The Eigth Part

"Wicked is coming!" Brett yelled as he hobbled down the hall.

"My ex?" Kenneth shouted over the blender. He was making a chocolate-protein-powder-raw-egg-tuna-fish-with-ketchup shake.

"No, no, no." Brett said with annoyance. "Wicked witch of the west?"

"Oh. So my mother-in-law then."

"No! The musical about the Elphaba and Galinda!"

"I'm sorry Brett, I don't speak elvish."

Brett scowled. His nostrils flared and his eyes rolled back in his head a bit. "Ugh! What for the mercy of olfactory nerves is that smell?"

"Chocolate tuna. Duh. Protein galore, and the ketchup is for tang."

"You are wrong. Your brain is broken." He paused, "Wicked, It's a Broadway show, Kenneth, it's coming soon. Can I take Ashley?"

"Sure, knock yourself out." Kenneth took the blender and began chugging the concoction.

"Okay, cool. So... the tickets are like 80 bucks so I'll need you to pay for her ticket."

"I'm sorry, I couldn't hear you over the blender, I thought you said I was a moron."

"She's you're girlfriend though!"

"Yeah, and I'm letting you take her out."

Brett scowled again and turned away muttering. Kenneth only caught a few words,

"Stupid Kenneth...kiss him...nasty tuna breath..."

Kenneth just shook his head and smiled. Chocolate tuna. This is horrible. The ketchup does nothing to kill the flavor. Still better than the orange cream salmon debacle of '07.

***

"Best vacation ever." Brett said as he pulled himself up to his desk. It was the first day back to work, and he was surprised at being so happy to be there. While he had enjoyed watching his favorite soap operas live instead of on TiVo, it was nice to be doing something productive again. Although, he was depressed that he wouldn't get to enjoy watching Seth find out that Megan is cheating on him at the same time as his online forum.

Oh well. These invoices are pretty cool too.

There was a huge stack of papers in his inbox.

I have an inbox.

Seriously,

an inbox?

Guess I better get the ol' type writer fired up and dash out a memo... in short-hand! Man, I'm funny.

Brett fired up his computer and saw the familiar DOS interface.

Close enough.

Brett was glad that his first day back was a Thursday, Ben's religious "holiday." He didn't want to have to admit that he hadn't watched Phenomenon yet. Brett felt rough hands on his shoulders.

"Hey there Whitbeck."

Brett's boss was attempting to give one of those manly, morale building, office back rubs.

"Oh, hey there boss." Brett said, feeling more uncomfortable by the second.

"You feeling up to a business trip?"

Brett spun around with feigned excitement, hoping it would cover the awkward break in the back rub.

"Oh boy, am I!"

Probably freaking Wyoming again.

"Well good, since you're the computer whiz around here, I want to send you to the corporate training conference in Vegas next week.

"That will be swell." Brett said, feeling slightly hopeful. After resting his gaze on Brett's walking cast for a moment, Brett's boss said,

"Bet that makes it tough to chase the ladies eh?"

Brett gave a fake "huh-huh" chuckle. "Sure does Steve."

"Call me Steve-o, Brett, we're all friends here."

Hmm. I thought he already had the midlife crisis 5 years ago when he bought the Miata and married "Bambi" with the 36 inch double D's and IQ to match.

"Sure thing, uh, Steve-o."

"Steve-o" sauntered away with a bounce in his step, whistling a tuneless melody. Brett watched him go.

He's having an affair.

Brett turned back to the soda ash and HCL that needed processing.

***

“I’m getting screened now Brett!”

“You’re what?”

“I’m getting screened, you know, for my soul clarity?”

Brett gave a blank look.

“Brett, did you even read the pamphlets I gave you?”

“Oh those." Brett said, nodding hurriedly. "I looked through them, but with all the meds, I’ve had a hard time concentrating.”

“Did you at least watch Phenomenon?”

“Oh yeah, I did, yep.”

“What was your favorite part?”

“Whew, well, like I said, I was pretty foggy with the drugs, so I don’t remember much.”

“Do you remember anything abou-“ Brett hurriedly cut off Ben in mid sentence.

“So the screening, tell me more about that.” Ben was easily distracted, this trait kept him from having any sustained train of thought for more than 20 seconds. The lack of critical thinking skills also made him especially vulnerable to brain washing. Ben’s eyes lit up.

“Well, It is a test that measures your electrical signature and that tells you if you have any negative clingers. It really helps with concentration, even impotence, I…”

Ben went on but Brett’s mind was as glazed over as his eyes.

“Clingers?” “Impotence?” This is getting out of control. If I stand here one more minute, he is going to lose use of a major limb.

Brett excused himself, claiming he had to change the dressing on his "scapluterial" wound.

Let him chew on that one! Man, I should be a fake doctor. I’ve got the lingo down!

Brett loitered in the bathroom long enough to be believable. As he poked his head out of the door, he was relieved to see the coast was clear. Ben must have gone out on another sales call. Brett fumbled back to his computer. He pulled up his web browser, which slowly loaded his home page featuring cats in darling positions and other animals with humorous misspelled captions. The pictures filled Brett’s soul with fuzzy ebullience.

Brett began his research for operation "Bruce Campbell." It's time to take those Unifier bastards down…

Oh, that walrus loves his bucket!

The Seventh Part

"I'm money baby, big time record producer, I get you in. I own it. I own it." Brett mumbled.

"Brett. Brett!" Kenneth said. "Wake up beef patty."

"What?" Brett said coming to consciousness.

"You were having that stupid dream again."

"Why do you always crush my hopes, you jerk?" Brett asked sleepily with a scowl scrunching up his face.

"Brett, you listen to Motley Crew. You listen to Alice in Chains. You don't even listen to the radio, how do you expect to be a record producer?"

"Look. I... You know what, I don't have to justify myself to you."

"Alright, I'm sorry okay? It's time for your antibiotics, are you hungry?"

"Yes." Brett said a little pouty.

"Do you want an omlet?"

Brett nodded sullenly, shooting out his bottom lip a little.

"With ham."

"I know buddy, I know." Geez, what a wiener. Kenneth thought.

Kenneth left the room to let Brett sulk.

Stupid Kenneth. Thinks he knows everything. He's just a glorified rock salesman.

Couldn't even hold down a job at Arby's. Brett's brain quipped.

Pshh. Yeah, not a "team player."

Don't listen to him. You ARE big time.

Yeah.

Brett tried to shrug off his bad mood and shift his thoughts to more important things. He had to figure out how to take down the Unifiers. He knew with Ben's weak minded pliability, the cult had him deep by now. Brett would have to infiltrate them from the top down. But how would he find the time?

How many days of vacation do I have left?

You and Ashley could go on vacation...

Mmm. Yeah, maybe Rome. Or just a nude beach... No, no! Stop distracting me. I need to think.

Brett's thoughts slowly slipped back to Ashley, beaches, and waiters bringing drinks with umbrellas in them. It had been a few weeks now since the attack. His leg was almost healed and he could stumble around in a walking cast. As far as the mental wounds went, he was still having nightmares. Brett could hear Kenneth coming down the hall and quickly tried to put thoughts of Ashley out of his head.

"What's that guilty look on your face for?" Kenneth asked.

"What are you talking about?" Brett asked sheepishly.

Kenneth just scowled. Knowing where Brett's train of thought had been ever since he had seen down into cleaveland, it wasn't hard to guess what he was thinking about.

Play it cool man!

Too late, we're busted. Quick, do something! Distract him before he EATS us!

Okay, shut up and let me think!

That's your job! Hurry, he looks hungry!

Quickly trying to divert Kenneth's wrath, Brett stammered.

"So, uh, Kenneth? What's it like being a werewolf?"

Is that all you've got? To remind him that he's a WOLF who eats PEOPLE! We are screwed.

Kenneth saw through Brett's sudden interest in a change of topic but wasn't in the mood to fight.

"It's great." He said dryly. What a wanker. Kenneth thought

"So, uh... What do you, uh, eat?" Brett asked as sweat beaded on his forehead. Brett had been wanting to broach this topic ever since the attack and now it tumbled all out.

What was THAT!? Great! Just lead his thoughts right to it! We're dog chow, we're horse meat. Might as well have had my bubble bath today with barbecue sauce.

Then YOU try thinking for once! I wrote that awesome paper on Marco Polo for history class. I got us through that class! ME!

And now you pissed off a werewolf! Good job valedictorian.

Kenneth paused and got a far away look on his frowning face.

Stupid, stupid, stupid. We're dead.

"It's complicated." He hesitated. Brett was afraid of the answer and so he quickly went on. "How many of you guys are there?" Kenneth was visibly relieved.

"Well, we keep to ourselves mostly. We do have the weekly DWB meetings... I'm not sure why though. We don't do the whole "pack" thing, and we never really talk about anything, uh, werewolfy. Why do we have meetings?" Kenneth asked the wall.

"DWB?" Brett asked, relieved.

Okay, okay, we're good. Whew. Thanks for nothing brain.

Piss off.

"Davis, Weber, and Boxelder county." Kenneth said.

"Ah."

"Yeah. There are probably a good 15 or 20 of us in the DWB."

A car honked wildly in the driveway.

"That's Ashley, she is gonna wear me out. See ya later. Call me if you need anything."

"Have fun, doing... whatever it is you're going to be doing."

Kenneth's eyebrows drew together.

Dammit!

"Rock climbing." Kenneth said flatly, clearly irritated.

"Can Ashley and I still go to High School Musical on ice?" Brett asked timidly.

"As long as she doesn't drag me to it. This is kind of nice, actually. I get the girlfriend with the benefits, and you get to do all the fruity gay stuff with her." Kenneth barked a brusque laugh.

"Huh-huh, yeah."

"Well, enjoy your Celine Dion concert tonight. Pay-per-view, right?"

"Yeah."

With that, Kenneth was out the door. Brett reached for his pain meds.

***

"My heart will go on and on." Celine belted from the fake prow of a ship on the stage.

"How did they get a whole ship on the stage?" Brett asked aloud to no one.

He was slumped down on the couch wearing only his walking cast and his tighty whiteys.

"This popcicle tastes like pink." Brett said as he gazed at the slobbery remote control in his hand.

"I like the gum drops the best. Chewy. Just like Candyland! "Why does my elbow smell like bacon? Brett asked the ceiling fan. Keys could be heard jingling in the door. Kenneth opened the door with Ashley right behind him.

"Hey Punkin!" Ashley purred at Brett. Kenneth rolled his eyes. "Whatcha watching?"

"Titanic." Brett smiled stupidly.

"No, that looks like the satellite menu channel." Ashley said.

"Yeah." Brett said with a grin.

"What sort of pain pills did they give him?" Ashley asked quietly, turning to Kenneth.

"They're just Loritab." Kenneth said with a confused frown.
Kenneth moved across the room to the couch where Brett was.

"Wow, that's a good look for you. How about we turn off the TV and go to bed?" Kenneth reached for the remote. "Aghk! Dude, what is on this thing? And where did the buttons go? Oh my hell."

Kenneth picked up Brett and carried him to his bed and not so carefully pulled up his covers.

"Bedtime sto-" Brett mumbled.

"NO! No story. Go to bed." Kenneth said with exasperation. Storming back into the living room, Kenneth said to Ashley,

"He gets like this every night. He always wants me to read him a story about Unicorns or something stupid."

Ashley moved to Kenneth, putting her hands into his back pockets.

"I think somebody's tired." She teased with a sly wink.

Kenneth scowled down at her. "Yeah, I'm tired of him. He's actually getting more annoying."

"He's a cute drunk, don't worry about it." Ashley raised up on her toes to kiss Kenneth lustily. Suddenly, she stopped and dropped back on to her heals with a confused look on her face.

"What smells like bacon?"

The Sixth Part

Brett felt out of place. Something was different. As the foggy haze of sleep struggled to hold him, consciousness of the wrongness he felt won out. Brett struggled to open his eyes. The harsh morning rays beat against his eyelids, as if to force him to lie still. Pain. Yes, that was it. He felt like he was bruised all over. His leg throbbed and he wondered why. His eyes finally opened to squinting slits. The ceiling looked wrong, it was tiled. And the smell. It smelled like old people and chemicals. He slowly looked around realized that he was in the hospital. At once fuzzy images flooded his awareness. They were all so fragmented, he had a hard time putting the jumble into order. The loud snap of his leg cracking stood out among them. How had that happened? He saw blurred stars overhead and smelled pine. He was cold and hot at the same time. His leg felt like it was on fire but he couldn't feel his hands and feet. Teeth, terrible sharp teeth gleaming in the darkness. And growling.

"Brett! You're awake! What do you remember?" Kenneth said from the chair by Brett's bed.

"I don... water." Brett choked out of his dry mouth.

"Oh, here." Kenneth put a straw to his lips. The water tasted stale. This couldn't be Evian. Brett only drank Evian bottled water. Blech! I can taste the fluoride in it! If I wanted fluoride, I'd make out with a dental hygienist...

What? Brett's brain asked.

Never mind.

I think you have a concussion.

Brett determined to ignore his brain.

"So dude, how are you feeling?" Kenneth asked.

"Unnh." Brett groaned.

"Some camping trip huh?" Kenneth said.

"Camping?" Brett croaked?

"Yeah," Kenneth said nervously, "I knew we shouldn't have gone hiking in bear country." Kenneth coughed uncomfortably. "Well, the doctor says you're fine. Your leg is set nice and they used some new bone adhesive stuff to help you heal quick."

"Hurts to breathe."

"Well, you've got some good bruises but none of your ribs are cracked. You're gonna be okay. He says we can check you out today, and you get drugs!"

"Gimme!"

"Just press the button right there. It's on tap homie. I'll go get you checked out.

"Thanks Florence." Brett said.

"Huh huh," Kenneth chortled "you better not fall in love with me!"

"Pshh. Yeah, no, no. I was just kidding. Pshh." Brett said hurriedly as sweat beaded on his forehead and his mouth dried out again.

Brett could feel the drugs start to work and he closed his eyes, concentrating on the chemical fuzz. He tried to let the fuzzy warmth cover all his sharp and confusing memories.

***


Hours later, Brett was at home, propped up in bed so he could watch Judge Judy.

"Kenneth! I need more ice water!"

Brett thought he could hear faint growling from the kitchen.


"Nurse maid to the man child." Kenneth grumbled. "I'm a werewolf. I eat people. Geez."

The growl Brett thought he heard from the kitchen made Brett's heart start to race. He was suddenly filled with terror and didn't know quite why. Kenneth walked into the room but paused a beat when he saw Brett's face.

"You look cold man, your face is all pasty. I mean, more than normal. You weren't bit by a vampire were you? Ha, as if. I think you've had enough ice though. Let me get you a blanket."


"No, I'm okay, I just... Never mind." Brett said as he shook his head.

"What's wrong?" Kenneth asked tentatively.

"I think it's just the stress from the attack, I just need to sleep."

"Okay... Well, do you want me to tuck you in?"

"That would be nice."

As Kenneth wondered why he had offered to do the tuck in, the doorbell rang. Visibly relieved, Kenneth moved to the front door a little too quickly. Brett frowned.

Oh phooey.

Fine piece of man! Brett's brain said, like a black woman with attitude.

Brett could hear Kenneth open the door. "Oh, hey... Uh, Ben right? Yeah, he was just about to take a nap, come on in."

Brett could hear Ben's heavy footsteps coming down the hall.

"Hi Brett! How are you?"

"Fair to midland!" Brett said, sounding evermore like a survivor of the great depression.

"What does that mean?" Ben said with a puzzled look on his face.

Ignoring the question, Brett said, "What have you got there?"

Ben double taked and then looked at the rectangular gift wrapped package he held.

"Oh, it's a present I got for you! I heard about the attack of the demon and all."

Attack of the demon! Don't say anything. Just smile and nod like you know what he's talking about.

"You didn't have to do that." Brett said as he tore into the wrapping paper. "Oh, Phenomenon. I always heard that was good."

"Oh, it is!" Ben gushed. "Did you know John Travolta is a member of the Unifiers?"

"No I didn't." Brett said, trying to sound interested. "Something about Travolta has always felt trustworthy. I think it's his chin."

"Oh yeah, he's totally got street cred. He's also the on the Blue Echelon!"

"Oh yeah, right right." Brett said hoping he was sounding enthusiastic. It's like his brain doesn't work right.

"Anyway, the movie is based on his real life experience. You'll love it!"

"Hey Ben," Kenneth interjected, "Brett needs his rest, we better let him get back to sleep."

"Okay, sure." Ben said, looking pouty and dejected.

As the door shut behind Ben, Brett thought he could hear Kenneth muttering, "Angels and ministers of grace defend us. I hope you taste better than you smell. Ugh, powder fresh."

Kenneth reentered the room. "Man! What a fruit cake! Lady Speedstick needs to take a shower and lay off the crazy juice, eh?"

Brett frowned in confusion as the drugs took his consciousness and he slipped away into uncomfortable dreams.

The Fifth Part

Kenneth crouched in the damp earth. He could smell every distinct odor in the soil. The smells of decay had a sort of hopeful scent to them. In the death, the life was teeming. It was all a big circle.

Just like Mufasa always taught us.

With his heightened senses, Kenneth could make out individual voices conversing quietly by the camp fire. They were still more than 200 yards away. Kenneth had already run the perimeter with deadly stealth. He had counted 37 people there. Kenneth liked hunting up here in the mountains. It was bear country after all, and occasionally, a camper would just disappear. Tragically, Search and Rescue would find only shredded bloody clothing and back pack bits. And with all the hikers, people were bound to get lost... But Kenneth had not come up here to hunt tonight though.

I'm just keeping up my tracking skills. It's okay, if I see any human meat pies, I'll just practice stalking. No eating. I'm cool, I'm cool. Besides, I'm full. The new leaf has been turned. Tofu for me from here on out.

"You have an amazing capacity for self-deception."

Thank you Madam President.

Kenneth hated when his brain backsassed him, especially with Battlestar Galactica quotes.

If only we could take this rationalization and channel the energy into werewolfing, you could be on the board of the DWB chapter by now.

Kenneth almost started to argue about how social prestige didn't matter to him, but then decided not to give that smarmy prick the satisfaction. Kenneth turned his attention back to the social gathering. He had seen plenty of drunken frat parties up here, but this was different. What was with the robes? Kenneth wished he had arrived earlier, there was an impromptu stage set up and folding chairs scattered around. There was an air of relaxed informality about the people which seemed to indicate that the official festivities were at an end. These people smelled... wrong. With only the stirring of the air to betray his presence, Kenneth moved closer.

Something is so odd about this gathering.

Oh, you mean besides the culty robes?

Shut up brain.

You shut up.

"Smart ass." Kenneth muttered under his breath. As he approached closer, he could see someone lying on the ground in the midst of everyone. Was he just passed out drunk? He seemed to be lying on some sort of round blanket. It looked like some sort of emblem. Kenneth was now within a hundred feet. Everyone else was alert, and few had any bottles in their hands.

Not drunk then. Hmm.

Wull gall professor, how'd ya figure?

NOT ANOTHER WORD!

Something in the back of Kenneth's mind nagged at him. Something was out of place here at Satan's kegger. The wind suddenly shifted and Kenneth was overwhelmed at the sweet scent of human blood.

Mmm. That would be so good with some eggnog!

Stop tempting me.

Oh yes, the nutmeg would be the perfect accent!

With the smell of blood filling his mind, the subconscious nagging thought jumped to center stage of his mind.

Spoons!

Almost every one of the people there were holding a spoon. Kenneth circled the camp trying to see the man on the ground more clearly.

His head is... off?

The top of the mans head was sitting next to his body and his skull was emptied out like a jackolantern.

Lords of Kobol!

The mans brains had been completely scooped out!

"Eww." Kenneth said out loud. He hurriedly slapped his hands to his mouth. But it was too late. One of the culties looked in his direction. Kenneth froze in place.

Why am I standing up? Oh crap. He sees me.
The cultie was now moving toward Kenneth with purpose and was being flanked by three of his cohorts. Each one carried their spoon. Kenneth swallowed.

"Gulp!"

Bad men! Let’s get out of here!

I heard that!

Don’t let them eat me!

Kenneth turned to run, his rock hard lupine muscles forcefully contracted causing him to explode from where he was standing. Kenneth was now no more than a blur. His werewolf hubris caused him confusion when he suddenly found himself on his face, convulsing in pain. His body felt like it was on fire. The barbs from the Taser were firmly lodged in his right butt cheek.
“Owwie!” was the last thing Kenneth spit out through his clenched jaw before he lost consciousness. When he woke up, he was staring at the stars and his arms were being held down. He had only been out for a couple of seconds. The wrong smelling men were trying to tie his hands. Rage boiled up inside of him and he could feel his pants beginning to tear. A primal growl bubbled up from his core into a deafening snarl. It was apparent from the smell that the culties had poor bladder control. There were a couple of clipped screams choked out before the thrashing blur stilled them. There was some futile gurgling and twitching, and then only silence.

The Fourth Part

Brett sat on his lawn chair, balancing precariously near the apex of the roof. The resplendent glory of the morning, the pre-dawn light from behind the mountains, the cacaphony of the birds in the trees, was only dimmed by the foreboding storm clouds, moving in swiftly from the east. The day would be cold and wet. Brett was not looking forward to getting the tank cars unloaded in the rain. For now, Brett just enjoyed feeling smelling the fresh morning air.

"Are you sure you don't want me to come with you tonight?" Kenneth asked.

"DAH!" Brett yelped as his chair keeled backwards. Kenneth's hand swiftly shot out and grabbed Brett's shirt before he could fully fall out of the chair.

"Geez man, why so jumpy?" Kenneth asked.

"How the hell did you get up here, you potbellied lurp?"

"I climbed. There's no need to be mean."

"You almost split my melon open. How do you think I should feel?"

"The only reason you should ever raise your voice is if there's a fire."

"That's only with your wife, and we aren't married. Domestic partners, yes. Married, no."

Kenneth lifted an eye brow. "I think I should come with you tonight, if it's a cult, I want to back you up."

"Not a chance roadkill breath. This is a one man infiltration op."

"Alright. Fine, have fun Mr. Bourne."

"Go take a shower. You smell terrible. Try using tomato juice."

"I seriously hate you."

Brett sat in Ben's car trying to seem excited and happy. "I've just been thinking alot lately about my life, you know? Like, what is my purpose here, to just go to work and come home and go to work and come home until I'm dead? I think some community service is just what I need."

"Ya know Brett, the Unifiers is more than just a community service. It teaches you how to have a better life."

"Really? How?" Brett said, trying to acted surprised and interested.

"Oh, well, right now I am being audited to help me move out of pre-clear. I am learning about survival in the eight dynamics. You know, I'm crossing the bridge, getting rid of my engrams. The org is totally cool."

Brett tried to keep his face placid as he faked an interested smile. It must not have worked very well. Because Ben hurriedly continued."It's all pretty simple really, you'll see."

"Yeah sure, cool."


Ben and Brett were soon entering the doors of the Layton Community Center. A wave of revulsion washed over Brett as he saw Brad approaching with that vacant look and fake smile on his face.

"Hey gang! Good to see you here. Hi Brett, how've you been?"

Oh crap, he knows my name! "Oh, good Brad, good, you?" Don't show the teeth Brett, it's a sign of aggression.

"Great! So, Ben have you heard the good news?"

"No, what's that?"

"You're getting inducted to the inner circle tonight!"

"Oh wow! You're kidding! That's great. I've really been working hard for this."

"And we've been watching you, you're going places. You'll be an operatin Thetan in no time!"

Brett felt his muscular buttocks clench tightly. Something was very wrong here.

***

Oh man. I feel like I need a shower after that. I don't know how long I can keep up this shar-rod... Shuh-rod? char-ade? ...Act... What was with that inner circle talk? And all that creepy exclusionary technical jargon! Brett unlocked the door and stepped into the front room to find Kenneth on the phone.

"Yeah, okay. But did you get the PPI set up for the EQP? Yeah, yeah, no doubt. Well, the new member meeting should take care of that! Ha! We'll have em tripping over chickens in no time!Yeah, okay well, I'll see you at the PEC. Hey, don't forget the manuals, I don't want another extemperaneous talk on blood atonement. Okay. Bye."

Brett paused in mid step. Oh crap! I've got my work cut out for me.

The Third Part

"But I thought you didn't like the IUU." Ben said with a suspicious gaze.

"No, no, I uh, think community service is important." Said Brett.

"But you said it felt like being in a slaughter house full of clowns."

"Oh that, well, I just thought Brad was a little weird, thats all."

"Okay." Ben said doubtfully.

"So can I come next week?"

"Sure, yeah."

I've got you now, buwahahaha! You're playing right into my hands you pathetic sap!

"Brett?"

"Hmm?"

"What's with the evil looking, squinty, far off gaze and the ominous giggling?"

Fake a stroke fake a stoke you fool! Quickly, do something! "Seinfeld!" Brett yelled. "NO SOUP FOR YOU!"

"I've got some sales calls to make." Said Ben, turning away with a look of confusion.

That was close. I need to have more quiet time so that doesn't happen again. Maybe a nice bubble bath tonight and a glass of martinellies. I can put in My Best Friends Wedding. That'll be nice.

***

Brett and Kenneth sat on the couch watching an E True Hollywood Story on Justin Timberlake.

"He's hot." Said Kenneth

"Oh yeah."

"So, you gonna go with Ben to the next Rainbow Family chant and rant? Ingratiated yourself with him yet?"

“Yeah. I think he’s buying it.”

“No doubt, what with your superb acting talent and all.”

“I’m sorry, we all can’t be emeritus stars of the wildly popular Merchant of Venice at the very prestigious Washington Terrace Plaza Playhouse.”

Kenneth let out a guttural growl.

“Forgive me, Signor Antonio.”

“I hate you.” Said Kenneth.

“Oh stop pouting. I only tease because I love you. Friends?”

“Forever.” Kenneth said with a lopsided grin breaking on his face.”

“Ah, you’re so cute. Do you want to order a pizza?”

“As long as it’s cheese, or something. I’m a vegetarian.”

“Since when?”

“Yesterday. I just been thinking about it for a while. And Oprah said it's good for your health.”

"But, you love meat.”

Kenneth’s face fell. His eyes were sad. “I know.” He said.

"Okay. Well, your father and I will love you no matter what you decide to do, honey.”

“Please don’t joke about it.”

“Okay. Sorry dude.”

“It’s okay.”

Brett wondered why Kenneth had decided to be vegetarian. He always loved steak with a passion that ran as deep as Brett’s love for Abba. It was odd because Kenneth seemed unresigned to the decision, almost like it was forced upon him. Brett didn’t think too long on it though. He had bigger concerns on his mind. He would very soon be surrounded by Sunshine Generation, all grown up with unstable religious notions. I’ve got to go all the way to the top and bring this thing down hard. Religious psychotics always have a leader. That’s what sucks them in, weak individuality. They have to be a part of something bigger, something that gives them structure. Just like Trekkies and their Klingon conventions. There ain’t a one of em who wouldn’t fall on their phaser at the behest of Patrick Stewart.

Trekkies.

Pshh.

Just like those freakin carnies with their secret meetings and enclaves. With their smelly tents and bearded women. Bearded, WOMAN! There’s only ever one… I wonder if they’re the leaders? The ultimate symbol of patriarchy: The beard, on a woman. Complete dominance over both sexes.

Brett put this thought in the Deep Thoughts To Ponder Later file. For now he had to figure out how to get to the top of the organization and shake it up if he wanted to help Ben. He knew logic wouldn’t be enough. Ben was far too weak-minded to listen as long as he had a “leader” that loved him. Brett had to expose the organization.

“Scientologists are weird, no doubt.” Said Kenneth. “But they are more of a credit card religion and less of a suicide cult. Are you sure the do-gooders of the IUU are dangerous? Ben might just being going through another phase. Didn’t he join the World Financial Group for a while? I’m sure he’ll just lose interest in a couple of weeks.”

“This is different. Ben believes in it.”

“He also believed he could be a financial planner without proper education. I think your infiltrate-and-destroy modus operandi is a little overboard.”

“You didn’t meet Brad. That guy was like mannequin with a smooth talking Tickle-Me Elmo voice box inside. Or like he was possessed by a legion of dead car salesmen… And... Barack Obama. He was like a charismatic zombie or something. Brad… I hate that guy.”

“Alright Brett. Duj tivoqtaH.”

“What?”

“Always trust your instincts. If there’s one thing I learned from the Klingons, it was that.”

“…”

Oh geez, I better keep Kenneth away from Ben before he goes Charlie Manson on me too. This is gonna be harder than I thought.

The Second Part

"This is why we can't have nice things!" Brett complained.

"I told you I hate Family Feud." Kenneth snarled.

"Louie Anderson isn't that bad. Now clean that up."

"Not until you promise no more."

"Fine! Then no more discovery channel either. If I have to watch another stupid documentary on wolves, I am going blow a hemorrhoid."

Kenneth frowned, unsure what to say. Brett and Kenneth held an awkward look for a full two seconds. Brett was first to look away and cough uncomfortably.

"So uh... We still going to the planetarium tonight? Brett asked.

"Fly me to the moon, right?" Kenneth asked, eyes brightening.

"Yeah. That's gonna be cool."
"..."
"Yeah."

"3-D."

"Cool."

"Yeah."

"Yeah."

Thankfully, the doorbell rang at that exact moment. Kenneth walked briskly to the door and opened it.
"Ni hao ma!" Kenneth said with delight. Chad, the delivery driver from the Chinese place was standing on the porch with a bag full of lomein and kung pao.

"I'm Vietnamese." Chad said for the second time this week.

"Godless communists." Kenneth muttered as he handed Chad the money.
"Oh brother." Said Brett. If I have to see Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon again, I swear on the blood of Thor, there will be swift punishment. Ever since he saw that stupid movie he thinks he's pan Asian or something. Chad left with his crisp two dollar bill for a tip and Kenneth came back to the couch with his dinner. He shoveled in a mouthful, closing his eyes with intensity. When he opened them again, he had a look of disappointment on his face.

"Shoulda figured. If everything tastes like chicken, how come chicken doesn't taste like people?" Kenneth said to himself, almost too quietly to be heard.

"What was that?" Brett asked annoyed.

"Oh nothing. Food just sucks lately. Did they stop using MSG or something?"

"Are you kidding? My stomach is bleeding just from the smell of that stuff."

"Crap. Oh, hey, so how did your intervention with Star-Beam?"

"You mean Ben?"

"Yeah, Sparkle-Child."

"He hasn't changed his name."

"Yet."

"True that. Well, he didn't show up for work today, cause, get this. He is at a freaking weekend retreat."

"It's Thursday."

"I know, the Unifier's think its the most holy day of the week, so Applewhite gets to claim it as a religious holiday."

"Gay."

"Yeah."

"Its just like those Jews, ruining my weekend. Closing their stupid stores down on Saturday. How am I supposed to get gefeltifish when I need it?"

"Ugh. Gefeltifish? That's like spams bastard child from a threesome with dolphin free tuna and bologna."

"Oh yeah. It's nast. But it makes great bait."

"Since when do you fish?"

"Oh, um. I just heard about it on Wikipedia."

Now it was Bretts turn to hold the awkward frowning stare until Kenneth looked away.

The First Part

Brett flipped his underwear up with his foot and caught it in his hand, throwing it into the hamper with satisfaction at his superb coordination. He stepped into the tub where the hot water was already running.
"Ooh! that's nice." Brett cooed to himself. He started giggling with delight at the wonderful sensation on his skin. It had been a fun day. Brett had spent most of the day at the mall shopping for super chic footware. He had found a great pair of sketchers.
The guys at Brennfäug are gonna be so jealous!
Brett was a shipping and recieving specialist at one of the nations largest chemical suppliers.

Brett was excited for the night. His friend Ben from work had invited him to a party that night with a new group of friends. Brett got out of the shower, humming "It’s Raining Men" as he toweled off his hair. When he got out of the bathroom, he found his roommate Kenneth watching TV on the couch.

”Hey” said Brett.

Kenneth sat staring vacantly at the big screen. Brett paused on his way to the kitchen.

“Dude.”

“Oh, hey.” Kenneth said blankly. “It’s raining men.”

“What?”

“Hallelujah... You always hum that in the shower.”

“You could hear that?”

Kenneth just shrugged. He had been acting odd lately. At least more odd than usual.

“Well at least I am showering.” Brett said quietly to himself.

Kenneth let out clipped bark of a throaty laugh. Kenneth had such a musky stink about him lately.

“I’m off the party, you sure you don’t want to come?”

“No. I like TV.”

Brett noted with a frown that Kenneth was staring at the satellite help screen.

“Alright, later dude.” Said Brett.

Ben was waiting for him in the driveway. Brett wondered why he had insisted on picking him up, when it was ten miles the wrong direction.

“Hey Ben.” Said Brett.

“Hey man! How’s it going?”

“Good. So, how did you meet these guys?”

“It’s kind of a long story.”

Brett was a little confused when they got to the “party.” It was at the Layton community center.
That’s kind of weird.
As they walked into the center, Brett at once was shocked by how bright it was. All of the lights were on. There was a giant banner running the length of the room that said, “International Unifiers United.”
Kind of redundant. Well, this is just swell, what’ll it be, time shares in Bronson Missouri?

"Welcome you two! Hi Brett!” Said “Brad,” as his name tag indicated. Brad had a cheesy smile to match his terrible sweater vest. Brett exchanged pleasantries with the awkward man, regretting immediately his decision to come along. “We’re about to get started, why don’t you guys have a seat.”
"This is gonna be great!" Said Ben with a gleeful smile.
Brett gave Ben an icy sideways glance.

“Oh yeah, it’s the bomb, guy. You’re gonna fit in perfect here Brett.” Said Brad.

How the hell…? How did this fruit know his name? Ben. Ben is trying to recruit me. Great. Just a party with friends. MmHmm.
"Party huh?" Brett asked.
“Come on Brett, you're gonna love this!” Said Ben.

Brett wasn’t so sure. He slowly became aware of a terrible jazz number playing softly over the loud speakers. Brett reluctantly took a seat, bypassing the snack table, which he noted had red punch.
Oh crap, that looks like Kool-aid.
He went on high alert. But his heightened awareness didn't last long. The speaker for the night showed a lame video of some service trip he took down to India. It was cool that the group raised the money to build the kids a school and all but it was just so... sappy. Brett started quietly singing kumbaya under his breath. Brett's attention was wandering, and as he scanned the faces in the meeting, those faces, like glassy eyed sheep, frozen in time with the perma grin on their stupid faces. Brett saw that almost the entire row was holding hands.
Okay. I am about ten seconds from freaking out.

The speaker was pedantic and hypnotic. The audience was listening intently.
He must be using mind control. This is like a group coma. Seriously. When do we start the chanting?
Even as Brett thought that, the audience rose to their feet. Suddenly Ben on the right and the creepy lady on the left that smelled like tuna had their arms around his torso.

“POWER OF HOPE! POWER THROUGH UNITY! POWER IN US!"

Brett gritted his teeth and tried not to punch the tuna lady in her nasty yellow grill.
Ben is going to die for this.

“Wasn’t that video awesome!” Ben more remarked than asked as they left the meeting. “Don’t you just love the feeling of unity? This has totally changed my life. The IUU has given me such a sense of purpose.”

After twenty agonizing minutes of hearing about how energy healing can cure cancer, Brett was getting out of Ben’s car with an armful of printed propaganda.

“See you tomorrow Brett.” Said Ben.

“Yeah. Later.” Said Brett with no emotion in his voice.

Brett fumbled with his keys for a moment until he realized the door was slightly ajar.

“Dammit Kenneth.”

Along with Kenneth’s robust new odor, he’d been increasingly distracted and irresponsible. His classic Galaxie was still parked awkwardly diagonal in the driveway with a tire on the front lawn, Brett knew he was out for another one of his late night walks.
If he broke another sprinkler head, I'm going to make him fix it this time. Man, my friends are messed up. Kenneth with his reek of Alaskan trout fisherman and Ben with his freaky sunshine cult. Ben used to be cool, now I just want to jack him in the nuts to knock that cornball Captain America wholesomeness right off of him... Wow, that’s harsh. Okay Brettford, take it easy. It’s nice that Ben found god. Or his metaphysical pyramid scheme or whatever.
With thoughts of all the soda ash he had to get loaded on the rail car tomorrow, Brett drifted off into fitful dreams.


The annoying buzz of the alarm clock shocked Brett to consciousness. The predawn light was starting to make the lines of his Kevin Federline poster on the wall visible. Brett sat up and reached for his dream journal to record the details of the Davis county school superintendent trying to steal caustic from Brennfäug. Brett sighed. Still no Jessica Alba.
Oh well, maybe tonight’s the night we’ll meet on the astral plane.
•••
Brett took another panting gasp through the tiny hole. He couldn’t get enough fresh, cool, air, fast enough and had to settle for a mixture of more of the stale, humid air. Brett couldn’t concentrate on anything, not even the thought that he must be cooking alive. The sweat was still stinging his eyes. There was no point in opening them; there was no light there anyway. He had lost track of time. How many hours had it been? Two days now? He wasn’t sure. He just wished he could stretch out and lie down flat. He was still curled up in the fetal position. He figured even if they did unlock the box, he’d be too cramped to jump out. He needed water soon; his tongue was swollen in his mouth with thirst. He remembered that survivalists would drink their urine when they were out of water. But Brett hadn’t had to pee for hours.
•••
The old school DOS style cursor blinked on Brett’s computer, expectantly waiting for a command. Ben seemed oblivious to the huge pile of invoices that needed to be gone through, and continued to babble.

Please shut up, please shut up. Brett nodded as if he was listening. My teeth are going to break. Brett’s jaw muscles were burning. SHUT-UP SHUT-UP-SHUT-UP!

“We’re going to have a barbeque this Saturday, you should totally come!” Ben said.

“Ahhh, can’t. Kenneth and I are going to go golfing on Saturday. Sorry man.”

“No, that’s perfect, the BBQ doesn’t start til 7, and that’s pretty much dusk, you’ll be done by then righ-"

“Oh, hey,” Brett interrupted, “I’ve got some HCL on the dock I've got to…” Brett trailed off as he hurried away from Ben.
***
Brett ended up perusing the pamphlets Ben had given him as he sat on the toilet that weekend. There was a lot to read, but that was just fine because Brett had had some bad Mexican food that day. In fact it turned out to be double blessing since he ran out of toilet paper after the first fifteen minutes. The glossy ones were actually pretty soft. The booklets were pretty predictable. Just like the watchtower, there was a lot of circular reasoning and vapid aphorisms. But the most annoying part, was that they didn’t say anything substantive in it. After all that reading, Brett still had no idea what the International Unifiers United was all about. Near as he could tell, it was just another type of Scientology.
Great Gatsby! It is a cult.

“Kenneth!”

“AAAAHHH!!! CLOSE THE DOOR!” Kenneth yelled.

“You’re such a baby. Gosh!" Brett leaned over from the toilet to swing the door shut.

“It’s burning my eyes!” Kenneth wailed from the living room. “Courtesy flush!”

Brett emerged from the bathroom with a scowl on his face. “The toilet’s clogged again.”

“It only clogs when you flush newspaper. Why don’t you just keep an extra roll under the sink? You’re paying for the plumber this time.”

“I paid last time!”

“Because YOU flushed newspaper, you black sphinctered sodomite!”

“What? Look, dude, dude. Dude. Ben is in a cult.”

“ Mormon, eh?”

“Not the funny underpants kind, the bunk bed and Kool-Aid kind.”

“Brett, I told you, Cutco isn’t a cult. They are the best damn knives on the planet. I made some money one summer, and now I'm done. Just drop it!”

“No, no, no. I’m serious. Cutco is a cult, but this is real. Ben took me to the International Unifiers United meeting last week.”

“I thought you went to a party.”

“Yeah, I thought I was going to a party too.”

“I read about those guys. They’re that break off from the scientologists. Rumor has it, the inner circle is building a space ship.”

“No kidding. Huh... Ben's in deep. I've got to help him."
Kenneth sat on the couch, shifting uneasily. "Everybody's got problems."