PASSION FOR TINION (WIP Novel 120,000 words)
© Cupideros, October 21, 2006
CHAPTER 31: PANTHERWOMAN VERSES THE ORANGESQEEZEMAN
© Cupideros, Wednesday, May 06, 2009
Thrylas knew the battle between Quodarians and Galans took place on television. So he always watched television on the TV-Blue channel. TV-Blue popped up a blue box whenever the television show's program codes changed to a different code. He sat fascinated and repulsed as the loud cartoon show blared in the living room on the television, holding up the three inch deep, eight and one-half wide, eleven inches tall Pritee U-1 box. He could hear Megyra busying herself cooking dinner, a fresh salad, some chill and side order of peaches. Her shopping rapid-fire sounds didn’t distract Thrylas in the least as he stared at Pantherwoman who saw a half-raccoon face, half human face from the upper lips to the jaw deftly pick the lock and break into someone’s unoccupied house. “You can’t get away that easy, Mr. Raccoonman.” Pantherwoman did a somersault and her feet landed on the doorknob and smashed the door to the rug. SPLAT!
Megyra returned with a bowl of chill soup. Thrylas paused the Pritee U-1 box. “Why are these movies so popular with two planet’s under twenty-five year-olds. This guttural nonsense.”
“With the PriteeU-1 being able to hold over 1,000,000,000 full length movies with Director’s cut and previews, music, CyberPage videos, everythings on CyberPage now, text, ebooks," she removed from top of a small divan, latest Anti-Psychologist magazine and placed his bowl of chill down, "it is easy enough to record a silly syndicated cartoon movie." Thrylas unpaused the Pritee U-1 box as they both watched. Pantherwoman walked into the spotless room. It was quiet, except for the closing door latches’ soft click. “I know your somewhere in here,” Pantherwoman said turning and observing carefully. Her tight black latex suit showed all her womanly curves. Her red hair lay on her slightly muscular shoulders. “Come out, come out, where ever you are, Mr. Racoonman.” Pantherwoman heard a knock on the ceiling. She flicked her head forward just in time to see a cloud of mysterious white dust descending from an unseeable hole in the ceiling. Pantherwoman rolled forward and meow whined, “Trying your come-here, go-there dust, eh.” Pantherwoman brushed a little bit of it off her shoulder. Thrylas paused the media recording box again. He stared at it, in disbelief. "Young people.”
“Oh Thrylas, it’s marked PW for Propaganda--War. She picked up and showed him the local television guide. It is from that Skip Taylor from Galan. Besides, Thrylas, you know television is bad for your brain. And television shows come automatically with sickening Galan commercials, infomercials ads, trying to cover up and psychologically enforce their BMT.”
“I always use the TV-Blue channel when I’m watching anything other than Quodarian National News.”
“That’s good dear. Blocking those commercial can do wonders for lifting your spirits and avoiding psychological health manipulations.”
“Is that what this silly cartoon show is all about Body Magnet Technology (BMT).” He said shocked.
Megyra said, “Everyone knows Pantherwoman is stealthy Queen Morah and the nasty sneaky Orangesqeeze man is SILTH.”
“I didn’t—“ He clicked on the Pritee U-1 box. Again.”
Pantherwoman’s voice had a slight cat’s meow to it. “I dogged away too quickly, eh, Mr. Raccoon, but I know how to get you out of the walls. Pantherwoman reached into her latex boot calve and pulled out a cone of incense and a tiny lighter. She sat down in a meditative pose, where she could watch the windows on the left and right sides of the house. Her stars twinkled as her C size breasts quietly moved up and down ever so slightly. “The owners won’t like you’ve been prowling about, Mr. Raccoon. So how about we leave a more spiritual air.” Pantherwoman lit the incense and waited. She waited. Finally, there was a loud bang, bang, bang on the ceiling. Pantherwoman smiled. “Having trouble breathing, Mr. Raccoon?” Then she saw out of her left eye a man with a raccoon snout and human jaw running fast past the left window. “Got Cha.”
Suddenly a thirty-year-old man, sporting an innocent face, with a gray, normal school backpack on his back, wearing an orange tee shirt and tan pants hopped through the doorway. “It’s the Orangsqeeze man! You won’t be catching any of my cronies today, or tomorrow, if I can help it, Pantherwoman.” He laughed wickedly.
Pantherwoman scoffed, “Orangesqeeze man. I should have known you were behind all these home burglaries.
“Have a drink of juice,” said Orangesqeeze man and he quickly turned his backpack around to face Pantherwoman.
“No Thank You,” and she jumped up and out of the way as her super cat eyes enlarged and focused to viewed thousands of nano magnetic pellets shot out and pasted themselves on the walls and furniture and potted geraniums on a bookshelf.
“I think you’re right, Megyra.” He paused the Pritee U-1 box again. “To think I use to fuss at TelGara for watching this junk.”
“The battle between Quo and SILTH is on all fronts, nothing is sacred or left untouched. You’re just getting old, Thryas.”
Thryas unpaused the Pritee U-1 box again. “You do not like my sneaky approach to magnetism?” Orangesqeeze man boasted. He raised his voice, “How about the direct approach! Here is some kitty, kitty juice, Pantherwoman.” He held out a glass of orange liquid.
“Even from several arm’s lengths away, in her crouching battle stance, Pantherwoman’s smell senses detected something wrong. “You won’t distract me and that’s not orange juice. It’s orange water. Ewww!” She bolted down the small hallway, threw her body through the other window. She looked like a ball of night sky rolling, turning in the air. The breaking glass shattered the suburbia quiet. Pantherwoman landed far away from the falling glass and rolled on the soft green grass. Her hip and bum crushing the lone small sunflower in a pristine lawn. She spotted the Raccoon snout man running down the street, turning the corner by a blue family car. “Come back here, Raccoon face!” she yelled giving chase.
Thryas heard the blender grinding out vegetable juice as a deep male voice over came on the television set. “Stay tune for tomorrow’s episode of Pantherwoman verses the Orangesqueezeman I: RACCOONMAN OR BATTLE OF THE WALLS. And don’t miss Pantherwoman verses the Orangesqueeze man II: HEAVYWATERMAN coming in June.” The screen went blue.
“Now I’ll have to watch all these stupid Skip films. Just to keep up with the staff at the base.”
Megyra brought in the glass of vegetable juice.
Thryas eyed it suspiciously.
“Our water is biofiltered and safe, Thryas.”
“But this vegetable juice you made from food.”
“Don’t be silly, Thryas. “ She hugged him. “We have biodetectors for that too. All our food is scanned in the grocery stores and we have a home detector unit.” She took a drink from his glass. “See. Safe That’s this Skip Taylor’s point. To make us all scared of Galan plans.”
“Is Skip Jackson part of Galan propaganda? He made that movie Yu Yum escapes the Great Wall of China two years back. In the final scene, this martial artist, after fighting off several communists, reaches the Great Wall, which can hold two tanks across. He sees all the soldiers and no escape over the top. Then he headbutt’s a huge body-size whole in the wall and runs through to freedom.”
Megyra laughed. “Labeled PW, Thryas. What do you think Skip’s message was?”
“I don’t know?”
“Skip is saying, Queen XI’I, so prominent in the 3,500 sayings of the Last Prophet CE, was a dictator and brutal World Ruler--”
“When we all know that wasn’t the case at all.”
“Precisely. Skip always attacks religion in some way.”
“Galans don’t believe in religion.”
“Skip Taylor, Skip Jackson. Skip Orochi alone is huge in FilmCity, Galan.”
“All Skip productions?”
“Does Quo know who Skip is?”
“Legonadel.”
Thryas is shocked silent.
Megyra nods. “He is SILTH’s second in command.”
“I know. Skippy’s Bar? Skippy’s bar been in Quodarian for over one hundred and twenty years! They import their own beer!”
“Yes, Skippy’s started before the war. Been under Quo observation from the beginning. QSA always stops the their trucks and switches their beer out for our water filtered beer.”
“Thank the Abyss someone is watching out for us, Megyra.”
“Yes.” She patted Thryas on the wrist. “Eat before dinner gets cold.”
End Chapter 31
In Forgon City, Orangesqeeze man sat in his orange tee shirt and grey pants worried in his penthouse sky rise building. His cronies filled the entire building; yet, he could not defeat that bitch Pantherwoman. If only he could find out the human identity of this strange shapely average height woman, wearing her black latex cat suit sprinkled with tiny white stars. The fact, Pantherwoman wore a small mask accentuating her pouting red lips and linen RBG250;240;230 FAF0E6 facial coloring made things far more complicated for him, too. Maybe there is a clue in our last conversation and he thought back:
Pantherwoman: I’ve caught all your other cronies Orangesqueezeman: Hotman-Coldman, Noise Distractionman, Tangle-Electric Cordsman, Steal-Your-Phone-Messagesman.
Orangesqeezeman: Doesn’t matter. I’ll create more cronies. How about RunnyNoseman, or Excessive Salivaman?
Pantherwoman: Sucking ice cubes will stop Excessive Salivaman. You can not wear me down, Orangesqeezeman. Every day, I am determined to win. I live my faith and spirituality.
Orangsqeezeman: We will see. Because faith is no asset. Religion is a lie. Only money and people-power Willpower rule. There is no good. Only evil, evil and evil!
Pantherwoman: Keep thinking stupid thoughts Orangesqueezeman
“Sooner or later, I’ll find out if that little bookworm bitch at Galan Library Zero is really a cover story for Pantherwoman! Ha hahahahah. Ha hahahahaha.
--PANTHERWOMAN VERSES THE ORANGESQEEZEMAN MOVIE IV: WIREMAN
