Tasha adjusted a lock of her shining hair and clutched roses to her chest as the limo moved slowly down the streets, and thousands of adoring fans screamed out her name. "Thank you," she cried, waving to her admirers. "I will always treasure this key to Macy's, and I'll never forget the little people who..."
A voice cut through the crowd, and the limo pulled to a halt. "...I think she's coming around," Snerdly announced, peering closely into Tasha's face. "But I still may have to do mouth to mouth..." He stopped as Mollie hit him, and Tasha fainted again.
The Pop Rocks had not worked. That is, they hadn't worked enough. They had; however, produced several gallons of purple gloopy glop and coated everything in a ten-mile radius with sticky sweetness. However, all things considered, they had completely failed to blow up the moon.
Snerdly groaned and fumbled in his pocket for an antacid. "I told you it could never..." All present watched in fascination as the two Alka-Seltzer tablets slipped from his hands and into the pit. A sound like roaring surf filled the air and the group suddenly found themselves up to their knees in rising foam.
Snerdly swore loudly.
"Oh yeah?" Mollie retorted, "What are you - Mr. Bubble on PMS?"
They raced for the ship, dragging Tasha, who had recovered the moment she felt her hair being dampened by something that had not come from Paul Mitchell.
Sparki stood till the bubbles reached her waist. "No way," she grinned as she began to float upon the tide, "Way cool!"
The planet began to tremble as the antacid ate away at its sugar coated, caffeine preservative core.
"What's Sparki doing over there?!" Tasha shouted as they reached the ramp of the ship.
"I think it's the back stroke," Snerdly guffawed, and Mollie resisted the urge to push him off the ramp and into the rapidly rising white foam.
The hatch was slammed shut as Sparki leaped inside, and with a creak and a squeal and a decidedly disgusting slurpy sound, the ship was among the stars. ("Look," squealed Tasha, "there's Madonna! And Drew Barrymore and Antonio Banderas and Mel Gibson..." The author hit Tasha with a pillow and the story continued.) They sped onward, as behind them, the planet bubbled, fizzed and foamed away into nothing.
The lizards could have cared less. After dropping their reptilian friends off on their newly chosen planet, (Iggie had decided, for personal reasons still in litigation, not to join the haphazard quartet, but to remain with the lizards and help them colonize), the ship again lurched onward in the fashion of a craft which did not know it's own destination...and it didn't.
The voyage wallowed slowly on, uneventful, save for an occasional necessary slap administered to Snerdly. Suddenly, the ship lurched violently, as the automatic pilot dodged a cruiser that had nearly taken off the front of the ship.
"What was that?" Tasha shrieked, as her twin stared grimfully out the viewport.
"I don't know," Mollie replied, "but it had Canadian license plates." (Author's note to our Canadian friends in the North - this is not a derogatory slur on your country as a whole, but it is a commentary on the tourists who visit our fair State every year and for some reason, have no idea how to interpret the Speed Limit Signs. 45 MPH means `go at least 60 miles per hour except when the light is yellow, in which case, speed up to whatever it takes to get through the light before it turns red. If the light turns red, it will eventually turn green and that is your cue to slam your foot down on the gas petal and make you car jump from 0 to 65 MPH in 2 seconds flat'. If you would learn these simply laws of road etiquette, Florida would be a happier place. Thank you.) The craft ahead of them, having cut across their path immediately slowed to the space trembling equivalent to 20 MPH on the interstate. There came a blip, and the communication screen flipped on.
"Greetings," came a voice, as a decidedly gray-haired alien filled the screen with his image. "I understand you have a Quest." Snerdly, Mollie and Tasha shrugged in confusion, while Sparki smiled energetically for no apparent reason. "I am sending you a document to aid in you Quest. If you follow the instructions closely, one clue will lead you to the next. Ta!"
"Wait!" Mollie shrieked, "What Quest? Can't you help us?"
The gray bearded old alien shook his head. "Can't. It's time for Lawrence Welk!" And with that, he was gone.
The transporter blipped and on the platform appeared an oddly folded piece of parchment. "What is it?" Tasha breathed.
Snerdly rolled his eyes. "It's a document presumably outlining and detailing to perfection the route by which we may ascertain the whereabouts of..."
"Shut up, Snerdly!" the cry was unanimous.
"Like, is it a clue?" Sparki wondered, moving towards Mollie.
Mollie sighed. "NO. It's a tourist map of Florida's theme parks."
"Bogus." Sparki leaned against the wall, dangerously close to an important looking red button.
"Wait," Mollie crowed, triumphantly, "here! Here's what we need - a clue. It says...what on earth?"
"What does it say?" Snerdly growled, pushing past Sparki and towards Mollie, who was standing on the transporter platform looking at the map. Sparki lost her balance and bumped her head on the red button.
Mollie disappeared.