CRASH!!!!!! It was a hideous sound, a frightful sound, an all-too familiar sound... The Neon Lites were all jolted from a sound sleep as they were thrown to the floor of their ship. Mollie was the first to recover her senses, what few she had.
"What was that??" She glared accusingly at Hamish, who had been driving.
"Well, lass, it seems we've run into a slight problem."
Mollie's eyes narrowed, "What problem?"
"Well, er...uh...that is...we're caught in a tractor beam of sorts and we.. er.. that is to say...um...are about to be boarded by members of the IVP."
Tasha jumped up and down, squealing: "We're going to die! We are all going to die!!!!"
Mollie glanced at her sister, whose anxiety was almost contagious. "We are not going to die. We have been in worse conditions before and we haven't died yet."
"When? When have we been in worse conditions? When?"
Mollie began to explain......
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Mollie Shephard could be a reasonably sane person. But only on Tuesdays. The reason for this probably had something to do with the fact that she played the drums and had given herself more than one concussion with the drumsticks over the years. But playing the drums came in handy as a clever excuse for why she didn't have a stupid day job.
"I'm a musician," Mollie would explain to anyone who asked and many who didn't care.
She had a twin sister named Tasha, who considered shopping to be a career choice, rather than a hobby. She had once tried to take up permanent residence in a mall, but she was summarily escorted outside, clinging all the while to a cash register and yelling, "But I still have checks left!!!!"
To Tasha, improper grooming was THE ultimate sin next to wearing green nail polish.
Mollie wore green nailpolish. It matched the streaks in her hair, her eyes and the celtic knot tattoo on her right shoulder that Tasha refused to acknowledge. The only thing that saved Tasha from utter humiliation was the fact that she and Mollie were FRATERNAL twins.
Both women could have easily spent their entire lives in relative ease (living off of relatives), neither working nor exerting themselves in any fashion, if it were not for the habit Mollie had of reading the "Want Ads" in the newspaper at the breakfast table. The idea that anyone considered a career outside of playing in a band never failed to amuse and delight Mollie.
"Listen to this. Wanted: paint stripper. Must have experience. Apply in person."
"Yeah, so?" Tasha slurped her diet Coke and frowned, "Who wants to work as an exotic dancer in a paint store?"
Mollie shrugged, "It would be a good job for someone..."
Tasha took a handful of popcorn and three gummi bears. Popping the food into her mouth, she shook her head and replied, "You are looney tunes, Mol. Are there any sales at Lord and Taylor we need to know about?" She took another sip of diet Coke.
"Don't forget to recycle the can. And toss me a gummi bear." Mollie continued to read. Her fingers and hair were smudged with black newspaper ink. "Look - here's something interesting..." She sat up quickly.
"I somehow doubt that." Tasha balanced a green gummi bear on her tongue, then bit off the head. "Well, hurry up and read it then. The mall opens in two hours and I don't want to be late."
"Okay, listen: `Wanted - Adventurous person(s) to help private party with personal, non-sexual matter. No experience necessary. Salary - the Limitless Credit Card.' Then there's a local number."
"What's the limitless credit card?" Tasha was getting excited just considering it.
"Enough shopping to bore even you." Mollie quipped.
"I sincerely doubt that. Call the number."
"Yeah right - as if!!!" Mollie laughed, then noticed the look on Tasha's face. "You're joking, right?"
"I NEVER joke about shopping. Come on, Mol - call it."
"You call it..."
"You have a much better phone voice. It sounds all fakey and grown up...."
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A few hours later (which to Tasha's disgust interfered with prime shopping time), the twins found themselves standing at a phone booth on the beach.
"This can't be the right place," Tasha began filing her nails in disgust.
"24601 Palmetto Place. That's here. See." Mollie gestured around at the beach.
"I don't see anything but a phone booth that says 24601 on it." Tasha pouted, "Why do I let you talk me into these things?"
Mollie did not argue, she knew better than to speak logically to Tasha. They waited in the boiling sun for about thirty agonizing seconds before the phone rang. Tasha made Mollie answer it.
"Hello?" her voice cracked.
"Chad here. This is SOOO stupid!" a male voice burst in over the phone line. "I completely forgot to write your names down. But are you, like, completely sure you want to do this, whoever you are?"
"Are you completely sure we'll get the Limitless Credit card?"
"Of course, of course. Charge all you want, never pay it back. Is that red hair real or are you, like, totally into henna?"
"Huh?" Mollie spun around, looking for Chad, but there was no one on the deserted beach. "Where are you?"
"Nearby."
"Look Mr. Chad, we don't have to take the job. Tasha and I inherited a great deal of money from our grandfather and if we continue to spend at this alarming rate we won't have to lift a finger until the next millenium! So start playing nice or we'll hang up and leave. You can get someone else."
There was silence for a moment before Chad replied. "I don't want anyone else. I want you."
"What did he say?" Tasha asked.
"He wants us."
"Oh dear."
Mollie spoke into the phone: "What do we have to do?"
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The dossier on arch-villain #1812 gave his real name, his description and other pertinent information. It wasn't boring, but to save time, the authors wish to refrain from recounting it on these pages. The entire 92 page document can be accessed from the directory at the IVP Library in Salt Lake City, Utah, where it is maintained by a little old lady who is in the witness protection program. She will be happy to send you the dossier if you can find her. Anyway, arch-villain #1812 was as mean, nasty and ornery a person as anyone could hope to meet. Mollie and Tasha didn't know this because they never read the dossier. The only thing they did manage to grasp from glancing at the document was that arch-villain #1812 went by the unoriginal name of `The Mad Hatter' and had an appalling wardrobe.
Mollie and Tasha were not quite clear about what it was the Mad Hatter had stolen from Chad's father (let's face it folks, they aren't clear on a lot of things), but they knew that Wellington Chadwell the IVth was willing to offer the Limitless Credit Card to anyone who could retrieve it.
Only a fool would think it was easy money.
That was why Mollie and Tasha so willingly took the job.
"There will be a spaceship waiting for you at Docking Bay 96. We will give you the keys, but they stick, so you may have to hotwire the ship. You CAN hotwire a ship, can't you?" Chad smirked.
"Do we look helpless?" Tasha demanded, fluffing her perm.
Once the keys arrived by special delivery, Mollie and Tasha began to pack... and pack... and pack. Three shopping days later, they were ready to embark on their adventures. Well, as ready as they ever could be.
It took some time to get thirteen suitcases and Mollie's drum set aboard the space faring vessel but they finally managed to cram everything into two of the berthing compartments on board the ship. Tasha took the room closest to the bathroom, so Mollie set up her drums in the hallway.
Mollie put her hands on her hips, "We can still back out of this, Tash."
"No way! And miss the chance of a life time? How hard can it be to find a dude who calls himself the Mad Hatter and runs across the galaxy in a purple zoot suit?"
"Maybe we should have read the papers Chad sent us...."
Tasha pouted. "We are leaving Sheldon alone for a few days. The least I could do was line his birdcage with something soft and easy to read."
"The only thing that bothers me is why Chad doesn't go look for this guy himself."
"Stop worrying. You'll get an ulcer and flat hair."
"Too late," Mollie shrugged. "Well, let's get started, then we can get back and find a 24 hour mall."
"Heck, we can BUY a 24 hour mall!"
"What fun would that be?" Mollie took the ship's key, which was tied to a scotch plaid ribbon and put it into the ship's ignition. "Strap yourself in, it's going to be a bumpy ride..." She turned the key. Nothing happened. She tried again. Nothing happened. "Well, okay, Tasha, go ahead and hotwire it..."
"Me??? Can't you do it?"
"You told Chad we could!!"
"Try the key again, Mollie."
"It's not working, Natasha!"
"This is so STUPID!!!" Tasha exclaimed.
"Excuse me, but if you really want to do it right, you need a 4x7 nutbolt compact transducer," said a male voice behind them. Tasha turned around, hoping he was cute. He wasn't.