This is the next section of the new chapter of the long-awaited, long-
anticipated story!

For those reading for the first time, earlier chapters can still be found at:
http://members.tripod.com/DNyx/NETTG.html

...or by request.

Those reading this section may wish to review the ArbyFish overview available
at the above website.

Any and all comments, criticism, or methods to improve what has been written
here are greatly appreciated. I am under no illusion that this will be the 
final form
of the chapter. I actually have great hopes that something someone has to say
out there will improve it a great deal.

(Anybody offering fanart is of extra special interest. ^_-)

Special thanks to:

Jason Hanks, who has stayed with me the whole time on this.
Jason Liao, who is also performing prereader functions.
And many thanks to those who commented on the last section released.

And everyone else for keeping the vision alive, with all those philosophical
discussions and everything.

Okay, did I get everyone? ^_^

So, all in all, here we go for yet even, even more!

<Continued from NETTG!! Ch10 P2 (5/??)>

---

    Somewhere on the outskirts of Tokyo, a certain youma general
was having some difficulty locating a particular girl.

    Nephrite examined his crystal, then looked around frantically.
"This thing's useless!!!"

    *Vroom!* A bearded black guy with mirrored shades in a corvette
drove by, rolled down his window, and handed him a pamphlet. "Crystal
girl-finder not workin'? Radio Shack has what ya need, man!" He
reached over and twisted a lit cigarette butt into Nephrite's
forehead, laughing hysterically.

    *Hiss* "WAIT! WHAT ARE--"

    *RRRK!*VROOM!* Before Nephrite could respond physically, the man
sped off, tires shrieking. The general stared after the dust trail for
a second, aghast, looked at the paper, then crumpled it up and tossed
it away. "Insufferable insult-propaganda machine!"

    He sat down on the curb, rubbing the ash off his forehead to
consider his options.

    Following the Star Crystal's signal for over an hour, the
general hadn't turned up one lousy sign of _anything_. Well, he found
a pair of lovers kissing in a park somewhere and a pair of homemade
red leather bellbottom trousers, but no Molly.

    This was really starting to worry him.

    A strong breeze blasted by, allowing him to cool off somewhat.

    Nephrite slapped his fist against his hand and cursed under
his breath. He had lost her! Any moment now, they'd be tearing the
poor girl to shreds. He HAD to save her, somehow!

    The youma general paused, finding that he had very strong
feelings for the girl. Why? He barely knew her; she was nice and all,
but why would he be putting his life on the line for her?! He had a
position to protect, and anyone else was just a barrier to his
success!

    The question went unanswered, and the strong desire to rescue
Molly remained, as did the question about how to find her. I mean,
it wasn't like they were going to be advertising where they were
holding her...

    At that moment, the breeze blew a poster into Nephrite's face.
Annoyed, he pulled it off and was about to crumple it up and toss it
away when he saw what was on it:

    [Nephrite, we're holding your girlfriend in the rent-a-space
lots on Kabuki Street, find us if you can!]

    There was also a small map of the city with a big X drawn on
a specific block.

    Nephrite narrowed his eyes. Could it really be that simple?
Perhaps it could.

    However, if this wasn't a trap, he was going to change his name
to Snuggle-cakes.   

---

    "Heeey-yah!" *Slap!* "Hoo-yaaaahhh!" *Whack!*

    "Hiii-yah! Hoo-yah!" *Splat!*

    "Hooo-hoo! Yoo-hoo!" *SLAM!*

    As the last firecracker went off, Raye, Serena, and Grandpa
Hino stopped chanting and dancing around Jadeite, who was tied
upside-down above the Sacred Fire by her feet and somewhat bruised
from the giant trout they had been swinging at her.

    "You still possessed?!" Grandpa Hino asked, brandishing his
fish like a club. The trout blinked a couple of times, opening and
closing its mouth to see if it was back in water yet.

    *HACK* "No," Jadeite coughed out a small muskrat, which
squeaked emphatically up at her and scampered off, "the voice is
gone, I think."

    Raye and Serena cheered, dropping their trout and holding each
other by the hands and jumping around in a circle. "Yaaay! We did it!
We did it! Take THAT, Jadeite!"

    Jadeite gritted her teeth and barked, "Get me down, NOW!"

    Grandpa Hino grabbed the rope from the pulley-system and let
the blonde down, straight into the middle of the fire.

    "AAAAAAAAAHH!!!"

    The old man laughed nervously with a hand behind his head. "Oh,
sorry!"

    Jadeite rolled out of the fire, trying to extinguish what
little remained of her clothes, which had been partly obliterated
by the fireworks a few minutes ago and now were being finished off
by the happy little combustion elements. "HOTHOTHOTHOTHOTHOT!!!"

    *Splash!* Raye dumped a bucket of cold water all over the cute
girl, dousing the flames. "Congratulations! You've just been
exorcised by a professional! How do you feel?"

    Jadeite gagged, recalling everything they'd jammed in her mouth.
"I think I'm going to throw up!"

    Raye gasped and her eyes went wide. "Bad Juju! Projectile vomit
is a sign of possession!" Her hand went toward another rocket clipped
on her new utility belt.

    "Stop!" Jadeite put out her hands and fought back the nausea.
"Look! I'm fine!" She patted her upper-chest and neck in an effort to
demonstrate the truth of her last statement. "No more voices! I'm
cured! Okay?!"

    Serena smiled widely at her. "You're really okay, Jade?"

    "Yes," Jadeite coughed, "never been better. Can I go now?!"

    Raye shook her head. "No, we still need to keep an eye on you
to make sure you don't get repossessed."

    "What do I look like?! An automobile?!"

    *Da-dum*Thwish!*

    *Chirp-chirp*Chirp-chirp* Crickets rubbed their legs
together amidst the following silence.

    The pun was lost on the two girls. "Huh?"

    "Nevermind," Jadeite pouted, "but do I _have_ to stay here?"
She glanced nervously at the fire, knowing that it could be a danger
to her well-being if they decided to do another fire reading, or if
someone decided to toss her into it again.

    "We _have_ to stay with you," Raye asserted.

    "Well," Serena glanced at her watch, "school's out. It was a
half-day. So, we could all go someplace together."

    Raye thought about it, too. "Hmm, Jade needs to relax for a
little while. It needs to be somewhere calm; somewhere fun."

    "Like where?" Jadeite felt a sense of foreboding.

    Serena and Raye whispered among themselves, then looked the
blonde in the eyes. "Let's go shopping!"

    That caught the ex-general off guard. "What?!"

    "Yeah, you should go to the Mall," Grandpa Hino said, "it's the
best place for youngsters like you to head-off together and blow off
some steam!" He fished around in his pocket and pulled out a thick
wad of bills and handed it to Raye. "Here, go buy this lovely young
lady a new dress."

    Going shopping for clothes with a pair of teenage girls wasn't
number one on Jadeite's 'fun things to do' list. "Wait a second," she
said, her hands held up defensively while slowly backing off. "I'd
rather not."

    "Yeah, that's probably a good idea," Raye agreed. "Your clothes
are a mess. We could have been easier on you while curing you, so I
guess we owe it to you."

    Serena nodded really brightly in agreement.

    Jadeite was about to protest again, but there was something
about Serena's cuter-than-puppydog-eyes that just melted through all
her resistance. "Oh, alright!"

    "Yaay! We're going to the mall!"

---

    Trees, buildings, billboards, and feral chickens rushed by at
a phenomenal rate.

    *Vrooom!*Cluck-cluck!*

    Nephrite was going _WAAAAAAAAAY_ over the speed limit in his
hot Ferrari convertible as he tore up the road, rushing toward where
the crumpled-up poster indicated that Molly would be held.

    He screeched to a halt in front the old storage building,
checked the map again, leapt out of his vehicle, rose high into the
air, scouted the area, then put out his hand and blasted the door to
the building where Molly was sure to be held.

    Nephrite strode inside, his hands glowing with energy, ready to
strike at a moment's notice.

    There was a small rustling sound as rats skittered through some
papers on an old, worn-out desk.

    Maintaining caution and glancing every which way, the brown-
haired general approached the desk and noticed a poster taped to the
wall to the left.

    It read:

    [Oops! Sorry, Snuggle-cakes. We drew the maps wrong. She's not
here. We're actually over HERE-->]

    The poster had another map with _another_ big, red X on it.

    Nephrite growled in frustration, then reached over and tore the
map off the wall, only to find, scrawled on the wall in a sloppy red
acrylic:

    [Oh, and this IS a trap, by the way!!!]

    *BLAAAM!* Through the door, Nephrite could see his car explode.
The light from the blast illuminated several silhouetted figures
marching toward him. Chunks of metal and red fiberglass fell to the
ground.

    Nephrite narrowed his eyes and took a step back, vanishing into
the shadows.

    The attacking youma rushed into the building, scouring every
corner of it. After a little less than a minute, he stopped.

    "Hey! He got away!"
    "Uh oh..."
    "What?"
    "We forgot to block teleportation this time."
    "D'oh!"

...

    Somewhere in the universe, on the colossal ArbyFish homeworlds
of Axiom and Idiom, a phenomenal funeral was held in honor of the
First One, whom had passed away defending His great principles.

    No ArbyFish had ever died before; only congealed to be revived
a couple thousand years later, so as one might imagine, they were a
little perplexed on the subject of how a funeral was to be done.

    Representatives from thirteen separate ArbyFish races debated
long and hard over how to organize it; even the foul Pink Ones had
a say, so great was their desperation! All had the usual ideas:
singing songs, talking a bit about what a great 'Fish the First One
was, putting something in a casket and covering it with a bunch of
dirt.

    Actually, the Brown representative suggested that last bit.

    "Why dirt?"
    "'Cos Aye loikes dirt!"
    "Yew would."

    The discussion went on for seconds, and after what seemed like
minutes, they finally came to a conclusion:

    Drag racing. Everyone could be happy with that.

    *VROOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOM!* Protongan, mounted atop a hedgehog,
representing Yellow, whipped past Klein Bottle, who was mounted on
a Woodchuck and representing Black. "Eat moie dust!"

    Flanburger, on a large pirate-ship with oars, representing
Green and CocaCola, scooted by Protongan, blowing a strawberry in his
general direction. "Let's be festive, 'ere! 'Abberjug! Willywug! Row
fasta'!"

    "Oye-Oye!" saluted the pair of grey seals, making sure to
demonstrate fully their scarves with 'CocaCola' written on them and
to sip a couple bottles of their sponsoring product while doing so.

    *Siiip*Aaaaah* Habberjug and Willywug demonstrated their joy.

    "Shameless promotionaries," grumbled Bloke, representing Red,
and rocketed past them on a pressurized lava-bomb, jets of hot toxic
gas spewing out the back of it.

    "Sez yew," pridefully laughed Tee-Boggins, representing Purple,
as he floated by Bloke on a magic carpet. He placed his flippers on
his cone-shaped wizard-hat and concentrated, the carpet's velocity
ever-increasing.

    "And so it iz," remarked Carob in a cute, high-pitched voice
from the announcer stand, having been denied participation in the
race because she was representing Pink. She adjusted the red bow tied
around her neck and fluffed her furry cheeks. "We 'ave a noice race!
Tee-Boggins moves up into the lead! But wait, 'ere comes Kloine
Bottle!"

    The Black ArbyFish in the bleachers cheered, raising a toast
with their klein bottles in appreciation.

    "Who made that _AbryFish_ announcer?" growled Marshall, lugging
behind on a slow, levitating cursed knife. He represented White, and
was all too happy to show off the annoyance that his colleagues were
content to hide for the moment. "Inferiour species!"

    "Oooh, lookie!" Carob announced, grabbing close the microphone.
"Marshall's pickin' up speed! He'z buypassed Protongan and's goin'
roight for Flanburger!"

    "DIIIIIIIIE!!!" Marshall's war-cry rang throughout the track.

    *VRR-CLUNK-CLUNK-CLUNK-CLUNK!*

    "N' it's Skoywalka', comin' up front!"

    'Clobbins, a Purple ArbyFish on security looked at the non-
ArbyFish in a supersonic pod-chariot on the racetrack. He pulled out
a walkie-talkie. "'Ey! We've got an interloper!"

    *Whoosh*JRRRR!*BLAM!* A dozen Purple ArbyFish nodded and pulled
out a few Mark III Phaser Rifles, aiming, firing and vaporizing poor
young Anakin.

    *Crash!* Freud, the Blue representative, smashed through the
racing-pod's wreckage atop a floating humpback whale, rowing along
with a pair of long polo-mallets. "Hey, this is fun!"

    *Poof!* Freud promptly puffed out of existence in a cloud of
blue smoke, his thirty minutes up.

    *Bweeooooo?* The whale was looking very confused, wagging a
flipper in an attempt to swim.

    Carob was getting really exited. "Tee-Boggins'z got up ta lap
four, leavin' 'em all behoind!"

    "Well," said Flanburger, pulling out a banjo, "we mustn't let
our sponsor down, shall we?"

    Habberjug and Willywug saluted. "No, SAH!"

    Flanburger cleared his heart, began playing, and sang:

    o/Oh, Oye sailed a-many ships, Oye did,
      But most were green, you see!
      A-and if you took just ooone of them,
      You would see no frumjous point-
      Ya know!\o

    "Wowie!" Carob smiled, bobbing up and down. "Flanburger's using
a Special Move: Marshal Auts Opera!"

    o/Oye have some mould to give,
      Mo-ie crew if they would live!
      La-la-la!\o

    Habberjug and Willywug sang along, rowing with more power.

    o/He has some mold to give,
      Hi-is crew if he would live!
      La-la-la!\o

    The brave ship and crew creaked on by Klein Bottle.

    o/Oye will play it to the be-eest!\o

    Protongan's hedgehog was caught in the craft's wake, smashing
into and sticking to the bow.

    o/He will hit us with his frumjous pil-low!\o

    Carob waved around a Green handkerchief. "Oh, go, Flanburger!"

    o/We will do it 'cause Arby says so-\o

    "'Ey!" Bloke wasn't too happy about getting knocked around by
someone's boat, so he kicked up the thrust a bit, the little rock
starting to glow a deeper red. "'Smore loike it!"

    o/We will have some mould-\o

    The race became deadlocked, with Tee-Boggins, Bloke, and
Flanburger head-to-head.

    Flanburger and his rowers sang together, determined to win
honor in battle for their kind sponsor.

    o/And Fungus, too, 'Till the Race is won!\o

    They all passed the finish-line at the same time and deployed
their parachutes, rapidly slowing down.

    "And it's a toie!" Carob cheered, then paused at 'Clobbins'
shaking head. "No, wait! It's a photo-finish!"

    A bigscreen 127' television set popped out of the ground by
the track, showing who was actually in front.

    "And the winner is," Carob blinked, "Protongan?!"

    Protongan wrenched his hedgehog out of the ship's hull, then
raised a flipper together with his mount's claw. "FEEL OUR POWER!!!"

    The Yellow ArbyFish in the bleachers cheered, holding up and
waving around foam-rubber #1 Extend-O-Flippers(tm).

    Flanburger frowned. "Hey! Oyme not supposed to lose!"

    Habberjug and Willywug weren't that happy either. "Roight!
We sung our special song and everything!" They examined their
contracts. "But hey! We still get paid if we place fourth or betta'!"
The two hi-fived each other. "YEAAAAH!"

    "Grrrr," Bloke growled as his bomb scooted to a halt, looking
like he wanted to punch someone in the nose.

    "Oye lost," Flanburger was still miffed.

    "I meant to lose," Tee-Boggins said, calmly counting a thick
stack of bills.

    "Took a bribe, huh?" Marshall asked.

    Tee-Boggins only chuckled.

    "Oh," Carob hopped off the stand and onto Flanburger's ship,
"Oy'me so sorry!" She reached up to touch his face, but her flipper
was smacked away.

    "Eeew, don't touch me with your Pinkness! Yeech."

    Carob's little-big eyes watered. "But..."

    Anyway, they went on with the second stage of the funeral
ceremony, which, after the traditional Drag-racing Memorial 'Bout,
was, they decided, Three-Legged Cotton-Picking!

    Teams of three were lashed together at their tails and had to
cooperate, bouncing around in circles until a three-legged piece of
cotton walked into grasping range, whereupon the three involved had
to catch it and weave it into a green sweater, dying it from a
chemical in the local grass.

    Marshall won this one. He was a bit slow on the pickup, but
he could weave a sweater faster than anyone else.

    Flanburger won second place. He came up with a scarf.

    Carob tried to comfort him _again_.

    Tee-Boggins was seen stuffing even more cash into the folds
of his purple magician's robe.

    The third event was the Great, Traditional Cookoff-Clogdance
and Cranberry-Juice-Drinkoff Memorial Competition.

    A few of the more famous 'Fish were paired off, each stuffed
waist-deep into a medium-sized wooden clog, and Polka music was
played in gigantic speakers while the members of each team locked
flippers, pranced around in a circle in front of a barbeque pit, and
drinking regularly from a magic always-full jug of cranberry juice
that was tied to their left flippers.

    The goal was to burn a pork-roast in the most stylish way
possible while extra points were awarded for the time spent
drinking from the jug.

    Klein Bottle was the victor alongside Pigwallow, a Brown
ArbyFish. In second were Tee-Boggins and Ashfrenzy, a Violet
ArbyFish. By the trim of his fur, Flanburger placed third jointly
with Bloke. Black ArbyFish are most excellent when it came to downing
fine liquids, and lucky for Bloke, Green ArbyFish can figure out a
way to cope with just about any sort of personality. Red ArbyFish
despise clog dancing and anything that might contain water, and was
therefore being very uncooperative during the competition. Bloke
was pretty fast at burning the pork roast, though.

    Carob kept empathizing with Flanburger, much to his disdain.

    The fourth game was simple and straightforward: Whack the
Foozle.

    Each 'Fish participating was issued a croquet mallet and they
had to run around a gopher-field, waiting for a depressed white
harpseal, with a duncecap that had 'Foozle' written on it, to poke
his head out of a hole so they could knock 'em on the noggin. First
one to whack the Foozle wins.

    "Oh dear," the white seal droned, poking its head out a gopher
hole, then popped back down again.

    "Quick! Get 'em!" Ashfrenzy shouted, diving after the Foozle.

    The entire field was a scene of confusion, 'Fish against 'Fish,
all fighting to get in close enough to whack their Foozle.

    In the end, Flanburger won this one. He'd discarded his mallet
for a Heavy, Blunt Object(tm) he'd recently inherited and gave the
seal a nice thwap on the head, knocking it down.

    "Thank you," the seal looked grateful, not entirely unlike
terminal patients who ask the plug to be pulled on them.

    Medals were then awarded for skill, technique, style, and
overall standing.

    "'N the winner is," the Foozle muttered in a very depressed
voice from beneath a bench, "Flanburger. Thank you ever so much."

    The numerous throngs of Green 'Fish cheered and carried
Flanburger along like a big hero.

    Carob followed close behind, wanting to congratulate him
personally.

    Then, after all that, a special 'Shroom day was held, out of
place; a sort of holiday in the First One's honor.

    A carved marble monument was raised on this particular 'Shroom
Day, as was the custom, and a plaque was placed at the tail of it.
The carving was of the deceased individual, with a pious expression
on the eighty-meter-tall statue. The plaque read, in broken letters
and dialect markers:

    [In Memr'y of our 'Eritage.
     We wuz prit'y good.
     Wuzzn't we?]

    Everyone dusted their flippers off and declared it a job well
done, then went on to pursue their normal, everyday tasks, forgetting
all about it and the First One.

    "Whelp, that does it, lads! It's over. Let's go."
    "Alroight."

    "Flanburger! Can Oye invoite you to a box of chocolates?"
    "'Ow many toimes do Oye 'ave ta tell you: Oye do not associate
with those of your koind, Carob."
    "But Oy've got truffles!"
    "Oh, that's different, then. Let's go."

    Except one.

    A single white, caped individual remained to study the image.

    "Why did You have to die?" pondered he, voice cracking and a
flipper raised to touch the warm marble. "You were the First One."
He pounded in anguish against the pedestal, as if doing so could
change what had happened. "The First One!"

    The White ArbyFish lowered and shook his head in somber
meditation, almost grieving.

    Almost.

    Bruce rubbed his flippers together. "I must discover why
He would choose to die. For what; for whom?" He glanced around,
all shifty-eyed and stuff.

...

To be continued...

This part was especially fun to put through the spell-checker. ^_^

Comments? Questions? Demands? Coup attempts?

-------------------------------
Benjamin A. Oliver
boredcollective@aol.com

    "We are the Bored. Lower your shields and surrender your fics.
     We will add your standup and slapstick comedy to our own.
     Your humor will adapt to entertain us.
     Resistance is and always has been: Futile."
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