And Let Him Play Among The Stars.
Maybe he’s gonna have some kinda creepy glowin’ cloud an a raygun inside what turns folks into clown zombies!
“Somehow I doubt it.”
Count Weirdly is claiming to be the first man on the moon. Now, whether that means he thinks he’s the first person on the moon–in which case, what did he do with Niel Armstrong?–or he means he’s the first human on the moon, I don’t really care. Yet. Maybe I’ll care when I’m trying to work out exactly what he’s up to. Because he invited me to his press conference, and that means he’s got something up his sleeve.
Probably water balloons that he thinks are mind-controlling amoeba symbiotes or something.
In the meantime, Max has gone all twitchy, which isn’t making this any more fun.
Maybe he’s gonna try ta hypnotize us wit some weird gas?
“Knowing him, it’ll just be some steamed weeds.”
Well, maybe he’ll try to capture us an put us through a body-switchin’ device!
“That would be truly horrible, but also impossible.”
Maybe he’s got strange an’ mystical toys, dat once you start playin’ wit em, you can’t never stop! Like a rockin’ horse you’d have to ride forever an’ ever!
“I think you’d have more to worry about there than I would.”
What if he turns us into popcorn!
We’re at the foot of the ladder. Why he doesn’t just have stairs is beyond me. Up on that tower is supposedly where he’s having his press conference.
Ok, maybe dose all too far-fetched… what if he takes us to da beach an buries us alive!
“Why would he have to do that at the beach?”
I dunno. Why wouldn’t he do it at the beach?
“If I were you, I’d be more worried about whether he’s sawn through the top rung of this ladder.”
He gulps and gives me a look like I just flushed his grandmother down the toilet.
But I make sure to step over the next to the last rung.
Up on the roof, Weirdly is holding forth about what he saw on the moon. And there w-were t-t-trees that grew marshmallows for f-fruit.
Oooooh… go the reporter and her cameraman.
And th-th-the birds flew upside down!
Right away, I notice something fishy. It isn’t that the shadows in the photo are all wrong. It isn’t that the spaceship is smaller than the guy who supposedly flew in it. I expected stuff like that; I’d call it fishy if it wasn’t there. No, what’s fishy is he hasn’t noticed that I’m here. Usually his scheme is just some way to lure me into what he thinks is a diabolical trap of some kind, and he can’t stop staring at me and grinning. Yet now he’s only got eyes for the camera.
I notice the name on the press badge, and I remember Weirdly’s defining trait.
“C’mon Max. There’s no case here.”
Yes! I mean, what?
I head down the ladder, not bothering to check the rungs this time. “He’s just delusional. Let him think he went to the moon if he wants. There’s no law against that.”
But… the reporters! What if dey publish sumfin?
I snort. “They were from the Weekly World News. It won’t make any difference.”
(In memory of the Weekly World News. Our checkout lines will be much duller without you.)