THE NEON LITES:

The MacMountain Visits Mohammed

The heavy door clanged shut behind them, and the Neon Lites stared around themselves in dismay at the damp, musty cell.

Tasha teetered on the brink. "My shoes are diiiiiiiiiiirty!" She wailed.

Hamish heaved himself to his feet and awkwardly patted her shoulder. "No more dirty than your face," he offered, in an ill-fated attempt to make her feel better.

"I dinna understand," said Craig, from the spot on the floor where he had been flung by the guard. "Why?"

Tasha pouted. "Because I had to walk here all the way from the ship, and they kept coming in contact with that brown grassy thing…"

Hamish raised an eyebrow. "It's called the ground, lass," he explained.

Craig waved his arms in the air, nearly dislodging the fiddle that he had firmly strapped across his back. "NOT why are her shoes dirty," he said, rolling his eyes. "I mean why have they arrested us?"

Mollie shook her head and sank down on a large, lumpy pile of straw, then flew to her feet when it suddenly moved.

"Aaaaaaaarrrrrgh!"

The Neon Lites fled across the cell and plastered themselves against the bar like wallpaper. A huge figure, all wild beard and flailing arms leapt to its feet howling menacingly and bellowing gibberish.

Mollie cowered behind Sparki, while Tasha fainted outright, nearly crushing Craig.

"Hey," Sparki cautioned, "like be totally careful of his fiddle."

Craig grinned up at Sparki "Dinna worry," he winked. "That wasn't me fiddle."

"The figure in the corner roared again, scattering straw, muck and Neon Lites in all directions, his eyes glinting wildly. Sparki looked on in interest as Mollie went thoroughly to pieces.

"It's a madman! We've been locked in here with a raving lunatic who will tear us from limb to limb before we…"

Hamish stared in surprise at the wild figure that towered menacingly over even him, then he shook his head in resignation. "Oh shut yer mouth then, Seamus."

The terrifying figure silenced at once, peered through the dim light of the cell, then guffawed loudly and gave Hamish a bone-crunching slap on the back. "Hamish!" he bellowed cheerfully, tucking Craig under one hairy armpit, and ruffling his hair affectionately. "And Craig, ye fiddlin' wee fool, ye! Tis yourselves!"

Craig gagged and struggled weakly, his feet scrabbling somewhere in the vicinity of the lunatic's shins.

The huge man laughed loudly, "Och, aye! Tis that glad I am to see ye both!" he bellowed, causing the wooden walls to tremble with the vibration. Clutching Craig by both arms, he held him four feet off the floor and grinned broadly. "Why I could just kiss ye," he declared.

Craig screamed.

Hamish pried the giant's fingers free and gently laid Craig on the floor beside Tasha who was still peacefully unconscious.

"Seamus, ye great woolly mammoth…" he sighed, "I've told ye a thousand times, man, fiddlers are breakable!"

The giant towered over Craig in concern. "Craig, lad, ye're alright, are ye? I dinna break yer wee fiddlin' bones just the noo?"
Craig winced. "No, Seamus," he conceded. "Not this time."

Mollie peeled herself off of the wall and bravely stood before the giant stranger (and almost entirely behind Hamish). "WHAT is going on here?!?!? WHO is this…this person?" She demanded.

Hamish sighed and helped Craig up, then knocked him down again while trying to brush off his clothes. "Seamus MacHamish," he said, gesturing to the giant. "My wee baby brother."

Tasha stirred, sat up, caught sight of the giant, and climbed Craig like a flagpole. "WHO??????"

Sparki (who had been assimilating) bounded over. "Okay, like this is totally Craig, that's like Mollie, I'm Sparki, I'm sure, and…"

"I know all that," shrieked Tasha, causing Craig to fall over yet again. "I mean THAT!"

Sparki never paused, "and this is the pipe dude, Heinous, and his brother, Shameless…"

"That's Seamus…" the huge Scotsman interrupted, but Hamish waved a weary hand.

"Dinna bother, laddie," he advised. "Ye can tell her, but it will never stick."

Mollie (who hated being out of control) raised her hand for silence and (surprisingly) got it. "If you are Hamish's brother," she asked the hairy mountain of Scottishness that stood before them, "what are you doing here?"

Seamus (for that was, indeed, his name, though an extra quarter of an inch of height would have merited him his own zip code) hung his head in momentary sorrow, then looked back up and grinned. "I was looking for YOOOUUUU!" He crowed, violently bear-hugging his brother.

Hamish threw him up against a wall. "That's a load of crrrrrrrrrrrrrrap," he intoned darkly, adding about ten more R's than were necessary.

Seamus grinned. "Aye, weel, 'twas worth the try…"

Hamish crossed his arms across his broad chest and glared until his brother capitulated.

"Oh, alright then…I won a space ship in a wee card game…"

"And?"

"Traded it for a barrel of whiskey…"

"WHAT?"

Seamus looked momentarily mournful. "It was the best whiskey," he explained.

Hamish slugged him in the arm. Seamus glared back, received no sympathy, and wisely gave up.

"Well, after I drank the whiskey, I decided I'd steal the ship back. Only when I was taking off, the worthless, no-account gamblers…"

"Rightful owners…" corrected Hamish.

"Got in a lucky shot or two, damaging the space travel generator, SO I had to fly using the time travel generator instead, until I could land…"

"Crash?"

"Here!" Seamus finished brightly. He scuffled his feet in the straw and grinned at Craig. "It WAS the best whiskey," he whispered.

"And why are ye in PRISON?" Hamish demanded.

Seamus grinned broadly. "Well, there was this girl…"

Mollie blanched. "I think we get the picture!"

Seamus peered through the gloom and chucked a friendly paw under Mollie's chin. "Och, weel, you're a bonnie wee thing, aren't ye?" he grinned. Mollie glared. Seamus shrugged and turned to Tasha. "Och, weel, you're a bonnie wee thing, aren't ye?" Sparki stepped in front of the twins. "Och, weel, you're a dangerous wee thing, aren't ye?"

Hamish slugged Seamus again. "Shut yer cake hole ye blasted gowk," he said affectionately.

Craig steeped between Seamus and the women. "Seamus…."

"Och," grinned the giant. "Yer a jealous wee thing, then, aren't ye? THREE lasses, Craig? I see YOU haven't changed!" Everyone stopped glaring at Seamus and began glaring at Craig.

Mollie stamped a foot. "HOW are we going to get out of here?"

"We'll batter doon the door," Seamus said matter of factly.

Sparki cocked her head. "Like, with what?" she queried, wishing in vain for her backpack.

Hamish sighed. "The soldiers dinna exactly leave us a bettering ram, Seamus," he pointed out.

Seamus considered momentarily, brightened, then picked up Craig. "This will do," he decided.

"AAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!!"

Hamish glared at his brother. "Seamus, PUT THE FIDDLER DOWN!" he enunciated. Seamus set Craig on shaky feet, then gave his head a friendly tousle that nearly dislodged his teeth. "Sorry, Craig."

A sound from the doorway startled them, and all in the cell turned to see a figure turning a large key in the lock.

"Time for ya'll's trial," said the soldier at the door, waving a rifle at the hallway. The Neon Lites filed from the cell, but the soldier closed the door with a clang before Seamus could follow them and glared balefully.

"Not YOU ya'll," he declared grimly, "THEM ya'll." With that he glared at the giant Scotsman and waved his rifle.

Craig looked at Hamish. "Well," he muttered. "I guess now we know whose girl it was."

The soldier and his rifle herded them down a long hallway and into a small courtroom, where a judge sat shuffling papers, and a group of hopeful looking soldiers stood, rifles at the ready, in case a firing squad was needed.

The judge pointed at Hamish. "You present your case."

"Weel…" began Hamish, "I…."

"Guilty!" declared the Judge. "All objections overruled, recess for lunch. Who brought the fried chicken?"
Hamish gasped, but before anyone could say anything, the sound of a fiddle echoed through the courtroom, playing something that sounded like "Oh My Darlin' Clementine", but didn't.

Mollie stared. "Craig, what are you doing?"

Craig grinned bravely and whispered over his fiddle. "I never met a Southerner yet that could resist a barn dance…" he explained, now fiddling a lively jig. "Best make tracks noo lassie before I run out of reels!"

The other occupants of the courtroom watched with glazed eyes and helplessly tapping feet, as Craig led them out into the yard, where they promptly paired off and began square dancing.

"Go now!" Craig hissed to his friends, all the while fiddling faster. "Tis a far far better tune I play…"

Hamish balked. "I'll no leave you here…"

Craig fiddled faster. "Get ye gone, Hamish, or I'll tell Seamus ye peed yer kilt the first time ye…"

"Bye!" said Hamish quickly, and herded up the others. "I'll go back for him," he said quietly to Mollie, as the sound of the fiddle receded in the distance.

"I don't think you'll have to," Mollie observed, pointing to a decidedly Seamus-shaped hole in the wall of the prison.

Hamish grinned. "Yer probably right."

The group crashed headlong through the underbrush ("AGAIN?" groaned Tasha) heading in the general direction of the ship, until an armed figure in a gray uniform suddenly blocked the path. The Neon Lites plowed to a graceless halt, and stared at the armed soldier before them. Head held high, rifle at the ready, Billy Joe Jim Bob Culpepper stared back at the Neon Lites.

For a long moment, there was silence. ("Why?" asked Hamish. "Dramatic emphasis," said the author. "Oh.") Then the Confederate soldier spoke.

"I was just on my way to find ya'll! I'll admit I didn't `spect ya'll'd come a-flyin' out of the palmetto like that - pretty lucky, ain't it?"

Tasha gaped. "What?"
Billy Joe Jim Bon hung his head. "Awww, it's like I told ya'll. Buford don't know nothin' about nothin'. Ya'll ain't Yankees. I figured it out right after we took ya'll to the jail. I tried to explain it to Buford, but that boy's as dumb as a pig in the poke, he ain't eddicated like me."

"We have to get OUT of here," Tasha hissed to Hamish.

Sparki nodded. "Like totally true, Pipe-dude."

Mollie agreed. "We have to save Craig AND we have to find Snerdly, Bruce and Mew…"

"Or at least Mew and Bruce," Tasha corrected.

"They could be ANYWHERE!" Mollie fretted. "They may have even traveled through time."

"It all comes…" Billy Joe Jim Bob was still talking, "of me bring more refined than Buford, what with my readin' philosophy and all."

Sparki blinked. "Like, whoa, did you just totally say PHILOSOPHY?"

Billy Joe Jim Bob nodded and handed her a book.

Tasha read the monogram aloud. "BJJB (that's me)."

"The works of SOCRATES?" Mollie was amazed. (So was Fiona - ed.)

Billy Joe Jim Bob nodded and took the book back. "Ancient Philosophy," he explained. "Ancient - that's older than Aunt Balbina, ya'll! Here, listen to this: `Be as true unto thine own self as the dawn is to the day and failing that, give yourself two snaps up for a good hair day and perky accessories."

Mollie choked. Tasha pounded her on the back.

"Yup," Sparki decided, "I'd say Bruce has TOTALLY traveled through time!"

Billy Joe Jim Bob adjusted his hat and looked timidly at the others. "Ya'll, tell me the truth. Do ya'll think my accessories are perky enough?"

Hamish cleared his throat. "I hate to have to point this out, but we are in a bit of a hurry. We still have to rescue Craig and find my brother, Seamus."

"Seamus?" Billy Joe Jim Bob was surprised. "You mean that maniac is ya'll's brother?"

Hamish pulled himself with an unmistakable air of pride. "Aye," he said cheerfully, "he is."

"Like, okay, look, B.J.," Sparki said, poking the soldier in the arm. "Can you like totally help us find our ship so we can collect our friends and bogus relatives and totally blow this Gone With the Wind movie set?"

The soldier's face fell as a crackling in the brush got undeniably louder, and the group found themselves surrounded by a dozen armed men in blue uniforms.

"Well, dangitall anyhow!" said Billy Joe Jim Bob, scratching his head in consternation. "Reckon ya'll are going to have to ask the Yankees."