CHAPTER ONE

DESERT BEGINNINGS

Place: a gas station on an otherwise deserted desert highway somewhere between Dime Box and San Manse': A weird looking contraption, a veritable outhouse on wheels, pulls up to the single pump. A short, skinny man, with a protruding Adam's Apple, covered in grease, ambles up to the vehicle.

"What it'll be?"

"Fill the tank up. Ize in a hurry!"

"How come?"

"Cause the storvin' sickness is after me. You know what, you don't look too healthy yourself."

"I don't have much of an appetite."

"Oh, my Gud!" The driver, a huge man in overalls, hastedly pulled out a Mickey Mouse box, opened it, and gave the man fifty dollars. "Take this and go back inside. I might catch the storvin' sickness. I'll fill the tank up myself."

The skinny man knew a good deal when he saw one. He looked from the grimy window of the gas station as the behemoth filled up his tank and drove off into desert twilight.

NOWHERE

Nowhere is a place we all need to be from time to time. In some ways, it represent the apex of civilization, for Nowhere knows not war, nor hunger, nor need of any kind. Peace and tranquility reign in Nowhere. For that reason, it's a good place to make transitions.

The Rolling Outhouse pulled off the desert highway. It was sometime past midnight and the sky was ablazed with twinkling stars The driver eased out of the RO and landed softly on the ground, the dust rising up all around him. He felt relieved to be totally alone.

But was he?

NUMEN

Food stocks were growing dangerously low. There was only enough food on hand to feed an average man for six months. He was beginning to panic.

"No need to panic, old friend."

The velvet voice had come drifting out of the soft, desert night. Gradually, a form began to shape and he realized the voice had a connection to a real person (or so it seemed).

"You'd be panicing too if the storvin' sickness had a hold on you. Who are you anyway?"

"I am a numen."

"You mean ole C.M Newman, the North Galbutt horse doctor?"

"No, I mean a spirit, a divinity of the desert."

"Just talkin' like that makes me hungry."

ALIEN CONTACT

It had drifted through the galaxy for over a million years looking for a new home. Finally, on the edge of the galaxy, in what its friends back home would call the hicks, it found a planet suitable to its aspirations. A planet full of fat people who ate too much and whose bellies protruded beyond what they should. A planet that was ripe for what it had to offer...

The Storvin' Sickness!

A PROPHET UNHEEDED

It began somewhere in the bowels of the great Texas desert, then spread outward in all directions, racing over hill and dale, through valley and gorge, between trees and bushes, across city streets and baseball fields. At first everyone was happy. Joanie was ecstatic when the first thiry pounds disappeared but then the weight loss became worrisome as no matter how much she ate the pounds kept melting away. And what was happening to Joanie was happening to millions across the globe.

What was going on? No one really knew.

Except the man known simply as the Prophet. The man who right now was riding through the wilderness in his Rolling Outhouse preaching out against the oncoming Apocalypse.

A CHANGE IN PLANS

His sale phone rang.

"Talk to me."

"Are you walking?"

"You know I don't like to walk and talk at the same time. Bad for the belly."

"New assignment. We need you back in DC."

"No way. I've given up the spying bidness."

"Your fellow Texan might be in big trouble."

"He's a big boy. He can handle things himself."

"It's really very simple. We just want you to get someone out of town."

"What's in it for me?"

"Information. Our scientists have isolated the cause of SSD (Storvin' Sickness Disease)."

"I'm on my way."

SEND IN THE CLOWNS

Which way was Washington, D.C.? And could you get there from here? Well, I'll worry about that in the morning he thought, after a big breakfast. What was so special about leaks in DC anyway. There were all kind of leaks in Dime Box every day. Leaks in the kitchen, leaks in the bathtub, leaks in the waterline. Heck, leaks were part of everyday life, not something that should make him give up his search for peace and tranquility in a world about to die from Storvin' Sickness. But before everything else he was a patriot, and if his country wanted him to fix some leaks, by gum, that's just what he would have to do.

A NEAR MISS

It was mid-morning moving on to noon. The chalky-colored desert floor shimmered in the sun as the Rolling Outhouse barreled along Route 99 in Northern Mexico. About two thousand feet above in a cloudless sky an unmarked jet targeted the RO. Two missiles shot out from beneath the jet's wings, headed for the RO. At about that same moment the driver of the RO noticed the edge of a moon pie wrapper peeking out from underneath the floor mat on the passenger side. He immediately lunged for the wrapper which caused the RO to veer violently to the left running off of the road onto the desert floor. As a consequence, the missiles missed their target and detonated on contact with the ground, causing harm only to a passing newt.

RAISIN IN THE MOON

It took a few minutes, but he managed to get RO back on the desert highway and once again headed toward DC. It had been worth the change in direction though because the moon pie had tasted good. It was a banana flavored moon pie and reminded him of his sojourn a few years back in Guatemala when he had spied on the wife of the Generalissimo for the CIA. Then all of a sudden he had an inspiration. Moon pies are incomplete! They're missing something, something added to the top. Yes, they're missing raisins! Then he wondered why he had never thought of that before.

Indeed.

COLLISION OUTSIDE HOUSTON

The raisins on moon pie revelation kept him in a state of joyful reflection for the next 500 miles. The feelings were so sanguine he didn't notice the hurricane that was raging through Corpus Christi. But his lack of attention to his driving did finally have an impact. About twenty miles south of Houston, near the hometown of Nolan Ryan, the RO crossed the center lane and smashed straight into a tractor trailer carrying three hundred pigs. The driver of the tractor trailer died instantly while the pigs escaped unscathed into the Texas sunset. The RO was demolished and its driver knocked unconscious.

QUICK RECOVERY TIME

Grob ran over to the truck and applied MR (Molecular Reconstruction), soon restoring all life and property to its former state. Then he returned to the RO, saying, �Donnie Bob Belly, today I have experienced fud for the first time. Now, I must create! New, Donnie Bob, I want to do new!� The large man quickly regained consciousness and was- when the visitor arrived � changing a flat tire on his Rolling Outhouse. He didn�t want to waste fuding time looking for his jack and tools, so he was changing the tire entirely by hand. He loosened the wheel�s lug nuts with his fingers, and then lifted the truck�s frame with one hand, replacing the wheel with the other. Just then, the bright lights of a Texas highway patrolman shone on the large man. The patrolman stepped from his car, asking, �you OK?� The large man said, �Shoot no!� Stepping closer, the patrolman saw that the large man was holding the truck up with one hand. �Careful! You�re going to hurt yourself!�

The large man finished installing the lug nuts and lowered the vehicle. He said, �Too late to weary �bout that mess. Looky here � I got grease all over my brand new overalls! Dadgum it! Taken me two pair a overall to git this �un, brand new purty �uns, and now they all filthy. Plumb sorry what that is.�

The patrolman said, �Sir, do you realize that you just lifted over a thousand pounds by hand? Are you sure you�re OK?� The large man said, �I don�t mess with them big nummer. They all aggervatin�. Dadgum, look at my purty coveralls! They a dadgum mess!�

When the patrolman was convinced that the large man and his vehicle were safe to continue their journey, he left.

The large man then saw someone walking his way, a very slender man. He called out, �Hidy! Looky here, stop there and talk at me, but don�t walk no more, OK? You real little an might have the storvin� sickness, see? We got to git rid a that mess! Don�t wont to go catchin� it, though. See?�

The slender man said, �I do not have the storving sickness. Your name is Donnie Bob Belly. Mine is Grob. I know about you. I represent no danger. I�m coming closer.�

When Grob reached the Rolling Outhouse, the large man was inside with the windows rolled up. He rolled one down and said, �Hidy! You shore you ain�t got the storvin� sickness? You real little.�

Grob opened the door and sat beside Donnie Bob Belly. He said, �I�ll get right to the point. I traveled a long distance to visit you. You have what I need, what my planet needs. Think of it this way. I know about Grandmother Maria. She contacted a life source that is more advanced than mine, and did it here on Earth. My planet is thousands of years more advanced than Earth, but we can�t contact the higher forms. They don�t like us. As a result, we have to travel to Earth to try to gain knowledge and wisdom from the Higher Ones. That�s why you hear stories of visitors from other planets making curious visits to remote locations on Earth. We need your assistance to get information from the Higher Ones, through Earthlings.

�Here is the problem of my planet. Human hunger is fed through the body or through the soul. For centuries now, we have maintained trim, perfectly fit bodies that have never felt fed, and have pretended to be nourished spiritually. It was all an act. So, we find ourselves empty on all accounts. We have lost our souls. We have no spark of creativity. You have all of that. You feed your body and others with passion and creativity. We don�t know how to create. Here is what we can do.� Touching DB�s overalls lightly, he removed all the stains.

DB said, �Dadgum, they just like new, Grob Bob!�

Grob said, �Exactly. That�s what we do on my planet. We can make old things new. What we can�t do is make anything new. We need to learn from you.�

CHAPTER TWO

NEW ORLEANS RENDEZVOUS

Thanks to Grob's restoration abilities, the RO was once again up and running. At present, it was Sunday morning, 10 AM Central Time, and they were watching the ESPN NFL pre-game show. A formerly large man appeared on the screen and said, "I'm tired of talking about Mike Martz and the Rams. He's never even taken them to the Super Bowl."

Grob blurted out in surprise, "Who is that man? How can he say something so stupid? On Groll, we watch the Super Bowl, via inter-galactic satellite TV. Martz and the Rams lost to the Patriots in the 2002 Super Bowl."

The huge man beside Grob replied, "Maybe he means the Rams haven't won the Super Bowl with Martz as coach."

"Well, perhaps, but it's obvious that man is suffering from SSD."

"We better eat just in case watching him affects us."

That reminded them they were near New Orleans.

"How about Cajun?"

THE SECOND COMING OF ARCHIE

They stopped at the first authentic Cajun restaurant they saw. It was called Pierre's Winsome Crawdads. Grob said, "I just love Real Cajun food. We don't have much of it on Grol though there's plenty of Creole."

In deference to the big guy, they sat at a table that normally accommodated twelve or more. They ordered six of everything and were making great progress through the food when when a tall man with sandy hair walked through the door. One of the waitressess called out, "Hey, Archie, how you're doing?"

The big man instantly dropped one of his forks and cried, "My God, it's Archie!"

Grob said, "Why are you so excited, old man?"

"Why that must be Archie Abercrombie, the guy who invented both outhouses and baseball."

"Are you sure about that?"

"Why, sore, how many people you know named Archie?"

Good point, thought Grob.

THE CHATTANOOGA CONNECTION

Somewhere in western Alabama the RO came to a complete halt. What had stopped it? Some primeval force of nature? An international spy ring? A Bill Maher HBO Special?

None of these things, no, what stopped the RO was a simple realization. The Big Belly Man from Dime Box had suddenly come to the understanding that for months he had been under an illusion, an illusion so grand that it shook the foundation of his being.

Moon Pies were no more!

He hadn't cried in 46 years. But the pain and suffering were so great the tears began to flow. The alien from Grol just looked on, knowing that nothing that he said could alleviate the terrible burden the Big Belly Man was now enduring.

One wonders. What evil force was behind the demise of Moon Pies?

The answer could only be found in Chattanooga.

MEANWHILE

Meanwhile, back in Washington DC, two unnamed but high-powered senior administration officials were having a private conversation.

"Where in the heck is covert operative aka Deep Belly?"

"In Chattanooga at a moon pie bakery."

"You mean the one run by aliens from Alpha Delta Sector 498883344?

"Moon Pies are Dead. Long live the Moon Pie."

"Hey, Ha, Ha, that's a good one."

"Seriously, we need Deep Belly here ASAP."

"What's his mission?"

"Can't tell you. Top secret you know."

RIGHT FEET TOUCHING

Entering the bakery office, the man behind the desk, General Manager Curtis B. Blevins, immediately said, �Grob! So good to see you!� Grob said, �Gruel!� Gruel (�Blevins�) and Grob then stood apart from each other and touched their right feet, a Groller greeting custom.

Grob then said, �Donnie Bob Belly,� Gruel here is one of ours. He�s been trying to apply our Moon Pie formulation for months now, with no success. We can�t make anything new that�s any good, and we can�t get the old formula to work with our processes. I told you � we just can�t create. We�re all crazy on that score. What should we do?

DB said, �Shoot, let�s have some after-breakfast-but-before-just-before-lunch biscuits and gravy is what we�ll do. You�ll like it! Let�s go!�

THE NIGERIAN CONNECTION

When's the last time you've been to an opera? Do you understand any of it? If you did, you may have been suffering through the secondary stage of SSD (Storving Sickness Disease). The primary stage, as chronicled earlier, was the rapid and unstoppable loss of avoirdupois. Where did this insidious disease originate? At the NCDC (National Center for Disease Control), scientists have pinpointed its origin to an uranium processing mine in Nigeria. Nuclear Chemist, Dr. O.M.T. Inkyes, was quoted in the Atlanta Destituition as saying: "There is presumably a link between Saddam's non-occurence of acquring Nigerian uranium and the appearance of SSD in America."

PRIME TIME TARGET

The CBS NFL pre-game show was in a dismal slump, being in last place with both viewers and critics. Deion Sanders had never liked losing, so he was prepared to do whatever it took to overhaul FOX and ESPN. At the moment, he was discussing the situation with CIA operative, Fanny Bloom:

Fanny: Look at this way, Deion. It's better to be in last place than in no place. At least people know who you are.

Deion: You better believe it, but dadgummit, I wanna kick Dan Patrick's butt.

Fanny: You and a lot of other people. But you're missing the point. The problem has more to do with CBS's approach to the NFL games.

Deion: Yes?

Fanny: It doesn't take them seriously enough. Look at Fox. They have a former QB, former lineman, and former coach. All of them with Super Bowl rings.

Deion: How about ESPN?

Fanny: I don't watch ESPN.

LURKING IN THE SHADOWS

Here was the one question no one could answer, not even Howard Dean. Wesley Clark said that once time travel was developed he could go to the future and find the answer but when would that be? Gray Davis said he might look into it because he would have some time on his hands pretty soon. But no matter what anyone said the question remained unanswered.

Where did all the weight go that was lost in the worldwide epidemic of SSD?

It was estimated that as of midnight, September 30, 2003, over 47 tons in calories had disappeared. These calories were reported to be hidden in Iraq. But since this report was filed by British and American intelligence it had been discounted.

Senior administration officials knew that only one man, Deep Belly, had both the desire and the ability to find the lost calories. But he was MWF (Missing While Fuding).

They decided to find one operative they would have to employ another one. But who was available whose secret agent status had not yet been compromised? After much searching, they came up with one name, and it wasn't the agent's real name, but his code name: Oclupaca.

CHAPTER THREE

INTERLOPER

Oclupaca was famous for his attention to detail. Another secret agent might outsmart him but none of them could outprepare him. Yes, he had been an exceptional Boy Scout while growing up in Botswana, but it was more than that. Facts fascinated him and he had never been known to read a novel or watch a situation comedy. The only TV show he ever watched was Dragnet, the documentary based on the exploits of "Just the Facts, maam" Detective Joe Friday of the Los Angeles Police Department.

That's why he had no great desire to meet Grob and Deep Belly. Weren't they figments of someone's pathetic imagination? He had thought so but now his superiors at the CIA had told him that they really did exist and were presently ensconced in a a Grollian simulated moon pie bakery on the outskirts of Chattanooga. His mission was to find them and escort them to CIA HQ where they would be briefed on the greatest mystery of the 21st century, the Great Calorie Dissipation due to the SSD epidemic.

Pretty simple, really. Go to Chattanooga, surprise them in the moon pie factory, and haul them back to DC. He could do this in his sleep. What could possibly go wrong?

SSD SPINOFFS

Using the UBTD (Universal Belly Translation Device) Grob and Deep Belly had the following conversation:

DB: You know SSD scares the heck out of me. It worried me so much I only finished the fifth grade.

Grob: You have reason to worry. I've seen whole planets decimated by it.

DB: Where do the calories go? That's what has always bothered me.

Grob: Grollian scientists have been working on that problem for the last twenty thousand years with no success. There are some theories though.

DB: What are they?

Grob: The most popular theory is that they feed the fires of the sun. Another theory is that they cause global warming.

DB: I thought global warming was due to an excess of CO2.

Grob: I'm familiar with that ridiculous assumption. You humans are something else.

At this point DB just groaned.

Grob: There is a glimmer of hope there. In my short stay here I've recently noticed a variation of SSD.

DB: Yes?

Grob: In my last report back to the home world I commented on a new phenomenon. I entitled it the "Parcells Effect". The calories leave all the parts of the body except for the belly. Not very pretty but it gives one hope that a cure for SSD can be found.

For the first time in a long time, DB smiled.

MONKEY BUSINESS

At CIA headquarters, a group met inside an unmarked wall. Each member had been notified by secret-agent courier chimpanzee to attend a �this-didn�t happen� conference. They walked directly to lockers to get ball caps to mark their functional roles: The Director, The Office Whiner, The Company Clown, The Guy We Can�t Fire No Matter What and The Gal With the Great Tits Who Speaks Twenty Languages. They then sat in individual isolation chambers and stared at each other through Plexiglass windows.

The Director began, �We�re picking up Grol chatter and Belly mutterings. Probably nothing, but it�s different. Reminder review � Grol has been trying to learn reform its society for decades, learning how to produce food that is interesting and tasty, after getting carried away with health nut ideas centuries ago. Grollers are brilliant scientists, but lousy cooks. They�ve been trying out their recipes on Earth for many years, and most of them have bombed. The Secret Sauce is an exception, if you call that food. Tofu is theirs, as are the original diet sodas, margarine, salt substitutes, monosodium glutamate and several other food concepts we�ve been handed. Grol has been seen as harmless by The Company, but now we wonder. The spread of Grol food products is now seen as a leading cause of malnutrition in our country and a cause of mental dysfunction here and around the world. Grollers mean us no harm, but they may be dangerous.

�The new development is the intersection of Grol chatter with Belly mutterings. They haven�t merged before. Grollers and Bellys shouldn�t be together in an orderly world, since they have nothing in common. We must find out why.

�Reminder review, level two. Grollers began visiting Earth during the first FDR administration. They just thought he�d be receptive, and he was. Too bad. That�s how he got polio. An accident when he ate a Grol copy of the Oreo. They never get their food reverse-engineering right. Curious, since they�re so good at copying everything else.

�Keep an ear on Grollers and Bellys. Meeting adjourned, and go company!�

A TRAIN WRECK WAITING TO HAPPEN

It is a well known maxim in the spying business that the good spy never reveals what he appears to be revealing. Confusing, yes, but most well known maxims in the spy game were. As Oclupaca was driving down Highway 322 in the Shenandoah Valley he thought of a few more:

Never spy on an empty stomach (this one seems to have been influenced by CIA operatives brush with SSD)

Never sign up to do NFL commentary on ESPN (it is OK to do it on FOX Sports South)

Don't grope women in your twenties if you plan to run for public office in your fifties.

Do grope women in your twenties if you plan on dying in your twenties.

Make sure you are recognizably drunk if you leak classified information to balding journalists.

Never spy on an empty stomach.

Oclupaca knew that by sticking closely to the above rules he would remain successful in the spy game. By the way, was that his belly growling?

FAST FOOD REPERTOIRE

Grob pulled into a McDonald�s while DB was either sleeping or in a fud coma; Grob couldn�t tell the difference. When it was clear that DB was awake, Grob said, �Good morning, Donnie Bob Belly. Here, have a Big Mac. Tell me how you like the Secret Sauce.

After eating four Big Macs, DB said, �Thank ye there, Grob Bob. I was kinda hungry. That sauce ain�t no secret. Everbody knows it tastes like slop. Oh, the pig like it I reckon, but it ain�t what people would like unless they all crazy � Yankee and what not.�

Grob said, �I�m sorry to hear that you don�t like the Secret Sauce. I helped write the recipe.� DB said, �Wail, Grob Bob, that there recipe is one what needs ta be studied on. They�s a whole mess a sauce tastes dadgum better�n that �un, see? Hunerts of �em. But, shoot, people what likes slop�ll always like it, you can be shore a that. Them people needs they fud too, see?�

DISEASE DE JURE

NCDC HQ in Atlanta. Dr. OTM Inkyes is discussing the SSD epidemic with fellow microbiologist Dr. William O'Piley:

O'Piley: We just discovered the tertiary stage of SSD.

Inkyes: What is it?

O'Piley: You start believing in aliens, specifically aliens from a planet called Grol.

Inkyes did not reply but started chewing on his left pinky fingernail.

O'Piley: What's the matter, OTM?

Inkyes: A man named Grob who claimed to be from the planet Grol was in my office just a month ago. He gave me a recipe for something he called Secret Sauce.

O'Piley: How did it taste?

Inkyes: Not that bad.

O'Piley: Oh, really?

BIG MAC FLACK

As DB worked on his 25th Big Mac, Grob asked, �What do you find most lacking in the Secret Sauce?� In a few minutes, DB said, �It made out a that Yankee phony fud. Ain�t real fud. Mess a thangs with big ol�, long name. Real fud ain�t got them long ol� funny name, see? Fuders don�t mess with them big ol� name. That�s Yankee mess. You wont nice name on yore fud. Sides that, it tastes like slop. Ain�t right for the pig. Slop is they fud, and pig is our fud. Got to keep that mess straight in yore haid, Grob Bob. Rules is rules.�

SPYING IN THE DARK

Inkyes, who might have been a CIA operative, but because of fear of government prosecution we would never ever make that insinuation, called Oclupaca on his Secret Agent cell phone:

Oclupaca: Talk to me.

Inkyes: Are you walking?

Oclupaca: No, you idiot, I'm driving a GIV (Government Issued Vehicle).

Inkyes: Well, anyway, when you find Secret Agent Deep Belly, he may claim that he is being accompanied by an alien from the planet Grol.

Ocluplaca: So?

Inkyes: So it may cause him to act strangely.

Oclupaca: How will I know the difference?

Inkyes: You won't.

Oclupaca's boss in Langley called:

Boss: Hey, I've been trying to get through for thirty minutes. What's up?

Oclupaca: It was Inkyes from NCDC. He was telling me about SSD mutations.

Boss: Anything interesting?

Oclupaca: Nothing surprising. You know how well trained we are.

Boss: That was a somewhat cryptic response but I'll let it go. I have something more important to talk to you about.

Oclupaca: Yea, what would that be?

Boss: Are you walking, by the way?

Ocluplaca: I'm driving a GIV, for lands sake!

Boss: Oh, yea. Some disturbing information has come across my desk. It's the lead article in the official CIA House Organ.

Oclupaca: You mean the National Enquirer?

Boss. That's right. It accuses you of sometimes singing a cappella.

Oclupaca didn't respond.

GOING, GOING, GONE

The UBTD was on:

Grob: Would you consider going back to Grol as a consultant? You could make an inspection of the planet and give us some ideas on how to improve things.

DB: The quality and quantity of your food supply worries me.

Grob: We could take earth foodstock with us. The spaceship is quite large you know.

DB: What do you have to drink?

Grob: We have water and coffee, of course, but the favorite drink is a delightful, almost intoxicating brew.

DB: What do you call it?

Grob. Old Grollian.

CAVEAT CAVETHAT

The UBTD was on:

DB: Your offer sounds good but there's one caveat.

Grob: What might that be?

DB: The RO goes along.

Grob: Of course. I anticipated that request and have already made necessary modifications to the spaceship.

DB: How far away is Grol?

Grob: 272 light years.

DB: How long will it take?

Grob: About 6 minutes.

DB: Let's go.

Ten minutes later, after driving the RO into the loading dock, and making sure there were enough food supplies to last a normal man ten years, they blasted off.

On a mountain road about twenty miles away, Oclupaca looked into the night sky and saw a strange light moving upward. He wondered what it was.

CHAPTER FOUR

OCLUPACA'S LAMENT

Oclupaca's ROLAID (Rolling Outhouse Laser Applicator Inductive Device) started beeping wildly. That meant the RO was either very, very near or had been very, very near not too long ago. When Oclupaca drove off the mountain road onto the rocky path he shortly discovered an open area in the forest. One problem though. The open area was totally vacant! Yet the ROLAID was beeping louder than ever. That meant the RO had been right here within the last twenty minutes. Oclupaca called HQ:

Boss: Talk to me.

Oclupaca: Are you walking?

Boss: Of course, aren't you?

Oclupaca lied: Of course.

Boss: What's up?

Oclupaca: I just missed him.

Boss: We know.

Oclupaca: What?

Boss: Our OSTS (Outer Space Tracking Satellite) just recorded a passing blurb traveling at 45 times the speed of light.

Oclupaca: You mean Deep Belly has left Earth?

Boss: Looks that way.

DISEASE RIDDEN

NCDC HQ in Atlanta:

Dr. OTM Inkyes: Is this Tokyo? Can you hear me?

In Tokyo, at FECDC (Far East Center for Disease Control) HQ, the Center Director, Dr. Tomkyco replies: Yes, are you walking?

Inkyes lies: Yes.

Tomkyco: Thanks for returning my call. A strange phenomenon is taking place. All our Sumo wrestlers have lost weight and the great sport of Sumo is close to being abolished forever.

Inkyes: It must be SSD!

Tomkyco: Excuse, please?

Inkyes: SSD, Storving Sickness Disease. It's a mysterious ailment that attacks the body and steals calories.

Tomkyco: Where do the calories go?

Inkyes: Grol.

Tomkyco: Where is that?

Inkyes: It's a planet exactly 762 light years from earth.

The phone line went dead.

AS FAR AWAY AS YOU WANT TO BE

The planet Grol, in Sector XYA of the Milky Way Galaxy, was losing orbit. None of Grol's great scientists could explain what was happening. In deference to the concept that great minds think, they had all gathered together in the capitol city of Grill. Let's listen in on their conversation at the GHOGGT (Great Hall Of Great Grol Thinkers):

ABC (a physicist): This is most perplexing. Grol's orbit has slowed approximately 24% in the last twenty-four hours.

DEF (an astronomer): That's a coincidence. Exactly 23 hours and 54 minutes ago I spotted a flashing light leaving RPE (Rural Planet Earth).

GHI (a biochemist): Could there be a correlation between the two?

DEF: Perhaps.

The great minds continued thinking.

BACK ON SOLID GROUND

Oclupaca wasn't familiar with the feeling of defeat. Sometimes a sinner, but always a winner. That was his motto. But this was a tough one. How was he going to track down a faster than light spaceship? As far as he could remember, Earthian physics had not yet devised a superluminial engine. But wait a minute. What was that novel he had read back in the autumn of 2001? It talked about an engine called a FTA or was that FDA? No, it was FFA or Fecal Fusion Accelerator. It was developed by a Little Belly at Texas A&M. Could it be modified to fit a one man spaceship? Of course, it was talked about in a work of fiction, but Texas A&M was a real place and so were the Bellys of Dime Box. Oclupaca called Langley:

Boss: Talk to me.

Oclupaca: I'm headed to College Station.

Boss: Why?

Oclucapa: I'll let you know later, meanwhile, I need a one man spaceship shipped from Houston to BJPL (Belly Jet Propulsion Lab) in Aggie Village.

Boss: That's one big favor. You owe me big time.

Oclupaca: If my plan works you'll owe me.

HIGHER FOR HIRE

We'll meet you at the Met."

"Who's on tap?"

"Carmina Burana and the New York Philharmonic."

"What will she be singing?"

"The first half will be the Fortuna Imperatrix Mundi."

"How about after halftime?"

"She plans to dedicate the second half to the memory of her lost cousin?"

"Who that might be?"

"Deep Belly."

"Really?"

"Yes, Burana means Belly in Croatian."

HARM AID

Willie was 70 years old and not quite as spry as he used to be. But he felt like he had one great cause left in him (as well as a few more dysfunctional duets). He had saved the American farm. Saving the world from SSD should be easy in comparison. He needed help though. Who could it be? Then it hit him like a freight train. He got out his cell phone:

Jimmy: Hello.

Willie: Is that you, Jimmy?

Jimmy: Is that you, Willie?

Willie: You betcha. Jimmy, we need to save the world. This Storving Sickness Disease is spreading like wildfire.

Jimmy: What you got in mind?

Willie: Why a concert, of course. What else could I do?

Jimmy: What do you want me to do?

Willie: What you do best. Talk about it. Go to the United Nations and preach. Go to El Salvador and count votes. Go to India and don't eat meat. Get the drift?

Jimmy: I'm on it. Where's the concert going be?

Willie: Where else? College Station.

CHINESE CHECKERS

Col. Steve Kuan of the Chinese Army entered a basement office of the Chinese embassy in Washington, D.C.., closing the door. He smiled at Gen. Ching Chang, saying �the pig has flown.�

Gen. Chang said, �Well done, Kuan. Now, please drop the spy talk. Tell me everything.�

Kuan said, �Private Wing Wang is now headed for Krol, posing as Mr. Donnie Bob Belly, a person of great interest to Krollers. He is accompanied by a vehicle containing four of our latest surveillance satellites. They are inside a unit the actual Mr. Belly calls a �rolling outhouse.�

Now that we have an agent on Krol, we expect to become recipients of Krol food technology. Up to now, they have refused to deal with us. We will have the next Secret Sauce, and sell fast food around the world, creating goodwill toward our superior culture as we begin to dominate all other countries. In addition, we will gain access to Krol space technology that will be vital to our world dominance. Those are the key facts.�

Gen. Wang said, �This seems too easy. We know Mr. Belly is afraid of heights � he refuses to even use stairs in a building. Krollers must know this. What makes you think they don�t know Pvt. Wang is an imposter?�

Kuan said, �Krollers do no spying on Earth. They think all Earthlings are too backward to pose a threat. Besides, most Krollers are clairvoyant, and can detect an obvious fraud. Pvt. Wang has been programmed to speak and think much as the actual Mr. Belly. Well enough to have convinced Krollers that he is indeed Donnie Bob Belly of Dime Box, Texas.�

Gen. Chang said, �Impressive, if you�re right. If you aren�t, of course, there will be a leak.� Laughing, Gen. Chang said, �Unlike the Americans, Chinese leaks yield only blood! Isn�t that right, Kuan?�

Kuan said, �I�m aware of the situation, general, as well as the possibilities. Just think � tomorrow we capture world pop culture. After that, the world. This is a great day for China.�

DEFINITIONS AND END GAMES

At CIA headquarters, a group met inside an unmarked wall. Each member had been notified by robots posing as reporters to attend a �this-didn�t happen� conference. They walked directly to lockers to get ball caps to mark their functional roles: The Director, The Guy Who Blew the Belly Case, The Guy Who Hired the Guy Who Blew the Belly Case and The Guy Who�s Useless but Plays Gold wiht Bob Woodward. They then sat in individual isolation chambers and stared at each other through Plexiglass windows.

The Director began, �Great work, simply spectacular. The pig has flown, and we�re stuck in the pig pen. You guys listened to months of Krol chatter and Belly belches, and didn�t hear the associated Chinese lisping. Now the Chinese have an agent on Krol.

�At least, they think they do. Does anyone know for sure? No one in this organization, obviously. We know nothing. We suspect nothing. Nothing is not what we�re supposed to know! This is crap! Go find this Donnie Bob Belly � anyone claiming to be Donnie Bob Belly. If it�s the real one, we�ll get work to Krollers that they�ve been had. If it�s a fake Belly, we�ll deflate it. Move! And go company!�

CULTURE TOWN

Oclupaca was at the moment clueless about the Chinese connection to this story. Nothing new there. CIA spies were the usually the last to know anything.

He arrived in College Station after driving all night from Tennessee. He knocked on the door of the BJPL. A young man who looked liked a linebacker for the football team opened the door.

Oclupaca: You wouldn't happen to be Professor Buford Belly?

Buford: That's right and who might you be? A government spy?

Oclupaca. Of course not. I worked for NASA. (Oclupaca flashed his NASA ID that he took along for just situations).

Buford: Come on in. How about some water? (Buford went to the fridge and pulled out two Old Milwaukees).

Oclupaca: Thanks. We need your help, Buford, and fast. A one man spaceship will be arriving at BJPL today at noon and we want you to install a modified faster than light FFA in it. Can you do it?

Buford: Never done before it. But what the heck I'm willing to give it a try. Might need to get Cousin Donnie Bob here though. He's classically trained in Non-Einsteinian physics.

Oclupaca: That could be a problem.

BREAKING WIND

Two CIA agents in regulation undercover attire � black pants, white shirt and Skull and Crossbones windbreaker � approached a vehicle stopped on the side of a Road to San Manse that resembled the description they�d received of the Rolling Outhouse owned by Donnie Bob Belly. Inside, Mr. Belly was searching for an unopened box of Moon Pies amid hundreds of Moon Pie wrappers. Agent Sam Lost tapped on the driver�s side window, receiving no response. Then he opened the RO door, again receiving no response as Mr. Belly continued his futile search. Lost said, �Mr. Donnie Bob Belly?�

DB muttered, �Shoot, that�s my name too. I never knowed they was another. Look here, you see a Moon Pie box in here? I cain�t find it! Cain�t find it nowhere! Dadgum aggervatin� what it is.�

Lost said, �Mr. Belly, my name is Agent Lost. I need to see your driver�s license and registration.�

DB said, �Them license on the bumpers. Registration in here somewheres. I don�t know where. You know where? You find that mess, see if you can find me a box a Moon Pie. Dadgum, I cain�t find nothin�!�

Agent Lost said, �Mr. Belly, you have two different license plate numbers on this vehicle, and they�re both out-of-date.�

DB said, ��Course they two nummers! That front come off a �49 Ford and the back �un come off a �52 Ford. Them nummer jist like they wad before, real purty too. I like �em! Them date nummers jist like the wad too. Don�t you be changin� them nummer! They real purty.�

Agent Lost�s partner introduced himself, �Hi, Mr. Belly. My name is Harry Found. In your glove box, there is a voter registration card, but no vehicle registration. Without that and with expired plates, your vehicle is not legal to drive. You have a problem.�

DB said, �You ain�t jist funnin� �bout that. Looky here � my dadgum 8-track ain�t workin�. Won�t play nothing� at all, ain�t for hunnerts a miles now, and I cain�t find no Moon Pie nowhere. Shoot! This here�s turrble! I jist don�t know what to do, what I don�t know.�

Agent Lost said, �Mr. Belly, we can help. First, though, we need proof that you are Donnie Bob Belly. Can you prove who you are?�

DB said, �Shoot, everbody knows. Always been. Sides, I ain�t got no time for that mess. Cain�t you see I�m dadgum near a storvin�?�

Agent Lost said, �No, I hadn�t noticed. Sorry to hear that. Listen, we have some questions. We know a bit about you. Maybe we can help you prove who you are. First of all, who is your favorite singer?�

DB said, �Oh shoot, I like my sangin� right smart. Wont to hear?�

Agent Lost said, �No, thank you. Besides yourself, who is your favorite?�

DB said, �Wail, I had liked to hear Mr. Roy Acuff right smart, but he�s makin� me mad is what he�s doin�. His dadgum 8-tracks keep breakin� on me. That ain�t right is what that ain�t. I ain�t gonna put up with it.�

After over an hour of questioning, Agents Lost and Found agreed that they had no idea who the large man might be. They had located over 500 pounds of fresh barbecue and cold Shiner, however, and were enjoying a picnic with Mr. Belly. Some things take time. Mr. Belly continued to search for his missing box of Moon Pies.

CHAPTER FIVE

CALLING HOUSTON

The OMS (One Man Spaceship) arrived shortly after noon and was unloaded in the take off bay of the BJPL.

Buford: What do you mean, Cousin Donnie Bob, can't help us? I was just talking to him on the phone this morning. He's about forty miles north of San Manse'. Couldn't one of your GIJs (Government Issued Jet) fly him here this afternoon?

Oclupaca choked on his pork jerky: You talked to Agent Deep Belly this morning? That's impossible!

Buford: Look here, there ain't but one Cousin Donnie Bob. I'd know his voice if it was filtered through pea soup.

Oclupaca furrowed his brow and stroked his chin for a few moments. What was going on here? The Boss had stated unequivocally that Agent Deep Belly had gone to the planet Grol on a Grollian spaceship. But now Buford Belly, who had a documented IQ of 234, was asserting that DB was in Nothern Mexico.

Oclupaca: Look here, Buford, if you don't mind, start the initial phase of installing the FFA in the OMS. I need to do some walking and talking.

Buford: Sure thing. If you happen to pass by AggieLand BBQ bring back a case of briskets. Working makes me hungry.

As soon as Oclupaca get outside the lab he called Langley.

Boss: Talk to me.

Oclupaca: Something fishy is going on. Are you sure Agent Deep Belly has gone to Grol?

Boss: That's classifed information but I will say that Chinese cuisine and Belly fud are remarkably similar.

Oclupaca: Got it.

Oclupaca hung up. He then noticed he had wandered right in front of Aggeland BBQ. Funny how spying increased the appetite.

KINGLY HERITAGE

After Agent Found returned with 50 boxes of assorted pastries, DB became more calm and inclined to speak about his identity. He said, �Shoot, you reckon I ain�t Donnie Bob Belly? Wail, dadgum, who you reckon I had been if I ain�t had been no Donnie Bob Belly? You know what, maybe Mr. Roy Acuff wad my daddy? Reckon? Shoot, might a been Mr. FDR! Reckon? Ain�t no tailin� if I ain�t Donnie Bob Belly. Shore thought I wad, what I had thought. You know what, I had heared �bout a feller finded out he wad the dadgum kang a England, what not, an nobody had tolded him. Shoot, you reckon I had been the dadgum kang a England? Wail I tail you what, I ain�t goin� over ta live amongst them Yankee, what I ain�t gonna do. I�ll jist do my kangin� right here is what I�ll do. Do I got to stort kangin� right now? Good night, I ain�t got time for that mess! When you reckon I�m gonna fit in that kangin� bidness? You all gonna have to wait yore dadgum turn what you gonna have ta do. I got a whole mess a thang I got ta do �fore I git ta that kangin� mess, see?�

DOPPELGANGING

Twenty-four hours after he had begun working on modifying the FFA so it would work on the OMS, Buford hollered to Oclupaca: I think she's ready.

Oclupaca: Thanks, Buford. Grab another fried chicken.

He then used the cell phone.

Boss: Talk to me.

Oclupaca: The OMS is ready. Have you pinpointed the real Agent DB?

Boss: He's with Lost and Found. I'll dial in the coordinates. Good luck.

Oclupaca to Buford: I forget to mention it before. Did you set the OMS up so it would also travel in subspace?

Buford: Of course. I also put 24 cases of Old Milwaukee in the cargo bay. You can never tell about the water in them foreign places.

Oclupaca: How about the UBTD?

Buford: That'll cost you.

Oclupaca paid Buford and thanked him and set out for Northern Mexico.

ACROSS A SPACE OF YEARS

Oclupaca jumped into the OMS and punched in the coordinates of the last known DB whereabouts. He cranked on the FFA and it purred like a kitten.

Oclupaca: Do I have enough fuel to go 672 light years and back?

Buford: You'll have to refuel on Grol.

Oclupaca: Any kind of waste matter will work?

Buford: Stay away from Grollians themselves. They're health nuts and their waste matter lack vital ingredients. I recommend the waste matter of Grollian pigs. Not as good as earth pigs, but it should get you back.

Oclupaca: Thanks Buford, you did a good job. The Agency won't forget you.

Buford: Just tell Cousin Donnie Bob not to eat Grollian Moon Pies. They're made without trans-fatty acids.

Oclupaca: Ugh.

BEYOND THE BORDER

Oclupaca spotted the RO beside the San Manse' Memorial Highway. An agency black helicopter was situated about about thirty yards from the RO. Oclupaca took out his cell:

Lost: Talk to me.

Oclupaca: You and Found get out of there. I'm coming in.

Found: Hey, we're not through eating!

Oclupaca: You got exactly 60 seconds or the heli is history.

The agents quickly said goodbye to Agent Deep Belly and sprinted for the helicopter. Oclupaca landed the OMS a few minutes later and walked over to the RO. Upon reaching it, he activated the UBTD.

Oclupaca: Hi, Donnie Bob, how're you doing?

DB: Quite well, thank you, the CIA fellows brought some fine vittles with them.

Oclupaca: Don't be coy, DB, I know you're worried about SSD.

At the mention of the great mystery ailment, DB let out a loud wail that symbolically rent the heavens. Yes, DB, strong man that he was, was nonetheless at wit's end concerning the disease that might mean the end of the Belly Hegemony.

Oclupaca: I may have a solution.

DB's countenance improved immediately.

Oclupaca: But it requires taking a little trip.

DB: To cure SSS, I'll go anywhere.

Oclupaca: I'm glad you feel that way.

STAR CROSSED

DB�s sale phone beeped. He answered, saying, �Hidy.�

Buford said, �Hi, Uncle D.�

DB said, �That ain�t me no more. Kang a England who you talkin� at.�

Buford said, �Funny, Uncle D. Listen, I�ve got a big deal going on��

DB said, �Ain�t funnin�! Fellers from the lost an found come out here tellin� me I ain�t no Donnie Bob Belly no more. I shore hadn�t knowed that, what I hadn�t knowed. Ain�t nobody knows who I had been. Wail, that shore sorry, but then it come to me I�m the dadgum kang a England � kang Donnie Bob. That other feller name a Donnie Bob�ll jist have tag it used ta a nuther Donnie Bob, what he�ll have ta do. Ain�t that somethin�?�

Buford said, �Oh yes, that�s something, especially if you believe it. So, what the hell, you going to move over to England, into Windsor Castle?�

DB said, �Good Lord, no! I ain�t goin� over amongst them Yankees, aliens, what not. Ain�t nobody gonna tail the dadgum Kang where he gonna live. Do my kangin� in Dime Box. Looky here, Buford, you can do some kangin� too � set in for me while I�m out on pig runs, what not. You�ll like it! You got to �member you cain�t git on the whiskey real bad while you�re kangin�, see, oh, right smart drankin�, but not too bad. Wouldn�t be right for the dadgum kang to git all dranked up, see? A little kangin�ll be nice ever onct in the while though, see?�

Buford said, �You know, uncle..I mean King D, they already got a queen over there.�

DB said, �Wail, she can do the queenin� an I�ll do the kangin�. Got to tail Bertha Mae she cain�t be queen, I reckon. She won�t like that. Ain�t my fault, though, if they already got one. Reckon she could be queen a some nother place, though. Shoot, Texas ain�t go no queen! Bertha Mae can be queen a Texas I reckon. She got to �member that the kang gonna have to have a mess a �nanner cr�me pie ever dadgum day, though. That there�s the mainest thang I like �bout this kangin�. Shoot, I don�t git no nanner cr�me pie from Bertha Mae no more thin onct a week, what not. Makes me all storved what it does. I cain�t git her recipe no more thin nothin�. Done tried time and time again, cain�t make it no more thin nothin�. Bertha Mae gonna have to make then nanner cr�me pie for the kang when the dadgum kang wonts �em though. Them�s the rules. The dadgum kang�s rules. Shoot, I like bein� kang!�

Buford said, �Well, king, I�ve got some news for you. A bunch of government guys are telling me to build a rocket to take you on a mission to another planet..�

DB said, �Good Lord, no! I ain�t goin� on none a them airinplane, rocket ship, what not! You thank the dadgum kang gonna have no part a such mess? Shoot no! Anybody has no part a such as that gonna be on the wrong side a the kang, what they gonne be. Don�t talk no more �bout such mess as that!�

ANTICPATING ANTICIPATION

Lost and Found had departed in the black helicopter and Oclupaca and Agent Deep Belly were continuing their UBTD aided conversation.

DB: Something ain't right, Mr. Oclupaca. No way I can fit in that spaceship of yours.

O: Your nephew, Buford, anticipated that. That's why I asked him to add the special docking bay for your rolling outhouse.

Oclupaca pushed a button on his TV remote control and one side of the OMS re-shaped itself into a BOM approved interstellar docking bay.

O: Crank up the RO and drive it straight at the flashing neon light.

DB: You mean the one that says 'Cheap Beer and Cigarettes'?

O: That's right.

DB did so without a hitch and the OMS was ready for takeoff to the planet Grol, 672 light years away.

CHECKING BACK HOME

Oclupaca decided he wanted to talk to his wife, A Cappella, before traveling 672 light years:

A: Hello.

O: Code 47.

A Cappella reached over to a control panel in the wall and punched a long series of buttons.

A: Go ahead (A stranger hearing this would hear the following sound: ghwoookkal).

O: I'm headed for Grol. Just wanted to say goodbye and remind you to feed the dog.

A: Of course. Well, have a good trip. When do you think you'll be back?

O: That's problematic. I could get back some time before I left. We've been having trouble with our Non-Einsteinian booster.

A: Did you check the Doppelganger Effect?

O: Not yet, but soon as Agent Deep Belly gets settled in, I'll have him look over.

A: Is DB behaving?

O: Before leaving Earth, he's insisting that we go first to Fort Worth and stop at a place called the SSO.

A: What's that?

O: I have no idea, but I'm hoping he'll fill me in before we get there. Anyway, keep the home fires burning.

A: You bet.

SEEING DOUBLE

DB pulled his Rolling Outhouse into the dirt parking lot of the Sheriff's office in Decatur, TX. He walked into the office where he found his cousin Bobby Dan Belly having an after-lunch-but-before-just-before-supper snack. Bobby Dan said, "hidy, Donnie Bob. I didn't know you was here."

DB said, "I'm ain't. Turns out that I ain't Belly, Bobby Dan. I'm a dadgum Belly bastard. Shoot, I'm the dadgum kang a England."

Unfazed and still focused on his fuding, Bobby Dan said, "wail, ever famly got a bastard or two I reckon. You better fud. Bastards got to fud too."

DB immediately began fuding. After approximately 45 minutes, Bobby Dan said, "shoot, who all them people you got tied up in the pig trailer?"

DB said, "Oh, they's them that told me I'm a bastard and a mess a sorry commanists what's wontin' ta put me up in a dadgum rocket ship..."

Bobby Dan said, "Good lord, they crazy? Don't them commanists know Donnie Bob Belly won't even walk up stairs? Gits all crazy if he gits even a dadgum foot off a fuding ground? Them must be some commanists what's off in they heads what them must be. Why you gonna believe that bunch when they sayin' you a bastard? Bunch a dumbasses like that ain't gonna know nothin' if they thank they gonna git Donnie Bob Belly up in no rocket boat, what not."

DB said, "Oh, I'll own up to bein' a bastard if that what I been. Shore didn't know it. Now I got to do kangin'. 'Course, that ain't all bad. I like kangin'!"

Bobby Dan said, "shoot, Donnie Bob, ain't that Buford tied up there in the trailer with them commanists?"

DB said, "Oh yes. He was workin' with that bunch. Got all hipatized by 'em or what not. Had ta smack ol' Buford and tie him up too. You know what, he ain't no good at all at scrappin'. Reckon them Aggies got him all crazy in the haid and took his scrappin' gift is what I reckon."

Bobby Dan said, "Listen here, you know 'bout that kangin' mess? You got to wear a big ol' steel hat and a dadgum dress all the time, an set on a big ol' hard chair. That ain't no good."

DB said, "No, them ain't the kang's rules. Tha kang'll wear overalls and no dadgum hat. Anybody wont to visit with the kang, they got to wear overalls and talk the kang's English. Kang Donnie Bob's English. Them's the rules a Kang Donnie Bob."

Bobby Dan said, "Wail, I reckon I'll go book them commanists into they cells. Mess a paper work. I don't like that paperwork, kang Donnie Bob. Shore don't like that paperwork. You shore you kang Donnie Bob an a bastard? You shore look Belly, act Belly, sound Belly, fud Belly."

DB said, "That's jist how this kangin' mess works, fars I know. Got to be a bastard to be kang I reckon. I never knowed nothin' 'bout it. Kinda like it, though."

CHAPTER SIX

CAUSATION INVERSION

Oculpaca's CIA Secret Agent cell phone rang. It was the Boss.

O: I'm glad you called.

Boss: And I know why. The SNEPL (Secret Non-Einsteinian Physics Lab) has just reported that the TDDE (Trans-Discretionary Doppelganger Effect) was activated exactly 15 minutes ago. At that time, everything within 1/10 square mile of you was duplicated.

O: So the mission is still a go?

Boss: Absolutely. Proceed to the SSO, then to Grol. Good luck.

ON THE PLANTATION

Oclupaca eased the OMS/RO down IN the back yard of the SSO. ATT just happened to be outside doing repair work on the outhouse. A freak October thunderstorm had struck the night before causing the outhouse to tumble.

ATT: Howdy, Oclupaca, what the heck are you doing flying around with DB's RO attached to your OMS?

O: It was the only way I knew to get DB to fly Grol with me.

ATT scratched his head: That's funny. The SMSNN (San Manse' Satellite News Network) is reporting that DB is near San Manse' with a pig trailer full of spies and his nephew Buford.

O: That's DB's as well as the others' doppelgangers. We found the only way to maintain quality control and keep the mission on target was to use the TDDE.

ATT: Makes sense. Why did you stop here?

O: DB said he wouldn't leave earth until he talked to you first.

ATT: Tell him to come on out.

RECONCILING THE IRRECONCIABLE

While DB and ATT were having an animated conversation underneath the mulberry tree, Oclupaca made use of the outhouse facilites. Upon emerging, he discovered ATT standing alone.

O: Where's DB?

ATT: He got hungry.

O: Well, it's time to go to Grol, I guess.

ATT: How long will it take?

O: If the FFA is working properly, 345 years.

ATT: Well, I guess this is it. I'll be long gone by then.

O: No you won't. We should be back in one week of your time.

ATT: Huh?

O: It's the DB Factor. He lives according to the principles of Non-Einsteinian physics which distorts the normal parameters of time.

ATT: Makes sense.

WHERE NO BELLY...

The OMS/RO, powered by the FFA, was barreling past Pluto headed straight for the Alpha Centauri system, where Oclupaca planned stop and ask directions. At the moment, he and Agent Deep Belly, assisted by the UDTD, were having a conversation. O: Have you ever been to Grol?

DB: Heck, I ain't never left Texas, unless you count San Manse'

. O: Do you realize the importance of this mission?

DB: Well, heck yea, we're searching for those elusive lost calories. But why do you think we need to go to Grol?

O: Because the Chinese think Grol is the key to the mystery. After all, they went to the trouble of duplicating you and taking your place in Grob's Grollian spaceship.

DB: That's been happening a lot lately

THINKING EXPANSION

The stop at Alpha Centauri was productive as Oclupaca received excellent directions for the next phase of the journey to Grol.

DB: I think a B6 might just go there. Remind me to tell Bernice when I get back.

O: Sure thing. Are you still maintaining your weight?

DB: Last time I checked it was zero pounds.

O: In space that's good. You only need to be concerned if your weight drops below zero.

SIMPLICITY REDEFINED

The Chinese DB was sitting in a cafe in the Grollian capitol of Grol. In keeping up his disguise, he had done his best to emulate a Bellyian-type meal. As a result, his stomach as well as the rest of his insides, were in turmoil. Oh, to be back in China eating a simple bowl of rice. While he was suffering, his Grollian escort Grob walked up.

Grob: Hey, DB, wanna grab a snack?

CDB: Sounds good. But lets go to one on the other side of the city. Let's walk too.

Grob: Hey, that's 26 miles!

CDB: Sounds about right.

EAGERNESS AND RELUCTANCE

26 miles was quite a walk, even on Grol, where walking was subsidized by the government. The walk gave a chance for Grob and the Chinese DB to get to know each other better.

Grob: You seem uncomfortable, DB, and this eagerness to walk is very uncharacteristic of you.

CDB: Perhaps the change in planets was good for me.

Grob: Good point, but I still suspect something is amiss.

CDB: You're imaging things.

At that very moment, the OMS-RO came roaring out of the sky. Grob and CDB looked up but the sky was so bright they had to shut their eyes immediately.

CBD: What in the world was that?

Grob: Whatever it was, it wasn't a Grollian spaceship. They remain in orbit as crews are sent back and forth to Grol via molecular reintegration.

CDB: So intergration goes smoothly on Grol?

Grob: Yes, for the last 21,000 years, we've done quite well in that arena.

CDB: How have you treated the Chinese Grollians?

Grob glanced suspiciously at CDB: Why would you ask something like that?

They had forgotten the OMS-RO that was headed straight at them.

WHO INDEED?

When Oclupaca's teleprompter first showed the walking pair on the Grollian highway, he had to rub his eyes in disbelief. He looked over to the co-pilot seat where Agent Deep Belly was snoring in peaceful slumber. Then he looked back at the viewscreen where someone who looked exactly like Agent DB was walking beside a Grollian. What was going on? Who was the real Agent Deep Belly?

Oclupaca knew he could never answer that question himself. He needed help. But who would help him?

DIALECT DIALECTIC

Grob, an innately amiable personality, furrowed his brow a bit, to the degree that a Groller can do brow furrowing, saying, "let's get real, Private Wang. We've known who you are since your first night on Krol. The dreams. One of our dream specialists had a long conversation with you, and you told all. I'll admit that you had me for a while, though the radical changes in dialect made me wonder. I was thinking indigestion. I had it wrong. Anyway, just skip the Donnie Bob Belly act and let's see if we can do business."

Pvt. Wang said, "Shoot, I cain't. I done been learned on talkin' Belly and jist cain't stop it. Wisht I could. It aggervatin'. Makin' me all crazy, what it had done, see?"

Grob said, "I know. Impressive programming, for Earthlings. But in Bellyese, just drop the pretense. We know you want Grol food and space technology for China. What's in it for Grol?"

Wang said, "Biggest dadgum market on Earth, what it is. We gonna run the whole dadgum Earth too, fore too very long, what we gonna do. Shoot, you all'd be our pardners, what you'd be, see?"

Grob said, "That could be cool. Problem is, Grollers hate Chinese food. That's why we haven't dealt with you before. It's terrible, and we know all about terrible food, given our diet over the last few hundred years. We're just not going to take visits to Earth and have to live with crappy food while we're there. We might as well stay here. Chinese cuisine has to change in a big way. We want more Belly Ways incorporated into your diet, see?"

Wang said, "Oh, I reckon. We'd do might near any dadgum thang to git you all a dealin' with us. It'll be fun! Shoot, let's do some fudin'. I'm gittin' kinda hungry."

Grob said, "Fine. But we need a far more advanced implemetation plan. Get in touch with your superiors, and find out how they're going to do Belly Fud or an equivalent on a wide scale, with our help. You'll have a report for me within three Earth hours - their best shot, not opening bid bluff crap - or we'll be most cross with you, Private Wang. Grollers do cross exceedingly well."

TALKING PEACE

After the initial shock of seeing an Agent Deep Belly double, Oclupaca recovered long enough to study the features of the Grollian companion. More shock ensued for the man standing the DB twin looked exactly like Jimmy Carter! Oclupaca then guided the OMS-RO to a soft landing on a vacant strip of land about 300 feet from the two walkers. He and Agent DB jumped quickly out of the craft and confronted them.

O: Well, Jimmy, I see you've brought your peacenik routine to Grol.

Grob: Why do you address me as this Jimmy fellow? By the way, I'm glad to see that you've brought the real Donnie Bob Belly with you.

O: You mean the one with you is the fake one? How can you be sure?

Grob: He slipped one morning and ate Grollian tofu.

The real Deep Belly, upon hearing this, went into a spasm that simulated gagging.

O: You Grollians are pretty clever. Tell me this, have you discovered a cure for SSD? That's why we're here.

Grob: No, but we have located approximately 5000 metric tons of what appear to be Earth calories in the Horseshoe Nebula.

O: Can you return them to Earth?

Grob: Yes, but it'll take about two months. Even with Grollian technology, a distance that vast is not quickly negotiable.

O: Well, looks my work here is done. Alright, DB, hop back in. Let's get back to Earth and tell them the good news. Catch you guys later.

DON'T FORGET THE BELLYS

Meanwhile in Grill, the capitol of Grol, the GGTs (Great Grol Thinkers) were discussing and debating the question of ULC (Universal Lost Calories).

YYY: I think it is quite demeaning to the rest of us that such a insignificant planet like Earth could produce a disease of such incredible magnitude. None of our studies and research efforts heretofore predicted such a thing happening.

RSR: We didn't put the Bellys into the equation.

ghg: Ah...

[[[: Well, bring in Ambassador Grob and Mr. Belly.

DB REMEMBERS

DB: Ain't you forgetting something?

O: What could that could be?

DB: Fuel.

Oclupaca gave a sheepish grin and stuck his head out the window and shouted at Grob who was still within listening distance.

O: Any pig farms nearby?

Grob: Take a left at the Grill Spacetower, then go straight for 500 miles. You can't miss it.

O: Thanks.

Oclupaca was there in a few minutes and made a sufficient purchase of Grollian pig waste matter. Since they had no Grollian currency, Agent DB traded six cases of moon pies for the fuel. He was reluctant to do so, of course, but he had to admit he was getting a little homesick.

CHAPTER SEVEN

NORTH KOREAN SOLILOQUY

Grob visited Private Wang in his Rolling Outhouse facsimile, saying, "OK, what does your boss say?" Wang said, "Yore witch is our demand, what not."

Grob said, "Good. Invade North Korea. Right away. That will show us you're serious. This is not negotiable. It's a trash country and a blight on your planet. Most importantly, the food is beyond terrible. Remember, we know bad food. Get rid of it."

Wang said, "Shoot, that there's a mess ta ast. What you gonna give us ta show you actin' in good fate?"

Grob said, "I'll tell you who 'Deep Throat' is. Me. Seems like only yesterday. What fun. I'm still known as the follow-the-money guy around here. Good times. OK, that's enough. No one else on Earth knows, including Woodward, but now you and your country know. Now, go - take out North Korea."

BILLIONS AND BILLIONS AND...

Oclupaca: You know you just gave those Grollian pig farmers six cases of moon pie wrappers?

Deep Belly: Wasn't doing me any good.

O: I thought you were under the illusion that there were actually moon pies inside the wrappers.

DB: Traveling untold billions of miles through space seems to clear the Belly mind.

O: How do you think the Grollian pig waste matter will work in the FFA?

DB: Not too good, but knowing Buford, he anticipated the difference in fuel quality and made provision for it.

O: Let's hope so.

DESTRUCTION AS DETERRENT

Private Wang sat down at Grob's table inside the B6 Proving Lab. Grob engaged his Belly Translator, not wanting to interrupt his fuding experience with the stress of trying to understand Belly Talk. He heard Wang say, "I have good news and some other news. First, my unit misunderstood my message and sent a hurricane toward North Carolina, not North Korea as I'd requested. Sorry. The good news is that the North Korean government is ready to step down in return for asylum some place with good food. They don't like it either. We could use the entire country as a marketing laboratory. Isn't that good?"

Grob said, "Maybe, maybe not. We're used to getting invasions when we ask for them, not this time-consuming freelancing stuff. I'll see what the boss says. He may go for it. And then, he may be cross."

Wang asked, "Can I ask you a personal question?"

Grob said, "Yes, I happen to know that you are capable of forming and articulating personal questions. I thought you knew that, and knew that I know that. Your question, therefore, is redundant and is wasting my fuding time. I am becoming cross."

Wang said, "Of course. Tell me this, is Schwarzenegger one of yours - a Groller or a partner?"

Grob said, "No. Our man was Davis. We became cross with him."

FFA UTILIZATION

The OMS-RO was leaving the Grol planetary system and building momentum for the long haul back to Earth. The FFA was purring contentedly. As per DB's prediction, Buford had prepared the FFA to accommodate AAFS (alien animal fecal substance).

O: DB, I need your expertise in non-Einsteinian physics.

DB: What do you want to know?

O: At our current rate of speed, we should arrive back on Earth in its 25th Century. Any way we can speed that up?

DB: Sure, you need to redirect the gravitional pull of the ship so that its FTL (faster than light) capabilities are utilized.

O: Can you go ahead and do that? I'm in a hurry to get home.

DB: I need to finish my snack first.

RIBS TRANSCEND

Grob found Pvt. Wang meditating, and immediately turned on a stereo hologram of Roy Acuff singing "The Great Specled Bird." Grob said, "Stay in character, Wang! Sloppy performances make me cross.

"Listen, get word to your unit that we're OK with a negotiated takeover of North Korea. We're going to need some dead bodies, though. It's a Kral thing. Get some soldiers over to Iraq and start killing militant Moslems. We'll tell you when to stop. Look, Wang, you better get this one pulled off. We're tired of the lousy follow-through.

"Now, about the food project. We're thinking ribs - pork ribs. You guys do pork - that's the best thing I can say about your entire school of cuisine. Not much to show for ten thousand years of cooking stuff. What you don't do so well is meat-smoking. Get to work! You should know Belly techniques by now. If you don't, get with it. After that, learn Sloppy Sam techniques. With those bodies of knowledge, we should be ready to create a rib package that will get you the market share you've been looking for. Think pig, think Belly and think Sloppy. But don't do sloppy, see?"

THE MOUTH OF MARS

Deep Belly's non-Einsteinian physics ability got the OMS-RO back to the Solar System two days before they had left. For math majors, the equation is RMT/=c*m2.

They had just passed the asteroid belt when:

DB: Can we stop at Mars?

Oclupaca: Why?

DB: I want to check out their fud factories.

O: What do you mean? I thought Mars was arid, airless wasteland.

DB: You ain't been keeping up. Mars fud factories make the best candy bars around. My favorite is Snickers with Almonds.

O: Alright.

TIMING IS EVERYTHING

As it turned out, Agent Deep Belly was both right and wrong about the candy bars on Mars. We can't tell you anymore because the CIA has classified the information on what happened there.We can tell you that the FFA almost didn't crank when they got ready to leave Mars, but it finally did, and at the present moment, the OMS-RO was in deceleration mode, 500,000 miles from the moon.

Oclupaca was finally in cell range so he called the Boss.

O: We're coming in.

Boss: How soon?

O: Real soon. About six hours before we left.

Boss: Won't that interfere with the Spacetime continuum?

O: Only if a butterfly crosses the path of a buffalo in Oklahoma. What's been happening?

Boss: Nothing. As far as we're concerned you never left.

O: Oh, that's right.

BEFORE AND AFTER

The OMS-RO landed in a thickly wooded area about ten miles north of Lake Worth and the SSO.

Deep Belly: Why are you stopping here? Let's go see ole ATT. I got a hankering to use that new outhouse he put up in the back yard.

Oclupaca: You know why better than anybody. If we don't wait six hours and fifteen minutes we run the risk of running into ourselves. There's already too much confusion. Besides the doppelganger DB, did you know there's another DB running around who's really a Chinese spy?

DB: I don't usually notice things like that. What's the idea?

O: It's all part of the Chinese desire to take over the world.

DB: It'll never work.

O: How come?

DB: Look what happened to them communists in Russia. They tried to copy Bellys, thinking they could sneak them into America and spy on us. Only trouble was they liked being Bellys so much that when they got back to Russia they didn't want to change back to their old communist selves.

O: What year was that?

DB: 1989.

A PAUSE AND A MESSAGE FROM A NON-SPONSOR

(Note from Editor: Aren't the Campbell distant relatives of the Bellys who didn't make it all the way to Dime Box but settled at a place they called Camp Belly?)

What if everything you've been told to give up were actually the very things keeping you alive

Guess what: THEY ARE.

My Dear Misled Friend:

Red Meat. Coffee. Fatty foods. Eggs. Butter and cream. Tobacco. Even sunshine. All the things that make life worth living are things mainstream medicine wants you to give up in the name of good health.

What do they want us to substitute for these delicious, satisfying "vices?" Bean sprouts, tofu this and soy that, gallons of water, and a bunch of joint-destroying, heart-stressing lunacy they call "exercise."

But is this really the right course? Is there really such an overwhelming body of evidence that says we need to be a society of water-intoxicated vegetarian marathoners to be healthy?

NO. There isn't. Mainstream medicine's "sky is falling" philosophy is just so much JUNK MEDICINE. Need Proof? Consider this...

That quick coffee-and-cigarette breakfast isn't the killer those doom-and-gloomers say it is. Far from it, in fact...

That cup of coffee you crave after you shut off the alarm clock is actually one of nature's healthiest miracles. In fact, that first morning mug may pack more health-boosting antioxidants than 3 fresh oranges!

And if you're like me, you enjoy a nice, hot "cuppa joe" throughout the day. So don't fret - indulge, because:

2-3 CUPS A DAY can slash your risk of gallstones by 45%! 4 CUPS can dramatically cut your risk of colon cancer - the second deadliest variety of the disease in America... And if you do smoke cigarettes (something I'd warn anyone against), keep that coffee pot plugged in - because some research shows that drinking coffee helps prevent smokers from developing bladder cancer.

Of course, as a doctor, I could never condone cigarette smoking. With all the chemicals, additives, and addictive drugs they pack into them, they're to be avoided like the plague...

But notice I didn't say that smoking tobacco is harmful. Quite the contrary, in fact. The benefits of moderate smoking of pure, unadulterated tobacco (like what's in a fine cigar) have been known for centuries. Good luck finding this out from our friends in the medical mainstream, however.

As far off as it may sound, up to four cigars a day can help anyone:

Maintain optimum weight and Body Mass Index Stay as mentally sharp and alert as possible Avoid (and combat) addictions to truly harmful substances Lessen the effects of Alzheimer's, Parkinson's - even schizophrenia The campaign against tobacco is just one more example of how the mainstream's junk medicine pervades our lives - and forces us into making "healthy" choices that may actually be killing us . Keep reading...

So who am I to be swinging this ax?

I'm William Campbell Douglass, M.D.

Note: That's the lesson Grol finally learned. After centuries of devotion of refining health factors, they noticed that no one was dying - a large economic challenge - and that no one was having much fun. Thus the quest to capture Belly, Sloppy and other Earthly ways. Going back to more enlightened ways isn't easy, though. They've tried creating tasty fud in their chemical labs, but it just hasn't happened. The Secret Sauce is the only experiment that's sold on Earth so far, and it started out as transmission fluid. So, Grollers are ready to stake all on learning to fud.

CHAPTER EIGHT

ON TIME

Six hours had passed and Oclupaca and DB were back at the time they had originally left Earth. They heard a roar (the FFA is not known for its quietness) and they watched as they saw themselves head for Grol in the OMS-RO.

Oclupaca: OK, DB, it's safe for us to go to see ATT at the SSO. Since we just saw ourselves blast off we won't run the risk of creating what Aggie scientists at the BJPL called the "Temple, Texas Paradox".

They landed in the SSO backyard. DB immediately went to the outhouse. He was excited about using an outhouse that was attached to the ground not to a spaceship. ATT came running out the back door shouting: Hey, yall just left!

O: We've been back six hours. We just wanted to avoid a TTP.

ATT: I don't blame you. How did the mission go?

O: Excellent. We know where most of the lost calories are and the Grollians promised to return them to Earth. How are you doing?

ATT: Pretty good. I'm writing a Phd treatise on the Bellys and their connection to the international spy theater.

O: That sounds fascinating. What have you uncovered?

ATT: Without the Bellys the world would be a smoldering ruin. That's why you need to go to North Korea immediately.

BERTHA MAE BECKONS

Ocluplaca was tired and DB was restless. He hadn't seen his wife, Bertha Mae, in a long time. He loved Moon Pies and Shiner but enough was enough. He was ready to get back to Dime Box for some home cooking, if you know what I mean. Oclupaca decided to call HQ.

Boss: Talk to me.

Oclupaca: Yes, we're at the SSO and ATT says we need to get to North Korea in order save the world, but dadgummit we just traveled 1,344 light years and we need a little down time. How about it?

Boss: I don't know. That darn Grollian seems determined to blow up the entire Pacific Rim. His motivations are somewhat obscure but his intent is way too obvious.

O: Will 48 hours make that big a difference?

Boss: Ah, I suppose not. You fellows have a little fun now. Check back with me on Tuesday.

Oclupaca hung up and let out a sigh a relief.

O: OK, DB let's disengage the RO. You go on down to Dime Box, while I go to College Station and get Buford to check out the FFA. I think it needs an oil change. I'll pick you up in 48 hours and we'll head for North Korea and see if you can save the world again.

DB just grunted.

AGGIE COMFORT

For some reason, Oclupaca had grown fond of College Station. He didn't know exactly why. Perhaps it was the special ambience that radiated from the pig pens. Whatever, he was glad to be back. Buford said he could have the OMS ready for action by Tuesday morning. The brake pads were a little worn but the FFA was as good as new. Interstellar space had proven to be good for it. While Buford was working on the OMS Oclupaca decided to go to Aggieland Central Bar and Grill and drink Old Milwaukee while watching Monday Night Football.

He was sitting at the bar when a tall stranger walked up and sat down beside him. The stranger ordered Michelob draft.

Oclupaca: The Cowboys are playing good tonight.

Tall Stranger: What are they playing?

Oclupaca raised an eyebrow: Are you joshing me?

TS: I'm new around here.

O: If you don't know what football is, you must be from another planet.

TS: How did you guess?

Oclupaca groaned: Are you one of them Grollians?

TS: Yes, my name is Grok.

O: So this is not a coincidence?

Grok: Of course not. I'm on assignment from the GIA (Grollian Intelligence Agency). I'm looking for a renegade Grollian by the name of Grob. He likes to visit other worlds like your planet and initiate wars of total destruction. It's his hobby.

O: I met Grob on Grol. He didn't seem like such a bad guy.

Grok: Oh, but he is. At last count he had destroyed 27 civilized planets, 28 if you count the sem-civilized one in the Alberian sub-galaxy.

O: As it happens, I'm headed to North Korea tomorrow to save the world. You might as well come along. You're a little too tall for my aircraft though.

Grok: No problem. I can shrink myself to appropriate size.

BELLY COMPLEXITIES

Pvt. Wang found Grob at the Primitive Music Engineering Lab, listening to a Grollian simulation of Britney Spears. Wang said, "That's way off-key." Grob said, "That's not the problem. Many Earthlings like their music off-key. It just doesn't rock. We haven't learned to rock. It's not easy. Hey, you're speaking without the Belly syntax. Grellas's deprogramming must have worked."

Wang said, "Yes. I like this better. Belly Talk is very difficult. Double-, triple- and quadruple negatives are harder to keep track of than calculus. I get a headache."

Grob said, "I know. That's worked for Bellys for generations. Negotiating is much easier when people hear a familiar language but still don't know exactly what is being said. We're trying to duplicate the language pattern. No luck yet. So, is North Korea history?"

Wang said, "Yes. We just completed a takeover. A stock swap - they get pigs and we get yak. The current regime will stay on the board for now, but retire to the U.S. west later on. Bush is on board. They want to live close to good barbecue. We run the place now."

Grob said, "But, no dead bodies? Not even one?"

Wang said, "Look, we've paid our dues with dead bodies. You know that. It's cheaper to do the peaceful takeovers. Now, we know that. A takeover's a takeover. We took over. We're serious."

Grob said, "Yes and no. If you took over, you took over. We'll check. But the aesthetics of a takeover are important. I'm a battle, rape and pillage man. It makes the takeover more memorable. They don't carve statues of non-hostile takeover architects on Earth, do they? Same here. It just doesn't feel right when no one dies. You can't rollover past genocide programs, you know. Those numbers are history. You should always ask youself, who's died lately? That will keep you on your takeover form.

"But, I'll pass this along to my superiors. They'll probably want to do business with you. They don't share my standards. I'll give you a clue about the project we're working on for you - The Rib Crib. A pork rib menu, beer and lots of hip-hop culture. If you don't know your hip-hop, you'll need to start studying. It's easier than Belly, but still a challenge."

DB STAYS HOME

No amount of moon pies or Shiner could persuade DB to leave Dime Box and Bertha Mae. (As a reminder to readers, all conversations with Bellys are translated via the UBTD - Universal Belly Translation Device, and to be frankly honest, this particular writer can't even come close to simulating OBE - Original Belly Expression, so we don't even try.)

DB: I didn't mind going to that faraway planet. Kind of fun, matter of fact, to see them different kinds of pigs. But ain't no way I'm going to that North Korea. Buford says it ain't nothing but mountains and caves and the country already been run over by the Storving Sickness. No sir, I'm staying right here in Dime Box where I can finish my new project - connecting the Rolling Outhouse to my house. Been walking too much lately and my feet need some rest.

Ocluplaca realized that there was no changing DB's mind. He and Grok would have to do the job.

Oclupaca: Hey, you remind me of someone famous. Yea, you look just like John Wayne in Stagecoach.

Grok: When we come to Earth, we assume the bodily attributes of Earthlings we have watched via captured light waves.

O: That's why Grob looks like Jimmy Carter.

Grok: Rich, ain't it. A bloodthirsty maniac looks just like one of your namby, pamby peaceniks. Not surprising though. We Grollians are famous in the Zennian Quadrant for our sense of humor.

O: Oh, well, let's go check with Buford and see if he has turned the OMS into a TMS (Two Man Spaceship).

They drank one more beer each and walked out the bar and grill.

BEST WESTERN

Oclupaca and Grok found Buford working away at the BJPL.

Oclupaca: Howdy, Buford, I'd like you to meet someone.

Buford: Hot dog, it's the Duke! Hey, man, I thought you were dead.

O: Sorry to disappoint you, Buford, but he's from Grol and his name is Grok. He says their natural appearance would destroy the human retina.

Grok: I picked John Wayne's persona because he is a hero to all Grollians, especially when he tracked down and killed Indians. We have Indians on Grol too.

O: Buford, I need to you ask you one more favor. Can you turn the OMS into a TMS?

B: How soon do you need it?

O: We need to leave tonight.

B: Buy me lunch and it'll be ready at 8 pm.

They went to lunch at Aggies' Baggies (Baggies were the Aggie form of bagels). The conversation, as it often does, turned to music.

Grok: We admire your music on Grol, especially that great tunesmith Roy Acuff.

B: I know what you mean. My uncle Donnie Bob has all his 8 tracks.

Grok: What is a 8 track? Is it similar to a DVD?

O: We Texans consider a DVD primitive technology compared to a 8 track. Most Texan musicologists, with the exception of Acapulco, believe the 8 track represents the apex of musical technology.

Grok: What does this Acapulco say?

B: He believes good lyrics have been corrupted by musical accompaniment. He says Adam and Eve sang without a guitar or piano. If it was good enough then, it's sure good enough now.

Grok: Do many agree with this Acapulco fellow?

O: He has his followers but they have been known to be persecuted. Grok: Sad.

CONVERSATION IN THE MIDST OF TURMOIL

Buford was through with lunch. Knewing he had a big job ahead that afternoon, he had five plates of BBQ & baggies instead of his usual four. Uncle Donnie Bob had always preached that a hungry man can't do good work. The lesson had stuck with Buford and to this day he believed in its veracity. He said adios to Oclupaca and Grok and told them to be at the lab at 8 pm, at which time the TMS would be ready.

With nothing to do but wait, Oclupaca and Grok stayed at Aggies' Baggies and continued a wide ranging discussion.

Grok: I noticed you're drinking Old Milwaukee.

O: I acquired a taste for it when I was fighting the Skinny Ones in San Manse'. It's the official drink of the DM (Decadian Mainstream).

Grok: We've had dealings with the DM. Tough bunch especially their leader. But back to the Old Mil. Did you know Grol is the biggest buyer of OM in the galaxy?

O: You don't say. I thought you Grollians would be too sophisticated for such a simple brew.

Grok: We are. We use it for worlds that we colonize that have little or no water.

O: Makes sense.

BOM BASHING

was 5 PM in College Station. It was October and Oclupaca and Grok had drifted to a sidewalk cafe a couple of blocks away from Aggies' Baggies. They had switched from beer to sweet iced tea.

Oclupaca: What's the outhouse situation on Grol?

Grok: Still legal, thank goodness. We can't understand why you Earthlings look on outhouses with such disdain.

O: Not all of us do. Have you heard of BOM, the Back Out Movement?

Grok: We've studied them for years. Too rigid and legalistic. Their lack of flexibility is renowned throughout the galaxy.

O: I guess you're referring to their blackballing of Deep Belly.

Grok: Yes, we saw the Rolling Outhouse as one of the top ten innovations of the second half of your twentieth century. In fact, we've modeled our spaceships after it.

O: Yall do have a creative disability.

Grok: A painful one. Our civlilization has been stagnant for 5000 years. Luckily, we reached a fairly high technological level before our creativity took a plunge.

O: What's with Grob? Why the destructive streak?

Grok: Only he can answer that.

INSIDE INFO

Belly Ways pretty well recognize only liquid intoxicants. The primary reason seems to be that devoting fuding land to a crop that has no fuding value is considered a dadgum waste, Yankee thankin' and downright sorry.

That makes perfect sense. Oclupaca wondered why Buford didn't included a concealment device on the OMS. Have you had any other strange visitors lately?

ALMONDS IN SPACE

At seven o'clock, Oclupaca and Grok moved on down the College Station street to the We Hate The Longhorns Cafe for a light supper where their conversation continued.

Grok: The Belly culture is similar to the Wozambeek culture on the planet Sassafras in the Almond Cluster.

Oclupaca: You mean decidely ethnocentric?

Grok: The Wozambeeks do not recognize the existence of other life forms. If one visits their planet, they attribute their presence to indigestion from Compootin Hot Sauce.

Oclupaca: Reminds me of a famous quote in the Book of Belly: "From the Belly point-of-view, College Station doesn't rate a point on any dadgum tryangul, and anything this far north doesn't effectively exist. It's pretty well Dime Box and Other Places. A diamond surrounded by trash, more or less."

Grok: How apt.

BELLY POV

Grok and Ocluplaca were ambling down We Hate The Longhorns Avenue after their repast.

Grok: Is this what you Texaliners refer to as Walkin' & Talkin'?

O: That's right.

Grok: I always wanted to try it. I find it quite salubrious.

O: We like it.

Grok: Tell me moe about the Belly POV. Can you read another quote from the Book of Belly?

O: Sure. How about this one: "Oh, them nuther people is people jist like reglur people, 'cept they all crazy, what not. Ain't they fault that they all crazy, but they still all crazy, see? You reckon Yankees, commanists, what not, wonted ta be Yankee, commanist, what not? Good night, no! Ain't nobody gonna wont such as that. Sumbody got to be Yankee, commanist, what not, is what I reckon. Don't know why. You know why? Goodness no, you don't know why. Cain't be knowed is what it cain't be, what I'd reckon. Jist cain't be knowed no more thin nothin', what it cain't. Them folks what's all crazy still got to be fuded. They shore lucky like us what's not all crazy and what not for to had fud 'em

is what they are, see?

Grok: Amazing. Wonder what would happen if you applied the UBTD to it.

O: Will have to try that one day. Right now, let's get over to the BJPL and see if Buford has got the TMS ready.

CHAPTER NINE

DB ORATES

As DB once said regarding "the rest of the world":

Oh, them nuther people is people jist like reglur people, 'cept they all crazy, what not. Ain't they fault that they all crazy, but they still all crazy, see? You reckon Yankees, commanists, what not, wonted ta be Yankee, commanist, what not? Good night, no! Ain't nobody gonna wont such as that. Sumbody got to be Yankee, commanist, what not, is what I reckon. Don't know why. You know why? Goodness no, you don't know why. Cain't be knowed is what it cain't be, what I'd reckon. Jist cain't be knowed no more thin nothin', what it cain't. Them folks what's all crazy still got to be fuded. They shore lucky like us what's not all crazy and what not for to had fud 'em is what they are, see?

DOWN TOWARD THE DOCK

They turned left off We Hate The Longhorns Avenue and started down Austin & Boston - No Difference Boulevard.

Oclupaca: How much time do you think we have before Grol is successful in blowing up North Korea?

Grok: That's a tough one. We've lost track of Grol. He's been incommunicado for the last 72 hours.

O: What! You mean you've got the technology to travel faster than light and also capture radio waves of our old movies and TV shows and you can't keep up with one person on Earth?

Grok: That's the key phrase. One person. We work best in large numbers and great quantities. A single individual, especially when it looks like Jimmy Carter, tends to evade our best sensors.

O: What do we do?

Grok: We wait. He's sure to break silence soon and attempt to communicate with his co-conspirators.

Just then they reached the door of the BJPL.

SCANDAL INTERLUDE

SC Restauranteur Exposed

by Meliisa Banks-Hall

Levy, South Carolina - Prominent South Carolina pork barbecue tycoon Samuel "Sloppy" Sam is becoming known as a beef lover and native of North Carolina in the Swineland Peninsula.

The reports on Mr. Sam seem to have been reported most vocally by Mr. Johnny McBride, owner of Bryan's Pink Pig in Levy. McBride says, "I know I'm being accused of smearing Sloppy Sam because he's a competitor in the barbecue business. That's not right. Everybody I know has been asking the same quesitions ever since I told them about it all.

"Here's something that'll make you wonder. Linda Massey, a third cousin of mine over toward Columbia, told me that when she was a little girl, she'd go over to Sam Sam's place and just stand in amazement at all the hundreds of Louis L'Amour books he had on the shelves. You know what L'Amour was writing about? It wasn't pig farmers - cowboys, that's what. Cattle drives, drunken cow punchers, whores, sorry things like that.

"You visit a real South Carolina pig farmer, you know what books you'll find in the house? The Bible, and "The Faith We Have Not Kept" by Senator Thurmond. That's all. None of that trash about cows and cowboys.

"I'll tell you something else. For years, every single day you'd see Sam Sam wearing a hat there in his barbecue joint. You think it was a Gamecock hat or a Clemson Tiger hat? No. Dallas Cowboys. More of that cow business. You just don't see real pig people carrying on like that.

"I've had enough of it. A man likes cows that much ought not be passing himself off as a pig farmers, pig barbecue man, or anything else pig. It reflects real bad on the whole pig industry in South Carolina. I could tell you a lot more about Sam Sam, but that's all I'm saying for right now. It hurts me to even talk about it. Scandalous is what it is. I'll tell you more a little later on, though, after I've gotten over the shock. About being from North Carolina and such as that."

McBride says his reports regarding Mr Sam are unrelated to the business his restaurants have reportedly lost to those of Mr. Sam in recent months. Mr. Sam was unavailable for comment regarding this report.

MORE SCANDALIZING

Bubba Hogg Urges Pork Peace

Swineburg, SC - Johnny Earl "Bubba" Hogg, president of the Fine Swine in Carolina Association, called for a truce in the fight between South Carolina restranteurs Johnny McBride of Levy and Sam "Sloppy" Sam.

Hogg said, "Goodness gracious, I just can't believe what I've been reading. South Carolina pork barbecue folks calling each other names, spreading rumors and all manner of ugly talk? Pig people don't act like that, at least they ain't supposed to. We'll leave that trashy actin' to cow people. You know how they are.

"Listen here, a swine man can go wrong - reading up on cows, Texas, cowboys, fallen women and the like. We all human, ain't we? I'm counting on the FSICA membership to help Mr. Sam get out of that sorry rut. We know he can be redeemed. As for Mr. McBride, he can just keep his mouth shut. He's said enough. We're all just heartbroken about this.

"You know how those Texans are - lyin', cheatin', drunkards, carousin', horse theives and the like. Not that I'm callin' President Bush a horse theif. After all, he ain't really a Texan, havin' been borned in Connecticut. He was corrupted by many of those Texas vices, though, as we all know. Thank goodness Senator Thurmond and Mr. Lee Atwater got a hold of him before all was lost. If it hadn't been for fine South Carolinians, there's no telling what kind of trouble we'd be in right now. A no-good dumbass Democrat as president, Heaven forbid, while the whole world goes up in flames like a pork smoker fire out of control. South Carolina has prevented disaster after disaster, and we can stop this swine fight in the snout - just flush it out. No more bad talkin' about South Carolina pork producers and retailers. Normal operations regarding North Carolina producers will continue as usual, of course."

NOTE: This has Mosath written all over it. His DLS must be in remission. Have you talked to him lately?

Oh no! This is out of hand. As Mr. Roy might say, "I seen them dead pigs on the highway, but I didn't see nobody eat."

That's not the way Rev. Jackson sees it. Looks like this is one time he's siding with SC - "if your skin is black, send the burger back. Don't make a mistake and eat that steak. You'll be Bush's own if you eat that t-bone."

Bubba is saying, "I remember when they were burning black pig farms. Made me want to grow up and get in government to do something about it. I'm proud that we didn't lose any pigs while I was president. It's so sad to see the pigs dying how."

Hillary says, "Bill and I didn't lose a single pig. Now we're seeing swineocide on our highways. This is an outrage."

Ernest Hollings can top all of them: "Listen here, Ernest Hollings ain't gonna stand by and watch that Texas bunch run roughshod over South Carolina pig farmers. We seein' the end a the whole dadburn country, what we seein'. You see it? I see it. That Bush bunch thing they gonna steal all our money and send it to Haliburton and those Texas cattle theives. Ain't gonna happen while Ernest Hollings is on the job, I'll tell you that. Don't know what gonna happen when Ernest Hollings ain't on the job. That's what makes me mad is what it is. Ain't but one Ernest Hollings to go around. If that ain't a mess I don't know what it."

In a surprising and touching expression of Texas loyalty, The Dixie Chicks turned out a rush recording of "Give Beef a Chance." Willie's even on-board with "My Heroes Have Always Been Herefords." The entire Texas Democratic party is breaking away from the national party spin, saying nice things about Tom Delay. This could be the end of the political world as we've known it.

BACK TO WHAT'S LEFT OF THE PLOT

At the exact same moment Oclupaca was about to ask Buford if the TMS was ready, Buford's cell phone rang.

Buford: Talk to me.

Bernice: Don't you tell me what to do, Buford! I'll come down from New York City in a heartbeat and whip your scrawny behind!

Buford: Cousin Bernice! I'm so sorry. What can I do for you?

Bernice: That's better. The darndest thing is going on. These dadgum Yankees love bait. I didn't think they did and I stocked up more bagels than bait. Now I'm in a mess. I want you to fly to Dime Box pronto, load up some up authentic Belly bait, and then bring it straight to New York City.

Buford: But Bernice, I'm working on a spaceship for the CIA. They need it to save the world.

Bernice: Right now you'd be better off being concerned about saving yourself. Them CIA fellows can wait a few hours.

Buford: Yes maam, I'm on my way.

Buford hung up and looked over at Oclupaca and Grok: I gotta run a little errand. Be back tomorrow.

Oclupaca: But wait...

Buford was already gone.

CHAPTER TEN

ERASMUS BELLY

Oddly enough, Bellys may be the peacemakers. When quesitoned about the controverys, DB said, "I ain't givin' up pig! Don't you be thankin' such as that. Ain't givin' up steer neither. You crazy? Them all good fuds. Don't go talkin' crazy! You better eat yore pig and yore steer an yore tater an mater and what not. All them fud! Don't go talkin' all sorry, see?"

OCLUPACA ALONE

Oclupaca was in a panic. Buford had raced out of the BJPL with the TMS still on the rack.

Oclupaca: What we gonna do, Grok.? We need to get to North Korea right away. Who knows when that crazy Belly will be back?

Grok: You must go on alone.

O: Are you crazy? How am I going to get there?

Grok: It's obvious that the TMS is not yet a TMS but is still a OMS. Lower the rack and you will see what I mean.

O: Gosh, you're right. How did you know?

Grok: It's obvious, isn't it? His handiwork is very evident.

O: Huh?

Grok: Grob is responsible. He doesn't want me to go to North Korea. I'm sure that was he on the phone, not Bernice. Grollers are master ventriloquists.

O: Why doesn't he want you to go to North Korea?

Grok: Because he fears I would stop him from blowing up the world.

O: Makes sense.

OCLUPACA STANDING TALL

A troubled and somewhat confused Ocluplaca boarded the OMS, said goodbye to Grok and set the auto-pilot for North Korea. Before leaving town, he took one last spin around College Station, wondering if he would ever see it again.

The FFA was still working perfectly and in exactly two minutes and twenty-five seconds he was landing on the side of a North Korean mountain. Exiting the OMS, he looked around him. Steep cliffs rose on all sides but he spotted a path about a quarter of a mile to the west. He locked the OMS and started walking. Since he was in North Korea, one of the most advanced technological nations on Earth, he knew he couldn't use his cell phone for fear of being spotted.

Upon reaching the path, he felt a need to relieve himself. Luckily, outhouses were still legal in North Korea (this is because not in spite of its technology) and he just happened to come upon a vacant one a few hundred feet down the path. All went well and as he stepped outside the outhouse, who was standing in front of him but none other than...

Grob!

(Editor's Note: At this point, we lose contact with Oclupaca. But don't lose hope. We have requested that information concerning Ocluplaca's meeting with Grob be sent to us via electronic transmission. )

OCLUPACA MEETS GROB

We left Oclupaca standing forlornly on a crooked North Korean mountain path. Only rocks, goats, and an outhouse were in the background. In front of him stood the Grollian Ambassador, Grob, who looked just like Jimmy Carter.

Grob: Your mission to save the world is in vain.

Oclupaca: While I have breath the world has hope.

Grob:That can be taken care of.

O: A true blue CIA operative does not fear death. A Korean outhouse is another matter.

Grob: Not our favorite kind either. We prefer the Tennessee model ourselves, especially the ones built with Archie Abercrombie specs.

O: Yes, Archie knew what he was doing. Did you know he invented baseball?

Grob: Baseball is too much of a spectator sport. We Grollians like more active pursuits.

O: You mean like destroying planets?

Grob: That is my particular talent. But not all Grollians are the same.

O: I know. I met one who looked like John Wayne.

Grob: So Grok is here. Why didn't he come with you?

O: He said if Earth is to be saved, it had to be saved by one of its own.

Grob: You Earthlings are so amusing. I'll be somewhat sad to see you vanish.

OCLUPACA AND THE ALIEN ZAP RAY

The first Grollian zap ray that hit Oclupaca in the chest turned out to be the only one necessary. Oclupaca went tumbling down the side of the mountain, his body rolling with increasing alacrity. He was still alive but barely conscious, the blurring motion serving to alleviate somewhat the searing pain in his chest. All seemed lost until suddenly he came to a screeching halt as his body rammed into the side of the outhouse. The current inhabitant of the outhouse, Private Wang, a Chinese spy who had been reformulated by Chinese scientists to look just alike Deep Belly, came running out with his overalls around his ankles crying, "I ain't gonna let that Tumbling Toilet Syndrome get me! Nosirree!" The sound of Wang's voice, with its deep froglike connotations, was sufficient to stir Oclupaca from his near death state. He opened his eyes and looked up the side of the mountain where Grob was still standing with a smoldering Grollian zap gun in his hand. Slightly off to the side he could also see the flashing behind of Wang as he ran screaming up the hillside. Somehow with incredibly great difficulty, Oclupaca managed to pull himself up to a sitting position. That's when the odor emanating from Wang's interrupted visit to the outhouse hit him. Everything went black.

OCLUPACA FIGHTS BACK

For some strange otherworldly reason, Grob, who looked just like Jimmy Carter, began to laugh. An evil laugh that echoed through the North Korean canyons. Wang, who had finally got control of his hysteria and pulled his overalls up spoke.

Wang: Why the evil, maniacal laugh?

Grob: Because I look like Jimmy Carter and because this world will finally know the end of war, just like he has vainly, though he did win a Nobel Peace Prize, been searching for.

Wang: Blowing up North Korea will do all that?

Grob: You fool, North Korea means nothing to me. The Planet Blasters back home would laugh at me if that's all I destroyed. I plan to destroy the entire Earth!

Wang: NO! I won't let you!

Wang started barreling toward Grob with his hands and arms outstretched ready to ring Grob's scrawny neck. He got within ten feet of Grob before the zap gun tore into his chest just above the right front shirt pocket. Wang, not being a real Belly, fell instantly into a rumpled pile.

The hubbub had allowed Oclupaca, whose life had been saved by a CIA-certified Wullet positioned in his left front shirt pocket, to crawl back to the OMS. His strength being severely limited, he somehow was able to get behind the cockpit where he cranked up the FFA. Grob was so busy laughing insanely again that he didn't notice the OMS moving haltingly toward him. Not until it was too late. For as he turned around and saw the OMS manuevering above him, an underbelly door slid open and FFA fuel began cascading toward him. He tried to run but the thick, gooey pig fecal matter adhered to his shoes and he became stuck in one place. Soon he was completely covered in interstellar pig manure.

It was the end of Grob.

A SONG FOR PIGDOM

Don�t Shame the Pig

By Donnie Bob Belly

The pig eats ever day,

Jist like it �sposed to

All it asts is lots of slop and fud

Then some�ll turn they nose

On pork chops, ham and bacon

Not knowin� that they bein� awful rude

Chorus:

Don�t shame the pig by refusin� for to eat it

The poor ol� pig had done fuded jist for you

He�ll give a life of fudin� up nice and big

But it�s pure-dee wasted if you go and shame the pig

Narration:

Looky here, I been hearin� they people what is turnin� on the pig, the poor innycent pig. That ain�t right is what that ain�t. Shoot, the pig out there fudin� when it rainin�, cold, wind blowin� so you cain�t hardly stan up, but there that pig jist a fudin� away. You reckon that pig don�t know he�s growin� a real nice belly like cain�t nobody else grow? You reckon he don�t know what a fine mess a fud he makin�? Dadgum right he know! Alls he astin� is cook that dadgum fud up right and fud it right. That astin� too much? Good night, no, that ain�t astin� too much! Fud that pig! Don�t go all sorry and shame the poor pig! Ain�t right! Ain�t right no more thin nothin�!

Repeat chorus

OCLUPACA DOWN

How many times has it happened in the past? Dozens? Hundreds? A spy saves the world but no one knows about it. For to reveal the truth is also to reveal that you are a spy. It's a lonely occupation. Maybe the loneliest in the world.

The Wullet had once again proved its mettle. The bullet-proof wallet that sat in the left front shirt pocket right in front of the heart had been SOE (Standard Operating Equipment) for CIA operatives since 1998, the year after Sloppy Sam had invented it. But this time the Wullet had gone way beyond the call of duty for it had not just stopped a typical bullet but the laser ray of an almost always lethal Grollian zap gun.

But though it had saved Oclupaca's life it had nonetheless caused him serious damage to his chest cavity. He was in constant pain and he could hardly breathe. And to make things even worse the OMS was out of fuel. If he couldn't locate fuel for the OMS, he would have to destroy it.

Oclupaca had known dark days but this was perhaps the darkest one of all. Stranded on a North Korean mountainside, injured, out of food and water, he wondered was to happen to him.

THE FFA RECOUPS

In the midst of his darkest hour, Oclupaca's cell phone rang.

Oclupaca: Don't talk to me.

Buford: It's OK, Oclupaca, it's me, Buford.

O: But we can't talk because the North Koreans with their superior technology will intercept our messages.

Buford: No way. We're communicating on NNKTW.

O: What the heck is that?

Buford: Non-North Korean Transmission Wavelength.

O: I never heard of it.

Buford: I just invented it. But listen, that wasn't Bernice on the phone last night. I took twenty-five hundred gallons of prime Dime Box Bait up to New York City and got the chewing out of my life. I tried to explain to Bernice what happened but she wouldn't let me. She just kept saying over and over how them Yankees wouldn't know bait from real BBQ.

O: I appreciate what you're going through, Buford, but at the moment I've got a few problems of my own.

Buford: I know. The Duke here told me. He knows you killed that other Grollian.

O: How does he know?

Buford: He says anytime a Grollian dies, other Grollians get indigestion.

O: Makes sense.

Buford: Well, your job is done, why don't you come on back?

O: I'm out of fuel. Any ideas?

Buford: Find a pig farm.

O: I'm too injured to walk very far.

Buford: Any other animals around?

O: A few mountain goats.

Buford: They'll have to do. Gather up about ten pounds of their most recent droppings and put them in the refining tank of the FFA. Turn on the engine and let it idle for thirty minutes. At that point if the RPMs are above 2000, you're good to go.

O: Thanks, Buford. I'll give it a try.

Oclupaca looked at the horizon and saw that he had about an hour of daylight left. Well, he said to himself, let's go Goat Crap Hunting.

ANOTHER END -ANOTHER BEGINNING

High above the Pacific, the OMS was wobbling dangerously. The goat dung fuel was proving to be inadequate to the demands of the high tech FFA. Oclupaca himself was in bad shape. The Grollian zap gun's ray gun must have had some kind of poisonous residual effects. Ocluplaca knew that the end was near.

***

Grok looked over at Buford: Oclupaca has left us.

Buford: No way. I just talked to him a few hours ago. He should be arriving here soon.

Grok: I'm afraid we'll never see Oclupaca again.

***

Bertha Mae was hanging out wet overalls on the clothes line. She saw DB walking over to the Rolling Outhouse.

Bertha Mae: Now where do you think you're going?

DB: I'm going to San Manse.

Bertha Mae: I thought you just went there three weeks ago.

DB: I went to Grol instead.

***

Yes, the world has been saved from a mad, bloodthirsty alien from a distant planet. But in the process we have lost a good man. But gratefully we can say, he did not die in vain.

THE END

EPILOGUE - DB ACCEPTS HIS ROYAL LINEAGE

Looky here, Kang Donnie Bob has made some new Nights. You all what don�t know, that means if they was to be out at night lookin� for fud and drank, ain�t nobody gonna charge �em. All they fud an drank is for free, see? The new Nights is Mr. FDR, Mr. Dandy Don, Mr. Roy Acuff and Mr. Gene Autry. Most of �em daid, so Kang Donnie Bob sure better not hear that anybody been chargin� daid folk for fud and drank. Them daid folk don�t eat nor drank hardly nothin�! Don�t be all stingy, Yankee-actin� like that! Kang Donnie Bob would shore git aggervated if he wad to had hear of such as that, and you don�t wont Kang Donnie Bob aggervated at you, I�ll tail you that.

Them others that had been Nights that Kang Donnie Bob hadn�t Nighted? You all ain�t go to pay them no mind. Oh, give �em free fud an drank if you had wont to; Kang Donnie Bob don�t mind. You ain�t got to weary �bout gettin� Kang Donnie Bob all aggervated if you wad to charge such as that for fud an drank, though, see?

You all been tolt �bout this Night bidness, and Kang Donnie Bob ain�t got no more time he wonts to talk on it. Kang Donnie Bob real busy with other bidness, see? You all git the word out. Miz Bertha done tolt you all from a mashin� buttons on that �puter machine, and we�ll put a nice sine out to the B6. That there�s enough tellin�, an it ain�t gonna be tolt no more without getting� Kang Donnie Bob all aggervated, see?

Listen here, Bobby Dwayne had tolt Kang Donnie Bob that they's a feller name a Charles Prints On Whales says he sposed ta be the next kang. Wail, Kang Donnie Bob'll see 'bout that. I tail you one thang, though, Charles gonna have ta git learnt on writin' 'fore gonna weary 'bout bein' no kang. Good night, it ain't gonna do for no dadgum kang ta be printin' his dadgum name. Kang got to write his name. Shoot, Kang Donnie Bob got learnt on writin' his name in second grade, second year. It ain't hard. Everybody what's kanged by Kang Donnie Bob is gonna have ta git learned on writin' they name. Kang Donnie Bob don't wont to see no more a this "x" mess. Write yore dadgum name! Now, when Charles had been marked down as Charles Writes On Whales, we can talk on this kangin' bidness. Kang Donnie Bob ain't makin' no promises, see, but shoot, Kang Donnie Bob gonna need some folk ta fill in for his kangin' bidness when he on pig runs, what not, see? Tail Charles and all them other folk what likes ta do some kangin' ever onct to the while they gonna have ta write they name, see?