THE NEON LITES:

"X" Marks the Spot

Mollie considered for a moment, then offered up Snerdly as the requested chew toy. Snerdly smacked at her savagely, flailing his arms in absolute terror. "Will you stop touching me?!"

"Foot's on the other shoe, eh Snerd-Dude?"

"A shoe would be jolly good," said the dog.

"Tis a monster, an evil craytur from the depths of --"

"Get off it, man," Craig admonished, "everything's nae a monster."

Snerdly continued thrashing, so Mollie let go. He slipped on a rogue PowerAde bottle, flew through the air at an alarming rate, and fell with definite "whumpf" at the paws of the scholarly lab. The dog licked Snerdly's face, then began choking. "Water, I say, WATER!"

"We've got to get out of here!" Mollie cried. "We've no time for chit chat."

"Oh yeah," said Tasha, who had had it up to her leather mini skirt and lace jacket with Mollie. "But not until we visit the gift shop and pick up a few souveniers."

"Take me with you," pleaded the dog, his warm brown eyes and expressive eyebrows digging into the hearts of everyone but Snerdly.

"Like, we totally forgot to intro!" Sparki bounced over to the dog, pleased with the performance of her new rainbow-colored Air Jordans. "Mollie and Tasha are, like, twins, and they totally share one brain and Mollie has been using it lately…"

Tasha frowned. "When is it my turn?"

Sparki ignored her. "You've met Snerd-Dude. That's Craig…"

"I play the fiddle."

"And this is, like, Heinous…"

"Hamish."

"Heinous. And I'm Sparki. Like," she paused, "I'm done."

"Pleased to meet you. Bartholomew Colin Christian Dior Reginald Von Canine." He grinned in pure doggy manner. "You may call me Mew."

"Mew?" Tasha and Mollie both asked.

"Let us not quibble about semantics. Please untie me so we may depart."

Snerdly had, by this time, managed to crawl across the floor and, using the concrete cement walls, had pulled himself upright again. "We cannot take that THING with us."

Tasha eyed the dog's collar, then looked with equal interest at Snerdly's scrawny little neck. Several possibilities sprang to mind., or Tasha's mind had merely sprung, one or the other. Fortunately for Snerdly, Tasha had no time to act on the apalling thought.

"I agree with you," Mollie said suddenly, shocked that she could possibly agree with Snerdly about anything.

"What?!" Tasha demanded, examining from afar a rouge thread dangling from Hamish's kilt.

"We don't know anything about this dog. He must be tied up for a reason."

"I am a prisoner here, chaps, being force-fed radiated dog food all day. Do you know what that tastes like? Have some pity -- set me free!"

Just then, there was a clanking, crunching sound, and a man in a gray suit came hurdling over the window sill, a large flashlight in one hand and a cell phone in the other. The cell phone was speaking: "Where are you? Sculder! Sculder! I'm coming in…"

"Hi! Seen any aliens come running through here?" the man grinned.

The others gaped, mouths open in shock. The dog growled. Hamish and Craig momentarily recalled that there were on American soil, without passports, and hoped the man would not notice them.

"Aliens?" Tasha squealed, jumping up and down as if expecting little alien rodents or roaches to come swarming at her feet. "Where?! Where are the aliens?"

Snerdly spoke up. "By my calculations, the chances of finding aliens on a secret government base are…" He gaped at this calculator in shock. "2 to 1."

"Never tell me the odds," the man snapped. "Oh, look. There's an alien/dog hybrid."

Sparki had, during this conversation, in a dramatic act of Green Peace fever, unleashed Mew and was calmly feeding him popcorn flavored jelly beans. Hamish and Craig were frantically trying to hide behind the same filing cabinet. Mollie had discovered a desk covered in a console filled with litle red buttons marked "Warning, Danger, Go No Further." Mollie, being Mollie, decided to randomly push a button. Suddenly, a wall opened up like a window shade (and about as gracefully), to reveal a huge space ship. It was silver and round and covered in bright Christmas lights and tiny emeralds and rubies that caught Tasha's immediate attention. "Ooh, plastic," she breathed.

Sculder grew very excited. "I just knew it," he muttered.

A woman in a lab coat came rushing around the corner. She had red hair and a serious face. Snerdly quickly reached for his pocket comb, wondering just what was under that lab coat. "Isn't this incredible, Sculder? I would never have believed it. Who are they?"

"You know," Tasha exclaimed, giving the woman the once-over, "white is NOT your color…"

"Sculder. I refuse to believe this is an ALIEN ship. Look, here is some writing - in English - that says, 'The Neon Lites.' Now, what could that mean?"

"Obviously, Mully, it is some cryptic government conspiracy designed to throw us off the track," the man replied, shrugging a shoulder.

"BUZZZ! Sorry - nope - wrrrrong!" Sparki said, "it's like, OUR space ship, dude and dudette!"

"It doesn't look it," Mollie, Tasha and Mew all cocked their heads in a similar fashion. "Someone redecorated!"

"Well, I like it," Snerdly said, "it gives us some class."

"What exactly is a 'neon lite?'" the red-headed woman inquired.

"Like, a bright, shiny sign advertising way-cool discos and fast food chains that serve greasy chicken. Duh!" Sparki smiled.

"They are a crazy Celtic bagpipe bebop band," Snerdly stated sensibly.

A voice rose from behind the filing cabinet. "And if ye be knowin' what that means we'll coom to yer house and play a gig!" Hamish offered.

"Stop! They're stealing the prototype!" yelled a booming voice behind them.

"Let's get out of here!" Mew yelped, realizing that they meant him, and not about to offer that vital piece of information to anyone else. They all made a dash for the space ship door. Hamish gathered up all his strength and with a definite WHAM thrust his entire body weight against the door. Nothing happened.

"Like, dudes and dudettes, who's got the key?"

"Whoever leaves last locks the door," Tasha recited. "Who left last?" Sudden realization. "Oh," she giggled and gave everyone her most helpless look, batting her eyelashes. "Sorry."

Bullets began richocheting around the room. (Government agents are, after all, notoriously bad shots.) Mully pulled out a gun and yelled, "We're FBI!" and, momentarily losing her cool shouted, "will you STOP shooting at us?!"

"Move away from that ship."

"FBI? They're FBI?" Snerdly guffawed, disbelieving as usual, and bringing to mind an old fantasy of a female cop in handcuffs and… Mully slapped Snerdly.

"Oh, I LIKE her," Mollie stated emphatically.

"Move away from that prototype," ordered the voice in the dark.

"We'd better listen to him," Mully said.

Just then the hatch door flew open, scattering Tasha, Mollie, Sparki, Snerdly, Hamish, Craig, Mew, Sculder and Mully left and right, backwards and forwards, like wayward dominoes.

"Omigod, it's soooo musty in here! My mousse is suffering terribly and I have SUCH a headache. Well, what are you staring at, Missy?" Mully gaped at his lisping example of extra-terrestrial life and began to hyperventilate. Sculder grinned and offered her some sunflower seeds. Bruce continued, "Can't a girl get some beauty rest without causing such a fuss?"

"Bruce!" Mollie and Tasha exclaimed, "we forgot about Bruce!"

"Wowee zappo, most EXCELLENT entrance girlfriend." Sparki was impressed.

"Well what are you waiting for? Come on!" Bruce yelled. "My hair and I have to get away from this atmosphere!"