The Knight in the Closet "A Samuel Light Junior Story"

My name's Samuel Light Junior, but all my friends call me Sammie. My Mom calls me Sprung, because I've grown like a wild weed lately. My best teacher calls me Leech, because once I get my eager hands on a new novel I won't let go. I just read and read and read until my eyeballs become so weary they look like red lobsters that have been just boiled.

I have this gift. Sort of. It's not really a gift so much as a legacy, an inheritance, a kind of genetic light up that cause me to do weird things like see dead people, relive other people's past lives...as if our own weren't enough, heal people...not all the time, just certain times...and levitate...not very far, depends on the occasion. I think you're getting the drift from what I've said so far that I don't have a lot of control over my abilities.

That's what Al says, he's my angel friend who used to be Albert Einstein on the Earth, but now spends all his time...at the time I see him...in a ghostly form, egging me on to do better, acting the better part of a Yoda, and sometimes the worst, and dancing and singing a lot with M...the golden blonde of Hollywood flame who caused many a sailor and soldier to wish they knew her better. Al and her get along great. Nothing sexual going on. I don't even know if angels are even wired that way, at least these kinds.

I haven't seen any with wings, though I've been assured by my local Church pastor that they do exist, though when I ask him what they look like, he's a bit vague. Myself, I can describe Al and M to the last detail, and even their unearthly habits...remember they're not humans like us anymore, though some might say they're more human than most of us.

So on one of those nights when I've put in a long day on the field and track, or slamming a ball across the third base for a home run and hightailing it about the bases before I get my you know what tagged, I'm usually drained and ready for bed.

"Mom, heading for the shower." I told Mom as I entered the front door with Jimbo trailing me with a handful of chips and a coke.

"Dinner in thirty." She yelled at us as we ran up the stairs to my second floor bedroom that overlooks the front yard. It's a beautiful yard, especially in the Spring when all the daisies and roses spread their petal wings and dance in the winds, showing off their bright colors and casting off their fragrant scents.

Slam! Jimbo shut the window.

I gave him the look. He shrugged and sniffed. "Allergies."

"Allergies, my baseball bat." I cried out, putting my bat in the corner of my closet.

"Really." He insisted. I gave him another of those looks, but he didn't flinch. 

The better part of valor with Jimbo, my gnarly, rebellious Texan immigrant, is to usually give in, because he's bigger than pretty much everyone, except me. I top him by two or so inches. But what I have in height, he has in girth. He's one big dude. Built like a bulldog with enough teeth to take down a Bengal Tiger. Don't ever tell him I said that or he'll bite both of us and spit us out for breakfast.

"Me first." I yelled as I dashed for my bathroom and the shower. I slammed the door in his face before he could cut me off.

I tossed my clothing on the floor. It was caked with lime from the field markings, dirt, weeds and green stains from the grass between the markings. 

I shuddered a moment as a stream, more like a blasting arctic wind, caught me in its cruel claws and ripped me open from the inside out, exposing my wind interior to a furious blast of shivering cold water. I yelped like a dog howling at the moon.

I heard laughter over the shower stream. I couldn't figure out why.

Finished, I got out, my whole body shaking, then saw Jimbo turn on the hot water pipes again.

"You dog!" I cursed at him.

"Bark bark." He shot back at me with a big Texan man-eating grin.

I shook my head, causing my mop of blonde hair to shower him with cold water.

He shot up so fast he banged his head into the sink door. "Owww!" He cried out.

My Mom's voice hammered at the bedroom door. "You two scoundrels at it again?"

"No Mom!" We both said at the same time.

She laughed so hard that both of us fell into stitches, realizing how stupid and silly we were both acting.  To show Jimbo I had forgiven him as he took his own clothing off to shower, I snapped my wet towel across his buttocks with a loud snap.

"Yell!" He cried out, turning to look at the red mark I had made.

I grinned. "You always wanted to look like an Indian."

He started to chase me, and I slammed the bathroom door in his face. "Come after me and I'll eat all the food before you can get any." I warned.

The door knob which had been forcing in my hand relaxed.

"Nice doggie!"

The door banged open, sending me flying across my bed. 

After he showered and I had rubbed some ointment on my own red bottom and generously passed some on to him for his, we both stomped downstairs, happy and hungry enough to eat a bear. 

Mom had made us a huge basket of bread rolls dripping with butter, corn on the cob, a bowl of beans and fried chicken.

We dug in and she watched us with amazement as we managed to eat every single piece of food on the table. After we finished, she quizzed us on how track and baseball were going, and we filled her in.

Mom looked at Jimbo. "Sticking round for the night?"

He looked at me. I shrugged. He gave me a hurt look.

I turned to Mom. "I'd love the big old goofball to stay. Can he?"

"If you promise not to trash the house with your antics."

"Cross my heart and hope to die." He said with a very serious look on his face, even as he was kicking me under the table.

I refused to do the same. "I can't cross two hearts with one hand." I told him.

He laughed. 

We helped Mom clean up the kitchen, then took out the garbage and helped her clean the house. I took the living room and Jimbo the dining room. We usually did that when he stayed. It was also good for Mom, as she could kick back and watch her favorite news program.

Finished, we were more than tired enough to go to bed.

"Early to bed." I told her with a light kiss on her cheek.

"Earth to rise." Jimbo said giving her a sloppy kiss on her other cheek.

She shoved him back. "Jimbo!" She giggled.

He smiled, then we headed upstairs.

We dug into my pile of Marvel comic books and read until about nine, then turned out the lights. He slept on the left side of the bed and I on the other. He slept in a sleeping bag he left for himself and I under the covers. 

In moments he was snoring loudly. Needless to say, I wasn't snoring or sleeping.

I lay there a long time thinking about how many ways I could shut him up without killing him, but nothing seemed to work except murder, so I decided to tough it out.

Just when I thought things could get no worse, there was a pounding in my closet. I sat up, startled. Nothing. I started to lay back down and the noises started again, like metal shifting about. I didn't  have anything metal in my closet.

I jumped up, grabbed my bat and went to the closet. I threw open the door and aimed my bat over my head. "Come out or I'll bash you over the head!"

Wrong words.

Something very, very large rose from the floor until it towered over me. I backed up and it stepped out of the closet and quietly withdrew a sword almost as tall as I was. The sword was bloody red and almost seemed alive. It gave off a blaze of energies like none I had ever seen before.

The Black Knight stood there gazing at me with mournful eyes through a head mask of pure burnished black metal.

"I am the Knight of Nights and I challenge you to a duel to the death."

"Wait!" I said, holding a hand out.

"I was only kidding. I thought you were a burglar or something."

The Knight wavered, his sword dropping somewhat. "A what?"

"A thief!" I answered.

He charged me. "I'm no thief!"

Before he could strike me with the sword Jimbo sat up, rubbing his eyes. "Who's the damsel after you, Sammie?"

The Knight froze in horror. It looked at itself as if seeing itself for the first time, then wheeled to face Jimbo. "Prepare to die, knave!"

Jimbo laughed. "No one talks that way anymore!"

The Knight screamed and charged the bed.

A loud pounding struck the bedroom door.

"You two fighting again?"

The Knight froze, turned its helmed head to look at the door.

"Did you hear me? Don't make me come in there and hurt you?" She warned.

The Knight began to shake with fear and back into the closet. "What manner of female demon lives in this house?" He asked us.

Jimbo grinned. "His mother."

The Knight slammed the closet door on himself the same time as I flipped on the lights and opened the door for Mom. She peered inside, saw Jimbo in his sleeping bag, then eyed me closely. "Bad dream?"

I grinned. "You could say that."

"Good night boys. Up at seven. French toast."

Jimbo saluted her. "Yes, M'am!"

She laughed and shut the door. The moment she did, we both sprang for the closet door to open it. We threw it open, but all that was inside there were my clothes and boxes of comic books.

Jimbo looked at me and I looked at him.

"Don't ask me." I uttered, then shut the door and went back to bed.

He did the same.

Jimbo tapped me on the shoulder. "Your life scares me sometimes."

"Yeah. Me too."

"Love it!" He whispered, then. "Night, Sammie!"

"Night, Jimbo!"

It Conquered the World. A classic Sci-fi film.

Don't believe it. It doesn't conquer much of anything, but as a child I found it frightening!

The Gnobs Tree, "A Giddy and Gnobs Story."

A Gnobs Tree must always provide a shade

For the baby Minotaurs when it sprouts in the Spring.

For neither dale nor glade

Will provide the peace and quiet Gnobs brings.

-- A quote by Sir Thumbledore Giddy

Gnobs stood in the position he took every spring when the baby Minotaurs sprouted from the horns of their mothers in twos and threes, then were planted in the ground until they could become big enough to walk on their own. His green skin and large red lips were blended perfectly into the tree form he had shape shifted into for the occasion.

Giddy leaned against his pal. He was a knight of King Edward's Court and a very unique individual. His armor was his real skin. Only his face was made of flesh. Everything else was not. 

Giddy liked the Gnobs Tree look that Gnobs had assumed. Usually he took a shape that could be so outrageous it was frightening, or so crazy you couldn't stop laughing, like the time he had a dragon growing from each of his fingers who fought with each other, or the time he turned his nose into a licorice stick to tease a giant. That hadn't worked out too well for either of them once the giant caught hold of Gnobs nose, he didn't want to let go.

Only quick thinking on Giddy's part saved the day, but it had cost him a day's wages to purchase the muffins that finally coaxed the giant away from Gnobs nose.

Right now at that moment Gnobs body was made of a nice, rough-looking bark of red and blue shades, but was soft enough not to hurt the scalp of a tender child should they decide to climb him, which they always did after a few days. He looked up into Gnobs face, which was made of wood and fresh sprouts of leaves and tiny branches, with eyes that were hooded with whorls of deep burnt wood, so that he had a kind of prosaic look, or perhaps more that of a wistful poet about the burst forth in the song of words that they were borne to bear forth to the world.

"I'm thirsty." Gnobs complained.

Out the window went Giddy's wistful thoughts.

"I'll get you some water."

"Not for thattttt!" Gnobs immediately uttered.

"Then for what?"

Gnobs looked down at his feet which were wide roots above the ground and against which dozens of baby Minotaurs sprouted, the Mommy Minotaurs tucked next to them to keep them warm and happy.

"You want to be cuddled?"

"Why not?" Gnobs responded.

"But you're not a minotaur!"

"I have feelings."

"Keep them." Giddy warned. "You'll be through with your job on the morrow."

"But who will hug me then?"

Giddy sighed. "Gnobs, I will hug you."

"Oh will you?" Gnobs cried out, causing some of the baby Minotaurs to begin to cry.

Gnobs immediately sprouted parts of himself into baby Minotaur dolls which made cute sounds. The Mommy Minotaurs hugged them to their children and they became quiet again.

"How long until tomorrow?" Gnobs asked when the kids grew quiet again.

"Oh at least a day." Giddy said with a twinkle in his eye.

Gnobs scowled at Giddy. "You're teasing me!"

"Yes. Yes. I am." Giddy proclaimed. "It's usually you...if you remember...that is always teasing me!"

"Oh." Gnobs said, his tree face drooping with sadness. "I'm a badddd boy."

Giddy thumped his friend's barky skin and shook his head. "Not bad. Just a bit over the top sometimes."

Gnobs brightened. "So you'll still hug me?"

"Only if you behave."

"I'll behave. I'll behave." Gnobs declared and shut his eyes.

"Why are you going to sleep. There's still a whole day ahead of us." Giddy announced.

"Because if I go to sleep now tomorrow will come faster."

Giddy laughed. "Oh Gnobs. Time will move the same no matter what we do."

"But what else am I to do?" Gnobs complained. "I'm stuck here now."

"Remember Gnobs. You're the one that started this tradition."

"Oh. You're right." Gnobs said, remembering his first time, which was three years ago, soon after he had met Giddy and befriended him.

"It seems like only yesterday." Gnobs said.

"Time flies." Giddy agreed. "Especially when you're busy."

Then Giddy clapped his metallic skinned hands over his mouth, which along with his eyes nose and face, were the only parts of him that weren't metal. "Whoops!"

Gnobs began to cry.

The baby Minotaurs began to cry. 

The Mommy Minotaurs made grunting alarm sounds. The father Minotaurs came running across the wide meadow from the river where they had been bathing, thinking something horrible had happened.

"Now look and see what you've done!" Giddy scalded Gnobs.

"But you told me time flies and it's not flying at all, because I'm not busy. Not even a little."

Giddy looked at the charging Minotaurs, who were huffing and puffing curls of white smoke as they came to what they thought was the danger of their alarmed spouses and children. Giddy had to think of something. Fast. Really fast or it was going to be a disaster!

Giddy's heart churned a moment in his chest and then he brightened. "I love you, Gnobs!" He said gently, hugging the Gnobs tree, which looked so much like a gigantic frog sprouting bark, branches and trees. 

Gnobs big eyes widened and he used a branch hand to wipe away the tears. 

"I love you too, Giddy!"

And so Giddy learned a lesson that day. Careful what you say. Very careful. He also avoided a herd of angry Minotaur fathers!

The Case of the Wood Heart, "A Sherlock Holmes Story."

Watson gave Mrs. Hudson a gentle hug and she pulled away. "I know what you're doing. You're not coming back for dinner, are you?"

He gave her comely face a gentle smile and a sweep of his deep brown eyes, his mutton chops bouncing slightly as he grinned. "You read me like a book, dear Mrs. Hudson."

"No, I read you like a scoundrel. When will you stop running off on those fool's errands for the Prince?"

His smile tightened. "They are not fool's errands."

"They most certainly are." She replied, her voice becoming shriller and angry.

A shadow fell across them.

"I will see to him, Mrs. Hudson." Sherlock said as he stepped onto the porch, slipping on his deerstalker hat and adjusting his cape so that it fell back over his shoulders, so he could reach his pockets more easily. He finished comporting himself, then turned to Watson. "I would like to have a talk with the Prince."

"Sherlock, stay out of this." Watson warned. "This is between Mrs. Hudson and I."

"It certainly is not!" She warned, wagging a finger at him.

"I hate it when you wag the finger."

"Get used to it, Watson. It's what a good woman does when her man has been led astray." Sherlock explains, the hint of a smirk on his lips.

Watson is about to explode for a second, then he lets it go. "Very well. Come then. But it will be boring and tedious."

"I thrive on boring and tedious." Sherlock responded, a wink at Mrs. Hudson as he did so.

She laughed, then gave Watson a light peck on his cheek. "Go with your friend. At least I know someone with good sense will be watching over you."

She turned her back to the both of them, closed the front door and they could hear her shoe clapping on the hardwood steps as she went upstairs to pick up, as was her wont in the early hours of t he morning.

Sherlock put a hand lightly on Watson's arm. "So. Where shall we begin?"

=======================================================

Sherlock and Watson climbed out of the T-Cab, or Tesla Cab as they were sometimes called, and straightened their clothes as they faced Marlon Castle, the current residence of Prince Edwards, a distant relative of Queen Mary of Scots, and quite well off, but a bit on the eccentric side. They stood at the end of a large drive paved with red cobble stones and hedged with fine shrubs, shorn to resemble hearts and spades, like those of a deck of cards. Red flowers poked their faces from green beds of moss at the feet of the shrubs.

The tall gates, which were mounted on ancient hinges imported from the Scots Lands, hailed from a period where Kings had magic and ruled by the might of their dragons and Elves had not yet fled their world to a parallel one, safe from the expanding immorality of humanity. 

Sherlock smiled at that thought, because humanity preyed ever day for the help of angels, and yet had driven living ones from their lands by their greed, avarice and lust for power. He noticed that the mighty walls that precluded the public from seeing the castle more clearly appeared to be more clean than usual, and he suspected some magic in that, but gave it no second thought as he turned back to look at the two Royal Guards, courtesy of the Queen, who stood at the entrance, blocking their path.

"Please tell His Highness, Prince McMurphy, that I am come to meet with him for our appointment." Watson declared.

One of the Royal Guards nodded, then stepped inside.

A few minutes later after some small talk and the viewing of small flocks of blackbirds flitting from one sunflower shaped basket garden of flowers to another that spread across the lawns of the castle, a very, very tall man stepped outside, his ruddy face beaming with pleasure.

"Ah, my good Doctor, so good to see you again. And Mister Holmes. You honor me with your presence. Come in. Come in."

They gave him a polite nod and followed him inside. His footsteps were quick and lively, almost as if he were half floating as he guided them through the labyrinth of corridors and walkways until they reached the rear of the castle and embarked cross a miniature drawbridge over a moat below which were all manner of dimpled fish swimming about, their tiny mouths clutching at the air above and spots of bread that the Prince had been throwing them and which he immediately sought the silver plate of, which he had left on a highly polished marble table set near the moat.

He clutched a shred of bread, an d began breaking it up and tossing it into the moat, causing the tiny creatures there to become frenzied with movement and motion as the crumbs struck the thin layer of water meeting air.

"You see, Watson, how dearly they respond to the smallest of kind gestures."

He turned to face Watson, but his eyes were on Sherlock. "Small acts of kindness can steer creatures into any direction we desire."

"And you believe to any requisite end?" Sherlock asked.

"Astute observation, Mister Holmes. Exactly."

He turned back to his friends of the moat and broke more bread and tossed it. "When I was but a lad in my father's castle in the Mount Marres of the Scotland Sea, I learned a very great secret. One that I stumbled upon, but one which has followed me on light footsteps all these years since."

"Which is?" Sherlock asked politely.

The Prince turned to him and fixed Sherlock with a stare that made Watson wince, but stirred Sherlock not in the least. "That men always have a motive for everything they do. Even the kindest of things."

With that he turned away from the moat and began walking towards a smaller castle in the rear, which was made of brick and wood, and gave more the appearance of a fairy tale home, than the castle it was, though it stood a good three stories in height and had ramparts and weapons mounts on its roof.

They entered the smaller castle and the Prince guided them into a smaller room where all manner of magical equipment was gathered on large wooden desks and lengthy tables. In some smaller glass containers were odd looking substances, of which Watson knew at once were similar to Harry's magical works, but some of which were unknown to him and gave off a variance of energy that he couldn't put a finger on. At their right stood a remarkably detailed wooden statue of the Prince.

"I have a case for you, Sherlock."

Watson started to clear his throat. "Don't worry, Watson, it won't affect our work."

"I'm listening." Sherlock replied, his face immovable.

"I wish you to resolve a mystery for me."

"I will do my best. But if it involves magic..."

"It does. But I suspect a man of your caliber of mind will find this too titillating to avoid inspecting with the e scrutiny of your giant intellect."

"The clarity of my thoughts are far too exaggerated." Sherlock interrupted.

"Perhaps."

The Prince began loosening the tunic about his chest, then thrust it aside. Watson gave him a startled look. "There is more to me than meets the eye, dear Watson."

The Princess unlaced his undershirt, thrust it open and both Sherlock and Watson stared in shock and amazement at what was revealed. There in the center of the Prince's chest was a wooden door, much as you might find on a Cuckoo Clock. The Prince fidgeted with the tiny doorknob a moment, then opened it to reveal a wooden heart.

"Dear God in Heaven." Watson exclaimed.

"How does one undo what was foolishly done in one's youth?" The Prince demanded of Sherlock.

Sherlock stepped closer to examine the interior of the chamber revealed. "May I?"

"Be my guest." 

Sherlock took out his magnifying glass and examined the interior of the Prince's chest, his heart cavity and the wooden heart that pumped there for a long time, not breathing or saying a word. Finally, he carefully shut the door to the chamber, then stepped back as the Prince began composing his shirt and tunic again to a more normal state.

"Well?"

Sherlock looked at the Prince. "First. You say this happened when you were a child?"

"Yes. The age of ten. I had the ill gotten humor of a jaded and spoiled brat and offended a Druid Warlock."

"And?"

"He turned my heart to wood."

"I see. And you believe this why?"

"Because I have lived with this in secret for all these years, telling no one, not even my poor father. You see this is why I have not married to this point in time. My father is nearing death and I fear I will not be leaving him an heir."

"Second. If you could remove this wooden heart, then what?"

"I would marry the Duchess of Bramberry, for whom my affections are well known."

"Three. I assume you are willing to pay my customary fee?"

"I will  triple it."

"Sherlock!" Watson protested, finally finding his voice again after what he had seen.

"Good."

Sherlock turned to Watson. "Shoot the man in his heart."

The Prince and Watson both paled.

"Do it!"

The Prince paled even further. Watson shook his head.

Sherlock took out his own weapon before either man could make a move and shot the Prince directly in his wooden heart. The Prince fell backwards onto the floor and lay there unmoving.

Several moments later the statue of the Prince shook violently and shards of wood splintered off, then fell to the floor. A stark naked Prince stood there, clapping his hands. "Well done, Holmes. Well done!"

Watson turned in shock. "But..."

"You see, Watson." Sherlock explained. "Warlock magic requires a duplicate of the original to be made before any curse can be bonded to the cursed. Of wood. Once the duplicate is destroyed. The original resumes its own life once more."

The Prince nodded. 

Sherlock smiled at the Prince. "I shall expect my fee on the morrow. Good day, your Highness." 

Watson turned to watch as Sherlock left the room, whistling a merry tune he had picked up from Harry several days ago.

The Prince coughed.

Watson turned around and again realized that the Prince was naked.

"I'll get some clothing for you at once, your Highness."

Watson rushed from the room to the laughter of the Prince. For Watson had seen something else that was a result of the curse. The Prince would never have a child; for his most private part had remained wooden.

  ==========================================================

Sherlock and Watson sat near the fireplace, sipping tea when Mrs. Hudson came in and sat beside Watson.  

"I told you there was something peculiar about that man." She said with a shudder.

"I always wrote it off to his Scottish heritage." Watson replied with a laugh. "Not to his more...ah..wooden nature."

"Speaking of which, Holmes, however did you come so quickly to the conclusion that the Prince was a golem of wood."

"Elementary, dear Watson. Had you noticed when he was feeding his fish that his right foot was in the water?"

"Yes. But he's a peculiar man as my dear Mrs. Hudson just spoke. Why should that bother me?"

"Then you didn't notice that right ankle, which was revealed, was beginning to change color as the water soaked into him."

"Ah." Watson exclaimed merrily. 

The sound of a knock from the front door.

Mrs. Hudson went to answer it and returned several moments later with a package. "For you, Sherlock."

"Put it on the side table." He requested.

She did so. "Aren't you curious what it is?"

"Not really. Just a memento, is all."

Sherlock smiled.

Neither Watson or Mrs. Hudson noticed that the small box was wet at the bottom and quivered just slightly. But Sherlock did. His eyes narrowed for a moment, then his face brightened and his eyes turned to his good friends.

"I suggest we dine out this eve."

"A jolly good idea, Holmes." Watson responded, rising. "I shall begin dressing immediately."

"And I." Mrs. Watson replied, heading for her apartment downstairs.

Sherlock waited for everyone to leave the room, then he took the box and opened it. Inside was a wooden heart with his fee on top of it. A small note was attached. He read it.

"Your fee and a small token of my thanks for your collection. Sincerely, the Prince."

Sherlock took his fee and slipped it into his coat, then the heart and tossed it onto the fire, where it began to smoke for a moment, then burst into flames.

Doctor Watson stepped out, straightening his tie and shirt collar. "What's that smell?"

"The past, dear Watson. The past."

Whammy Sammy "A Samuel Light Story"

Sam felt a bit strange as he and Jimbo sat in the park, watching the girls baseball team practicing. Not because he was watching the girls, but because he felt strange.

"What's eating you, Sammie?"

"Not sure."

"Try me."

Sam looked at Jimbo, his tall, rascally Texan friend with a drawl a mile long and fists as big as hams. "All morning I've been feeling as if at any moment I might go...boom!"

Jimbo jumped a bit when Sam emphasized the boom a bit loudly.

"Don't have to go ballistic and emo on me."

"Sorry. Just feels like...boom!"

Jimbo plugged his ears. "Through?"

Sam nodded.

"Think it's another kind of power thing or other?"

"It's the other that's got me worried. Remember last time I felt this?"

"Yeah. We got caught up in a fight with some kinds of demons from the seventh level of hell. And it turned out to not be hell at all, but some kind of projection by a misguided, miscreant..."

"Whoa, my Texan partner."

"Gotcha. Look, weird is weird after awhile. So how much more weird can it get?"

Samuel was about to answer when one of the girls slugged the ball so hard it spun overhead, and dropped towards his lap. He shot up to catch it.

WHAM!

San Francisco was burning. People were screaming. Horses were screaming. Men and women were running in every direction as the place was shaken and torn by a huge earthquake that no one had ever expected.

Samuel found himself dodging falling brick and mortal, leaping over sidewalks that sprouted broken water mains, and hissing gas that exploded into searing flame throwers as he passed them. It was a race for his life. He couldn't believe the horror of it all. One man ran towards him screaming, his body on fire, his eyes burned out of their sockets, hair smoking and flesh burning. He smelled like singed pork.

Samuel tried to help the men by extending his umbrella to steer him towards a horse trough, but when the man struck the water, the trough exploded as a huge piece of building smashed into it from the side, sliding it and the man towards oblivion.

Samuel ran and ran, until he didn't think his high heels would last any longer. He finally had to tear his long petticoat free as it was catching on everything. He felt it tug free, revealing his legs, which in any other time would have caused him great shame, but a woman had to do what a woman does.

He finally reached the safety of the pier, but it was also breaking up beneath the rips and tears of the earthquake. Fire was spreading from the warehouses onto the dock, threatening to overwhelm all the ships moored there.

He finally managed to reach his destination and ran up a boarding ramp onto a large schooner that his father owned.

His father was already ordering his men to shove off from the pier for fear of the flames and water damage. He knew a minor tidal wave had to be coming as well, and they needed to draw as far as possible from any structures that they could collide with.

"Darling, help the boys now, will ye?" Her father said.

She tore off the rest of her petticoat, which again would have driven the sailors mad with lust, but when they saw her flying across the main deck to help raise the anchor, they ignored her, for their lives were at stake. There might be hell to pay on the morrow, but today they were one family determined to survive the Great Quake.

Finally, the ship began to pull free from its leads to the dock, and the anchor groaned loudly on its chains as it rose, dripping from the sea water.

Her father strode over and grabbed the anchor and with the help of two men, they angled it to its berth.

She went immediately into the Captain's Cabin and threw off her female clothing and put on regular sailor clothes. She stopped for a moment to admire herself in one small mirror. Then she frowned. 

"How can I be me?"

WHAM!

"Is he going to be all right?" He heard a pretty feminine voice ask with great care and concern.

His eyes fluttered open and the bright afternoon sun lanced into his brain for a moment, until he put an arm across his face.

"Sammie?"

"I'm okay." He muttered, not feeling okay at all.

He gradually removed his arm from over his eyes and revealed the most beautiful girl he would never know. For the moment he recognized who it was he knew Jimbo was going to be out with her before he could say a word.

"You're one brave gal." Jimbo laid it on with thick sweet honey Texan drool.

She looked at him and dimpled.

"I'm sure you helped cure whatever was ailing my friend and partner here."

"Friend and partner?"

"Yeah. We have a detective agency."

"Really?" She asked, her eyes wide with excitement.

As Samuel slowly got to his feet, the girl and Jimbo were already heading in a different direction while the rest of the girl baseball team gave Samuel a thumbs up, then went back to play.

"Whammy Sammy!" He muttered, feeling the slight bruise on the back of his head where he had struck the ground. "I get the wham and he gets the girl. For all I know he'll be doing that until I'm a hundred and three."

He sighed, then tucked in his shirt and headed for home. "Things could be worse."

"You betcha, Sam."

Samuel looked to his right and Albert, the scientist man with a brain the size of a universe, was striding beside him. 

"Why didn't you warn me?"

Albert shrugged. "What good would it have done? You'd have still caught it."

Sam sighed. "Suppose you're right. My one shot at making an impression on the girls and I blow it."

Albert smiled. "Not really."

Sam gave him a puzzled look.

"Hi, are you Jimbo's friend and partner?"

Samuel stopped to turn around and the most gorgeous redhead he'd ever seen was standing behind him smiling. 

"Does your head hurt? I know the perfect thing to fix it."

"You do?" He asked dumbly, stumbling over his words.

She took his arm and steered him away from the direction towards his home. "I do."

Sam smiled. Maybe the day wasn't totally a loss, but what had that whammy been about and why had he been a girl in it?

"You listening?" The redhead asked, when he didn't reply right away.

"I'm sorry." He quickly recovered. "Still a bit shook up."

She gave him a bright smile. "I'm going to fix that too."

She laughed and the sun shone brighter still.

Zombies of the Stratosphere, Chapter 11

Fractal Flames

Rader Men from the Moon --- Full movie of the Republic Seria starring Commando Cody