LNH: LNH Comics Presents #506 (2/2)

[EDMLite]

        *                  *                    *

                                        8:47 p.m.

    "Please," President Boatman pleaded as the
holographic map monster engulfed him, his head nearly
swallowed by the former coastlines of Michigan, Ohio and
Wisconsin.  "It's...so cold... so cold... that damned
lake effect..."

     "Show's over, Nixon," said Occultism Kid, yanking the
holographic projector cord from its outlet.  The map -- and
the creature it had become -- vanished, and President
Barracks Boatman dropped into the waiting arms of Anal-
Retentive Archive Kid.

     "I'd be surprised if that were the case.  And I'm
rarely surprised," the Dark Lord said.  "You know what Ho
Chi Minh used to say, during the war?  No?  Now there was
a magnificent bastard.  He'd say, you Americans can kill
ten of our soldiers for every one of yours we kill -- and
even at those odds, you will lose, and we will win."

     "And that's what inspired you to begin building an
army of the living dead?" Anal-Retentive Archive Kid asked.

     "No," Lich Nixon replied.  "That was what inspired me
to tell Kissinger we ought to nuke the little S.O.B.  But
I always remembered what Ho said.  I always tried to learn
something from my enemies.  I had one of the best enemies of
them all, you know, in Jack Kennedy.  Hated the bastard.
And he hated me.  But I learned a hell of a lot from him."

     "You?" President Boatman chuckled.  "Mister, I
remember Jack Kennedy.  Hell, I was just attacked by the
@#$%^&ing corpse of Jack Kennedy.  And you, sir, are no..."

     "DON'T SAY IT!" Nixon thundered, his face a mask of
rage.  He waited a moment to compose himself before
continuing.  "For one thing, I learned that no matter how
smart you are, or how much good you've done for this
country, you'll never be able to compete with a dead man.
Let me show you what I mean."

     He whirled, raising the black claws of his hands high
above his head.  Occultism Kid began to speak, but the
sheer malice of Nixon's spell overpowered his own, and he,
President Boatman and Anal-Retentive Archive Kid found
themselves in the slithering embrace of a trio of king
cobras.

     "Snakes," Occultism Kid said.  "Terribly original."

     "Get it off get it off get it OFF!" screamed Boatman.
He looked down a moment later to see that his snake had
indeed transformed itself into a heavy iron chain -- though
he could still feel the scales of the reptile grinding
against his skin.

     "As political comebacks go, bringing yourself back
from the dead with your own army of ghouls is... well, it's
something new under the sun," Occultism Kid said.  "But you
haven't thought this thing through, Nixon.  There's no way
you can possibly win."

     "Is that a fact?" Nixon asked.  "And why is that?"

     "Because we've cut off your connection to Baron
Samaedi," Anal-Retentive Archive Kid said, before Occultism
Kid had a chance to cut him off.  "Without her, you won't
be able to bring anybody else back from the grave."

     "Now that's very interesting," Nixon said, grabbing
the end of the chain surrounding Anal-Retentive Archive Kid
and yanking the hero towards him.  "You see?  It's just
like I said.  You can learn a lot from listening to your
enemies."

     "You know," Occultism Kid said, "as a general rule,
we prefer to let the villains tell us all about their
secret plans, while we keep ours to ourselves.  Not the
reverse."

     "I'll try to remember that in the future," said Anal-
Retentive Archive Kid, as Nixon withdrew a human skull from
the folds of his cape.  A greasy, greenish-black liquid
oozed from between the skull's teeth.

     "Now here's a little trick I learned at the Bohemian
Grove," Nixon said, letting the skull bounce up and down
on the palm of his hand as he held it above Anal-Retentive
Archive Kid's head.  "There's a word for it... I can never
remember... it's Sanskrit... well, anyways, I usually just
refer to it as unholy waterboarding."

     "I have to know," Occultism Kid said, as Anal-
Retentive Archive Kid struggled against his chains.  "Did
you just conjure that up from somewhere, or have you been
walking around this whole time with a bile-filed skull
tucked under your cloak?"

     "The way it goes, see, is that one drink strips away
pretty much everything from your memory that makes you an
individual," Nixon said.  "Two drinks, and you forget how
to zip yourself up after a trip to the can.  Three drinks,
and you forget how to take a trip to the can."

     He paused, glancing back and forth from the skull to
Anal-Retentive Archive Kid's writhing body.

     "I'm thinking a nice round of five drinks for you,"
the Dark Lord said.

     "But... but... how am I supposed to tell you what we
did with Baron Samaedi if you erase my memory?" Anal-
Retentive Archive Kid gasped.

     Nixon considered this.  "Oh, I doubt you really know
what happened to her anyway," he said, allowing one drop
of the liquid to settle on Anal-Retentive Archive Kid's
chin.  "But maybe after I reduce you -- and the President --
to drooling idiots with less sentience than those zombies
out there, your partner will tell me what I want to know."

    "You... you're a monster," President Boatman sputtered.

    The lich sighed.  "Technically, yes.  I sacrificed
my humanity in order to preserve the strength and security
of this great nation.  Would you have been willing to do the
same?"

     Boatman remained speechless.

     "I thought not," Nixon said.  "You know, Kennedy asked
the Ame.rec.can people to serve their country.  And his
followers nodded and smiled, and felt good about
themselves, and went right back to smoking grass and
nailing each other in the back of their microbuses."

     Nixon lowered the skull over Anal-Retentive Archive
Kid's head.  "Me?" he said.  "I told the Ame.rec.an
people not to worry their empty heads about the world's
problems, that I'd take care of them.  And goddammit, I
did.  And if it hadn't been for that one *@#$%^&ing
burglary, I'd be up on Mount Rushmore right now."

     "Instead of being a walking corpse who's about to pour
the contents of a skull into another man's mouth?"
Occultism Kid asked.

     "Yeah, well," Nixon smiled, a thin, rueful smile.  "As
your friend is about to discover, @#$%^& happens."

     He raised the skull -- but before another drop could
fall, a streak of brilliant blue shot past the lich's
upraised arms, causing him to lose his grip on the arcane
instrument.

     "Damn bird!" Nixon muttered, as Blue Canary dive-
bombed the Dark Lord's head, his iridescent wings a blur
of motion as he remained just out of the monster's reach.
"I'll turn you into a..."

     BLAMMMMM!

     Nixon spun around, his whole body thrown off balance by
the force of the shot.  The skull fell from his hands,
grey liquid sizzling into the ground as it rolled away.

     "Who?" Nixon gasped, staggering to his feet.  "What?"

     "You failed, Richard," said a tall, gray-haired man
with a soft Southern accent, one hand clenched around the
barrel of an 18th-century dueling pistol.  "Failed to
uphold your oath to serve, honor and protect the
Constitution of the Usenetted States of Ame.rec.a."

     The man brought the barrel of the pistol down and
began to reload.  "And in so doing," he said, "you
@#$%^&ed with Jimmy Carter.  And nobody @#$%^s with
Jimmy Carter."

        *                  *                    *

                                               8:55 p.m.

     "You've got to fight it, Obnoxious Ame.rec.a Boy,"
Fearless Leader said, wishing once more that the members
of the Legion of Net.Heroes had shorter names.  "Don't
listen to whatever poison Lich Nixon is putting into your
head.  You're stronger than that."

     "I... I want to, sir," Obnoxious Ame.rec.a Boy
stammered, the pistol in his hand wavering but still
pointed directly at Fearless Leader's temple.  "It's...
it's Kennedy, sir.  He keeps saying... that you're one of
the old Establishment types.  That it's time for young blood
to take over."

     "John F. Kennedy would never say that," said Skunk
Girl, striding across the room to stand beside Fearless
Leader.

     "Stacy?" Obnoxious Ame.rec.a Boy said.  "How did you
... Kennedy says you're a..."

     "You asked me earlier today whether I liked history,"
Skunk Girl said.  "If you'd given me the chance to answer,
I'd have said no, not really -- but that I really like
literature."

     "Uh, Skunk Girl," Fearless Leader said, his position
on the floor forcing him to stare at the net.heroine's
knees.  "If you wouldn't mind..."

     "I read Kennedy's book on the flight back from
Alt.lanta with President Carter," Skunk Girl said.  "The
one where he writes about all those politicians who did
the right thing, even when everyone else in the world
told them to do something else.  Kennedy called that
courage.

     "That's the man you admire," Skunk Girl said, her
deep brown eyes staring into Obnoxious Ame.rec.a Boy's.
"That's the real John F. Kennedy -- not this monster
that Lich Nixon's been using as a puppet."

     Obnoxious Ame.rec.a Boy stared at Skunk Girl, then
at the looming figure of Zombie Kennedy, and then at the
crowd of frightened children that still surrounded him.
He turned his pistol around, handing it to Fearless Leader.

     "I believe this belongs to you sir," he said, then
turned to Skunk Girl.  "C'mon, Stacy.  Let's get these kids
out of here."

        *                  *                    *

                                        9:00 p.m.

     "You're wasting your ammunition, peanut farmer," Lich
Nixon said, as President Carter prepared to fire another
shot from Andrew Jackson's enchanted pistol.  "That gun
might be enough to stop a zombie, but it just pisses me
off."

     "I wouldn't say that's all it's doing," said Occultism
Kid, shaking the last of his chains to the floor.  "It's
given me time to get free, and it's given Obnoxious
Ame.rec.a Boy time to get all of the children out of this
chamber.  Which means I finally get to play show and tell."

     "You?" Nixon snorted.  "I've seen the little parlor
tricks you're capable of.  There's nothing in your arsenal
that can bring me down."

     "Then I'll have to draw on something from your arsenal,
Mr. President," Occultism Kid said, bringing out the reels
of recording tape he had uncovered at the Secret Library.
"Eighteen and a half minutes of your greatest hits, to
be specific."

     "What the hell is that?" Nixon said, starting forward.
President Carter fired again, filling the room with the
acrid odors of gunpowder and black magic.

     "You found a very, very old spell, Mr. President --
one so powerful it could command the gods of the underworld
themselves," Occultism Kid said, tossing the reels of tape
into the air, where they hung, several feet above the
ground.  "And you recorded yourself reading the spell.
Maybe you were afraid you might need to remember the words
later on.  Or maybe you wanted a recording of the very last
time you had a soul."

     "So you... have my tape," Lich Nixon said, shaking off
the effects of the second shot.  "What are you going to do?
Turn me in to Archie Cox?  Whose skull do you think I was
just holding?"

     "You know the thing I love about these old tapes,
Dick?" Occultism Kid said, as the twin reels began to turn.
"You can play them backwards."

     As the reels revolved, the chamber echoed with the
sound of a much younger Richard Nixon's voice, reading
slowly what appeared to be an incomprehensible babble.

    President Boatman and Anal-Retentive Archive Kid braced
themselves as the Situation Room began to shake.  Every
monitor lining the room burst into a shower of broken glass,
and something that began as a rush of wind and ended as a
kind of long, guttural moan filled the room.

    "NOOOOOOOOO!" Nixon cried, as unseen hands stripped
away his dark robes, his metal gauntlets, his decades of
unholy power.  He sank to his knees as the recording
stopped and the life drained from his stiffening body.

    He gazed up at President Carter.  "Do you know, Jim,"
he croaked, "I really thought... if I brought all of the
Presidents back... if people saw what they really were...
maybe they wouldn't think... that I was so bad."

    He closed his eyes.  "Guess you all won't have... Dick
Nixon... to kick around any..."

    Nixon slumped to the ground, a dead man in a blue suit.

        *                  *                    *
                                        9:15 p.m.

    "I'd like you to have this, son," Carter said, nudging
President Boatman, who stared in fascinated horror as
members of the Secret Service drew a sheet over Nixon's
body.

    Boatman turned to see Carter offering him the enchanted
pistol that had belonged to Andrew Jackson.

    "Oh, no," President Boatman began.  "I couldn't.  I..."

    "I don't expect to live forever," Carter said, placing
the pistol in Boatman's hands.  "And while I hate to
imagine myself as one of those... things," he said, as
agents carried past the bodies of Woodrow Wilson and
Franklin D. Roosevelt, "I've learned that anything is
possible."

     He placed his other hand around Boatman's, pressing
the younger man's hands against the gun.

     "I'd like the power to stop me -- and to save
me -- to be in the hands of someone who understands the
job," Carter said.  "How it can change a person."

     The two men looked up as Fearless Leader approached
and saluted.  "Mr. President," he began.

     "At ease," Presidents Boatman and Carter said
simultaneously.  Both men looked at each other and grinned.

     "You did a fine job today, son," President Carter
said, placing his hand on Fearless Leader's shoulder.
"Showed real leadership out there."

     "Thank you, sir, but I'm not the..." Fearless Leader
began, but Jimmy Carter shook his head.

     "Best take the compliment, son.  We don't get many in
our line of work," he said, glancing at his watch.  "I'd
better be getting back, now -- that Trilateral Commission
isn't going to run itself.  Looks like I've missed the last
train to Alt.lanta... Mr. President, with your permission?"

     "Uh, sure.  Of course," President Boatman said, as
Carter walked toward a framed painting of the signing of
the Declaration of Independence -- one of the only items in
the Situation Room that hadn't been damaged in the battle.

     Carter placed two fingers of his right hand over the
painted eyes of Benjamin Franklin.  Immediately, the
painting split in two, panels rolling back to reveal a
large, copper-colored backpack, with a Thermos-shaped
canister on either side.

     "Still here... and still fully-charged," Carter said,
fastening the straps of the device over his shoulders, and
snapping them shut across his chest.  "Thought it might have
run out of juice after Reagan took the solar panels off the
White House roof, but no."

     "Pleasure working with you, sir," Occultism Kid said,
as President Carter flipped a switch on his left shoulder
strap, and a panel on the Situation Room ceiling irised
open.  The twin jets at the bottom of his rocket pack
sputtered to life.

     "Likewise," Carter said, as he began to ascend.
"Remember, wearing a sweater saves oil -- and lives!  And
never, ever *@#$%^^ with Jimmy Carter!"

     "There you are," Anal-Retentive Archive Kid said, as
Occultism Kid watched the 39th President of the Usenetted
States rise into the night sky.  "I'm here to tell you that
you can go ahead and do your own research from now on."

     "Are you upset?" Occultism Kid asked, as emergency
workers bore Kid Recap, Particle Man and several Secret
Service agents out of the shattered Situation Room.

     "Upset?  Why on earth should I be upset?" Anal-
Retentive Archive Kid said.  "There I was, chained hand
and foot, with Lich Nixon about to pour who-knows-what
down my throat, and the all-wise master of the occult
arts is doing what?  He's sitting around making
sarcastic comments, that's what."

     "Is that all I was doing?" Occultism Kid said.
"It seems to me that somebody would have had to establish
telepathic contact with Blue Canary.  Otherwise, how would
he have known to meet up with Skunk Girl and President
Carter and lead them to where you were... what was it?
Chained hand and foot?"

     Anal-Retentive Archive Kid stared at Occultism Kid
for a moment.

     "The thing that kills me is that I'll never know
whether you really did that, or you just made all of that
up this second," Anal-Retentive Archive Kid said.  "I never
know whether to believe anything that comes out of your
mouth."

    "Good," said Occultism Kid, walking away.  "You're
learning."

        *                  *                    *

The White House Rose Garden,
Washington.gov                28 February 2011  10:00 a.m.

    "It was Thomas Jefferson who wrote, 'I set out on this
ground what I suppose to be self-evident: that the earth
belongs in usufruct to the living; that the dead have
neither powers nor rights over it," said President Barracks
Boatman, his amplified voice booming over the assembled
crowd of Congressional leaders, members of the Washington.
gov press corps, and Legionnaires on the White House lawn.

     "Now, I'm no Thomas Jefferson," Boatman began.

     "You LIE!" a Congressman screamed.  An aide bent down
to whisper in the legislator's ear.

     "Oh.  My bad," the Congressman said, a bit chastened.
"Carry on."

     "As I was saying, I'm no Thomas Jefferson," Boatman
said.  "Hell, I still have no idea what a 'usufruct' is,
and I've had three guys with Harvard degrees try to explain
it to me.  But I think I know what Jefferson was saying.
It's the same speech I used to give to the kids I coached
back in Michigan.

     "History and tradition are wonderful things," Boatman
continued.  "But ultimately, it doesn't matter how many
awards you have in your trophy case, or how many
championship banners are hanging from your rafters.  What's
important is the team you have on the field right now."

     Boatman let his gaze wander from left to right, taking
in the uniformed Fearless Leader, who stood beside him on
the stage, and the various members of the LNH, scattered in
groups of two or three throughout the lawn.

     "And I'm here to tell you," Boatman said, "that we've
got the best team -- alive or dead -- working on our side
right now."

     "You know, I think I might actually vote for that
guy," said Easily-Discovered Man Lite, as applause rained
down around the President.  Like the other Legionnaires in
attendance, he was dressed for the occasion -- which, for
Lite, meant a red velvet blazer over a tuxedo T-shirt.

     "What about you?" he asked, turning to Limp-Asparagus
Lad.  "Oh, wait -- you're Alt.stralian, right?  I don't
suppose any of your prime ministers ever come back from
the dead, do they?"

     "No, not really," said the Man of Dull, who wore a
plain gray suit.  "Although I suppose you could count
Robert Menzies..."

     "Wait, was that a joke?" Lite asked.  "Did Limp-
Asparagus Lad just tell me a joke?  Damn... I wish I'd
studied more Alt.stralian history.  Actually, I wish I
just had some way of knowing more about Alt.stralian
history without having to study it.  I really need an
iPhone...

     "Hold that thought," he said to Limp-Asparagus
Lad, who had not been on the verge of saying anything.
"There's a question that's been driving me crazy, and I
finally see the person who can answer it."

     He handed his drink to Limp-Asparagus Lad -- who
calmly dumped it into the nearest waste receptacle --
and made his way through the little maze of tables,
chairs and assembled dignitaries to where Mouse and
Particle Man were deep in conversation.

     "So I went to the President, and I asked old what's
his name," said Mouse, who -- in a blue, floor-length
gown -- had never looked less like her namesake.  "Has he
ever gotten writers' block, or something like the..."

     "Excuse me," Lite said, ignoring Mouse's acid stare.
"I hate to interrupt, but I just had to ask: How was it
possible for James K. Polk to have They Might Be Giants
powers, when he was born almost 200 years before the band
came to exist?"

     "I'll field this one," said Blue Canary, who was
wearing a tiny black tie and perched on the edge of a
wineglass.  "We know that the source of those powers has
existed for a long time.  Size-of-the-Entire-Universe Man,
for example, who transformed Person into Particle Man, has
been around for millennia."

     "Eons," Particle Man added.

     "Our best theory is that the band we know as They
Might Be Giants is a kind of avatar for the real
wellspring of that power," Blue Canary said.

     "Thanks," Lite said, picking up another drink from a
passing waiter.  "I'd been wondering about that.  Now, if
you'll excuse me, I need to find somebody with access to
the Internet."

     He wandered off, passing a small crowd of Legionnaires
admiring the vintage dress uniform and long, mutton-chop
whiskers worn by WikiBoy.

     "So what happened after Zombie Grant challenged Master
Blaster to that drinking contest?" asked Minority Miss, who
would have towered over WikiBoy even without her high heels.
"You must have felt like you were a witness to history."

     Sarcastic Lad began to speak, but Sister State-the
Obvious placed a hand over his mouth.

     "Like so much that has happened since Master Blaster
and I married each other, it was all over very quickly...
and more than a little anti-climactic," she said.

     "Turns out both Grant and Master Blaster are
lightweights when it comes to drinking," added Sarcastic
Lad, fingering the ruffles on his powder-blue tuxedo.
"They were both on the floor after three drinks."

     "And that left the zombie army without a leader,"
said Sister State-the-Obvious, who had gathered up her
red hair behind a pair of jade chopsticks.  "They ended up
nominating WikiBoy as their new commander..."

     "...because of his amazing facial hair," Sarcastic
Lad said.

     "...and he disbanded the troops and sent them back to
their graves," Sister State-the-Obvious finished.  "Then he
spent the rest of the afternoon supervising the clean-up
detail, while Sarcastic Lad sat around the bar."

     "It had been used as a super-villain headquarters!"
Sarcastic Lad protested.  "Somebody had to check if the
barstools had been booby-trapped... or the liquor had been
poisoned..."

     Minority Miss shook her head and waved to Special
Bonding Boy, who returned the gesture before continuing
his pursuit of Cynical Lass.

     "Hey!  Hold on!" said Special Bonding Boy, as Cynical
Lass sighed.  "There you are.  I've been trying to get in
touch with you ever since we got back from California."

     "Sorry about that," said Cynical Lass, who had chosen
a glittering silver off-the-shoulder dress for the ceremony.
"You wouldn't believe the paperwork that's involved with
taking down a former head of state."

     "That's what I wanted to ask you about," Special
Bonding Boy said.  "The last thing I remember, you and I
were in the middle of a crowd of Zombie Reagan's followers,
with that voice of his echoing in my head...

     "...and the next thing I know, I'm outside the Reagan
Library and his former army of zealots is arguing over
whether Sarah Palin or Michele Bachman would do a better
job dismantling the Environmental Protection Agency," said
Special Bonding Boy, trying unsuccessfully to catch Cynical
Lass' eye.  "So what the heck happened in there?"

     "Oh... it was nothing," Cynical Lass said, examining
the contents of her wineglass.  "You know how it is.  I
managed to slip past two of Reagan's goons and ran into the
museum without really looking where I was going.  I ended up
in the exhibit devoted to the First Lady."

     "I see," Special Bonding Boy said.  "And then you put
on one of Nancy Reagan's dresses, and ordered President
Reagan to take a nap."

     It was perhaps unfortunate that Cynical Lass had
chosen exactly that moment to take a sip of her
champagne, as Special Bonding Boy's comment caused the
great majority of her drink to come shooting out her nose.

     "How did you know that?" said Cynical Lass, using her
napkin to wipe the champagne from the front of Special
Bonding Boy's tuxedo.

     "Easily-Discovered Man Lite found the footage on the
security cameras at the Reagan Library," Special Bonding
Boy said.  "He's about to post the whole thing on YouTube."

     "Not with ten broken fingers, he's not," said Cynical
Lass, rolling up the sleeves of her dress and heading in
Lite's direction.  Special Bonding Boy stopped her.

     "That must have been quite an impression," he said,
"to convince even the living dead."

     Cynical Lass smirked.

     "You've never seen me in a red dress," she said.

     As she stormed across the Rose Garden lawn, Cynical
Lass passed the quiet corner where Obnoxious Ame.rec.a Boy
walked with Skunk Girl.

    "I'm surprised they even let me in here," Obnoxious
Ame.rec.a Boy said, tugging at his red bow tie.  "I put
Particle Man and Kid Recap in the hospital.  I held a gun
to Fearless Leader's head.  And I ruined any chance of us
going on another date together."

     "The parents of those children you saved thought you
deserved to be here," Skunk Girl said.  "Kid Recap and
Particle Man are fine, thanks to the Legion's terrific
health insurance policy."

     "You mean the fact that we have several healers, a
wizard, and advanced alien medical technology on hand,"
Obnoxious Ame.rec.a Boy said, then added, "I notice you
didn't mention anything about our date."

     Skunk Girl looked at the ground.

     "It's okay," Obnoxious Ame.rec.a Boy said.  "Most
people wouldn't have given me a second chance even if
they hadn't seen my brain get taken over by a
murderous zombie President.  I should really just..."

     Skunk Girl held up her hand.  "This is not about
you," she said, then sighed.

     "I like being part of this team," she said, glancing
at the various members of the LNH mingling with members of
Congress, the press and K Street lobbyists on the lawn.
"But the spotlight that we're always under... and the
intensity of our lives... seems to be especially hard
on relationships."

     She shook her head.  "People don't seem to really date
much in the LNH.  If things go well, it's almost like they
go from first date to marriage overnight," she said, looking
at Sister-State-the-Obvious, who was rolling her eyes at
something Master Blaster was saying.

     "And if they don't," she said, turning to where a
chastened-looking Easily-Discovered Man Lite stood between
a furious Cynical Lass and a smirking Mouse, "you end up
in a situation where one person always feels just a little
bit awkward around the other.  Or worse.  Sometimes having
loved and lost really isn't better than never having loved
at all."

     They both looked at Fearless Leader, who stood alone
at the edge of the stage while President Boatman and Kid
Recap chatted with Diane Sawyer.

     "I don't want to be defined by a relationship," she
said, taking Obnoxious Ame.rec.a Boy's hands in hers.  "I'm
still just learning what it means to be Skunk Girl."

     "I would never..." Obnoxious Ame.rec.a Boy began, then
slowly nodded.  "Okay.  I respect that.  But I'd like to
ask you out again, some time.  I'm a big believer in the
pursuit of happiness."

     Skunk Girl smiled.  "I admire persistence," she said.
"And I hate stalkers.  Stay on the right side of that line,
and... who knows?"

     She kissed Obnoxious Ame.rec.a Boy on the forehead,
and Fearless Leader, who had been watching the scene from
his lonely post on the White House stage, sighed.

     "Young love," he mused, as Kid Recap approached him,
communication.thingee in hand.  "It's a beautiful thing,
isn't it?"

     "Under the right circumstances," Kid Recap said.
"Speaking of which, we've just received a call from
Hoards Leather Lingerie Lass.  She says she's finally
caught up with the Zombie Bill Clinton in a Georgetown bar,
and she's getting ready to make her next move."

     "Fine, that's... hold on, Recap.  Bill Clinton can't
be a zombie.  He's alive," Fearless Leader said, grabbing
the communication device from Kid Recap's hands.  "Hello,
Hoards Leather Lingerie Lass?  Yes, this is Fearless
Leader.  No, I don't think that's a good idea.  No, I
don't think you should have agreed to do that..."

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     LEGION ROLL CALL:

     Anal-Retentive Archive Kid
     .... Saxon Brenton

     Barracks Boatman and WikiBoy.... Tom Russell

     Blue Canary and Particle Man.... H. Jameel al Khafiz

     Cynical Lass and Easily-Discovered Man Lite
     ....Rob Rogers

     Fearless Leader.... Dave Van Domelen

     Hoards Leather Lingerie Lass.... Arthur Spitzer

     Kid Recap and Occultism Kid.... Josh Geurink

     Limp-Asparagus Lad.... Robert "Mystic Mongoose"
     Armstrong, Saxon Brenton and wReam

     Master Blaster.... Robert Ramirez

     Minority Miss.... Lalo Martins

     Mouse.... Jessica Ihimaera-Smiler

     Obnoxious Ame.rec.a Boy.... Jamas Enright

     Sarcastic Lad... Gary St. Lawrence

     Sister State-the-Obvious and Special Bonding Boy
     .... wReam

     Skunk Girl.... Ted "Phantasm" Brock


     "Do you realize the responsibility I carry?  I'm the
     only person standing between Nixon and the White
     House."
          --John F. Kennedy, as quoted by Arthur Schlesinger


     "Children and Jimmy Carter can ruin your best-laid
     plans."

          --Tina Fey, _Bossypants_

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