RETURN OF THE DARK MOOSE - Episode IV

Suddenly, disrupting the quiet occupations of all the PLBers (drinking and torturing included), an alarm wailed throughout the clubhouse. Each heart hardened to ice as the PLBers looked up to see a flashing, gaudy, red Christmas tree light-bulb that accompanied the klaxon.
Everyone scrambled to the PLB lounge. Some were more eager than others. Rive reluctantly departed from the pleasure he got in administering pain to Bonniegrrl. As he tore himself away from his life-long pursuit, she yelled out after him if he intended to keep her strapped to the table, drenched and coming down with a severe case of hypothermia, and he answered ‘yes’ without giving it a thought. As Rive passed DarthGenius’ chicken farm, he popped his head into the door, but forgot to open it first. The succeeding concussion made Genius think that someone was knocking.
“Come in!” he exclaimed before turning back to his work.
“Genius! There’s a meetin’ upstairs! Sounds like its urgent!”
“If you don’t mind, I have some chicken poop to clean up!” he said with annoyance, scrubbing all the harder.
“If the chickens were smart, they’d clean it up themselves.”
“Hey! An experiment! Brilliant, Rive!” Genious said, turning away to get to his lab, his white coat whipping after him.
“Not now, Genius,” Rive said.
“Oh, fine!” he said, tossing his poop-stained lab-coat down on a poop-stained chair.
The sheer size of the clubhouse could explain for the fact that it took almost an entire half hour for the PLB to assemble in the lounge. But, after much patience, they finally all milled about in the relatively small room. Vicomte, as usual, didn’t hesitate to say what was on his mind.
“Luuke, this better not be one of your stupid jokes again.”
“I swear,” Luuke started. “This is for real!”
“Luuke, are you sure you’re not drunk?” Kisa-Chan said, looking up at him with a suspicious gaze.
“No!” he said, his fists hitting against his thighs.
“Wait!” Leialookalike’s head shot from side to side as she scanned the group. “Where’s Amidalooine?”
“Yeah!” Dragonfang was barely audible wedged between Warthogjedi and Senator Sophia. “Where’s the warrior maiden gone off to? She’s two hours late from returning from her patrol!”
“We really should find them,” Vicomte cupped his chin in his hand, looking about the room.
“Wait!” Luuke tried desperately to control his club, getting up on a stool. He commanded so little attention, that when it fell backwards with him still upon it, nobody even noticed.
“We have to amass a search party!” Aurin’s voice drowned out the thud of Luuke’s body against the floor. “Break out the Repulsorlift Volkswagon!”
“STOP!” Luuke screamed, holding his head in his hands. The un-Luuke-ly scream commanded the attention of the clubhouse. “I had a vision.” He tried to get up and hit his head against the lower part of the ceiling. He peered up at the ceiling with an expression of pure menace, his head wedged between his arms.
Vicomte leaned aside to Stooge and whispered, “does he look like he’s got a hangover?”
“No, no, no… much worse,” Stooge replied. “He must’ve drunk that bad carton of bantha milk in the fridge. Poor guy!”
“Ami’s in trouble!” Luuke finally spoke, rubbing his sore head with rigor. “She is fighting a miniature AT-AT with antlers that wield lightsabers!”
The clubhouse fell dead silent with wondering faces. Each face, so unique and different from the other, seemed to meld into one general incredulous expression.
“Luuke,” Mina said soothingly. “Why don’t you lie down and get some sleep. I’ll get you that concoction I had you drink last time. You’ll feel a lot better in the morning!”
“But I tell you, she’s in trouble!”
“There, there!” Mina said, putting a gentle arm around his shoulder. She escorted him to his room and quietly shut the door behind him.
“Hallucination or not, we still have to go and look for Ami. That desert gets awfully cold at night,” Mina said, a lingering expression of pity on her face.
“Let’s get that Volkswagon fired up!” Diviner said. Picking JediMasterPickles and Sol Kassar from the crowd, Diviner and his team hurried themselves out to the Theed garage out back. Cramming into the ridiculous floating Beetle (one side dipped peculiarly toward Pickles), they sped off into the desert.

TO BE CONTINUED…