Is this what it feels like to work on The Simpsons? First a little "Lard Lad" and statue head-sawing, here in the form of a series of links:
The previous chapters:
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Followed by (an implied couch gag featuring) the orange antimacassar.
But first this word from the author. Coming soon to this spot Tuesdays at 8 PM, a new serialized novel. It has fun. It has politics. It has New Jersey. Please check back from time to time.
Sherlock Holmes in Space -- The Knower -- Chapter 36
a story by jabney based on (the now public domain) characters created by Sir Arthur Conan Doyle
...
Evan gestured to me, and we manoevered close enough to each other - yet not so far from our respective mind-mates as to cause outright pain - that we could speak somewhat privately.
"I sometimes wonder, Doctor Watson, if it is the lot of certain family trees to be the nest of the sidekick bird?"
I looked at Evan and said, "Otis being the big bird in your local forest?"
"Much like Sherlock Holmes in yours," Evan answered. "Otis and I now know each other better than any two people possibly should. If you and Mr Holmes are experienced in such a manner as are we two, you'll spend a lot of time forgetting what you've learned here in Hell. Now, though, is not the time to forget. I must speak to The Knower - the old Knower - before he - floats off."
Edgar and Cody walked to toward us. Cody's face no longer betrayed agony. Instead, it was replaced by a face showing determination mixed with anticipation. And more than a tinge of regret. "I knew that the release from physical pain would mean that my younger self was gone. But I did not know how devastating it would feel."
"Cody, your younger self looked great. Like a model. I saw how many romantic conquests your youthful doppleganger made right after getting the new body. And you were able to participate fully. Did you?" said Edgar.
"One time. It was enough to prove the concept. But disappointing when my mind would take me back to fact that I was not the youthful actor in my fantasy. I found myself more honestly stimulated by nostalgic memories of my own past romantic adventures. I was really there, you see."
Sherlock Holmes said, "At least your younger self chose an interesting egress. And you were there for that. I presume you have an exit of your own. And that it does not involve a skateboard?"
"Correct, Mr Holmes," Cody said, as the plaza transformed itself into a giant gameboard. We stood in a sguare marked "Park Place." "My friend Betty and I played this as children. A friend told me the secrets to beating her, "Never let her be banker, and that Betty thinks railroads are icky."
"Icky?"
"Icky, Doctor Watson. And now if you'll stand aside for a moment, here comes my iron."
Hopping up on the giant flat-iron that loomed over the Park Place square, Cody rode in stately hops to the square called "Go" and, as he collected $200 dollars, his oldest and dearest friend Edgar said, "Don't spend it all in one place Cody."
Cody looked back at his friend in mock-indignation and gesturing toward himself and shaking his head No, Cody faded away from our sight. Each shake accompanied by his image getting fainter, until finally there was no more Cody. Yet the board remained. "My cue," said Edgar. "And my choice. If I guess correctly, Cody and his friend Betty would have follwed the extra-legal concept of letting a player landing on Free Parking have all the money paid to bank." At this mention came along an automobile. Crudely shaped. Edgar got in behing the vestigal bump that represented the steering wheel, then he signaled the rest of us to join him, "You'll want to exit the car when we get to Free Parking, of course."