The Return of the Giant Rat of Sumatra: Part 3

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Young Dullard Ashamedly Presents:

THE RETURN OF THE GIANT RAT OF SUMATRA (Part III)

by Charles Garofalo

Synopsis: In our last episode, Young Dullard had apparently

defeated the Giant Rat of Sumatra in hand-to-claw combat.

In reality the rat, actually an alien fugitive from intergalactic

justice named Hubba, had allowed herself to be beaten. She

then used her extraterrestrial super science to transform herself

into a human woman. Now calling herself May Daye, she

claims to be the intended victim of the monster and has gained

the confidence of the Arthian avenger for her own fiendish ends.

Meanwhile: Erus, the Dark Titan, jealous of the affection

his mistress has displayed for Young Dullard, has journied from

his own eerie plane to New York City. He was plotting his revenge

when he was struck from behind by a thrown rolling pin and

collapsed unconscous.

At the same time: Anthrozetz, ancient Atlantean goddess

and sometime lover of Eurs, and Nergon, her ugly, demented,

hunched back assistant, are going crazy looking for Erus ...

"Where is that oversized product of a miscegenation between a succubus and a lamprey eel?" shrieked the dark goddess frantically. "He's got to be around there somewhere! He has to be. Where else can he be but in this castle?"

"Maybe he went for a walk in the chaos to get some less polluted air," suggested Nergon hopefully.

"He couldn't have. We'd have seen him from the windows! He's got to be around here somewhere."

Both Nergon and Athrozetz knew where Erus probably was, but it was just too painful to accept. The goddess' agent, Hubba, was about to give Dullard the Thessalapian Jade, a repository of immense power. Athrozetz believed that the smashing of the Jade would release astral energies that would shatter the barrier between her dimension and Earth. Having seen Young Dullard in action, Athrozetz felt that entrusting the supposedly indestructible idol to his protection was the surest way of getting it broken.

If Erus was to attack the masked Arthian warrior and kill him before he could break it ...

Therefore, rejecting the most likely explanation for Erus' absence, Athrozetz had succeeded in convincing herself that the Dark Titan must still be in her castle somewhere. She need only find him.

A servitor entered the room.

"He's not in any of the dungeons, my lady."

"Then get out," the goddess screamed calmly.

Several more lackeys entered.

"He isn't in the dragon-kennels. I even checked to see if any of the dragons had eaten him."

"Your ladyship, he wasn't in the fungi gardens, nor the Divination Room."

"He wasn't in the attack, either," sighed Nergon. "But I did find these."

He ledl up a peculiarly figured silver amulet and an incredibly obscene rendering of a horned humanoid carved from solid plexiglass.

"The Talisman of Kreeen and the Gargoyle of Gillisdrim!" exclaimed Athrozetz. "I've been looking for them for weeks. Where the devil were they?"

"Under the stuffed elf and some old jars of arrow poison. I spotted them by accident, my lady."

"Well, something good's come out of this whole mess, after all. But where's that idiot, Erus?"

A squat, implike creature covered, with dust and cobwebs, crept in.

"Your Ladyship?"

"What is it now?"

"I've just been through the south wing. Is Lord Erus seven feet tall?"

"Yes."

"Does he have horns and fangs?"

"Yes!"

"And is he wearing gray?"

"He is!"

"Well then, it wasn't him."

"Out, fool!" yelled Athrozetz, throwing a vase at the imp. He fled.

* * * * *

Erus awoke to the sound of xylophone chimes inside his head playing taps. His immediate reaction was to attempt to rise and clobber the musician. He couldn't.

Forcing his eyelids open, he discovered that he had been clumsily but securely bound to a torture rack composed of three ironing boards cunningly joined together. He was tied face up, the better to see the various implements of torture that hung suspended over him.

He groaned.

"Ach ... du ist recoverd, Ja?" came a voice to his right.

Erus turned his head to see his captor. She was a thin old woman with her sparse gray hair done up in curlers, dressed in a worn bathrobe. She squinted myopically at the prisoner through thick-lensed glasses.

"Gethinking to catch oldt Frau Sprodeknochen aschleep, did du? Fool Amerikan! Never vill du drag me before dot verdamnt Nuremburg tribunal. Perhapsh I vas der sechrecetary ov heir General von Schnootz during der var. But I vas just a schrecectary, nuttin more. Und as for der jewen und der jadt, if I hadn't getaken them to Argentina at der end ov der var, zomeone else would ov. Now, who is du?"

"RHAR ... mmmph!"

Erus' roar was cut off as the old woman stuffed a used dish towel into his mouth.

"Dere ... zo you don't vake up der neighbor's kinder. Ha, ze'll nefer gecatchen me. Here in Argentina I can lif like a queen. Once president Peron geputtens my papers in order I zell dese ..."

She gestured to a box of assorted ivory and jade statures and sundry jewels on a small table behind her.

" ... und be a millionaire. Und now, who schent du to gettten me? De Effen B. I.? Der Izrailies? Dot svine-hund, F. D. R.?"

"Mmmph!" gasped Erus through his gag. He understood very little of what she was talking about. Argentina? Wasn't that further south? He was supposed to be in New York! And who the heck were Peron and Eff de Ar?"

Hoping for some enlightenment he looked around the room. He saw little he understood. Just the usual tatty old furniture, a few photographs (the mustached man with his arm raised in a salute looked slightly familiar), a fat, spoiled cat sleeping in the laundry basket, the usual old lady junk.

Out of the corner of his eye, Erus thought he caught a glimpse of movement. It seemed to be a small manlike figure peeping through one of the doors but was gone too fast for him to be sure.

"Now ... talkl!" the witch ordered, forgetting that she had stuffed a dishrag in her captive's mouth.

"Mmmmmph!" replied Erus.

"So, du von't talk?" asked the hag. "Ve haf vays ov making du talk ... "

""Mmmmmph!"

"Ja. Der hard vay he vants it."

Erus tried to get the gag out. He was sure he'd heard stealthy footsteps as the old bag had spoken to him. He desperately tried to free his mouth to call for assistance.

After some fumbling, the nearsighted old woman located a pair of switches. The first switch activated the torture devices.

"Now, vill you talk?"

"Mmmmmph!"

The second switch was flicked. The infernal devices began to descend towards his helpless form.

"Vat is der name of der people who schent du?"

The deadly devices decended. The triangular object with the holes in it, squirting steam, would soon be resting on his chest. The ugly device with the two spinning blades and the unreadable rune "General Electric Automatic Egg Beater" was obviously meant for his eyes, but due to his height would in all probability catch him in the teeth instead. The descending pendulum was getting closer and closer. Soon the sneaker tied to its end would catch him right in the -- better not to thing about it.

"So, du von't talk?"

"Mmmmmm!" he gasped. He would have been happy to talk. To get off that device, Erus would have been happy ot tap dance, sing and recite poetry. He struggle at the ropes. They held. The metallic devices got closer and closer.

A shadow creeped across the room. Erus thought he saw the glint of tiny eyes under the table. He thought he heard muffled footsteps. And an eerie high ptiched whispering.

"Ach! Vot vas dot?" Frau Sprodeknotchen yelped, hearing the noises for the first time. "Who's dere?"

Nobody answered. But somewhere in the room a floorboard creaked.

Frau Sprodenknotchen screamed hysterically. "Is der madman Vinston Churchell! Is der svinehund F.D.R.! Is dot verdamnt Kapitan Amerika!"

Grabbing the cat under one arm and the box of jewels and sculptures under the other, the old relic fled the room.

Leaving Erus strapped to the table.

Erus struggled. The devices came lower and lower ...

There were footsteps. Then whispering noises. Erus looked away from the descending disaster to see small shadowy figures creeping towards him.

* * * * *

"Quite a place," remarked Young Dullard, taking stock of the bright red plastic wall paneling, light green velvet furniture, silver-and-black ceiling mural of the shooting of Jesse James, and dark purple drapes. "I like your choice of colors."

"And I like a man with good taste" simpered May Daye, her smile so wide it nearly discovered her lovely face. "Won't you sit down and ... make yourself at home."

The Arthian warrior sat down and surveyed the room. The furnishings were interesting, to say the least. There was a genuine antique popcorn popper on a psuedo-Grecian marble column, A bowl with black goldfish swimming around in it occupied a place of honor between a genuine Tang vase (obtained by sending fifteen labels of the famous orange drink to the company) and a laminated Canadian goose decoy.

The entire south side of the room was dominated by a large television screen, while the north side was hidden by a book-lined shelf. Beside the shelf stood an oversized cabinet filled with knick-knacks. Dullard could not make out exactly what was inside. He could only see the small gleaming of metal and galvanized pottery inside there. A full-length mirror stood beside the closet.

"If you'll wait a few minutes, I'll go and change into ... something more comfortable," purred May Daye.

"Alright, but how about that jade whoosit you said I was supposed to guard," broke in the valiant Arthian. "Can I see it?"

"Later. Let's get a little better acquainted first."

Young Dullard stared blankly at the comely female.

"Don't worry, I'll be right back," cooed May Daye. "Keep yourself entertained while I'm gone ... tall, muscular, and handsome."

She left, leaving the Arthian on cloud nine. Handsome! She'd called him handsome! It felt good to know a woman considered you attractive.

Young Dullard went and stood before the full-length mirror, By George, he thought, she was right. In his white-orange-and purple tights, he did cut a striking figure. The clothing emphasized his mighty biceps and pectorals to his advantage. Also, although he did not know this, his mask helped hide his usual vacuous facial expression, greatly to his advantage. He sometimes felt his costume lacked something, but right now he could not remember what it was. Oh, well, whatever it was, she didn't seem to notice.

Of course, he eventually got to preening in the mirror. Although he did not know it, he had plenty of time on his hands. May Daye was only now discovering just how difficult it was to put on a "slinky" looking temptress dress.

Bored, Young dullard turned his attention to the cabinet. Through its panels he could see its contents now. The paraphernalia meant little to him.

There was a tine four-armed figure molded (if its label was correct) from "Barsoomian green glaze," a clear glass globe filled with dust from somewhere called Vulcan, an ashtray with the words "Aldeeron Hilton" engraved on it. What could they mean? Antiques, no doubt, but were they worth anything?

Young Dullard turned his attention from the breakables to the bookshelf. Hmmm ... a varied collection at any rate. One title impressed the Arthian by its length: The Dynamics of Meson Collapse: An Overview on the Czarovich Theory of the Pre-existance of the Neutrino by O. Brudder. It was flanked by a Bennet Cerf joike book and a dog-eared copy of Thralls of the White Slavers.

No, he didn't feel like reading tonight.

Dullard turned on the television to see if anything good was on. Instead of a picture, there appeared several digital patterns in white and red.

"Oh, a video game," remarked the Arthian.

After a few minutes of trying to figure out how to play it, he gave up and switched off the set. Then the bright purple drapes caught his eye. The purple almost matched the shade he wore.

Now he remembered what he had wanted to try on his costume--a cape! Sure lots of heroes didn't wear capes anymore, but lots still did. He had always wanted to see how he looked with one.

With Young Dullard, thought was action, when he thought at all. Grabbing the ends of the purple curtain, he tied it around his neck, then threw it over his shoulder to simulate the most dashing angle possible. If May Daye thought he looked impressive before, wait until she saw this!

He was making a return trip to the mirror to admire himself when May Daye (in a dress only a perfect figure could wear, and even that figure looked uncomfortable) returned, bearing a tray of drinks and a jade statuette.

"What are you doing?" she asked, looking confused.

"Well, I," he began, then tripped on the leg of a chair and fell headlong into the cabinet.

The cabinet promptly fell over on him. Dullard caught it, only to have the door of it fly open. The Arthian was hit by two dozen genuine extra-terrestrial knick-knacks.

Meanwhile, the curtain rod was jerked from its moorings, the end of Dullard's "cap" still attached to it. It collapsed, knocking over the Tang vase. The vase smashed into a lamp which in turn toppled into the fish bowl, short circuiting in the process. The goldfish, quick-fried, shot up to the ceiling where they added their own posthumous touches to the mural.

The goose decoy, caught in the unexpected wave of fish bowl water, floated to the end of the table and crashed to the floor. Dullard, startled by the sudden crash, threw the cabinet back so that it broke the mirror and dented the wall. Finally, stepping on a bulbous plastic object that made a most doleful sound, the Arthian avenger collapsed against the bookcase, knocking down about half the books.

He turned to May Daye, expecting the usual tirade his clumsiness normally provoked. Instead, May just smiled and shrugged her shoulders. He must have made a really deep impression on her.

Inwardly, May Daye was even happier than she appeared outwardly. Anyone who could wreck such havoc in a few seconds would be the perfect one to smash the Thessalapian Jade. Her job was almost done already.

"Would you care for a drink," she inquired after the necessary apologies and forgivings.

"Well, errr ..." the Arthian stammered.

"Don't worry. It's not alcoholic. Just some lemon sode ... with a cheery in it for decoration. Come on. My feelings will be hurt."

"Oh, in that case ..."

Young Dullard raised the glass to his lips, forgetting for the moment that he was wearing a full-face mask. The drink cascaded down his face and the front of his uniform.

"Ooops, not my night for romance," he mused as the lemon soda dripped down into his lap.

"Now listen carefully," May Daye began. She gestured to the jade figurine. "You must guard the Thessalapian Jade with your life. That woman wanted it destroyed for a reason. Whatever that reason is, it can't be a good one. I'd recommend you carry it with you at all times. I'll give you a bag to carry it in."

"Hard to believe such a worthless looking piece of junk could cause so much commotion," mumbled Dullard, examining the statue. It was a miniature figure of a demon with three eyes and multiple limbs. Horns grew on its head. A three-handed clock ticked away in its belly. Its ugly face was set in a dyspeptic expression.

"Don't let anything happen to it," continued the lady fair. "It's vital that the thing remain undamaged."

She placed the little idol in a brown paper bag.

"I'll take good care of it," stammered the confused superhero as he took the bag from her.

"I'm sure you will, big boy," she answered, then suddenly clasped the unresisting Dullard in a passionate embrace. That was a mistake, as a sharp horn from the statuette poked her through thte bag.

"Errr ... umm ... I fear I must be going," he gasped as she released him.

"Must you? Oh, I forgot. You superheroes and your duty and honor and all that."

"But you will come back soon? Real soon? Just to ... protect me, keep me safe, and warm, and company?"

May tried to make herself look as doggily soulful as possible.

"Yes, soon, very soon," gulped Young Dullard as he fled, nearly taking the door off its hinges in his flight.

May Daye fell back in her chair convulsed with laughter. What a jerk! If he hadn't broken that thing in a day he wasn't trying!

"Now to really change into something more comfortable," she giggled, frst making sure thta all the doors and windows were shut. Casting off the fragile human shape, Hubba assumed her true form, that of a nine foot rat.

"Ahh ... a human shape isn't really that bad, once you get used to it," she chittered. "But it's so fragile and thin skinned. Oh, it feels good to be back in the old body again. I think I'll take a run on the wheel, or have a good roll in the sand or perhaps ..."

The "television" suddenly gave off a buzzing sound.

"Oh, the computer. Good thing it reminded me. I'd forgotten all about it."

Hubba began reading the printout she'd ordered of the Jade the previous evening. As she read, he eyes bulged, her muscles tensed, she uttered a blasphemous oath to her dark gods and ended, "Then Dullard must die before the day ends!"

TO BE CONTINUED.