LNH/NTB: Classic LNH Adventures #194: Beige Midnight Part Thirty

Arthur Spitzer arspitzer2 at gmail.com
Sun Mar 28 14:09:43 PDT 2021

You can sift through the racc list archive
or you can try google groups racc for the thirtieth part of Beige Midnight.

Here's the first quarter of issue #10 -- PLANET
MUHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHH!!!!!!!!!! 'Absolute Mite'. Joining me (Arthur Spitzer)
this time is Rockin' Rob Rogers with one of his hilarious (as always) top
ten lists.  And as Occultism Kid tries to fight his way out of the Insanity
Gauntlet -- will one of these top ten scenarios be the Ultimate Ending for
the Mite VS Lite showdown?  Or will we get a more lackluster Arthur Spitzer
style ending to this?

Find out in (well, okay probably upcoming issues -- not this one.  But
enjoy the Rob Rogers writing in this one!)

             | |      Classic			
             | |                      =
             | |      ____    ____    _    ____    ___
             | |__   | [] |  | [] |  | |  | [] |  | _ \  

             |____|   \__]    \__ |  |_|   \__/   |_|\_\
                                |_|  OF NET.HEROES

                                    ADVENTURES #194

                       Beige Midnight Part Thirty

[Cover:  Occultism Kid; wielding the Insanity Gauntlet, Ring of Retcon, 
and Cosmic Plot device; sits on a throne made of albino porcupines. 
Standing on each side of him are Mynabird and Easily-Discovered Man 
Lite.  Both of them are dressed in lobster outfits and both pour maple 
syrup on Occultism Kid's crown made up of 58.5 grilled cheese crisps. 
Occultism Kid looks straight at the reader with an insane gleam in his 
eyes and cackles madly a speech balloon that reads, 
'Muhahahahhahahahahahahhah!!!!!!!"  On the bottom of the page is bold 
text that reads, 'Absolute Mite!']

Easily-Discovered Man Lite.  Easily-Discovered Bran Mite.  Two titans of 
the online world, locked in a feud that has spanned decades (even if 
only one of the pair is actually aware of it).  What will happen when 
the unstoppable farce meets the immovable objector?  We have no idea, 
but it surely won't be any of these...



      Bruised, battered, his eyes swollen shut from multiple beatings, 
Easily-Discovered Man Lite reeled as the Easily-Discovered Bran Mite 
gloated in triumph.

      "Had enough, Lite?" the Mite cackled.

      "Do not give up, Lite!" shouted the sidekick's aged mentor, 
Easily-Discovered Man.  "Remember... you need only look within yourself 
for the strength to prevail!"

      "You can take 'em, Lite!" cried the breathtaking Cynical Lass. 
"And by the way, I'm carrying your baby!"

      "Hit 'em one for me, Lite!" called Lite's ragamuffin sidekick, the 
blind, one-legged Depression-era newsboy Easily-Discovered Man Lite, Junior.

      "Can't... fight... any... longer," Lite gasped, his feet splaying 
beneath him.  "Shouldn't... have... stayed... up... playing... Arkham 
City... last night..."

      "Good-bye, Lite," the Mite sneered, targeting the staggering hero 
with a wicked-looking his weapon.

      "Nooooo!" Cynical Lass screamed, as Lite finally gave in to his 
pain.  He fell... crushing his tiny foe beneath him in the process.

      The soundtrack soared.  Fireworks sparkled overhead.  A young 
nurse and a World War II-era sailor embraced in the street.

     "He did it!" Cynical Lass cheered.  "He did it!"

     "What?" Easily-Discovered Man Lite, Junior asked, as a trio of jets 
roared overhead.  "Who did what?  Somebody want to tell me what the 
*@#$%^&? just happened?"


      "So... you've wanted to kill me for 20 years?" asked Lite, the 
sunlight glinting on his mirrored sunglasses.

      "Twenty years," the Easily-Discovered Bran Mite said.  "Two years 
to construct my impregnable Mynabird armor... and twelve years to 
sequence, clone and grow an Allosaurus!"

      "Holy mother of @#$%^&!" Lite said, as the thirty-foot carnosaur 
in question burst from a trapdoor beneath the stage, tossed his mighty 
head in the air, and roared.

      In the distance, a trio of attractive women began to gyrate in 
time to a Metallica song.

      "Then another two years to build this giant, transforming mecha," 
Mite crowed, as a vast, heavily-armed, thoroughly impractical two-legged 
mechanoid stomped its way through the chamber.

      "And another two years to train the Allosaurus to operate the 
mecha," the Mite said, as the multi-ton meat-eater leaped into the 
cockpit of the machine, its roar muffled as the glass casing snapped 
shut around it.

      "That's only 18 years," Lite pointed out.

      "Allosauruses are notoriously difficult to housebreak," the Mite 
said, as the mighty theropod hung its head in shame.  "But no matter! 
For now... now, at long last, I will utterly destroy you!"

      "Yeah.  About that," Lite said, twisting a button on his belt, as 
the pounding soundtrack rose in volume.  "You really should have gone 
with training Deinonychii.  For one thing, they're a lot more 
intelligent, and easier to train.  For another..."

      Lite's hair rippled in the wind, as several brightly-colored 
vehicles -- a tank, a hovercraft, a jet, a helicopter and a 
shuttlecraft, each piloted by one of the hissing dromaeosaurs -- burst 
and blasted their way into the chamber, causing much of the furniture to 

      "...they're pack animals, which makes them really good at 
coordinating their efforts," Lite continued, as the five 
dinosaur-piloted vehicles linked together, becoming the arms, legs, 
torso and head of a rainbow-colored robot.

      "So be it," the Mite said, his words all but drowned out by a 
crescendo of Metallica as the two dinosaur-driven machines rushed at 
each other in a visual spectacle that would be all but incomprehensible 
to any audience that lacked the ability to watch it in slow-motion. 

      "Whatever," Lite said, walking out through one of the jagged, 
robot-created holes in the chamber wall.


      "So you've really pursued me for twenty years?"  Easily-Discovered 
Man Lite asked.

      "I had to," the Easily-Discovered Bran Mite confessed, the late 
afternoon sun illuminating every detail of his finely-muscled thorax. 
"From the moment I first saw you, I..."

      "Yes?" Lite asked, drawing closer.

      "Damn it!" the Mite shouted, pounding two of his fists into the 
chamber wall and turning away for a moment.  When at last he returned 
his gaze to Lite, all eight of his eyes were rimmed with tears.

      "I wish I could quit you," he whispered, as the two embraced 


     "So you've been pursuing me for twenty years?" Easily-Discovered 
Man Lite asked.  "And you managed to steal away from me the girl I've 
secretly loved since boyhood, although I've never been able to confess 
my feelings to her, for no particularly good reason?"

      "Yes," the Easily-Discovered Bran Mite said.  "But it was all the 
result of a wacky misunderstanding."

      "Well, that's that then," Lite said, picking up a tambourine. 
"Nothing left to do, but... DANCE!"

      Lite, the Mite, and the other members of the cast -- including 
some members of the LNH and several of Mite's minions apparently killed 
in the previous battle and a group of bare-midriffed bhangra dancers who 
appeared out of nowhere -- immediately began an 
elaborately-choreographed dance number, with the high, thin voice of the 
Easily-Discovered Bran Mite soaring over the soundtrack...


     "Here's something I've never understood," Easily-Discovered Man 
Lite said, looking up from his pasta primavera as Journey's "Don't Stop 
Believin'" began to play on the restaurant's jukebox.

     "The song says 'Some will win.  Some will lose.  Some are going to 
sing the blues,' " Lite continued, twirling his fork in the plate of 
pasta.  "But that seems unnecessarily redundant.  Wouldn't the people 
singing the blues be, of necessity, the losers?  Or is the song trying 
to say that by choosing to sing the blues, they -- despite having 
experienced a loss -- cease to become losers, thanks to the 
transformative power of art?"

      The door to the restaurant opened.  Lite looked up.

      The scene faded to black.


     "I just realized something," said Cynical Lass.  "I'm a human 
being, and you're a... well, something like a bug.  I just have to step 
on you, and then all the buggy goodness inside of you will come oozing 
out, and I can go back to doing whatever it was I was doing before you 
started threatening my life."

      "Hold on," said the Easily-Discovered Bran Mite, making a "time 
out" sign with two of its tiny legs.  "Where is Easily-Discovered Man 
Lite?  The whole point of this showdown -- indeed, the whole point of 
the last two decades of my life -- is to give me a chance to destroy my 
most hated foe."

      "I told Lite to hit the showers," Cynical Lass said, putting her 
hands on her hips.  "What this scene needs is the presence of a strong, 
powerful female character -- or at least a male comic book fan's fantasy 
of what a strong, powerful female character would be like."

      "Fair enough," the Mite said.

      "And now to commence with the squooshing," Cynical Lass said, 
raising her boot.

      "Hold on," the Mite said.  "Why is it that I'm the antagonist in 
all of these endings?  Easily-Discovered Man Lite destroyed my 
girlfriend, my children, and my civilization -- and even if you want to 
argue that he's ignorant of having committed those crimes, surely his 
reckless disregard for the lives of others has to be taken into account?"

      Cynical Lass wavered, her foot hanging in the air.

      "And besides," the Mite said, "I'm part of the 99 percent."

      "Ninety-nine percent of what?" Cynical Lass asked.

      "Of the things that live on the human body," the Mite said.  "Lite 
is supposed to be our host... but has he ever offered us a welcome 
reception?  A Christmas card?  Even a form letter would show some 

      "Now that you mention it," she said, "he never even offered to 
give me a cut of the bonus check he's receiving for appearing in this 
series of ending scenes.  He really is kind of selfish, isn't he..."

      BLAM!  BLAM!

      "Hah!" said Neil Patrick Harris, emerging from a nearby shrubbery 
with a smoking pistol in each hand.  He returned the weapons to holsters 
on either side of his waist, stared down at the fallen bodies of the 
Easily-Discovered Bran Mite and Cynical Lass, and began to sing.

      "I shot you both dead!  Yes, I shot you both dead!
      You thought you'd kill each other, but I blasted
      you instead!
      I used all my cunning
      You never saw it coming
      I pulled out my pistols and filled you with lead
      Yes, I shot you both deaaaaad!"


     "And now," the Easily-Discovered Bran Mite said, "at long last, 
Lite... I will have my revenge!"

     "Hold on!" said a tall, bearded man in a sailor's outfit, a green 
parrot perched on his shoulder.

     "It's Shipwreck(TM)" cried Easily-Discovered Man Lite and the 
Easily-Discovered Bran Mite simultaneously.

     "Kids, having a vendetta is appropriate if you're a member of an 
organized crime family, a character in a Shaw Brothers martial arts 
film, or a member of the Republican Party," the sailor began.

     "Rawk!  GOP," the parrot added.

     "But a blood feud is a very, very serious thing -- and should only 
be entered into for the most important reasons, like if your best friend 
shacks up with the love of your life the minute you get your orders to 
ship out."

     "Rawk!  Bust a cap in his ass," the parrot said.

     "Now I know," the Bran Mite said.

     "And knowing is half the... Waitaminute," Lite said.  "What's a 
member of America's top-secret special missions anti-terrorist forces 
doing handing out life lessons to children, instead of fighting in Iraq 
or Afghanistan?"

     "Rawk!  'Don't ask, don't tell' is a bitch," the parrot said.

     "You be quiet, Polly," the sailor grumbled.

     "And what kind of name is 'Shipwreck' for an elite sailor?" the 
Bran Mite asked.  "That's like calling America's top astronaut 'The 
Challenger.' "

      "Ouch.  Too soon," Lite said.

      "Too soon?  Are you serious?  It's been more than twenty-five 
years since..." the Mite began.

      BLAM!  BLAM!

      "Hah!  Didn't expect to see me again, did you?" said Neil Patrick 
Harris, as Lite and Mite toppled to the ground.

      "Thanks," Shipwreck began, before Neil Patrick Harris fired again. 
  The sailor crumpled to the floor.

      "Bet you didn't expect that, either?  Yeah!" the actor said. 
"LNH-20 universe need a new Pointless Death Man?  I'm the guy.  You with 
me, Polly?"

      "Rawk!" the parrot said, settling onto Neil Patrick Harris' 
shoulder and making a "V" with one wing.  "Peace out, mother*@#$%^ers."


      "And now, Easily-Discovered Man Lite, I... Wait!  What the hell is 
that?" the Easily-Discovered Bran Mite asked.

      "You mean the fact that both of our features look distorted and 
googly, like we were guest-starring in an episode of 'Teen Titans?' " 
Lite asked.

      "No.  I took that as an attempt to curry favor with a younger, 
manga-reading fan base," the Mite said.  "I mean the red line and row of 
cartoon hearts that appeared over your head the minute I threatened you."

      "Hey!  You've got one too!" Lite said.  "I think it's supposed to 
look like the health meter that would show up in boss rounds during 
those old-school video games from the 1990s."

      "Seriously?" the Mite asked, craning his thorax upward to look at 
the line of hearts above his head.  "So the target demographic for this 
ending is people who are young enough to read and appreciate manga and 
anime, but old enough to remember playing 8-bit games?  Exactly how many 
people do they think are in hat particular audience?"

      "About as many as want to read a heartwarming romance in which the 
hero cheats on his girlfriend," muttered a young Asian girl, strolling 
past the two deadly foes.

      "This blows," Lite said.  "Harris, why don't you come out here and 
end this right now?"

      "Man," said Neil Patrick Harris, his long face grown even longer 
as he emerged from the bushes.  "It's no fun if you guys expect it."


     "At last I have you dead to rights, Easily-Discovered Man Lite," 
the Easily-Discovered Bran Mite said.

     "So it would appear," Lite said, his hands jammed into the pocket 
of his hooded sweatshirt.  "But there's something you hadn't considered."

      "You mean the fact that none of this is real?  That we're living 
in a fictional universe?" the Bran Mite said.  "Or perhaps that you had 
anticipated my super-secret plan ... and having done so, created an even 
more secret and elaborate plan to defeat me?  Or that the words that 
we're speaking, even now, are all part of an ancient Aztec spell 
designed to bring the products of our imagination to life?"

      "Yes.  And no," Lite said.  "You see, I counted on you knowing all 
of that... just as I counted on you knowing that I am no mere sidekick, 
but the avatar of a universal force linking all of those things that are 
easily-discovered.  Including you."

      "Naturally," the Bran Mite said, fanning his face with a copy of 
the Mid.Net Star in a subtle yet pointed reference to his first 
appearance in an obscure comic more than two decades ago.

      "But what you didn't expect... was that I was not 
Easily-Discovered Man Lite at all, but actually... Easily-Discovered 
Man!" the boy declared, removing a lifelike latex mask to reveal the 
wrinkled, yet glowing face of the net.hero.

      "Ingenious!" the Mite said.  "And yet, I too have a secret, old 
man.  I knew that you could not possibly be Easily-Discovered Man 
Lite... because I AM!"

      "Truly this is a web of deception like none other," said 
Easily-Discovered Man, as he faced his sidekick.  "And that web extends 
further than you know, Lite.  For know that I am not Easily-Discovered 
Man after all... but in reality," he added, tearing a second mask aside, 
"Legion of Net.Heroes author Arthur Spitzer!"

      "So your 'death' at the hands of the Beige Clock Tower was merely 
a ruse!" Lite said, reaching up to remove his own mask.  "Of course, _I_ 
knew that... for I am, in reality, Saxon Brenton... the LNH author who 
established 'Arthur Spitzer' as a pen name!"

      "Only one person could know that," said 'Arthur Spitzer,' using a 
rag to remove the make-up from his face.  "And that's the young boy in 
whose imagination not only the Legion of Net.Heroes, but 
rec.arts.comics.creative, the Usenet and even the Internet itself 
exists... Andrew Perron!"

      "Of course I knew that," said the false Saxon Brenton, switching 
off the hologram watch he wore at his wrist.  "For I, too, am Andrew 

      "We are all Andrew Perron!" said every other member of the cast, 
dropping their own disguises... and turning to stare directly at the 


     "And so here we are at last, Easily-Discovered Man Lite," intoned 
the Easily-Discovered Bran Mite, who had donned his best velvet jacket 
and bow tie for the occasion.  "As you can see, I've captured everyone 
who might possibly rescue you at the last second -- Easily-Discovered 
Man, Cynical Lass, even Neil Patrick Harris -- and placed them in a cage 
that even now sways above a pit filled with molten asparagus and 
man-eating African horseflies."

      "You fiend!" Easily-Discovered Man shouted.

      "Horseflies?  Seriously?" Cynical Lass asked.  "Was it that hard 
to come by a tank filled with piranha?  Is that really so much to ask?"

      "Molten asparagus was not in the contract," Neil Patrick Harris 
said.  "This is starting to look like a really bad career move."

      "But I'm going to give you a chance, Lite.  The chance you never 
gave my girlfriend... or my children... or any of my people.  The chance 
to save the ones you love."

      "I'm actually kind of lukewarm on Neil Patrick Harris," Lite said. 
  "He did shoot me in one of these endings, after all.  Although I liked 
him in 'Stark Raving Mad,' so I guess that makes up for it."

      "Before you stands a microphone.  A stage.  And three judges who 
will determine your fate," the Mite said, as a spotlight illuminated 
three faces in the dark.  "May I present acerbic British reality show 
host Simon Cowell, magazine editor Anna Wintour -- who as you know, has 
no sense of humor..."

      "I had it surgically removed," Wintour explained.  "Along with my 
sweat glands."

      "...and television's Crow T. Robot," the Mite finished.

      "What is all this?" Cowell asked.  "I'm really terribly busy, and 
only took this interview because I was told I would be served a dish of 
lemon cake."

      "The cake is a LIE!" Crow shouted.

      "Here then, is your task, Easily-Discovered Man Lite," the Mite 
said.  "You may tell one -- and only one -- ninja joke.  If all three of 
our judges are sufficiently amused, you and your friends may live.  For 
every judge that doesn't laugh... one of your friends will be fed to the 

      "What if it's clear to everyone that they're laughing on the 
inside?" Lite asked.

      "Enough!" the Mite said.  "You may have been able to laugh your 
way out of danger before, Lite, but this time... the last laugh will be..."

      "Yours?" Lite suggested.

      "No!  The flies!  The smell of molten asparagus makes them higher 
than the audience at a Phish concert!  Now... make your joke, 
Easily-Discovered Man Lite."

      "Cover your ears," Cynical Lass whispered, as Lite approached the 

      "Are you kidding?  This might be the last joke I ever hear," Neil 
Patrick Harris said.

      "Do as the girl says, fellow captive," Easily-Discovered Man said. 
  "I know my sidekick, and that look in his eye can mean only one thing."

      "Is this thing on?" Lite asked, tapping the microphone.  "Okay. 
So this family of ninjas walks into a talent agency..."

      Seventeen minutes later...

      "...And so the agent says, 'What in the world do you call that 
particular method of assasination?'  And the head of the ninja clan 
says, 'The Aristocrats!' "

      Lite looked over at his audience.  Simon Cowell had torn the 
cushion loose from his seat and used it to smother himself to death. 
Anna Wintour's face had melted, in a manner not dissimilar to that of 
the Nazis in "Raiders of the Lost Ark," leaving behind only a skeleton 
with impeccable bone structure.

      Crow, however, was cheering and applauding wildly.

      "That was the most disgusting thing I've ever heard in my entire 
life!" the robot said.  "I want more!  MORE!"

      "No!  It can't end like this!" the Mite screamed.  "You may have 
saved yourself, sidekick... but you've doomed your friends!"

      The tiny, glowing arachnid punched a series of buttons on the 
podium in front of him, causing the floor of the cage holding his 
prisoners to open.  Just as they began to fall, however, 
Easily-Discovered Man Lite whipped his microphone at the cage.  The 
instrument caught in the cage bars, and Cynical Lass, Easily-Discovered 
Man and Neil Patrick Harris slid down the microphone cord to safety.

      "Knew I should have paid the extra $15 for the wireless mic. I... 
NOOOOOOO!" the Mite screamed, as Neil Patrick Harris slipped on his way 
down the microphone cord, falling on top of the hapless 
Easily-Discovered Bran Mite.

      "I... I think I may have just squashed your arch-nemesis," the 
actor said, rubbing his hindquarters.

      "I'd say he was more your nemesis than Lite's," said Cynical Lass. 
  "After all, you killed him three times today."

      "In reality, 'twas his own misplaced sense of anger, his need for 
venegance, that killed him," Easily-Discovered Man said.

      "No," said Lite, removing his baseball cap and holding it over his 
heart as he bent down to examine the remains of his fallen foe.  "No, 
Prof, it wasn't venegance.  And it certainly wasn't me that killed him. 
  It was booty -- specifically Neil Patrick Harris' booty -- that killed 
the beast."

(And now for the actual conclusion...)

                      **** <<--BM-->> ****

The place -- Inside the Insanity Gauntlet

The time --

                    B     E     I     G     E

           M     I     D     N     I     G     H     T

The number --            T     E     N

The Writers -- Arthur Spitzer and Rob Rogers

                      **** <<--BM-->> ****

April 2008 --

The Insanity Gauntlet --

Occultism Kid struggled with the straight jacket he found himself 
strapped onto him.  "What have you done, Bart?" he said glaring at Bart 
the Dark Receptionist who was here with him in this place.  A place that 
looked like a mental institution.

"Done?" laughed Bart.  "Not sure what you're talking about, OK."

"The Straight Jacket!" growled Occultism Kid.  "How did you trap me here?"

"Straight Jacket?"  Bart gave a shrug.  "I don't see a straight jacket. 
  And this talk about trapping you -- that sounds like paranoid talk. 
Are you sure you're all right?"

Occultism Kid looked down.  The Straight Jacket was gone.  His arms were 
free.  "What did you do to me?  How did I get here?"

"I suppose I could answer those questions," said Bart.  "But I don't 
feel like it.  I'd rather watch some TV.  How about you?  Want to watch 
some TV?  Let's do that."  A remote control appeared in Bart's hand and 
he pointed it at the TV close to the ceiling.

"Ah," said Bart as he began flipping through the channels.  "Here's my 
favorite show.  It's about this occultist type guy who's casting some 
spell with a bunch of trenchcoater type dudes.    Anyway, he gets sucked 
into some sparkly glove type thingee and every episode after that 
involves all of the trenchcoater dudes surrounding the pentagram waiting 
for him to somehow escape.  It never happens though.  He just sort of 
stays stuck in the glove.  Actually, now that I think about it -- it 
really sounds kind of boring.  Let's look at what else is on, shall we?" 
  Bart continued to flip through the channels.

"What's this?" said Bart pausing his clicking.  Occultism Kid looked at 
the TV screen.  It was Fearless Leader sitting in a chair with a pained 
expression just staring at a comatose Ripping Dancer.  Fearless Leader 
buried his head into his hands.  "Some Soap Opera, I guess.  Too 
melodramatic for my tastes."  Bart continued to click.

"Ah, this -- this looks good," said Bart stopping again.  It was 
Mynabird just mowing down superheroes that were in his way.  Nothing 
could stop him.  He just kept getting closer and closer to the camera. 
And finally one of his big metal hands grabbed the lens.  And then 
static and snow filled the TV screen.

Bart smiled.  "Let's watch this."

                      **** <<--BM-->> ****

               PLANET MUHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHH!!!!!!!!!!
                            PART III

                        'Absolute Mite'

                      **** <<--BM-->> ****

"...We've got to get him out of there!" said Kid Anarky.

The Dvandom Stranger shook his head.  "We must continue the spell.  We 
must not break the circle.  If we do then all is lost.  It is up to 
Occultism Kid and Occultism Kid alone to break free of the Insanity 
Gauntlet.  All we can do is wait."

"And if he doesn't break free?" asked Kid Anarky.

The Dvandom Stranger didn't answer.  And then the TV screen went back to 

"Boy, there sure is lousy reception here," said Bart shaking his head 
and clicking the TV off.

"How did I get here, Bart?" said Occultism Kid.  "What did you do to 
trap me into the Gauntlet?"

"What did I do?" said a puzzled Bart.  "You're not making any sense, OK. 
  That's just a TV show.  It's not real.  You're beginning to sound a 
little crazy."

"I'm not in the mood for playing games, Bart.  Just tell me where I am."

"Where you are?  You're in a Sane Asylum."

"A Sane Asylum?"

"Yep.  It's where they send people when they're just a little too sane. 
  Everyone locked in here is completely sane.

"Yeah?  How about that guy dressed up as Napoleon?" said Occultism Kid 
looking at his fellow inmates.

"Well, that's because he's the real Napoleon.  And over there is the 
real Abraham Lincoln.  And over there?  The real Jesus Christ.  There's 
God.  Hitler.  Satan.  Joan of Arc.  Gandhi.  Elvis.  Santa Claus.  Yep. 
  They're all here.  And all completely 100% sane."

Occultism Kid shook his head.  "This is all completely mad.  And you run 
this place, I take it?"

"No," said Bart.  "Because I'm sane.  No.  It's the loonies that run 
this place."

"Well, that makes sense," said Occultism Kid rolling his eyes.  "And who 
are these loonies?  Can I speak to them?"

"Oh, eventually you'll be taken to them.  Everyone here has to see them. 
  You see they're doctors.  Doctors who think they are us.  I have to go 
to weekly sessions with a completely insane doctor who thinks he's me. 
He calls himself Dr. Bart the Dark Receptionist.  Insane, isn't it?"

Occultism Kid looked around him.  He had to get out of here.  "How big 
is this place?"

"Oh, about the size of the Loonited States, I suppose."

"You're joking.  Right?"

"Nope.  I mean 58 and a half years ago, it was just this little Sane 
Asylum.  But it believed in itself.  It believed it could do anything. 
And so it grew.  And it grew.  And now it's the size of the Loonited 
States.  But it will keep growing and growing.  And when it devours the 
world, it will keep going into space and devour other worlds.  And solar 
systems.  And galaxies.  And keep growing until the entire Looniverse is 
inside it.  And then I imagine it will start invading into other 
Multiverses and so on and so on."

And then Occultism Kid's vision became blurry and he could feel his head 
becoming light.  No.  Feel drugged.  Got to -- got to stay...

                      **** <<--BM-->> ****

Occultism Kid opened his eyes.  He was in some room.  He was sitting in 
a chair and bound in a straight jacket.  On the other side of the table 
was a man in a doctor's coat reading some papers from a folder.  "Ah, 
good.  You're awake.  I'm your doctor.  Dr. Occultism Kid.  I'll be 
handling your treatment."

Occultism Kid laughed.  "Dr. Occultism Kid, huh?  And that makes me -- who?"

The doctor looked at the folder.  "Your name is Dick Hey."


"Richard August Hey."

"Oh, right.  And why am I here?"

"You had a complete breakdown in 2007.  Back in September of 2001, you 
wrote some story that ended this amateur fanfiction type universe you 
and few others had created.  Something called -- I believe the 'Teenage 
Disco Vampire Barbershop Quartet Net.Force Universe' if I'm correct. 
You had some ambition to be a professional writer, but everything you 
submitted to publishers was rejected.  This made you very depressed. 
You were a college dropout with a minimum wage job and your greatest 
dream was to be a writer.  But you were a failure in that.  And so in 
April of 2007 you attempted suicide.  It was unsuccessful, but after the 
attempt you started to believe that the Beige Clock Tower that you had 
used to end the life of the 'Teenage Disco Vampire Barbershop Quartet 
Net.Force Universe' was actually real.  And it was going to rise in our 
world and unleash two horrible monsters that would destroy our world. 
And you began to create this fiction in your head and made it your 
reality.  In this fiction, you were not a failed writer by the name of 
Dick Hey.  You were a hero called Occultism Kid and you were part of 
this gigantic group of superheroes called the Legion of Net.Heroes.  And 
you were going to save us all from this threat.  Members of your own 
family became concerned by your behavior and brought you here for therapy."

Occultism Kid thought about this.  Need to keep a level head.  Can't act 
insane or they'll just keep me here.  Got to go with the story.  Just 
need to pretend.  "Well, looks like it worked, Doc.  I feel completely 
sane.  I guess I was confused for a bit, but now I know I'm Dick Hey not 
Occultism Kid.  The Beige Clock Tower and LNH don't exist, I know this 
now.  You can let me out of this straight jacket and release me.  I'm 
fine.  Totally fine.  You've made me a sane man again."  Occultism Kid 
looked straight into the doctor's eyes.  "You can let me go."

The doctor frowned.  "I'd like to believe that.  I'd really like to 
believe that, but -- I have a feeling that you're just telling me what I 
want to hear and not what you actually believe."

Well, that didn't work.  Occultism Kid struggled with his straight 
jacket.  It wasn't doing any good.  Need to calm down.  And think this 
through.  "So I'm stuck here, huh?  It doesn't matter if you actually 
cure me because you'll just think I'm pretending.  Is that how it is?"

The doctor shook his head.  "This is not a prison, Richard.  We're here 
to cure you.  And when you're cured, we will release you.  But only when 
you become free of these delusions.  Totally free.  This is for your own 

"Right.  And how do you know I'm the one who is deluded and not you? 
Dr. Occultism Kid?  What kind of a name is that for a person to have? 
Did your parents just decide to give you the stupidest name possible or 
did you change your name to that?"

"There is no need to make fun of my name.  And yes, my parents gave me 
this name.  My parents were rather bohemian.  Occultism Rasputin Kid is 
on my birth certificate and numerous other documents.  Where is your 
proof that your name is actually Occultism Kid?"

Well, thought Occultism Kid, it wasn't actually his real legal name. 
And there was probably no point in revealing his real name since it 
would give what ever was doing this more power over him.  Got to think. 
  He was wearing the Ring and Gauntlet when he got sucked down here.  He 
must still have them.  Just can't see them.  Got to focus on them. 
Access their power.

And then Occultism Kid could feel them.  And there was a flash.

                      **** <<--BM-->> ****

End of Part I

Arthur "Death to Beige Midnight" Spitzer

Next Week:  Beige Midnight Part XXXI!

Arthur "Same Classic Channel.  But Same Time?  Probably not." Spitzer

More information about the racc mailing list