Chapter 29: Mother's Little Helper

After the Natives got settled in...

"HEY!! Wait a minute ... Just who are you calling Natives? Listen here, buster ... Political Correctness doesn't fit in this chronical. You might be writing this mess, but WE have a say in what yer doin' We were here first!" shouted Kurt.

And the Peanut Gallery all shouted, "AMEN!"

"Errrr ... maybe we were first ... kinda ... sorta ... but the first batch of Orientals split," explained Joanne in a rush. "They couldn't take the shaking or the heat ... to say nothing of the rise in sea level."

"THAT'S RIGHT!"

"And this here bunch of land bridgers came AFTER we did," said Jimmy. "I mean, Dude!!"

"AMEN!

"And all of us were born here ... maybe not HERE here ... but here when ... then!!" chimed the Big Stick. "Just how long do you, and your ancestors, have to live in a land to be natives?" Then he clapped a hand oner his mouth, "According to some people who shall remain nameless, you don't wanna know."

And the mob howled! "YES!" "YUP" "UH HUH" "You lay it on him, Bro!" and assorted expletives suitable for general audiences.

Joanne commented, "YES! We were first. These guys, while being good fellas and all that, are INVADERS! We - ARE - THE - NATIVES! We - ARE - THE - NATIVES! We - ARE - THE - NATIVES! We - ARE - THE - NATIVES! " And she started jumping up and down and directing the Gallery.

The Peanut Gallery took up the chant. "We - ARE - THE - NATIVES! We - ARE - THE - NATIVES! We - ARE - THE - NATIVES!"

Someone hauled out a drum and started a heartbeat rhythm. The Gallery was jumping up and down in time to the beat, throwing dust in the air and burning flags and Presidents in effigy ... my word ... you'd have thought they were in Iran.

It's getting so a half way decent author can't make a little goof before his characters jump on his ass and pound him into the ground. Just who do these guys think they are ... real people?

And Kurt grinned and said, "yes. We are real people. You remember us better than we remember ourselves. So, get it right! What kind of friend are you, anyway?"

'OMG, ' thought the author. 'Now what do I do? My characters are out of control. My Muse done flew da coop. I am truly fucked. I should never have stopped stealing my Mother's Little Helper.'

Kurt said, "you preached to us forever about alternate realities so many times, I bet you never thought it would stick. Joanne, look it his face ... he didn't! He never figured we'd believe him."

"David, you are the King Cheese, but you're also Hairy Medicinewolf, and a Progeniter, besides being the original prevert (that's a pervert before there were perverts) and an all together pretty nice guy."

"Thanks Kurt, how ya been?"

"Pretty decent, I managed to stay outta jail ... mostly. The Cheese and I came close a couple of times, but the local cops wouldn't keep us."

"Well, some of my readers think you should have a more prominent part in this story I'm trying to write (although the readership is divided on whether or not what I do qualifies as writing.) so ... fill me in on what you've been doing since you and the Cheese got here."

"Mostly keeping outta Carol's way and fucking every woman that moves." He grinned and flinched as Joanne thumped the back of his head.

"Like that, is it, Joanne?" your intrepid author asked.

"I like to keep him in line," she replied ... and they both broke up.

"So, Joanne, are you two an item?"

"For an author, you seem to be stuck in the 60's. Oh, yeah, right. If we were home this would be the Sixties ... but, wait if we were home ... Now I'm confused and I'm not even real," complained Joanne. "You got some 'splain' to do buster."

'This is really weird. I'm having a conversation with a couple of figments of my imagination.'