Change of Plans

What was it doing?

Whorly (or the 90% that remained), with drying rivers of blood and other innards oozing from its neck, stood fully upright. Perfect balance. This could be bad.

Its hands. Still moving.

"Wait," Jeremy interrupted. "Three."

"Yeah," Samantha agreed. "Three. Three words. First word, one syllable."

In unison, each member of the group turned to look at the others. This horrid, pulsing bloody mass was playing Charades. As if the grotesqueness of its present condition weren't enough, it needed to play games? Creepy.

"Talk?" the Captain asked. "No, not talk--mouth?"

The corpse continued, moving it's thumb and fingers to convey a mouth talking.

"Chew?" Samantha tried. "Masticate?"

"Masticate?" the others asked in chorus as they smiled and glanced her way.

"Speak? Say? Tell? ... Oh, wait." The corpse motioned that Nate was on to something. "Say?"

"Say!"

But say what?

Oh this next word was far too easy. "Pray! Prayer!"

"Say your Prayers!" Samantha exclaimed, having cleverly pieced together the puzzle.

As the corpse gave the group a "thumb's up" to congratulate them on their success, the reality of the situation rapidly sank in.

A headless body had just told them to say their prayers. As they stood facing the body in its pool of darkening blood, they could almost make out a cold stare and maniacal grin in the empty space above Whorley's body's neck.

"Whoa!" screamed Captain Talbot. "Did you just see that?"

He points to the headless corpse of Whorly, which had been motionless and supine but was now in a sudden upright sitting position.

"Holy shit!" yelled Nate. "That's seriously fucked up! No! Seriously!"

"I sure hope that he hasn't been infected with the Cottontale Virus," muttered the captain, stepping away. "He could be one hard headless son of a bitch to get rid of."

"Honey! Get over here. Hurry!" Captain Talbot held his arms out to his daughter. She ran to him with a petulant smirk on her face while fingering her soapy hair. There goes that weave.

The Grand Lepus and Pipkin ran screaming from the pink puddle at their feet, ran in a circle, and BAM! smack into each other, each respectively knocking the other out.

"Damn. All that and they total themselves. Get the cage, Jethro," said Captain Talbot.

"It's Jeremy, Sir." Jeremy motioned to Nate to get the cage.

Nate locks the Grand Lepus and Pipkin into the cage and says, "Come on, Boys. We're going to introduce you to the wonderful world of electro-shock therapy, Mr. Bubble anemas, which I can tell you are no picnic, and brain freeze via high powered Icee injection. I think the Maximum Security division of Barnum and Bailey is going to be real interested in you two after we get done with ya."

Jeremy sidles up to Samantha and looks into her eyes.

"Sorry I was late, Baby. Guess you can see now that I had a good reason." Samantha looks into his eyes with lowered lids and said, "You can make it up to me later, Soldier. I have a flak jacket, dummy grenades, and some C-rations that we could get downright medieval with."

Jeremy puts his arm around her waist and they walk off into the purple sunset of the Arugula Valley.

***********

Whorley sits up with a start, breathing heavily, drenched in sweat. "Fuck this shit. I'm starting the Lithium again."

The team-- or what was left of it-- was at a standstill. Kehaar relaxed under the stroking, manicured hand of Samantha while Captain Talbot, Jeremy, Nate and Whorly's headless corpse unabashedly stared. With the exception of the headless corpse, which didn't "stare" so much as "list". And then fall over. The wet thump snapped the team out of their horrified reverie.

"Watch my back, boys," Captain Talbot growled through clenched jaws. "It's time for a little something I like to call... 'reverse hypnosis through brattic acid saturation through a close range weapon using a diluted source'."

And with that, the captain took aim and fired his weapon directly at his daughter's lovely head. Mr. Bubble spewed forth out of the super-soaker in a forceful pink stream, and before she could even move to shield her hair Samantha found herself appropriately coated. As the gun emptied its plastic tubular belly, Samantha wiped her eyes and blinked.

"Daddy? What's going on?"

Kehaar was weighing the pros and cons of nibbling Samantha's head off when Sub-Commander Pipkin burst into the room, his fur matted with blood. Gunshots echoed in the hallway behind him. "Your Excellency!" Pipkin cried, "the humans have breached the inner sanctum! Our base is overrun!"

"I knew we should have invaded the Hamster homeworld instead," Kehaar sighed.

"Whoa!" Pipkin exclaimed as he caught sight of Samantha, who lay on some fluffy pillows, breasts heaving prettily in a tight leather corset. "Check it out -- she's pretty hot once she cleans up!"

"Thanks," Samantha said in a bored voice, inspecting her manicured fingernails.

"Fuck it," Pipkin said, approaching Samantha. "If I'm gonna buy it on this godforsaken planet, I'm at least gonna get some--" Pipkin never finished his sentence, as he exploded in a huge puff of fur and smoke.

Commander Reynaud, Captain Talbot, Jeremy, Nate, and Whorley strode into the room, their gunbarrels smoking. "Unhand that girl, you fiend!" Talbot boomed.

"Daddy!" Samantha squealed, and leapt to her feet. "Jeremy! You saved me!"

"God damn it," Kehaar muttered.

"Get away from that alien monster, Sam!" shouted Jeremy, raising his Astro Blaster Rifle.

Samantha threw herself in front of Kehaar. "Don't shoot him!" she cried. "He's my bunny wunny!"

Jeremy's eyes were wide with disbelief. "What?!"

"The bimbo's been brainwashed!" Reynaud shouted. "We'll have to do them both! Stand back!" He aimed his Cosmic Cannon, set to "disintegrate."

"That's my daughter, you psychotic turtle!" Talbot cried, and vaporized Reynaud with a single blast of his own Cosmic Cannon.

"Dude," Whorley drawled, grinning idiotically. "That was like, psychedeli-" he stopped as his head blinked out of existence, leaving only a cauterized stump of a neck.

"Aw man, that was totally my bad," Nate said, dropping his phase pistol. "I was scratching my crotch with the handle of this gun and it totally went off."

"Please go on rescuing the girl," Kehaar said. "You're doing a smashing job so far."

"You're coming with us," Jeremy told Samantha.

"No!" Samantha pouted. "I wanna stay with my bunny wunny!"

"Be reasonable, girl!" Talbot shouted. "This is no bunny wunny -- it's the Grand Lepus of Kondar!"

"And isn't he a cuuuute widdle Grand Lepus?" Samantha cooed, scratching Kehaar on top of his head.

"Mew," Kehaar said.

Samantha sat crouched in a bunker, the interim explosive blasts knocking to her knees. She had known that this war was inevitable, and she had always somehow envisioned herself on the side of the victor. Now... she wasn't sure.
"I can't stand this!" she screamed, clutching her helmet to her expensive blond head. "When is this going to be over?"
The Grand Lepus sighed wearily as he reloaded. "I don't know. I had no idea that these humans could call up the Tortoise. I thought that the spring of 64' in Caratoka had ended their alliance and nullified the treaty. I guess I was wrong."
Samantha rolled her perfectly lined eyes. "Yeah, I guess you were."
Kehaar inwardly groaned. As if he didn't have enough to worry about. This human had been nothing but trouble; the brainwashing had gone well initially, but he hadn't realized the demands that could be laid down by petulant Earth women. He should have specified "goes along, gets along" somewhere in her hypnosis procedure. But no. And now he was stuck in a muddy bunker-- eight-five percent of his forces dead or dying on the field, no carrots, no water dish-- with a beautiful spoiled human. Who thought that Kehaar, The Grand Lepus, was her bitch.

3 minutes! Not one nano-second was to be lost! Jeremy, Nate, Whorley and the two Captains ran towards the yellow and green speckled Terrapin chopper that the mutant tortoise had parked behind the warehouse. Jeremy immediately took command of the radio control.
"This is Lieutenant Wall, Jeremy Wall, of the AKD, access code NT-ANTHR-CARROT, special emergency code FCK-THE-RBTS, private code for general access SAY-NO-2-GM. Get me on the line to all the Terrapins and Turtles you have ready."
"Attention All Units! Prepare for Code Purple!"
"What's Code Purple?" Nate asked. He'd developed a stress-itch in his groin area and was scratching it like mad. Captain Reynaud looked grim as he said,
"It means, young nitwit, that we are going to WAR!"
Captain Talbot nodded importantly while adjusting the two water guns filled with Mr. Bubble strapped onto his shoulders.
"WAR, gentlemen. This is it," he said.
They could see the landing area for choppers on Mount Arugula. The privates on the chopper began to feed down a rope ladder. Jeremy looked around the faces of the crew.
"Let's get ready to rumble!" he said, putting on his yellow and green helmet.

Captain Reynaud was a force to be reckoned with. Although not the fastest guy in the world, once he got you in his jaws, it was all over. He had been a member of the Tortoise Battalion almost since the moment he hatched. He Daddy was a member. His Daddy's Daddy was a member. It wasn't an easy road. Oh, he had pulled some really shitty duty over the years from terminating the Roach Renegades, to eradicating the Lizard Legion. He will never forget the smell of burning scales, the sound of cracking tortoise shells......

He approached the group, pausing to spit out bits of purple bunny fur, a fresh rabbit's foot dangling from his leather gun holster. "I got most of them, but there wasn't a sign of either Pipkin or the Grand Lepus. I'm guessing they are somewhere in the Arugula Valley." His piercing green eyes preceded him out of the darkness.

Captain Talbot, Jeremy, and Nate all looked at each other, their mission clearly showing in their eyes. Captain Talbot said, "Jeremy, Nate, you go round up all the Mr. Bubble you can find and drench yourselves with it. We need to find Samantha and either cover her in the stuff or surround her with it. Those two can't handle those happy little bubbles."

As Nate nervously ticked off 1-10 on his fingers and hopped on one foot, Jeremy said, "We're way ahead of you, Sir. We have already cleared out every 7-11 and Publix within a 50 mile radius."

"Good. Now, who's this Rabbit character y'all run around with?"

"Well, that would be Whorley, Sir. He's kind of MIA at this point in time," said Nate.

Whorley stumbled out of the shadows, carrot tops limply hanging from his pants, shoes, and one ear, "No, I'm not. I'm here, and I've found Samantha. Hurry. They have the altar all set up and that bastard Pipkin is gearing up to 'get her motor running' for the ceremony. We have 3 minutes."

Nate and Jeremy had just left the warehouse when Captain Talbot's Mercedes came screeching to a halt in front of them. Talbot leaped out of the car, drawing his silver-plated .45. "You! Identify yourself!" he ordered.

Jeremy snapped to attention. "Wall, sir, Lieutenant Jeremy Wall, of the Anti-Kondarian Defense Force!" he said, saluting.

Talbot returned the salute. "Don't you mean the AEK, boy?"

"Sir, no sir! The AKD is a super-secret, independent, undercover branch of the AEK! That's why I couldn't reveal my identity to you previously, sir!"

"Good work, Wall!" Talbot exclaimed. "And here I thought you were just my daughter's latest loser boyfriend! And are you an agent as well?" he said, looking at Nate.

"Nah," Nate replied. "I'm just Jeremy's heterosexual life partner."

"Sir," Jeremy said, "there's no time to waste. The Kondarians are on the move. We must contact the Tortoise Battalion at once -- they're our only hope!"

Talbot nodded, then gestured to the warehouse. "Is that the Kondarians' hideout?"

"It was," Jeremy said, "but someone -- or something -- took 'em out while I was being held captive there. I wouldn't look inside if I were you, Captain. It's not pretty."

The Captain couldn't resist peeking inside the door. He turned back quickly, his face pale. "Good Lord! What in blazes happened in there?"

"I happened," came a voice from the shadows.

They all turned to the source of the voice. A hulking figure emerged from the darkness and stood before them, his massive battle armor glinting in the moonlight.

"Commander Reynaud of the Tortoise Battalion at your service," the tortoise said.

Jeremy looked around him, trying to get a grasp on the situation.
"Calm down," he told himself, wading frantically around in the quickly warming water. "There has to be a way out of here."
But as he felt along the cast-iron walls he felt his hope flounder; it appeared to be rock solid. Suddenly Jeremy detected a light scratching sound. He stopped his splashing and listened. Sure enough, there was a slight, rhythmic scratching coming from above him. Peering up through the darkness, Jeremy saw that the lid was being jimmied. A crack of light appeared, and the stew captive covered his eyes.

"NATE!"

Nate stood looking down through the steam at his warm and naked friend.
"Hey, man, what the hell's going on? There's purple fur all over the place up here!"
Jeremy sighed with relief. "You have to help me, Nate! Grab a rope or something and help me out of here!"
Nate's confused head disappeared momentarily as he searched for an escape tool.
"This is all I could find! And man! Is it heavy!" Nate pushed and squatted and pulled until he could heft the gargantuan ladle up and into the pot, scoop first. "Watch out!"

SPLASH!

Covered in seasonings from head to naked foot, Jeremy wiped his brothy eyes and begin climbing up the utensil. Nate helped him over the lip.
"I can't tell you how glad I am to see you!" Jeremy panted. "A-CHOO!"
"One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten," Nate intoned, turning in an obsessive compulsive circle.
"You're a freak, my friend, and when all of this is over we're getting you to a therapist. For real. But for now... where are my clothes? And I need my phone! I think it's time we call in the heavy artillery."
Nate's eyes widened. "You mean...?"
"That's right. The Tortoise Battalion."

Whorley knew he was in trouble. He knew because he could hear the sound of fear in his head - that's right, hear - as he tried to recall what had happened before he had been knocked out. He saw a shrivelled purple carrot in front of him and groaned.
"Oh no, not again."
He remembered now what he was meant to do. He had to track down Emperor Lepus's new bride. But why did Pipkin get there first without telling him? Damn headache. The voices were coming back too, telling him that he was going to be subjected to the carrot torture again. He tried to refocus. That's right, they were meant to have worked together as a team, even if he was under the influence of hallucinogenic drugs. Then he recalled his present situation. Damn Pipkin! He should cut off that purple rodent's balls the next time he met him. If only he could work on not getting so scared... it was all the effect of the carrot torture in the mountains - the frenzied feeding of revolting, purple, mouldy, GM carrots until one passes out, then gets awoken by the smell of grated purple carrots, only to have the frenzied feeding start again..... Whorley shook his head. It was clear that Pipkin was working on a deal of his own that Whorley didn't want to think about - the idea of seeing that girl Samantha with the purple alien was not something Whorley revelled in. The thought of the girl being licked to death...

But for now he needed to sleep. The smell of the carrot was making him feel sick.
"I want radish," he said aloud, hoping Pipkin's bugs would catch his protest and make his captors feel sick (for Kondarians loathed radish), before nodding off.

Captain Talbot hung up the phone, his face an ashen mask. "They've got Samantha," he said. "The blasted Kondarians have kidnapped our daughter!"

"Nooooo!" Edith shrieked, hands flying to each side of her face. "Not our Saaaaam!"

Talbot rose and grabbed her by the shoulders. "Damn it, woman," Talbot cried, "hold yourself together!" But it was too late. Edith's eyelids fluttered like startled birds and she fell forward onto the table, face down in a plate of shrimp.

Grimacing, Talbot strode around the table to where the waiter stood, watching anxiously. "Have my car brought around," he snapped. "And call a taxi for my wife."

Outside the restaurant, Talbot lit a cigar as he waited for the valet. These damned astro-rabbits had been a thorn in his side for decades, and now they had his daughter! This was the last straw. It was time to finish this matter once and for all.

As he got into his car, Talbot replayed in his mind the brief conversation he'd had with the kid. What was his name...Jethro? He'd mentioned the boatyard. Then that gurgling sound, and he was gone. Dead? Who could say.

He swung the black Mercedes down Palmetto Street toward the harbor. One way or another, he'd get some answers at the boatyard.

• • •
Jeremy awoke in darkness, his head pounding like a toddler on a kettle drum. He was sitting waist deep in water. Where am I? he wondered, rubbing his head where the unseen assailant had struck him. Then he remembered Samantha, and the glowing, carrot-shaped spaceship that had swallowed her up. "I've gotta find Captain Talbot!" he cried, and tried to stand. He hit his head on a low metal ceiling and sat back down with a splash. That's when he realized he was naked.

"What the hell?" he muttered. He felt around him; there were small objects floating all around, some disc-shaped, others round. The room itself was tiny, barely larger than he was, and appeared to be cylindrical, with metal walls and floor. There was a smell to this room, a familiar, cozy smell that Jeremy couldn't quite place. He knelt, raised up more cautiously, and banged on the ceiling. "Is anyone there?" he yelled into the darkness.

Suddenly, part of the ceiling opened, and through the blast of light Jeremy saw two pairs of eyes peering in at him.

Rabbit eyes. Gigantic rabbit eyes.

"Who are you?" he demanded. "Let me out of here now!"

The giant rabbits gave no response, but closed the ceiling back up. Jeremy heard a muffled voice and strained to make it out. It sounded like "Symbol an owl a die heap."

Symbol an owl a die heap?

Jeremy puzzled this over, struggling to make sense of it. His feet began to feel warm. Was it getting hotter in here? He felt the metal walls. Yes, it was definitely getting hotter.

Wait.

Symbol an owl a die heap.

Heap. Heat.

At high heat.

An hour at high heat.

Jeremy gulped. Symbol. Simmer.

Simmer an hour at high heat.

He reached down and grabbed one of the floating discs, bit into it. It was a slice of carrot.

"Oh, shit," Jeremy murmured.

The rabbits were making stew.

Jemma turned on her heel and left the room, not before noticing the glance from the young agent. Men. They are so easy. Show a little thigh, play a little dumb, give a little wink here and there and play up that stupid southern accent. She learned all she needed to know from watching American television. That Mary Ann was a smart little cookie.

Munching on her carrot, she tucked all the information she needed for the Grand Lepus. The General didn't stand a chance.

Meanwhile, Samantha shivered in her cage and tried to pick the lock with a carrot stick. Yeah, that's almost going to work. She threw it down and gingerly checked the soles of her badly scratched feet. Didn't the Kondarians believe in grass? You would think because they were rabbits and all....

Just then Pipkin entered the room, his stringly little tail trailing behind him. "Hello, my pretty little Earthling," his spittle flying from between his pointy little buck teeth. "You know, if you cooperate with me, stroke my tail a little bit, I can make this whole thing a little easier on you."

Samantha recoiled to the other end of the cage and hissed, "Never!"

"Ahh you stupid, stupid little girl. You have no idea how difficult things can get. But, alas, you will become the bride of the Grand Lepus no matter what you do. You, my dear, will give birth to the beginning of the merging of our species. You, my dear, will give birth to the most high being. You should be honored!"

"Eat up. You're going to need your strength. You know what they say about us rabbits."

General Rothman was frowning over the report the young agent by his side had given him half an hour ago. During those thirty minutes, he had made the young man squirm in his black Hush Puppies by walking back and forth, muttering to himself. The dark-suited members of the AEK (Anti Empire of Kehaar) were keeping themselves busy reviewing the statistics for Operation NMC (No More Carrots). Finally, just as the young man was about to give in to the pressure and ask if there was anything wrong, Rothman turned on his heel to face the agent.
"So, am I right in thinking we have all the major players in our hands for the capture of these Kondarians?" he asked, tapping the thick sheets of paper.
"Yes, sir."
The general was pleased. But there was one more thing.
"What about this 'Rabbit', Whorley Hancock. Where is he now?"
The young man broke into a cold sweat as the general's eyes pierced his with a glare.
"I'm... We're.... We're following that lead, sir."
"What do you mean? Are you telling me we've lost track of the target?"
Rothman barked. He sighed and wiped his forehead with a thick plaid handkerchief. He wished he'd never heard of the Kondarians, with their silly purple carrots and mad schemes to rule the world.
"But... But we do still have the captive in place inside the Imperial Warren...", the young man stammered.

There was a knock on the door and Jenna, his secretary came in. Her blonde hair was curled around her ears in a way that stirred something in both of the men's trousers.
"I'm awfully sorry General, but I just can't get that man Talbot to stop calling you. He says he needs to speak to you most urgently", she said, in her Louisana twang. Her blonde hair and bright white suit seemed almost luminous in the dark room filled with dark-suited men.
"It's all right I can take that call now, Miss Jensen," the general said. He turned from her smile to glare once again at the young agent, and then at the men sitting around the table.
"Gentlemen, we need to refocus our strategies. This will not do. We need to defuse the Kondarian situation A.S.A.P. Now, let me take that call from Captain Talbot."

"A what?" Danforth sputtered, sloshing his snifter. He took the phone from the trembling waiter.
"Who is this?" he demanded.
"It's Jeremy Wall, sir." Jeremy tried to calm down. "I don't have time to explain, but I need you to meet me at the boatyard. I know it sounds crazy, but it's a matter of life and death!"
"What?" spewed Danforth. "What in blazes are you talking about, boy? And just where is my daughter?"
"I know that this... " started Jeremy.
And then a low gurgle.
And then nothing but static.
"Hello? HELLO?!?"
No answer.
Danforth Talbot punched another number into the phone.
"Get me General Rothman. I don't care if he's in a meeting, tell him it's Captain Talbot and it's an emergency!"

Meanwhile, on the other side of the tracks, Whorly sat on the floor of his one-room hovel staring catatonically at the wall. He didn't notice that the cracked closet door was slowly opening. And he didn't notice when a shadow emerged, ever-so-slightly hopping closer and closer, inch by inch. And what happened next happened so quickly that Whorly didn't even have time to smell the carrotty breath. One quick blast and he was down. For good.

"Where the hell is Samantha?" asked her father, Danforth Talbot, as he sat at a table at Le Cheveux, tapping the crisp linen tablecloth with rising agitation. "They were supposed to meet us here over an hour ago!"

"I'm sure they'll be along any moment now," his wife Edith assured him, smoothing down the edges of her napkin. "They probably just got caught in rush hour traffic."

"But it's Saturday!" Talbot growled. He shook his head. "No, I'm positive it's all that...that boy's fault. That Jeffrey--"

"Jeremy," his wife reminded him.

"Jeremy. That no-good layabout...I'd be surprised if they still even have a car. The boy probably sold it for drug money!"

"Yes, dear," Edith said.

"I'd lay dollars to navy beans they're on the highway right now with their thumbs out, hitchhi--" Talbot paused as a waiter approached, holding a cordless telephone. "Yes?" Talbot demanded.

"Phone call for you, sir," the waiter said, his face a professional blank. "A 'Jeremy.' He said it was quite urgent. Something about a...rabbit?"

Whorley flew out of bed, drenched in sweat, in complete panic. It's happening again. It's happening again. What am I going to do? How will I fight off the Grand Lepus and that little scrunchy-faced, butt-kissing, buck-toothed Pipkin?

He sat down in his favorite Naugahyde chair, lit a Merit, and ran his fingers through his damp hair, a surprisingly endearing lock of hair falling onto his creased forehead. If only they would believe me. Seven years of this. Trying to forget. Trying to fight off the force of that....that......thing. Yeah, I had a bad trip that time, so what? They all had them at one time or another, but that time was different. I mean, of course it was a bad trip. It had to have been a bad trip. Schizophrenia.....and those meds. Fucking Lithium. It makes me a zombie. I had to stop it. I had to! I'm so thirsty. I don't want to remember. I don't want to remember.......but...... he digresses.......

The last normal thing he remembered of that night was sitting in a group of people after dropping a couple hits each of the Purple Bunny blotter, watching Fantasia, laughing their asses off at the conductor and then....the screen changed. A large purple rabbit with evil eyes started talking in a booming, but raspy voice.

"Hello Whorley. How are we feeling this evening?"

"Um.Fine," he says in a very small voice. He looks around at the others in the group, half chuckling, half paranoid, "Hey you guys, d-d-d-did you see that?" He always stutters when nervous.

No one answers.

"Whorley, stop looking to your friends. They can't help you now. I am your only hope. You must listen to what I say. You are special, Whorley. You have the gift; the power to change all evil to good. We are the good Whorley, and it is up to you to make your human race see us as The Omnipotent."

"B-b-b-b-but you're a fucking rabbit!"

"Oh no, Whorley. We're not the kind of rabbits you are used to. We are not stupid little fuzzy bunnies, hopping around and screwing our brains out 23 hours out of the day. And we certainly don't deliver fucking Easter eggs."

Whorley stares. "Wh-wh-who are you then?"

"Stop stammering like an idiot! I have been looking for you for 26 years. Finally, the special drug we released onto Earth has found it's Master. Timothy Leary, my ass. He was just lucky enough to have been the first one to receive it in our lab. Won't you student ever learn not to become guinea pigs for medical experiments?!" His voice had reached a shrill, ear-piercing tambre, then fell to calm, almost soothing. "Enough of that. I'm here to give you a message, and a gift. Come into the screen, Whorley. Come to me. That's it. Right up here. Now put your nose to the screen. That's it."

Just as Whorley's nose touched the screen a bolt of light flashed all around him.

Then it was black.

"You'll never get away with this!" Samantha hissed from her cell. Her feet hurt, her hair was a mess and she had no idea what the hell was going on.
The Grand Lepus smiled, his whiskers twitching.
"Have another carrot, my dear," he chortled, tossing a wilted indigo carrot onto the rapidly growing pile inside the cage.

Sub-Commander Pipkin stood before the throne of Kehaar, Grand Lepus of the Empire of Kondar, his cottony tail twitching with anxiety.

"What news of our agent on the Human homeworld?" Grand Lepus Kehaar boomed into the cavernous audience chamber of the Imperial Warren.

"My Lord," Pipkin squeaked, "we have not heard from Agent W in over a standard Earth year now. We fear he has been taken prisoner by the Humans."

Kehaar pondered this for a long moment, nibbling absently on a purple carrot. Finally he spoke. "Then they leave us no choice," the Grand Lepus proclaimed. "Prepare the invasion fleet!"

Pipkin's ears stood bolt upright in shock. "My Lord?"

"Immediately!" boomed Kehaar. "The puny Humans have thwarted us for the last time. Soon they will know the wrath of the Rabbit!"

"Yes, Lordship!" Pipkin squealed, and bounded out of the chamber in two frantic leaps.

"Excellent," the Grand Lepus rumbled, and recommenced nibbling on his carrot.

Whorley, AKA "The Rabbit", was their long-ago friend from high school. He got his nickname from a bad acid episode where he spent 14 months in the local mental hospital because he thought he was a purple rabbit sent from the planet Kondar to rid the world of all evil. He's been out awhile, but the problem is, he lapses into these episodes and does some pretty bizarre shit, man. About three years ago, Jeremy made the mistake of sleeping with The Rabbit's sister and woke up in the morning with a Pop Tart, her panties, and a knife laying across his chest. Never sleep with a schizophrenic's sister.

"Looks like this is going to be a bad one, Nate."

"Yeah, we better hit the local groceries and clean them out of Mr. Bubble. It took me 3 months to be able to take a normal shit after that last shindig," said Nate, compulsively wringing his hands and shifting in his seat.

"I'll call the Lambda sisters over there and let them know what's going on. You go on out and wait in the car. This is going to be a long night."

"Dude! I'm eating all of your free pizza!"
"Damnit, Nate," Jeremy thought to himself, carrying the speared doll into the house. Nate was OCD. Once he started eating something he couldn't stop himself from finishing it. Sure enough there he was at the table, black leather gloves smeared with sauce.
"Help," Nate whimpered, and Jeremy took the box away. As he swallowed Nate glimpsed the doll.
"Whoa!" he said. "Is that what I think it is?"
"I don't know what else it could be," answered Jeremy.
"But what kind of...?"
"Tequila."
"Oh, shit! It is him!"
Jeremy nodded. The Rabbit.

His good friend, and notoriously germ-phobic friend, Nate, nervously pulled him aside to get inside. "Hey, Dude, come on in." Just as Nate entered the room another Scream sent them both jumping out of their skins.

"I swear to God if those women don't turn down that TV I''m going to put a foot through it!" Jeremy swore this time he was going to confiscate their copy of Scream. "Have a seat. I'll be right back."

He pushed aside the screen door, intermittently patched with yellowing box tape, making a mental note to himself to hide the knives for when Samantha decided to come back. Don't want a repeat of that episode. He walked across the cracked cement faux patio littered with a couple discarded dead house plants, cigarette butts, and the long-dead carcass of the lawnmover, and moved toward the neighbor's house.

He banged on their similarly patched screen door trying to gain their attention over the blaring sounds of Courteney Cox evading the masked Pink Floyd The Wall-reminiscent killer. He pounded again, looking over his shoulder and squinting to see the time on his VCR clock. 7:35. Bastards! Jeremy muttered to himself about free pizzas and lack responsibility of the people in LA. Looking into the living room he sees the brown plaid, wood framed, couch and saw a red head pop up, scrambling to pull down her shirt. Another raven head popped up for an instant, and he saw her roll off the couch, both of them giggling and trying to retrieve their hastily shed garments.

"Hey, Jeremy, come on in," said a red-faced Jillian as Hannah strode across the living room to grab her beer, a salacious grin on her face. "Let me guess, we're too loud? Hey, you want a beer?"

"Um yeah, as if you didn't know," said Jeremy, "Yeah, I'll take one, but I have to go in a minute. I've got something waiting on me back at the house."

Jillian and Hannah laughed and simultaneously said, "Dominoes!" Hannah asked, "How many freebies is it this month so far? 8?"

"Yeah, yeah, whatever. Hey, did you guys hear someone scream earlier? I heard something about 15 minutes ago, but it didn't come from the direction of your house."

Jillian lowered her eyes and with a grin said, "As if we heard anything. We were a little, um. busy. Thanks for interrupting, by the way."

Jeremy scowled and with a tip of his beer to his forehead, exited the room. As he moved toward his own humble abode, he heard a rusting in the bushes. He stopped and listened, his hearing acutely toned into his surroundings. Nothing. He strode across the patio and out of the corner of his eye, noticed something he hadn't seen before. Laying on his step in the doorway to his house, he saw a baby doll dressed only in a studded leather collar with a pencil through her eye, a copy of Mad magazine, and a bottle of tequila.

He picked up the doll by the pencil, held it out in front of him and sighed, "Yep, here we go again. Whatever happened to Lithium monitoring?"

How could he have forgotten? That horrific time in the mountains... all of those men... Jeremy shuddered. The Rabbit. Could it possibly be him? Was he really back to make good his nefarious promise? Jeremy struggled incredulously to put the pieces together. The doorbell rang again, and a surprised Jeremy accidently threw his car keys into the wall. "I've got to quit doing that," he though to himself, as he crept to the door. He opened it a crack and peered out in time to see the pizza delivery boy running for his hatchback. The pizza lay steaming on his door mat.
"Wait a minute!" Jeremy yelled. "You're late!" And as he reached out to grab his dinner, a gloved hand met his grasp.

"My name? I already gave you my name!" Jeremy yelled into the phone. Stay cool, he thought, remember your training... "My name is Jeremy Wall." The apartment was silent except for the occasional thump coming from the guts of the refrigerator. Damn, I gotta see what's doing that.

"Hello? Did you get it? Wall, W-A-L-L." Jeremy changed the receiver from one hand to the other and loosened his tie. Christ, this was gonna take all night. "Yes that's right, Wall. And don't forget the double pepperoni on that. Okay. Half an hour or it's free, right? Okay." Jeremy resisted the urge to slam the receiver down. Damn kids these days...

Jeremy went back to the window and looked outside. Samantha's car was still gone. He let the curtains drop and stared down at his shoes. The soles were so thin, he could feel the shag carpeting right through them. He wiggled his toes. A huge sigh escaped him. Suddenly, he remembered--Damn! I forgot to time the pizza! He ran into the living room and checked the VCR--7:05 pm. All that screwing around with the kid was on their time. Technically the order went in right on the hour. Probably. Jeremy flung himself onto the couch and reached for the remote. Samantha must have been pretty mad to drive away like that. What was she gonna tell her parents, anyway? That he took so long tying his tie that she drove off without him? What kind of sense did that make? What the hell was she up to? And he didn't even want to think about the scream--I mean, she'd gotten mad at him before, but this was over the top.

Jeremy flipped through the channels until he came to a wildlife documentary. They always calmed him down. They made sense. Predator, prey--it was simple. Right on cue, the camera zoomed in--The rabbit comes out of the hole, around the tree... The hungry cry of a hawk bounced off the walls of Jeremy's livingroom. "That rabbit is toast," he muttered to himself. The rabbit! Jeremy lept to his feet jettisoning the remote across the livingroom and into the glass doors of the entertainment centre. At that moment the doorbell rang. Then--like he didn't already have enough on his mind--a scream tore through the night.

Jeremy's first instinct was to sling off the jacket and investigate, but he managed to temper himself. Five years in the Airbourne Rangers had taught him a thing or two about reflexes, and a souvenir bullet lodged in his tibia had tempered those reflexes with restraint. He knew all too well that the scream was human, and he knew that it was female. Probably young; possibly a child. Jeremy allowed himself a momentary flush of relief. It wasn't Samantha. Then the screech of tires. "Shit," he thought. That was her car. He'd know that souped-up roar anywhere. A quick outside check confirmed his suspicions. She was gone. And no sign of the mystery screamer. "Here we go again," he mumbled, and reached for the phone.

Jeremy stood in front of the bathroom mirror, re-tying his tie for the fourth time that evening. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn't seem to get the knot to make that perfect triangular shape. So far he had made two barrels and something that looked like a fist. He knew Samantha would be getting impatient about now, and imagining her fixed, unyielding glare only increased his nervousness.

The rabbit comes out of the hole, around the tree... He wished to God Samantha had arranged to meet her parents at their apartment, or TGI Fridays or something, anywhere but Le Cheveux. Like the stress of meeting Sam's parents for the first time wasn't uncomfortable enough without being strapped into a suit and tie and dining at the ritziest restaurant in town? He'd said as much to Samantha, but she'd just given him The Look.

Jeremy stepped back from the mirror. The knot was now a roughly trapezoidal shape. "Good enough for government work," he said, and slipped on his jacket, which fit more snugly than it had the last time he'd worn it, at his college graduation, but would also be good enough for government work.

He had just grabbed his wallet from the kitchen table when he heard the scream.

Samantha sat in the car nervously playing with the radio. Irritated and restless, she gave up on the reception and flipped the mirrored visor down into view. "Perfect," she thought with familiar satisfaction. Now if only Jeremy would hurry his ass up.