"Did someone think Far Side thoughts?" asked Aubrey, a bit into his cups, as he came out on the porch. He clapped Corbett heartily on his shoulder, "Ahoy, there, young Jack," he said loudly, "what seems so amiss?" Corbett turned, facing his older, beefier counterpart, amazed someone had actually used his given name. "Sir," he said respectful of Aubrey's rank, "I think....." "FIRE!" cried Biebe. "Fire on Droogheeda!"
************************************************

Biebe was covered with soot, the tippys of his bearfur hat all singed and curled. Mary rushed out onto the porch, disturbed... yet somehow glad her birthday cake had not been the source of the conflagration she saw just over the closest row of small hills. It had been a worry of hers. Truly it had. Especially since it had been a full 24 hours since the flood and, of course, everything on Droogheeda that had not been eaten by last week's locust plague or demolished by the raging windstorm or killed off by the pestilence, was now tinder dry and quite ready to burn. "Save the roses!" she shouted. "Let everything burn if it must, but save the rose garden!"

Maximus, right behind her, smiled in complete agreement. If the roses were gone, the ThornToads would have nothing left upon which to impale themselves and sing their dying songs. This would result in the whole world stopping to listen to...nothing. Australia would implode and hordes of homeless kangaroos would be forced to swim to New Zealand.

Russell, who had gone back and forth several times in his youth, knew what a tough swim it was. "Phyllis," he said, looking gravely into his companion's eyes, "this calls for the ultimate sacrificial effort." With that, he whipped off Big Blue and dashed over the hill, whipping flannelly at the flaming scrub.

Terry and Ann exchanged long and meaningful looks. He, too, was Australian and knew that, when wielded well, nothing would surpass his equipment in digging a firebreak along the outer fencing of the rose garden. Most of the younger characters were also Australia born and bred, and though they had never really stopped before to think of kangarooish repercussions, when Mary began to play the strains of Waltzing Matilda on her victrola, their hearts were stirred and they ran over the hill in Russell's boot-tracks.

Andy hollered to Johnny, "I'll meet you on the far side of the railroad crossing!" Johnny skidded to a halt, his eyes widening. Would fate be quite THIS cruel? He looked back at the porch where Joimus stood beside the General, knowing that in epis fate was often...and usually....cruel indeed.

Which thought reminded Joimus that Ando had been having things a bit too easy of late, and so she turned to the former Welshwoman, cooing softly, "Ando, are you REALLY going to let the Melbourner take his tight white pants off into the soot and ashes like that without YOU watching over their state of cleanliness?"

Ando narrowed her eyes, glaring at the Pittsburgher. She knew full well it was all a dastardly plot to get her out within reach of the wild boars. Yet....her gaze yearningly followed Hando as he ran with long bounding strides toward the flames...he... might....need her, mightn't he not? "Drat!" she muttered, unable to resist her deep inner impuses to follow the tattooed one, and dashing off after him.

In the shearing barn, standing in a shaft of sunlight, stood Sid, smiling in satisfaction at some small electronic device in his hand. Upon Bunny's approach, he swiftly slid it into the breast pocket of his suitcoat.

"What was that?" Bunny asked, not sure she actually would be better off knowing the answer.

Sid raised his chin slightly as he turned his head, always the perfectly-posed poseur. "It was...nothing of consequence," he replied, his grin broadening.

"I saw something small and black, with levers and wires in your hand," she protested. "It was obviously some sort of device."

Sid lowered his lids a bit. "It was a device, my dear....a plot device, and therefore, completely not my responsibility in the least."

Trust the Chipman to try and shift the blame for his evility onto the scriptwriter. Did he think the English rabbit so dense she did not know there WAS no script?!?

The sudden rat-a-tat-tatting of thousands of tiny particles on the tin roof distracted her from Sid's prevarications. Rivulets of dark brown began streaming down the windowpanes. From just outside the barn came two thuds, followed immediately by two "Oofffs!" and the fluttering down-ness of two large silky circles of white. Sid looked at his watch, "Right on time," he pronounced.

Ute and Jeffrey sat at the end of the sheep ramp in an enormous puddle of soy sauce as rice continued to rain down upon them. Ute was livid when she caught sight of Sid.

"You...you....," she spluttered, unable to think of sufficiently worthy expletives in either German or English. A few choice words of Turkish came to mind, but she knew Joimus would never be able to spell them.

Bunny stared at the coated couple in amazement. "Ute, what...what....were you and Jeffrey DOING to end up so soy-sauced and riced amongst the shroud lines of collapsed parachutes?" Bunny shook her head. Sometimes she just could not believe the sentences that came out of her mouth in epis. Then Bunny remembered that the last she had seen of them, Jeffrey, with Ute clutching his legs, was being wafted upwards into the bowels of the silver orb over the crater.

Jeffrey, then, reached out, gently brushing clinging rice grains from Ute's left eyebrow. He smiled, recalling the long....private....hours they had spent in the wok-shaped bottom of the giant orb with only rice and several gallons of alien soy sauce as....props....until, without warning, they had been catapulted into space, finding themselves..... "Where ARE we?" asked Jeffrey just as Maximus strode by in his black cape and mask. "And who was THAT?"

"That?" repeated Sid, "Why my good man, do you not recognize Father Ralph de Brickasort?"

Maximus caught sight of Sid. His swimmingpoolaqua eyes narrowed. He had no idea why, but the sight made the hairs on the back of his neck stand up. "You!" he rumbled, taking a few more steps in the direction of the shearing barn. "Why are you here?"

Sid, rubbing both of his palms together, bowed slightly from the waist. "Why, Father Ralph," he said, purring like a canary-stuffed cat, "I have come all the way from....Rome... to see you."

"Rome?" repeated Maximus, his liver jostling uncomfortably off a kidney. "And what, pray tell, does Rome want with me?" His ears buzzed. His synapses exploded. Rome had wanted.... something...from him. What WAS it?

Sid was silent, enjoying the General's obvious distress. "Who are you?" Maximus asked.

"Do you not remember, my old....friend?" Sid replied, his teeth showing. "We spent time in France together some years ago. I am Cardinal RichieSid."

"C...c...cardinal?" Maximus stammered, instantly regretting his rudeness, and dropping to one knee, kissed Sid's proffered ring. "Excellency," he murmured, "forgive me."

Watching, Bunny wondered where Joimus was. She knew that if the Pittsburgher were witnessing this unbelievable scene, Sid would have found himself in mortal danger of ever being able to make junior computers.

Invisible yellow feathers jutted from between Sid's molars as he replied, "It is all right, my son. I know my visit was....unexpected. But I must ask one more thing of you."

Maximus rose, his body snapping into the military "at ease" position, hands clasped behind his back, shoulders squared, chin slightly jutted, eyes locked on his superior. He staggered. What was he doing? Why...oh....WHY...did it feel so familiar? "Wh...what would you....ask of me?" he barely managed to whisper.

The black mask was suddenly compressing his head. He ripped it off, flinging it to the ground, sweat pouring down his forehead, his cheeks. Again he staggered, maintaining his feet by sheer will alone. This, too, felt familiar. He blinked. The cardinal swam in and out of focus.

Sid, aware this was going in a direction he was not yet ready for it to take, grabbed Maximus' upper arm, supporting him as he quickly said, "Ah, Father Ralph, I see the heat is too much for you. Come with me into the shade of the shearing barn that we might talk....privately." Leading the wavering Maximus up the ramp, the two men went to the far end of the large structure. Good it was that Sid had not taken the General to the far SIDE of the structure, else Aubrey would more than likely have appeared and, assuredly, put a kink in the Chipster's plans...which were, truth be told, already kinky enough.

Our good Captain, alas, was wetting his wool in Mary's punchbowl in preparation to wade amidst the flicking tongues of flame. Floating slices of lemon kept getting themselves entanged in his epaulettle fringe, delaying his departure.

Juditha was womanfully attempting to point out that it would possibly have been better had Jack actually removed his coat before immersing it in the punchbowl, but the Captain was way too happy at this juncture to mind the slight inconveniences involved.

Joimus had removed Maximus' gladius from beneath the sofa, sheathing it within her bodice along with her keyboard, her glass of cranberry juice and her grandmother's aspidistra. She had not seen the General in some minutes and she was worried. Sid had not been on the bus, but that did not mean he was not lurking somewhere about Droogheeda.

Ah, had she but known of the unfortunability of Maximus' having fallen into the clutches of that very villain, she would not have taken the time to direct Susan Guildford to the shed where fertilizer was kept.

Just what the English gardener might be trying to grow this spring was somewhat of a mystery. Well, whatever it was, she certainly did not seem eager to share her plans with Zack. And what an odd gait Susan had developed since the bus ride, slightly bent with one large fold of her gown draped strangely over another. Ever since the loss of her blue poppy back on the Galapashires, Susan had been pining for some form of replacement. Joimus, in all innocence, hoped that she found it soon.

Russell was hot. Well, that was not really news to anyone, but at the moment he was overheating from flapping flannel. Phyllis, though she admired his loyalty, could not help but grimace every time a bit of flannelfray began to glow emberishly or a button began to melt. Soon there would be only the collar and a bit of one cuff remaining. Sighing, she knew he would wear it anyway.

"Hey!" shouted Lachlan. "I've found something!" Russell, Biebe, and Colin walked over to where the young pilot was staring at the shattered remains of something that had once been silver.

"Look at this curved piece," Colin remarked, poking a large section of the debris with his boot.

"Oh, no!" gasped Phyllis, who, had there been a script, would have already read it three times and so would have known where the plot was taking them all...had there been a plot....or a script. Despite this, she was very clever, having read all the Nancy Drew's three times since, obviously, she had not read the scriptless script. "The orb!" she deduced. "This is the silver orb that we saw hovering over the large, bowl-shaped valley." Russell smiled in admiration. "It must have crashed and caused the fire on Droogheeda, " she added in a surprisingly correct manner.

Unseen, something tusked and very porcine, latched its beady eyes onto Ando. The wild boar was irritated, whether by the smoke belching into its face or the fireants creeping up its right rear leg, one could not tell. It was just quite out of sorts, pure and simple. Struggling to heft its wide belly over a smoldering log, it stopped, fascinated by a sudden apparition wavering in the smoky air. It was Ando, her back turned, her nostrils sniffing something reminiscent of cooking bacon. She salivated slightly, not remembering just when she had last had a decent breakfast, such things not being high on the list of epi-activities.

The wild boar, as well, was hungry. The fire had consumed its usual fare and who knew but what this tall being in the smoke might be tasty, indeed? And, even were she to prove otherwise, he had a certain level of stress he needed to relieve with some good ole tusk waving, and she was the handiest thing about. He pawed...er...hoofed...the ground, snortching his snout deeply into the soil and tossing it as he shook his stout neck vigorously.

Ando, her baconish reverie broken by the high-pitched squeal of a charging wild boar, turned, eyes widening in horror. Even had her feet not become riveted to the spot, there was simply no place to run. Suddenly he was there before her, his five foot eleven and a bit form crouched protectively, his ball point pen held out defensively. Ball point pen? Yes...it was Arthur! He was risking all to save his countrywoman from ivory inserts. Ando gasped. She had expected Hando.

Brushing his limp bangs off his forehead with his left hand, Arthur concentrated on the onrushing boar. Something about the intensity in the seagreen eyes of the young Baptist made the boar hesitate. It stumbled, flipping snout over heels. Arthur jumped upon its belly, writing word after ball pointed word on its helpless underside. The beast writhed and twisted, finally shaking Arthur off and fleeing for the comparative safety of the burning brush.

Ando ran up to where Arthur had been thrown. "Arthur," she cried, great emotion causing her voice to crack, "you could have been killed...or worse!"

He smiled, placing his bent pen back safely in its vinyl pocket protector. "I had to save you," he said very softly, a tear welling in his lower right eyelid at the thought of how his beloved Ando had been in such grave danger.

She knelt in the soot beside him, looking wonderingly into his smooth face, then leaned forward to place the tenderest of kisses on his lips. "What did you write on the belly of the boar?" she asked, her tenderness mixed with curiosity.

Arthur smiled and opened his mouth to reply. *SNAP* Their heads jerked around. Hando stood there, glaring, his suspenders still vibrating from the vicious snapping he'd given them.

His seagreen eyes were narrowed to mere slits. Ando bit her lower lip. Would the Melbourner commit Arthuricide on the spot? No, he did something much worse, much more calculated to disturb the former Welshwoman. Coldly, deliberately, he scooped up a handful of soot and... and... it is almost too terrible to relate...he smeared it across both thighs of his tight white pants. Ando's world spun. Not that! Anything but THAT!

Hando smiled, his lips pressed tightly together. Extreme times called for extreme measures. The sanctity of the whiteness had to be sacrificed upon the altar of her infidelity. That which had ever been white, was white no more. She was devastated. Better to have been boar gored than to suffer this sight of utter desecration.

Meanwhile, at the far end of the shearing barn, Maximus and Sid stood face to face, little dust motes making patterns in the sunlight streaming down through the high window all about them. The General studied the man before him, thinking how little he had the bearing of a cardinal. Yet, he had no reason that he could see to doubt his word. And, as respect for his superiors seemed a thing quite inbred in him, he waited quietly for the cardinal to explain his mission to Droogheeda.

RichieSid smiled. "Father Ralph," he said, eyes glittering with a pleasure that Maximus found vaguely disconcerting, "we have heard many good things back in Rome about your activities here in rural Australia. In fact, you are so...good...that we feel it is time...."

"SID!" shouted Joimus, striding quickly up the ramp and into the barn. "What are you doing with Maximus NOW?"

Father Ralph turned, staring in amazement at Jeggiemus. Had the smoke affected her brain? He was further astounded by the way in which she withdrew the yellow rose from her gossamer bodice, holding it menacingly in the cardinal's direction. Did she intend to scratch him with its thorns?

"Jeggiemus!" he said sternly. "Put that rose down. It is not...appropriate...for you to...."

She silenced him with her flashing blue eyes. Never had he seen his sweet Jeggiemus look so...so...deadly. She strode right up to the cardinal, placing the petals of the rose atop his Adam's apple, applying just a bit too much pressure. The sunlight glinted off the rose, making the General blink. Never, he thought, had he seen a rose reflect light like that.

And why did the cardinal seem unsettled about having a few rose petals pressed into his gullet? None of this was making any sense! He closed his eyes, his mind filled with a sudden flash of long-ago light beams streaming down and himself, standing with some sort of large weapon in his upraised hand...waiting. It seemed he was somehow in Rome. But this was not the Vatican! Where had he been? What was he waiting for? His breath burst out of him in a half-verbal sigh and he pressed his palms over his eyes, trying to block out the partially-remembered scenario.

"Sid," Joimus said, her voice low with a mixture of anger and concern, "you go too far. This must end." She pressed the gladius just a fraction more, a little seep of blue appearing on Sid's neck.

"My, but you're a goothirsty wench," the Chipman mocked, aware of the presence nearby of plenty of replenishing glass. "Have you come again to spoil my...fun?" he asked, smiling broadly as he ran a forefinger down the length of the blade, then licked the dribbling nanogoo with relish.

Joimus lowered the sword, knowing how useless bodily severance had always proven to be with Sid. "Can you help him?" she asked. "Can you help him...find himself again?"

Sid was pleased. The Pittsburgher was practically begging him! "Why?" he replied, arching one eyebrow. "I much prefer him like this. As Maximus he's just too...good." He shuddered in revulsion. "The General," he continued, "would never be dishonorable, but Father Ralph...well...he broke every one of his vows. An all-round much more likeable fellow, don't you think? Proud...greedy... self-centered... lusty." He emphasized the last word, leering at Joimus. "And you, my dear," he added with a wicked grin, "are his... forbidden fruit. Why not...lie back...and enjoy the role?"

Maximus, his eyes still covered, had listened to this exchange...this revealing of his failings as Father Ralph. He had wanted nothing more than to be the perfect priest and this litany of his shortcomings pierced his soul. He groaned, digging his fingernails into his brow. Joimus knew, of course, that he was not only not Father Ralph, but that he, being Maximus, had brought all his Maximusness into his delusion that he was. This made the hearing of Father Ralph's dishonor more than his noble heart could bear since it was, to him, his own dishonor that he heard. He felt so unworthy to wear the cloth.

Fumblingly, he untied the black cape, letting it fall onto the wide planking.

He stared, then, at Jeggiemus, his swimmingpoolaqua eyes filling with tears. Forbidden fruit? The words rang over and over in his brain as he began to back toward the open door and the ramp. And then he ran. He ran blindly, not knowing or caring where he ran...but only that he had to get away from that barn.

"Maximus...STOP!" Joimus' cry seemed to hit him between his shoulder blades, knocking the wind out of him so that he stumbled, almost falling. Regaining his footing, he ran faster and disappeared from sight in the billowing clouds of smoke.

Joimus sank to her knees beside the discarded cape. Tenderly she gathered it into her hands, arranging its folds one by one, turning them so that its rust-colored side was once more revealed. Slowly, then, she walked out of the barn, only stopping to pick up the black mask which she straightened and uncreased until it was a mass of fluffy faux fur again. With heavy steps she went into the rose garden, sitting on the white wrought-iron chair and with painstaking care reattached the fur to all the little velcro tabbies that held it in place on Maximus' glorious rust-colored cape. Finished, she lay the restored garment across her lap with his gladius atop it and just sat silently, tracing her fingers around and around the pommel.

Terry, having worked for some time on the firebreak just outside the rose garden fence, paused for a moment, leaning on his grimey equipment and watched her. He pondered how she was just as much a victim as if Sid had actually physically kidnapped Maximus. He wished he had some proof to offer her that the life of the General still did exist, trapped within his gourdlessness.

Speaking of gourds, Susan had passed the last several minutes happily applying lime and dehydrated manure to the front of her gown. She then returned to the sitting room, looking for Zack. Alerted to her approach by the scent she carried now on her person, he suggested she might find some profitable use in Mary's large enamel tub whenever Steve got through with his long soak.

"Thank you, but no," she replied sweetly. "This will serve my purposes much better." She stuck the fingers of her right hand into his glass of water and flicked the drops onto the front of her gown.

Zack's concern grew. Was Susan coming down with the same sickness that had taken Maximus' mind?

The last threads of Big Blue dangled scorchedly from Russell's fingers. "Damn!" he muttered. "I'd planned to wear that on Oprah."

Phyllis walked up, laying an appreciative palm on a pectoral. "Bare-chested is always nice," she suggested.

A sudden crashing through the smoldering underbrush distracted them and they watched, surprised, as Maximus stumbled past, clad again only in his rust-colored tunic, wide belt, and boots.

"Maximus, stop!" called Russell, but the General continued, heedless.

"Why," he wondered absently as he ran, "did everyone always tell him to stop?"

Russell looked at Phyllis. "Go find Joimus quickly," he said. "I'm going to follow Maximus."

"I'm coming, too," Cort said, his teeth gleaming whitely in a face coated with blackened dust. "Given my background," he added, "I might be of help in dealing with...Father Ralph."

Mary stood in the dining room, studying her birthday cake. The 75 large candles had completely burned down, coating the icing with a thick layer of wax. Perhaps, she mused, after fighting the fire they would be so hungry they might not notice? Idly she glanced out the large window, catching sight of the top of Lucilla's head bobbing up and down inside the bus. What WAS the former Fuegan hostess DOING in there all this time?

Lucilla was growing desperate. So much of Maximus' seed was missing. She swore she would never again ride on a bomb-laden bus with Alex behind the wheel. Ah! There was a seed nestled at the very back of a seat. As she attempted to retrieve it, the seed slipped down into a crack in the vinyl. She probed after it with her fingers, pausing when a fingertip contacted something unexpected. She pulled the object out, blowing away attached fuzzies of seat stuffing. "My goodness!" she exclaimed, "It's...