The castle looked very gothic for something located in Eastern Wisconsin. It seemed entirely out of place and out of time, but this did not deter the Neon Lites (or Jack or Denara…). They were on a mission, and a strangely misplaced sense of honor pushed them forward towards the foreboding abode. They knocked and the door opened, but no one was there.

            Except for a moment of pure stress on Tasha’s part (it looked like the castle wasn’t stylish enough to match her skirt), no one hesitated before stepping forward. The door clanged shut behind them and locked with a definite permanence.

            There was absolute silence in the corridor. It stretched out for what looked like miles and it was completely empty. The walls were stone and covered in dusty old tapestries. There was not a soul in sight.

            “So what now?” Denara asked, perkier than was necessary.

            “I think we should split up,” Jack suggested. “The damsel seems less distressed…”

            “Or maybe she’s just dead!” Tasha began ringing her hands (after applying a liberal dollop of rose-scented moisturizer to prevent unsightly chapping). “Dead bodies are pale and white and TOTALLY unfashionable!”

            “Cool! Do you really think she’s dead?” Denara asked, way more enthused than was necessary.

            “Jack’s right…” Mollie began.

            “Yeah, Jack’s ri—“ Jack stopped, stunned, but pleasantly surprised. “I am? Wow. Okay then. Denara…Sparki…and Tasha – you’re with me. Coach, you and Hamish…”

            “I don’t WANT to go with YOU!” Denara pouted.

            “I want to go with CRAIG!” Tasha whined. Craig grinned and whistled nonchalantly.

"Fine then. I'll take Sparki, Craig and Tasha. Hamish and Denara go with Mollie," Jack decided, then waited for more objections. When there were none, he nodded and smiled at Mollie.

            Denara sighed, looking at Hamish, her adolescent crush not entirely dissipated. Hamish rolled his eyes.

            "Grrrrreat..." he muttered.

            "Like, okay, I totally have a most excellent idea," Sparki chirped. She reached into her backpack, felt around for something and triumphantly removed two walkie-talkies. "Now we can totally keep in contact in a most mondo cool way."

            Tasha took one small electronic device and held it gingerly between perfectly sculptured nails. "It's not even a cell-phone! It's archaic."

            "Most excellent word, oh blonde dudette,” Sparki began a high-five, but hit air when Tasha (fearing for her manicure) did not raise her palm.

            "Give me that!" Jack grabbed for the walkie-talkie. Somehow it slipped from Tasha's fingers and fell to the ground, where it shattered like Jack’s mother's Ming Vase did once. That also was not entirely Jack's fault.

            "Oh well," Tasha shrugged, "We still have the other one..."

            "Grrreat," chorused Craig and Hamish.

            "Come on," Mollie sighed hopelessly. She gestured for Hamish and Denara to follow her as she lead the way down the spiraling staircase heading to what was probably a basement. They vanished behind a door.

            "I guess we get to go up," Jack observed peering at the 39 steps heading toward the next floor. There was a large wooden door at the top of the staircase.

            So they went up. ("This is an awfully pointless long walk," Tasha moaned about halfway up, which was also halfway down, depending on the direction one is facing.)

            At the top of the 39 steps was a huge wooden door with a large brass key in the lock. Jack, obviously oblivious to the idea of wondering what danger lurked behind the door, turned the large metal key and jiggled it for effect.

            "Ta Da!" he pulled open the door to reveal...39 more steps.

            "Come along adventurers, we must climb ever upward..." Jack stepped forward with spunky enthusiasm. Sparki reached into her ever present and omnipotent backpack and quickly rigged up a device that had her sailing effortlessly up the banister in no time flat. Complaining incessantly about boot heels and wear and tear, Tasha reluctantly followed Craig's lead, because the only other option was to go back down. And as we all know, up is bad, but down is worse.

            In the meantime, Mollie, Denara and Hamish had journeyed into the basement of the castle. As with most basements, it smelled musty, old and damp. Mollie was certain something very large was mildewing. Denara was positive she saw a gargantuan rat, but Hamish told her to quit whining or she would be kicked out of the regiment.

            "But I really saw it," Denara whispered to Mollie.

            "But as long as `tisn't here noo, we have nae to be fearin' the wee craytur, have we..." Hamish slapped Denara on the shoulder affectionately, sending her headlong into a wall. A shower of dust and dirt covered her hair. Denara let out a stream of curses totally inappropriate for a child her age, some of which made Hamish blush.

            "Shhhh..." Mollie stopped walking. "I hear something."

            "Is it a rat?" Denara sidled up to her.

            A scream tore down the hallway, knocking over everyone in its path.

            “`’Tis the damsel in distress!” Hamish bellowed, brandishing his sporran as a weapon, swinging it over his head and racing down the hallway. Denara and Mollie were at his heels. They stopped short at the end of the hall, where their pathway was blocked by a solid oak door.

Hamish took a deep breath and threw himself against the door in an unsuccessful and rather painful attempt to break it down. Mollie winced in empathetic pain as Denara gaped, wide-eyed and worried about her precious Hamish.

            Hamish drew back again and ran forward, just as a comely woman wearing a raised eyebrow and a wry expression calmly opened the door. Hamish stumbled to a halt, leaving skid marks in the stone. The woman placed one hand on her hip. “The door WAS open, you know,” she pointed out.

            Hamish stood up to his full height, chest pumped out with testosterone enhancements. “We are here to rescue you!”

            “Rescue me?” The woman laughed. “From what?”

            “Excuse me, ma’am,” Mollie stepped forward, pushing Hamish aside. “But we did hear someone screaming.”

            “Did you now?” The woman looked terribly amused then smiled. “Oh… right…I forgot…sound travels.” She shrugged, then rolled her eyes. “Mental note to self: `be certain to sound proof the room post-haste’. Well that’s done. How can I help you?”

            Denara looked uneasily at Mollie, who looked apprehensively at Hamish. Hamish sighed as he suddenly realized he was smitten with the beautiful young woman. Not only did she have gorgeous auburn locks falling to her waist in soft waves, but she was OBVIOUSLY Scottish, as she wore plaid. Mollie reached way up and sucker punched Hamish in the back of the head. Denara looked fiercely resentful in the direction of the woman who dared to capture Hamish’s heart.

            “We’re really sorry to have disturbed you,” Mollie stated, “but there was a scream and we thought…”

            “Oh I know, I know…Daddy is VERY loud sometimes. You know how men can be about taking a bath!”

            Denara and Mollie nodded in commiseration as Hamish sniffed his arm pits and demanded, “WHAT?!?!?”

            The woman continued. “Plus he really hates shaving, especially since that old woman visited the castle and put a spell on him…” The woman shook her head in exasperation. “But that’s another story, never mind…”

            “So the screamer was your Daddy?” Denara looked dubious.

            “Who else would it be? He should be dry by now...” She called over her shoulder. “Daddy, we have company. Umm…?” She looked questioningly at her newfound friends. “I’m sorry, I don’t know your names…”

            “I’m Mollie Shepherd and this is Denara de la Reese. This is…”

            “Hamish MacHamish at yer service,” he bowed and took her hand to kiss it. Denara scowled.

            The woman blushed. “Where are my manners? I am Lady Genevra de Brus. This is my castle. Oh, and here he his…may I introduce the world-famous Professor Wolfstonebane?”

            A large orange creature padded into the room, fretting with long, still damp fur that covered his entire body. He wore a suit and tie with red sneakers.

            Denara screamed and Mollie fainted.

            “Dad-dy,” Genevra was annoyed. “You forgot again…human form around humans!!!”

            “Man, I hate it when that happens,” Hamish sympathized.

After nine (or nineteen – if you ask Tasha) flights of 39 steps each, Jack, Sparki, Craig and Tasha found themselves on the roof of the castle. In the center of the roof was an enclosed glass greenhouse filled with various and sundry plants. Aside from that, the roof was completely vacant.

            “Bogus,” Sparki observed, putting on sunglasses and wondering if she could get a moon-tan.

            “Flowers? We climbed eleventy-million steps for FLOWERS?” Tasha exclaimed.

            “They could be way cool exotic florae,” Sparki observed, “so let’s like check it way out.”

            “Are ye crrrrrazy lass?” Craig stopped her. “They could be daidly man-eatin’ flowers!”

            “Then only you and Bodhran-Dude have to worry, Fiddle-Dude!” Sparki pointed out logically, touching the greenhouse doorknob.

            Alas, they were really only just plain, ordinary flowers (because the author couldn’t think of anything way cool and exotic and it’s too late in the day to go back and rewrite all this). Everyone was unmistakably relieved. (See how well these things work out?)

            “Why would anyone plant flowers on the roof?” Tasha wondered out loud, looking pointedly at the author, who referred her to the above disclaimer and continued typing.

            “Camouflage,” said Jack, looking for hidden cameras and microphones behind and azalea.

            “Cama-what?”

“Camou-FLAGE”

“Like totally Camus! How existentialist of you in a happening way! Histo primo prime!” Sparki gushed.

Jack stopped fingering the gladiolas and pointed. “Look.”

            In the center of the greenhouse was a large, complex and obviously top secret laboratory. There was a long counter covered in petri dishes, Bunsen burners, tubes and wires. A grayish green liquid traveled from tube to tube, boiling and hissing, then emptying into a bowl at the end of the table, into which it dripped purposefully. On the far end of the counter were several large, plastic rings, some red, some blue, some green…a few were purple.

            “Ooooh…pretty…” Tasha cooed, overcome with the urge to pick up a red ring and pop it in her mouth. So she did.

            “Tasha…NO!!!!!!” Craig yelled, just as Tasha vanished. “Holy crrrap! What do we do now?” Jack shrugged helplessly.

Just then, the building began to shake in a most unpleasant manner. The glass cracked and the flowers quaked with fear. Smoke filled the laboratory and dust flew. The shaking grew stronger.

“Get off the roof, get off the roof…” Jack mumbled spinning around in circles like a terrier and looking for an escape route.

Sparki grabbed one color each of the rings and put all but the red in her backpack. She grasped Jack’s arm. “Like hold hands dudes!” She ordered Craig and Jack.

Sparki licked the ring.

Everything went black. There was a high-pitched wailing sound, followed by strands of greatest hit of Pachabel. Colors began to swirl and spin around their heads in incohesive, incoherent patterns. Finally, when it seemed like it would never stop, it did.

            Craig, Sparki and Jack fell with a whumpf and landed on Tasha.

            "Wow, most excellent trip!" Sparki was impressed.

            "I think Miss Tasha is unconscious, "Craig observed, lifting her wrist and watching it drop limply to the ground.

            Jack dusted off his clothes and stood up, catching his breath. "Where are we?"

            Craig looked up and whistled, "Jesus, Mary and Joseph..." he fell to his knees, "where are we?"