THE NEON LITES:

The Haggis Problem

"Like way cool move, Scots-Dude. Snerdly is now an ugly looking stomach-thing-a-ma-bob!!!" Sparki bounded over to examine the strange objects on the floor.

"A nice improvement," Citronelle commented, nodding her approval.

Craig and Hamish both elbowed through the crowd, stomach rumbling in supreme hunger and realization that they had not eaten since Princess Purple Rabbit's wedding party. They reached the haggis and each produced a fork out of nowhere. Mollie stomped on Craig's foot then Hamish's, wincing in pain as she did the latter.

"STOP!" Mollie hollered. "I think you're wrong. I don't believe Snerdly is a haggis."

"Yeah," Tasha agreed. "Snerdly must be this totally useless tape of Canadian Accordion music."

"NO, I mean I don't think they've been turned into inanimate objects; I think they have been replaced by them."

"Beamed through time and space…" Tasha gestured from right to left with great panache, smacking Craig in the head. Craig grinned.

"Exactly. But the question is not what they are, but WHERE. Since we have the haggis, the tape and the fiddle…" Mollie stopped as Craig picked up the aforementioned musical instrument and clutched it to his chest, then she continued rambling. "Then it only seems logical that someone has Bruce, Snerdly and Mew."

"Or Mew, Bruce and Snerd-Dude." Sparki added. "Stop to think of all the possibilities before you settle down to enjoy yourself."

"But where should we go to find them?" Tasha bit her lip in semi-thought, which was really all she was capable of.

"Go to Athens," Thena suggested, as if it were the most logical concept in the known world.

"Athens? Why Athens?" Mollie asked.

"All roads lead to Athens, so they will probably wind up there eventually."

"Wait a minute. That's wrong. I know this one. `All roads lead to ROME'." Tasha quoted, digging the memory out of the dark recesses of her mind, where the knowledge had been sleeping since third grade.

"Rome? Why would anyone go to that piddly little town?" Thena scoffed, oblivious to the historical future.

"Well, can anyone fly this thingy?" Tasha indicated the ship.

"You mean on purpose?" Mollie blanched.

"We've never done that before." Craig's eyes opened wide.

"How heinously staggeringly mind-boggling!" Sparki gushed.

"Hey, I am NOT staggering!" Hamish protested, taking a swig of whiskey.

"Excuse me, but what precisely do you mean by FLY?" Citronelle was starting to paint pictures in her head and they looked like Picasso re-prints. Of course, Citronelle had never seen a Picasso, because he hadn't been born yet…(Thena took this moment to shake Fiona furiously, thereby saving the world from an Art History 101 lecture. Thank the gods for heroines!)

"No big deal," Tasha giggled, "cuz mostly we just land."

"We never just land," Mollie argued, "we inevitably mostly just CRASH."

"Well, it was nice meeting you…" Citronelle hightailed it for the door. Thena caught her by the small bilious green top with one pinkie and glared. Citronelle folded her arms and pouted. Thena smiled. Mollie looked at them for a moment, then shrugged.

"You see, Snerdly usually handles any actual flying." Mollie sighed. "The rest of us, at varying intervals, cause the crashing."

Sparki was examining the ship and tilting her head in thought. "No problemo. I mean, like wowee, zappo totally awesome, you know? I am way sure I can operate this most magnanimous machine." Sparki cracked her knuckles and began rapidly pressing buttons in a nearly complex fashion. The ship shot forward, and everyone (except Sparki who was expecting a jolt) fell onto the Malkovian quasi-yak fur throw rug.

"Man I hate it when that happens!" Mollie exclaimed leaping up.

"Most excellent Star Trek ship shake dudes!" Sparki had impressed herself.

"My fiddle! Where's my fiddle?" Craig began thrashing around, grabbing frantically for his second most prized possession.

Thena gave him a look that would freeze Hades. "That is NOT your fiddle!" she snapped.

Craig cowered like a puppy. "Sorry, ma'am."

Hamish began babbling in Gaelic that was so incoherent it almost sounded Greek. Citronelle reached way up and stroked his hair.

"It can't be all that bad."

"Aye. `Tis." Hamish moaned "That last jolt was the last straw…"

"You mean?"

"Aye lass," Hamish lowered his head, "I peed me kilt."

Citronelle shot up off the rug like a bolt of lightning. "That's IT Thena! I want to get away from these CRAZY LUNATICS! This is unreal. These people are insane. They make ARES seem normal!"

"Citronelle," Thena silenced her with one word.

"Please?" Citronelle's green eyes sparkled with innocence and panic.

"Fine. Um…Sparki? Do you think you could drop us off…"

"…Let us down…" Citronelle hastily interrupted.

"…Somewhere in the vicinity of Amphipolous?"

"Like absolutomundo." Sparki grinned. "Is it anywhere near Katmandu?"

"Katmandu?" Mollie looked out of the window, expecting the worst. "Where's Katmandu?"
"Duh," Tasha clucked her tongue, "it's right next to Dogmandu."

"In the Canary Islands." Craig piped up.

"Right here will be fine." Thena decided quickly.

Sparki amazed everyone by adroitly landing the space ship on top of a haystack on a remote farm, which just so happened to be in Amphipolous, but don't tell Sparki that.

"Well, this has been quite the adventure. Gotta run now. Buh-bye." Citronelle smiled and made tracks for the door.

"Is there anyway we can repay you for rescuing us?" Mollie asked.

Thena eyed Mollie from head to toe, smiled, then looked around the ship, eyebrow raised in doubt. Suddenly, she settled on something next to the ficus tree that seemed to take her fancy. Tasha feared she would be losing her Mousse, because if ever a woman needed bigger hair…  But no. Instead, Thena had something else in mind. "I'll take that," she pointed.

"But ma'am…that's a haggis." Craig declared, unnecessarily, for the edification of everyone who already knew what it was.

"Why do you need a haggis?" Mollie asked.

"Dinner." Thena sighed. "You have obviously never tasted Citronelle's cooking…"

"I heard that!" Came a voice from outside the ship.

Thena hastily grabbed the Haggis from Mollie's hands and took her leave of the Neon Lites.

Adeptly, Sparki closed the hatch and maneuvered the ship until it floated above the clouds.

Mollie chose this moment to freak out. "You never said you could FLY THIS THING! WE HAVE BEEN AT THE MERCY OF SNERDLY FOR MONTHS AND YOU CAN FLY THIS THING?!"

Sparki shrugged. "Till now I didn't know I could."

Tasha put an arm on Mollie's shoulder. "There, there. Let it all out. If you bottle up your feelings, things get all stuck inside and next thing you know, laxatives are involved…"

"I am perfectly CALM!" Mollie clenched her teeth and her fist. The others stared in supreme horror, gaping at Mollie's fist and following its path to their certain doom. Time seemed frozen as sure enough (and this should be no surprise) Mollie's pissed off fist made not exactly first contact with the abused control panel.

And nothing happened.

"Well then. I'm going to bed." Hamish left abruptly.

Sparki dug deep into her knapsack. "Here Mollie, take this, go have an extreme nap and call me in the morning." She handed Mollie a small, flat pink tablet and shoved her off in the direction of the berthing compartments. Mollie whimpered then went to her room, nibbling on the tablet.

"What was that?" Tasha asked.

" A Neco-Wafer."

"What will it do to her?"

"Nothing. Was it supposed to?"

Everyone slept. Within moments, even Sparki was counting pink and orange day-glo sheep, her head resting on the control panel. (Think about it - when did they sleep last?)

To this day, no one knows how this happened, but they all know WHAT happened. The result was soon painfully clear.

The ship landed in a field, by a stream, near a forest. And the Neon Lites slept.

Suddenly, there was the sound of something round hurtling through the air at 900 feet per minute, followed by a horrendous THUNK on top of the ship. The Neon Lites awoke, and as one mind, ran to the hatch.

Standing near the ship, looking cool as a cucumber in February, was a man in a gray uniform, holding an Enfield musket.

"Sorry about that y'all. Buford don't know nothing' bout nothin'. He thinks y'all are Yankees and I says no siree Buford them thars from Richmond and you don't need to be shootin' no cannon balls at `em. Well he says to me, Billy Joe Jim Bob (that's me), them thar's Yankees sure as my name is Buford Merriwether. Humpf. Lookin' at y'all now, I think I have to be agreein' with old Buford. Only Yankees would be dressin' like y'all. So well, then I guess I, Billy Joe Jim Bob Culpepper, am arresting y'all in the name of Jefferson Davis and the Confred'racy. By the way, Welcome to Florida."