses of power or sustained harassment, but if they thought you were just being a wimp, they were likely to throw you over the edge by the seat of your pants. Toby did not think this sounded like an ideal form of government. Zinc said that it worked out a lot better than most people figured. After all, if someone was peeved enough to murder you, five minutes later you could murder them right back.
Soon enough, Toby was being squeezed between everyone else as the guards herded them onto an already-crammed elevator car. People's butts and shoulders were bulging through the bars. When it was as full as spatial tolerances would allow, the guard rapped it twice, signaling the operator to send it skyward. Toby had been a little worried the metal crate would creak and shake, but instead the ride was surprisingly smooth.
The nausea of watching the ground fall away, however...
The elevator pulled its occupants through a fascinating tour of Ectopia's grand inner machinery. Cogs as big as windmills rotated with the lethargic power of an elephant herd. It all looked like the interior of a very old grandfather clock, gone green with tarnish. Workmen looked like termites in comparison.
Toby's attention was diverted from the gargantuan contraptions by a red laser grid that suddenly passed over him and the other passengers. He thought for a second it was about to sear him into cubes, but instead it just scanned him. Then, four TV screens in the top of the car suddenly sprang to life.
There was a fanfare of menacing guitars, then a raccoon with a Cheshire grin filled each screen. He had great big yellow-lensed sunglasses, a rocker's mop of hair, a burgundy jacket, and a silver shirt. He was tall, scruffy, and wiry. Like a wrung out dishrag. He gave off an appearance of the kind of guy you would go to for illegal substances.
"I smell newbies," he purred.
Toby cowered.
"Some familiar faces too, I hope? Coming back from holiday to my sexy city? Goodtahaveyaback, goodtahaveyaback. But you, you newcomers... Isn't it exciting? Your first time! Oh, I wish I could trade places with you kids for just this moment!" He put a hand to his forehead, overcome with emotion.
Then he turned back to the viewers, his eyes indicating it was seriousness time. "Allright. You're probably wondering, what kind of a place is this? This oasis in the sky? Well I'll tell you. It's a magical land where I want you to fun yourself to death. Perhaps literally, if that's your kick. It sure is mine." He ran his tailtip through his teeth.
"What is the law!?" offscreen voices suddenly bellowed.
"There are two rules!" he answered.
And on the screen it flashed: TWO RULES.
Luxy held up a white-gloved finger. "Rule number one: everything's legal so long as everyone's having a good time."
With a blast of brass, this rule flashed on the screen in big yellow letters.
Now the raccoon got very, very close to the camera. So close you could see the veins in his eyes behind his sunglasses. He spoke each word like he was forcing it against a grindstone.
"Rule number two: Do Not Fuck With Anyone Else's Good Time."
And here he held up two of his very favorite toys: a matched pair of chromium-plated nine millimeter pistols. On one was engraved 'GOOD', the other, 'TIME'.
Luxy stuck his muzzle between them like parting swinging doors. "Capisce?" he husked.
Spinning both guns on his fingers, he tossed them over his shoulder into the background somewhere. One went off, which made him startle comically, then titter.
"Aside from that, chaps, do as ye wilt shall be the whole of the law. You are my guests, and I am your gracious host. You are here to have the time of your life. My job is to provide that for you. Please, if anything fails to live up to your highest expectations, drop a note in one of our many municipal suggestion boxes." He held a hand up to his mouth and stage whispered, "No more dick drawings though. They've gotten boring."
He hopped back away from the camera to spread his arms wide, embracing all his viewers and giving them a dazzling gold-capped smile. "That's all from my deranged cranium! Go forth and frolic! Buy lots of stupid souvenirs! Get drunk! Fornicate in the streets! Wear condoms on your fingers and tickle little boys, I don't care!"
The elevator rumbled and finally came to a stop.
"And with that, my dear little friends. I bid you welcome to my livingroom and playground. Enjoy."
He giggled.
"Enjoy!"
He cackled.
"Enjoy!! Enjoy!!! ENJOY!!!"
Luxy Bleeder descended into mad whoops of uncontrollable laughter, bending double and spitting up drops of blood, and all the elevator's passengers stared at him for as long as they could until the doors opened and the screens turned black again.
*****