LNH: Classic LNH Adventures #15: The Omaha Project Part Two
Arthur Spitzer
arspitzer at earthlink.net
Tue Apr 26 19:07:28 PDT 2016
In this weeks reposting of stuff you can find in the eyrie archive
https://archives.eyrie.org/racc/lnh/
we have part two of the infamous Omaha Project Cascade.
David R Henry writes Chapter Five. David didn't scribe that many
stories for the LNH, but the ones he did were pretty
amazing. His most memorable one was the Particle Man Annual
https://archives.eyrie.org/racc/lnh/Series/Particle.Man/Particle.Man.Annual.01.gz
which was the first appearance of Boy Lad (retroactively the first
LNH'r from the Golden Age). It's pretty great. You should
definitely read it if you haven't. His Omaha Project stuff
is fun too.
Chapter Six, is probably something you shouldn't read as it's
by my younger self and probably the worst thing I ever wrote
for the LNH. I mean I was in high school and I think I typed
it up in 45 minutes or so. It's not great.
And finally we have an Interlude by KM Wilcox who does a charming
homage to the movie Deliverance.
Basically, read Chapters Five and the Interlude, and skip
six. :)
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|_| OF NET.HEROES
ADVENTURES #15
=====================
The Omaha Project Part Two
=====================
=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-
Chapter 5
David R. Henry (dhenry at plains.NoDak.edu)
"What? You think I have all the answers? Go read a book, twit!"
--the Uncensored Nietzche, Phil Press
There was a gas station at the crossroads, and the car was pullling
up into it when Fading Dan lowered his binoculars and motioned to the
scarecrow.
The scarecrow nodded in the wind. Dan liked working with agreeable
partners.
The long sun left deep pools of shadow between the hills. The car
was a Pinto, and the pumps still had glass balls on top of the bodies,
rotating slowly to say "Nesso".
Dan walked right up to the screen door and let himself in. The sum
total of people who willingly drive Pintos that one has to worry about
could maybe be expressed as a rational number if you had a decent
imagination and a few hours to kill on a large processor. There was
nothing to fear here.
"C'n I help ya?" The man looked like a walking BurmaShave ad: old,
rustic, and fuzzy in a red sort of way.
"I'd like a Coke, please."
The other person in the station had some sort of white suit on, the
pockets of which he was quickly stuffing full of small lollypops.
"Sorry. Would ya like a Pepsi, instead?"
"No. I'd like a Coke, please."
The other man let out a little whinny, like a mosquito on speed.
There sure seemed to be a lot of lollypops in his coat.
"Sorry, stranger. Just got a load of Pepsi here."
Dan nodded, and adjusted his racing cap. "And, what if I tell you
that I'd really prefer a Coke?"
The storekeeper leaned forward. Dan hoped the shotgun he saw
dangling from one hand was just a hallucination. "Then I'd say you came
to the wrong damn place, stranger."
The third man, sensing that he may soon become not only unneccesary
to this conversation but largely in its way, took this moment to grab a
few more lollypops and sprinted out of the store. The bells above the
door tolled out a random off-tune ditty.
"Some of us can get Coke whenever we want to." Dan stared the man
right in the eyes. His bolo tie didn't even twitch.
"What do you think this is, goddamned America?" The shopkeeper
leaned closer.
"Sure do. Where I can walk into any establishment across this great
land of ours, and _know_ that I can get that refreshing taste. And a
smile."
The last thing apparently on any face in the area was a smile. It
felt like a Clint Eastwood convention, with more stubble.
"Some of us don't live in goddamn Coke machines." There was the sound
of a shotgun making up its mind.
Fading Dan broke out into a smile. "John Roe, how are you!" And then
they hugged.
-=-=-=-=- -=-=-=-=-
The Book of Phil is important in a number of religions, most of which
have died out when the followers come across the reference in Huul,
Chapter 4, Verses 6-10:
"The great dragon Tretchoz has so far been the only one known to
reach the Signposts. What he saw there, and what possibly could be
minding the Door, has been sealed in the Greenverse, and left to the
passing of time to know. This much he did tell, though, while having tea
at the lair of Xaddik; that if you want to see a true religion, you should
first kill all the priests who serve it. Religions which can survive this
act are either of True Origin, or else not worth worrying about. He also
brought back some new lamb recipies which made him the hit of his cragh
for some time."
Thus spake the Book the Phil.
Being the only holy book which includes instructions to kill any
priests who use it often leaves the Book of Phil in the same company with
theologists as How to See the Falklands on a Dollar A Day leaves travel
agents. Sure, it's interesting, but once you've got it, what do you do
with it?
Of course, the Book of Phil is also the only holy book to include
complete instructions on cross-stitching your own heraldic banner. It's
for reasons like these that practical people still read it.
-=-=-=-=- -=-=-=-=-
Fading Dan and John Roe sat across from each other, separated by a
homemade table made from driftwood and about sixty years of conflicting
principles. The table was covered with adorable little doilies of
checkered print, on which a tea service had been set out. The principles
were just covered with faulty excuses and a bit of guilt; nothing special,
just homemade like anyone else's.
They were talking like old friends, which they weren't, and acting
like two old companions who hadn't seen each other in years, which they
were. None of them mentioned the large, slip-covered volume propping open
the back door.
"Man oh man. Fading Dan. Still around, huh?" Roe let out a chuckle
as he slipped into his chair.
"Of course." The tea sent spirals of steam up to frame his face.
Dan didn't touch the cup.
"You are one old... yeah, I shoulda figured you'd be around now.
Makes sense."
Dan smiled. "Well, it's not like I had a lot of choice." That was a
lie. Fading Dan always had a choice. He followed the rules, and by doing
so gained all the choices he could ever want.
Roe laughed at the implied joke. "That's straight. Damn straight!
How's my brother doing, anyway? Little Richard?"
Richard Roe was the real name of Never-Heard-of-Before Boy, one of
the Intangible Legion. John had been a member back when Boy Lad was still
around. He still was, actually. The reason he was all the way out here
in Net.braska was because of his powers. He was Haven't-Seen-You-In-A-
Long-Time Lad.
"Okay." That was another lie. "He's trying to foster closer ties to
the main Legion."
"Hell, you've never been one much for politics, Dan." Roe leaned
back and turned on an old stereo. Vacuum tubes hissed and hummed.
"Well, that's for sure."
"Heh. Talkative as ever, ain'tcha?" Roe looked at him hard. The
radio chewed the air for awhile, like clearing its throat, and then tried
humming a tentitive piano tune. "What you doing here, Dan? It can't just
be my power working."
Dan looked at Roe. The best sign of their differences was that he
was able to lie this much to him and not feel a thing about it. He
wondered how Roe thought about that.
The window was suddenly much more interesting to look at. "Listen,
John... have you seen..." Dan waited for the words to come. Nobody
applied for the job. "I'm looking for a door."
Roe let out a low whistle. "Whew, neighbor. Ain't got none around
here."
Dan crossed over to him. "Listen, normally I wouldn't go to you for
information. You know that, you know it's just not right. But I've got a
hint from... a source, and I'm worried about another infestation."
"What do you want me to do about it?" Roe's shotgun lay like a
promised wound on the counter.
"It's not that there's one that I'm worried about. It's that
apparently there's something called the Omaha Project. And if they're
right on top..."
"Of all the goddamn things you come here for, you want me to go on a
shade hunt? No way. No goddamn way."
"John, sit down. I said 'if' they're right on top. If there's a
door. If they really are on top of a shadedump. If we can't do what we
usually do..."
Roe smiled. It was a scary thing, like a glacier on speed, but once
it got caught up to the rest of his face nothing could stop the pressure.
"...and get some other people to do our dirty work."
"We're the Intangibles, dammit..."
"...and we know what's good for the rest of you. I'll see what I can
do. Partner."
Dan ignored the dig. He headed out under the bells, confusing the
radio with their contrary ringings.
Fading Dan headed out along the state highway, waiting for a ride to
thumb. Halfway along the curve from the station, he saw a Pinto ditched
off the road, almost toppled over in its momentum. Blood was pooling
under the growing shadows. A meadowlark looked on from the top of a
prairie stem.
Plunging halfway through the windshield, its face a gleeful mask of
destruction, the scarecrow had wrapped its hands around the driver's
throat. Lollypops dropped out of his pocket one by one, and rolled along
the ground, leaving a twisting trail of blood behind them.
Dan moved on into the night. Being a superhero meant somebody else
had to actually bother writing the headlines.
He hoped this would all be over quickly.
=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-
Chapter 6
Arthur Spitzer (arthur-rvelks at nova.novanet.org)
In a very high skyscraper building (you know the one's that are so
high you have always wonder how much damage would this dime cause if I
dropped it??) somewhere in Net.ropolis, a nervous middle-aged man with a
bow-tie bustles past doors unaware that today his mere self will choose
THE FATE OF THE ENTIRE LOONIVERSE!!! (of course he would have known that
if had known I was writing this story had he known of course he would
probably either have quit or at the very least asked for more money).
The man had never been in this part of the building before, but then
he also had never been given the duty to send a message to the head
honcho, the big guy, the boss. And now he was a few feet from the door.
For a brief minute he thought about leaving, maybe becoming a super hero
called Nervous Middle-Aged Man Boy... no he thought ...this orgin would
just be to stupid. He would just have to face the wrath of who ever
happened to be in that room. He opened the door.
"Umm ..hello..sir..??"
"Yes?" a voice from a lightless corner in the way back spoke. The
room was very dim, with only a tiny amount of light coming from a few open
cracks in the shades. The room was filled with exotic plants, pictures,
plush carpeting and furniture. It was the kind of room that you wonder
what would happen to you if you had this big pitcher of grape juice and
you ...Well anyways in the middle far end of the room stood a giant marble
desk. Sitting at the desk was a silhouetted form.
"Well..uh sir.."
"Hold it right there son...what's that on your tie!!"
The nervous man quickly looked down like the devil himself. There
was nothing unusual about his tie. "Sir, I don't under..."
"Haha GOTCHA!!...haha somethimes my own ingenious even surprises
myself...could Norman Rockefellor have done that son..?? I think not..now
what's that you have to say..??"
"Uh well sir.." the man said still confused.
"No needs for sir son...you can call me by my first name son...
Mister Paprika."
The NM (nervous man) said, "Sure whatever you say Mister Paprika," he
wasn't about to question his boss with the fact that Mister Paprika is two
names not one. "We just got a disturbing report from Net.braska... about
certain individuals that have started to nose about our operation...
characters that are wearing weird flashy costumes...."
"ELVIS IMPERSONATORS?!??!!"
"Uh..I was talking more on the grounds of LNH'res..."
"Phhewww...you had me scared for a second.."
"Boss..I mean MP (Mister Paprika...god I'm getting lazy)...the
intrusions by these LNH'rs are making our scientist nervous ...some are
already feeling uneasy about messing around with that weird power source
tm ...they think you're crazy to use it and think that it should be filled
with dirt..."
"I don't care what they think...people have never understood my
genius...people are Stupid...and that's why people didn't buy New Coke..
because they were Stupid..."
"Uh Boss??", NM said slowly backing towards the door.
"Didn't you know...New Coke was my idea...and because people were
stupid those morons at Coca-Cola company fired me ...when they should have
made me President..those fools ...do you see that picture up there??", he
says pointing towards a picture of a sock with a sort of halo around it.
"That is Wondersock. Probably the most brilliant invention ever invented
and it was mine...and you know what out of the hundred thousand or so that
were manufactured ONLY 10 AND A HALF SOLD!!!"
"Well..uh.." NM said taking out and arming himself with one of his
pencils just in case.
"Of course it was all the advertisers fault on that one...they bought
advertising space on some flea-bitten publication called JONG..those
advertisers got theirs though *evil hysterical laughter* and once my plans
get rolling JONG will get its just deservers too *more ehv (evil
hysterical laughter)*"
"And that is why I need to continue the work with the power source
to create my greatest invention... Ultimate Mister Paprika..."
The NM let out a gasp. "Ultimate Mister Paprika?? Is t-the world
ready for such a thing...??!"
"Maybe not ..but they will be."
"How do you know people will buy it ..I mean sure Mister Paprika is
the leading soft drink...but.."
"There have been taste tests..besides this time I have a plan. A
plan that will not only switch a few more to the great taste (and less
filling of MP), but will convert everyone in the Looniverse!!!"
The NM lets our another gasp. "I finally get it now I never really
understood at first why a soft drink manufacturer would need thousands of
super human trained assassins, ninjas and other mercenaries on the payroll
or enough tanks and military equipment enough to take over a medium sized
nation and placing them all in Net.braska...but now it finally hits me...
He who controls the brand soft drink of a man controls that man...He who
controls the brand soft drink of the universe...Controls the universe..My
god this isn't just some simple product revamp..this is a plot for a
takeover of the Looniverse!!!"
"Haha finally you have caught on...and you will be in a better
position in this new order..than you are now...if you agree full loyalty
to me..."
"This is madness...surely you realize that the cosmic powered and big
time supervillains like Acton Lord, and Master Workload won't stand for
this!!!"
"They are just pawns of the writers..."
"Who?"
"The one's who write the stories...like one of my minions is doing
right now. Writers can be bought off fairly easy and cheaply."
"You own a writer??" the NM said dumbfounded.
"Of course...in fact more than one..several in fact..In fact I
estimate in a couple or so weeks I will have acquired all of the
alt.comics.lnh authors and characters, you see I've had this special
place in my heart for the LNH. You see that comic up there..That is Boy
Lad #1...My...father bought it for me..."
The NM could see a tear glisten out of the old madman's eye.
Maybe...just maybe.
"Did you know that Superman wasn't the very first super hero to
appear in a comic?..ohno that's far from the truth..Boy Lad #1 appeared
months before Action Comics #1..not many people know that because Boy Lad
just wasn't abig seller...a few years later it went bankrupt...I bought
all the issues though and when it stopped...It became my crusade to see it
in print again." His face looked like it was reflecting to a happier more
joyful time...if you can say a silhoutted face can reflect that is. But
his face quickly went to the present, "*Sigh* how foolish I was back then
..now I realize that no one wants to buy a comic filled with cartoonish
like art good guy's battling bad guy's...they want heroes with bulging
muscles and big breasts..they want blood and guts..and more breasts..and
that's why I plan to buy aclnh..I mean have you seen Sing-Along-Lass's
breasts..I mean they aren't even big enough to be considered mountains in
Florida.."
"But she's still a child!!"
"Nevertheless things will have to change when my incredible genius
takes over aclnh..
"You fool..you still don't get it...Haven't you read any LNH titles
lately...there is constant reference to Mister Paprika..LNH'rs across the
country now as we speak are chuggin a Mister Paprika ...*EHV*"
"Why are you telling me all this..your whole plan and stuff..??"
"Oh I'm just suffering from that James Bond villain disease I guess
...anyways this has been a nice chat..now move along..I need to make a
phone call and I have a lot of ranting and raving to catch up on..
Hopefully I have convinced you of my cause..."
-=-=-=-=- -=-=-=-=-
The NM was glad to get out of that room. He was confused. He wanted
to just go home, chug a Mister Paprika, and forget the whole episode
happened. But no he couldn't just lie back he was now right in the middle
of a story that had the potential to be an incredibly long and rather
painful cross-over entrenched epic. No he couldn't let something like
that happen again..he had to go back in there, repeatedly stab his boss
with a pencil and end this story right now. But some mystical force led
him to the phone in the hallway. "No...I shouldn't do this...but I have
to..Hello ", he said after he dialed, "Is this the LNHHQ, it is..good I
need to speak to someone..this is an emergency..." The NM life however is
cut short as a giant piano flattens him to the ground (Yeah I know it's a
cliched death).
-=-=-=-=- -=-=-=-=-
Net.braska - The land of corn
Nearby a cornfield two lookouts each wearing the Mister Paprika
emblem on their uniforms spy on a man and an eagle who are near the
crater. One of them takes out a radio device that appears to be trying to
reach him.
"Look-out post 1 do you read??"
"Are you saying I'm illit...oh yeah I do..sorry."
"Are the intruders still there??"
"Yep"
"MP wishes them dead...Do it quickly..over."
"This isn't exactly witty dialogue now is it...nevermind..they're
toast..over and out."
"Get your gun loaded Max those interlopers over yonder have just
become in season."
-=-=-=-=- -=-=-=-=-
A few miles away in, you guesses it, another cornfield three men
stand next to a Peril Room in the middle of a corn field. One of them a
man who hasn't been seen since the early 40's.
-=-=-=-=- -=-=-=-=-
As Gel is leaving the theater with Vari he notices the Mister Paprika
billboard is being modified by diligent painters. The slogan that used to
read "Now, that's a carbon-based life form's pop!" has been changed to
"Now, that's a carbon-based life form's Ulitmate pop!"
The stage is set ...let the chaos begin....
-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-
Interlude
K. M. Wilcox (kmwilcox at iastate.edu)
As the sun began its slow climb in the eastern sky, the four young
men piled into the Pinto, and their Spring Break officially began. Doug
Appet, Phil Ditwith, Sam Ent, and Bill Taunthatt were ready to spend their
week away from Southern Iowa Community Kollege (sic) skiing in the
Colorado Rockies. Within minutes, they were on the interstate heading
west.
"Remember, guys, that when I bring a cute snow-bunny to the room, you
gotta clear out," Sam told the others.
Phil released his seatbelt and turned around in his seat to face Sam.
"And what if I get a girl before you?" he asked.
"Then we won't have to worry, 'cause it'll mean the world's ended,"
Doug quipped. "Now turn around and fasten your seatbelt. I don't wanna
get pulled over again." Phil reluctantly sat back down. "Now let's get
some tunage."
Phil reached for the radio when Bill leaned forward. "I got my
harmonica," he offered.
"No!" the others shouted in unison, and Sam yanked Bill back into the
back seat.
-=-=-=-=- -=-=-=-=-
"Why did we have to hit Ohm.aha at rush hour?" Doug complained. He
peered back over his shoulder, but there was no opening. "Move it,
people!" he shouted in frustration, slamming a fist on the dashboard.
"I'd hate to see how you'd react in Chicago," Sam laughed.
"Uh oh," Bill whispered. "Uh, guys, I gotta go."
"Not now," Doug whined.
Phil finished his can of Crystal Pepto and dropped it on the floor
with the others. "That's not such a bad idea," he chuckled guiltily.
"Fine," Doug relented. "I missed the turn anyway, so at the next
exit we'll stop. Then I can try to get us going in the right direction."
The Pinto got off the interstate and pulled into a gas station. Bill
and Phil jumped out and raced inside. Doug turned around to face Sam.
"We'd better go while we're here, too," he declared.
Sam started out of the car when he spotted a convertible pulling
alongside the pumps. "Um, I don't have to go," he told Doug. "I'll wait
out here."
Doug looked over at the convertible and at the blonde behind the
wheel and nodded knowingly. "Just remember that as soon as the rest of us
are ready, we're back on the road." Sam nodded and sidled over toward the
other car.
-=-=-=-=- -=-=-=-=-
Once outside Ohm.aha, the traffic thinned considerably, and the Pinto
began making good time. Doug had decided to take a mid-day nap, and Phil
was driving.
"Get Doug's AB/CD tape out of the glove compartment," he told Bill.
Bill started to get it when a giant shadow fell across the Pinto.
"What was that?" Sam yelled. The three awake men poked their heads
out their windows to see a strange plane fly into the distance. After it
disappeared, they sat back in the car, and the Pinto was on its way again.
-=-=-=-=- -=-=-=-=-
The afternoon sun shone down on the Pinto as it raced along the
otherwise empty interstate. Doug had been asleep for a few hours now, and
the others had put a pillow over his head when he started snoring near
Lincolnet. Phil was still driving, Bill was sitting in the back reading
and munching some stale chips, and Sam was beginning to shift
uncomfortably in his seat.
"Guys, could you pull over?" he asked. "I gotta go really bad."
Bill laughed. "You should've gone back in Ohm.aha," he told Sam.
"Now you'll just have to hold it." Sam glared back at him.
"Can you wait one minute?" Phil asked. "There's an exit up ahead,
and it's about time we filled the tank anyway." Sam nodded reluctantly.
The Pinto left the interstate, but there didn't seem to be a gas
station at the exit. "Where is it?" Sam whined.
"I saw a sign," Phil said. "There's a town over that way. It's
probably there." He turned the wheel, and the Pinto turned right onto a
narrow highway. As they neared the town, they noticed a steadily
increasing number of ancient ramshackle dwellings along the road. Sitting
outside the huts were men and women almost as old and at least as
decrepit.
"I'm not sure I like this," Sam whispered, slowly rolling up his
window. "Maybe it's just me, but everybody looks related."
"It's only a small town," Bill said.
"Shut up," Sam told him. "You're from Chicago; you don't know
anything. I'm not so sure I need to go all that bad anymore."
"There's the gas station," Phil interjected. Ahead of them was the
station, a run-down wooden building with a lone red pump in front. On the
porch was a boy sitting in a rocking chair. Phil stopped by the pump, and
Sam ran into the building.
Bill casually stepped out of the car to stretch his legs and noticed
that the boy had a harmonica. He took his own from his pocket and played
a few notes. Suddenly, he was pushed aside by Sam, who rushed past him
and around the corner of the building. Bill glanced at the boy, who played
a few notes of his own. Bill played a few more, and the boy played a few
more. Then the two began to play at the same time, and Phil watched in
amusement.
A couple minutes later, Sam returned. "What's happening?" he asked
Phil.
"They're jamming on harmonicas," Phil answered.
"That ain't it," a voice objected behind them. They turned to see a
withered old man. "They're havin' a duel."
"A what?" Phil yelled.
"A duel," the man coughed. "And yer friend sounds like he's losin'."
"Losing?" Sam stammered. "What happens if he loses?"
"Harmonica duels're to the death," the man laughed. "It's his own
fault. Petey ain't never lost. He's a regular progeny."
"Death?" Sam and Phil screamed in unison. Around them, a crowd had
gathered to watch the duel. Meanwhile, Bill continued to play ignorantly.
"Yup," an old woman told them. "Ain't had a good duel in years.
After we string up yer friend, any of you wanna try?"
"No thanks," Sam whispered. "Bill didn't know this was a duel to the
death. He just likes to play harmonica."
"Then he's gonna be su'prised, ain't he?" someone laughed.
"Well, we could take somethin' else," the woman offered. "That's a
mighty fine car."
Phil and Sam looked around at the motley mob which had assembled. "I
never liked Bill much," Phil quipped.
"We got any choice?" Sam asked.
"Nope."
-=-=-=-=- -=-=-=-=-
"I still say I was better," Bill moaned, kicking a pebble.
"I don't think it mattered," Sam told him. Just then a car
approached and he held out his thumb.
"I can't believe it," Phil whined. "We were going to spend a lovely
week skiing, and now we're reduced to hitchhiking along the interstate.
They even kept all our stuff...."
"Doug!" the three scream.
-=-=-=-=- -=-=-=-=-
Doug rolled over and opened his eyes to find himself face-to-face
with a very grizzled old woman. "Ah!" he screamed. "Please don't kill
me!"
The woman just laughed. "We ain't never killed anybody in this
town."
"Then what am I doing here?" Doug asked. "Where're the others?"
"They gave us the car," she answered. "Guess they forgot 'bout ya."
"Figures," Doug sighed.
-=-=-=-=- -=-=-=-=-
Doug sat back in the hot tub as the young woman across from him
rubbed his feet. "Oh, that's good," he giggled.
Just then, an old couple in oversized ski gear came out onto the
deck. "Hello, Doug, Gina," the old man said.
"Grandaddy!" Gina cooed. "Have fun on the slopes?"
"We had a great time," he told her. "Doug, you need to get some
smaller friends."
-=-=-=-=- -=-=-=-=-
Still hiking along the interstate, Phil, Sam, and Bill held out their
thumbs as yet another car passed them by.
-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-
==========
Next Week: More Corn Field Action in -- Part Three of the OMAHA PROJECT!
==========
Arthur "Same Classic Channel. But Same Time? Probably not." Spitzer
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