POTATO MOON, Part 22 by Mark C. Dooley

The Honda Civic practically buried itself into the driveway of Sullen Manor as Edwood leaped from the driver’s seat, barely bothering to shift the car into park. Jakob, Woeisme, and Something nearly trampled over each other trying to exit the car as Edwood hit the front steps of the porch within three bounds.

“Hey, Dad!” Something cried out. “Think we ought to have a plan before we just go busting in there?”

Without the slightest pause in his movement, Edwood turned his head ever so slightly to his son. “That is the plan!”

“Oh. Good plan.”

Edwood’s hands smashed into the heavy oak double doors with such force as to nearly rip them from the hinges, and boldly charged into the darkened foyer.

Meanwhile, Jakob was already assuming his wolf form, as he was most confident that whatever was threatening Bela inside Sullen Manor, be it man or lobster, would think twice before harming a beautiful girl in the presence of a vicious and rather protective werewolf.

Woeisme was almost at the doorway when she dropped to the porch floor and screamed “HIT THE DECK!”

Jakob and Something managed to make way just as a crashing sound exploded from the silence and a figure came flying out through the doorway, soared over the porch and landed smack into the hood of the Honda.

All three rushed over to find Edwood laying half conscious across the car’s hull, his body covered with yellowish potato flakes and smelling of butter and sour cream.

Well, Jakob thought, the lobster is out.

“Told you that was a bad plan,” chided Something.

“Shut up, Something,” Edwood retorted, wiping the mashed potato substance from his face.

“So what is it in there?” Woeisme pleaded. “Did you see Bela?”

“I just followed the scent of freshly baked potatoes into the main hall, and next thing you know, I’m out here. Although…”

The other three poised on Edwood’s next words, which actually weren’t words at all, as he was horking up potato lodged in his throat. Finally…

“I could have sworn… I saw Mike Dukakis standing at the end of the hall laughing maniacly.”

Jakob, still in his wolf form, scratched his head… with his hind leg. “Dukakis? The governor? That’s nuts!”

Edwood gave Jakob a droll look. “We just followed a line of clues that would have driven Frank Gorshin crazy. So who’s to say what’s nuts?”

Woeisme blinked as if she was having an epiphany. “I think I’m having an epiphany!”

Something smirked. “Well, it isn’t mine. Jakob’s the one over here with the dirty thoughts.”

“No, no! I mean look… Dan Quayle trying to make me his Potatoe Queen…”

Edwood rose from the hood of the car. “Hey, how’d you make that silent ‘e’ sound?”

Woeisme shook it off. “And you saw Mike Dukakis in Sullen Manor. This is getting nuts. Either someone has a lot of pull in the Republican and Democratic parties, or…”

As Woeisme was about to conclude, Edwood spat out one more big potato-filled loogie.

“Or there’s some kind of time travel involved in this business,” she finally finished.

Something threw up his hands. “Heck, why not? Everything else about this story’s gone off the deep end.”

“And I’m afraid it’s only just beginning, my young friends.”

The quartet turned toward the source of the new voice that had been added to their own. Walking toward them was a waspish figure dressed in a three piece pin-striped suit and a brown duster, his dark-brown hair a tangled mess on his head. Contrasting against the prim suit were his shoes, which were a pair of worn red trainers.

Oddly enough, he seemed to have come from the strange looking blue wooden box with the siren atop it sitting by a shrubbery at the cornerstone of Sullen Manor.

Woeisme shook her head. “And who the heck are you?”

The stranger merely smiled.