Here’s the final chapter of King of Earth and Moon. Thanks to everyone who has hung on; I never dreamed it would take me nearly a year to finish this thing. When I started doing this my wife wasn’t pregnant. Now, we have a two-month old daughter. Where does the time go?
The song at the end is the original Moon Masters theme by Mike.
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One more chapter left. Thanks for listening!
If you hear a baby crying in the background, you’ll understand why this episode is so late. Two more chapters left!
Apologies for the delays. I decided to go ahead and record, even though conditions weren’t perfect. I’ll try to knock out the rest of the episodes in the next couple of weeks.
After this one, three chapters remain.
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Many people thought space was, like, totally empty. The Kid knew otherwise. He’d watched the Discovery Channel enough to know that even in the remotest parts of space, there were some particles shooting around. Spssh, like, even if no particles happened to come into an area, there was still the whole quantum thing. The Kid had yet to wrap his mind around quantum, but whenever the Kid did something, he pretty much just did it until he mastered it. With quantum, there were fluctuations that caused particles and antiparticles to appear and then annihilate each other. The universe was totally crazy.
The Kid thought about sharing some of this knowledge with Eri, but decided instead to focus on not being sick. Eating before being shot into space was totally a stupid idea.
Through the porthole, the Kid could see clouds and blue sky.
Eri looked over at him. “You okay?”
“Spssh, like, yeah.”
“You know, this isn’t like going to space in a rocket. They burn fuel, so there’s a constant acceleration. For us, it’s more like throwing a baseball into space. The acceleration at first is really strong, but then there’s no force acting on us, just gravity trying to pull us down. So, our launch was rougher than a rocket launch, but at least we don’t have a constant force pushing us back.”
“Like, why do you work at a convenience store?”
There was something about Nanako the madam that Mick Aloha liked. She was old—if he had to guess, he’d say she was pushing 50—but there was something hot and dirty about her, something that made Aloha want to please her.
“No, ma’am, I’ve never danced on the moon. I’m not a dancer; I’m more of a fighter. I’ve also never been to the moon. I’ve never been off the planet, really, and I’ve only flown in airplanes a few times. I’ve always thought, though, that if I had me a pair of rocket boots and one of those hats that dispenses Coca-Cola, then I could go anywhere in the universe.”
Dowell hated Aloha’s driving. Even in the most normal, calm situations, Aloha drove like someone was chasing him. When someone was chasing him—which was the current situation—he drove even worse. Dowell wondered if Aloha was even looking at the road. He wondered if Aloha feared death, or even understood it enough to fear it.
All of the limo’s windows were broken. A cold, hard wind slapped Dowell in the face as they moved down the dark roads.
A cyborg came through a broken window and grabbed Dowell by the neck. Dowell punched the thing in the ear, gave it a knee to the face, and pushed it out. This whole situation sucked, but at least Dowell had become tougher. Soon, he would have hair on his chest. Then, he’d be a real man.
James was slapping cyborgs like he was their pimp. There was something psychotic to James, something that made him shine in situations like this.
Like, spshhh, like, what do you mean? Spsshh, like, the Kid, like had turned his head, but he could, like, totally see what was happening. Like, like, like, like, like, like, spsshh. What do you mean what do you mean what do you mean?
The Kid could totally see what was happening in a reflection in a dead monitor. Spsshh, Eri was totally, like, you wouldn’t believe it. Like, no one would believe what she was doing. Spsshh, ever since he’d found James in her apartment, he’d known she was dirty, but until this moment, watching her do what she was doing, he’d really known nothing about her. She would do anything to save the world.
The perv was totally into into, and he was singing like a bird. He was singing in Japanese, so the Kid could understand none of it, but he had little doubt that she was successful.
When gods got angry, bad things started to happen. Aloha was privy to mythology. He knew all about the Greek, Roman, and Norse gods. He also read up on religion, so he was privy to most world religions. Aloha knew the Old Testament God got angry and turned people into salt. He liked that. He liked that a lot, dude. Aloha would have to look into that, although he assumed he would need a machine to turn people into salt, since after years of trying he’d yet to pull off a successful salt conversion. The wrath of Aloha was growing. Things were going to change. Some fries with salt were sounding pretty good.
He was hoping that omnipresence would kick in soon. Aloha was privy to omnipresence, and he knew how he’d use it; he’d totally peek in on hot girls. Wait, totally was the Kid’s word. Damn it, what was wrong? Was being a god making Aloha insane?
They stepped out onto the dark street. James was holding a kitchen knife. Aloha doubted it would be effective against cyborgs, but it probably made James feel safer, so he didn’t say anything.
The nerd was holding a device that looked like it had fallen out of a bad sci-fi movie. No one had bothered to ask what it was; Aloha doubted it even did anything. It was probably just a prop from…wait for it….some bad sci-fi movie.
What the nationalist perverts didn’t know, and what would probably lead to their downfall, was that the Kid was privy to being shocked. Damn it, that was Aloha’s word. Anyway, Aloha had shocked the Kid enough times for him to develop a resistance to it. Like, spsshh, it still hurt, of course, but it hadn’t knocked him out. One of the pervs had taken over the speech. That gave the Kid some time to work on the ropes.
Like, the Kid was privy to being tied up, too. Pretty much, after sharing an apartment with Aloha, the Kid was privy to any kind of attack. More often than not, when he came home Aloha would attack him. It was funny at best and annoying at worst; Aloha had never hurt him. But, Aloha had taught the Kid to be ready for anything. One night, the Kid had opened the apartment door and been kicked in the face by the Big Boot. The apartment had spun around him as Aloha had tied him to the sofa and fired up a circular saw. The Kid had escaped with little problem, working his way out of the ropes out of necessity, so he thought he was ready.
When Apocalypse Dowell was hungry, it made him crazy. It happened a lot, especially on airplanes and at weddings. He wondered how people who were poor and had little to eat managed to remain sane. A headache was starting to grow in the back of his head; being around Aloha was making it worse.
James returned to the futon. “There’s a robot at the door. Says it wants Mick Aloha.”
Aloha shook his head. “I’m privy to robots knocking at my door, dude. As soon as I answer it, that thing will attack me. I’m privy to robot attacks, too, so it won’t be a problem, but I’m kind of tired, it’s getting late, and I wouldn’t mind getting me some sleep. Is there anything to eat around here?”
“Yeah, we might have some crackers, but we’ll have to share. I’m starving.”
“You can have the crackers, Dowell. That’s hippy food.”
The doorbell rang again.
Dowell walked around the junkpile and to the door, where the viewscreen showed a messenger robot hovering on the other side of the door. Dowell opened the door.
The messenger robot hovered in the doorway. Dowell motioned for it to follow him.
When Aloha saw the robot behind Dowell, he jumped to his feet and took a karate pose. “It all makes sense now, Dowell. You’re the one behind all of this. Yes, this makes total sense. The hero—that’s me—living with the villain—that’s you—in the same apartment.”
On a dark street in Kyoto, Aloha checked under the van. There were five dead cyborgs; that had to be a new record. There were no dead ninjas, though. That was good. He was still hoping to make it with at least one of them, if not both, and killing them would hurt his odds.
“Where’d you go, ladies?”
A voice came from the distance. “Ne, you tried to kill us.”
Aloha laughed. “If I wanted to kill you, you’d be dead. That’s how I do things. I knew the two of you would be…wait, is the other one okay?”
“Okay desu!”
“Glad to hear that, Ninja K. I knew you’d both be fine, since you’re both ninjas. I knew you’d jump out of the way.”
“Ne, you almost killed us.”
“Almost, but not quite. Anyway, how can you say I almost killed you? Almost for most people is like not even close for ninjas. Now, come on out and check out the signal in the sky.”
There were swooshing sounds, and then Aloha could see the girls approaching him on the street. They sure were ninjas.
Aloha pointed at the beam of light and the shape in the clouds.
“Ne, what’s that shape? A worm?”
“No, madam, it’s not a worm. It’s a snake. It’s a king cobra.”
This was easily the best run of the Kid’s life. Like, no one would believe how fast he was running. He was running from the cyborg, which made him run faster than usual. Maybe that was the trick. Maybe every time he ran, he should try to get a cyborg to chase him. Then, he’d be in great shape. Like, he totally couldn’t wait to tell Tony and Rick about his run. They’d be stoked and amped to hear about it. They might even throw him a party.
The Kid thought about just running to the airport. He’d had enough of Japan and fighting robots. He knew the planes were no longer flying, though, and he knew he’d have to identify himself at the airport. Folks weren’t taking too kindly to foreigners around here, so the Kid would have to bide his time. He’d have to let himself stew. Wait, that was Aloha’s word. When you started picking up vocabulary from Aloha, then you knew you were in trouble.
WARNING! This episode contains innuendo and a few words that are not work/kid-safe.
Apologies to Lord Kaosu.
Apocalypse Dowell was sick of Japanese TV. It was all the same. They ran variety shows where pseudo-celebrities talked about boring crap. Almost every show had some mention of food. It was so boring, Dowell had found himself just staring at the wall instead of watching. In a time of robot invasions, they were still running the same TV shows. Maybe they thought a change in programming would bring on panic.
James and the Kid sat beside him on the futon. He was sick of them, too. The Kid just talked about Tony, Rick, surfing, and his Visa bill. James talked about his Camaro and chicks. Dowell was starting to understand the meaning of cabin fever. He thought it might be best to just go out and get killed; at least it would give him some relief.
The apartment door opened. Eri, the nerd, and the taxi driver stepped inside. The taxi driver had a deep gash on his right arm; Dowell thought it needed stitches, but then again, he could never tell when cuts needed stitches, so maybe it didn’t.
Eri had a small cut on her face.
The nerd had two black eyes.
They came in, pushed aside some junk, and sat on the floor.
Dowell turned off the TV. “Well, how’d it go?”
The taxi driver held out his right arm. “Cut.”
“Yeah, I can see that.”
The taxi driver nodded. “Maybe finished. Early in day, saw many cyborg. Last few hours, no cyborg. Maybe all are dead.”
The nerd nodded, although Dowell doubted the nerd had understood any of the taxi driver’s English.
James slapped the nerd on the shoulder. “What happened to your eyes, man? You look like a raccoon.”
Google doc of the text so far.
Mick Aloha had been a messiah for only a week, but already he felt he was an expert at it. All you had to do was say things, and everyone interpreted them and thought they were really important. Already his followers, the former kappa followers, were writing a Gospel of Mick Aloha. Some of the zingers found in it so far were Do as you do and I can’t promise that it will get better, but it will get better. They were writing it both in the original English and in Japanese. Aloha hoped his brilliance would come through in the translation.
All hell had broken loose since Aloha had become a messiah; that was when messiahs were most useful. It had started with robots that looked like ghosts. Those were easy enough to deal with: just kick their heads off. It had taken less than a day to clear the country of those robots, at least that was what his followers had told him the news had reported. The same thing had happened all over the world.
The next wave, though, was tougher. They were cyborgs. Aloha, maybe more than any other human, was privy to cyborgs. He’d seen that Jean-Claude Van Damme movie at least eight times, maybe more, and in the seventh grade, instead of doing his boring school work, he’d drawn cyborgs. He had no art skills—maybe the only area in which he was lacking—but the drawings had been accurate. He’d spent hours going over the logistics of having human and mechanical parts mixed together. Messiahs came along at the right time with the right knowledge, and Aloha knew this was his time.
The cyborgs looked like someone Aloha had once met, but he was still trying to remember who that was. They all looked exactly the same. They all fought exactly the same, too; like maniacs.
Google doc of the text so far.
The Kid was totally stoked. He and James had taken out at least a dozen robots, if not more. The situation was more serious than the Kid had guessed, though; on the streets, as James had pushed the Camaro through the early morning traffic, they’d spotted several corpses. The Kid had never seen a corpse before, so it kind of freaked him out, but when the Kid did something for the first time, he liked to pretty much master it, so now he considered himself a master of seeing corpses. Nothing could gross him out now.
Dowell and the other guy were approaching. The Kid thought he probably looked pretty tough, leaning against the Camaro with his tattoos exposed. The Kid was more of a Volkswagen man than a Camaro man, but he had to admit that the Camaro had handled well, and they’d taken out more robots than they could have in a VW. The Kid was stoked.
Google doc of the text so far.
For a group with such a high-tech headquarters, Dowell had trouble understanding why they were low-tech when it came to transportation. He’d expected a rocket to shoot them out of the river and into northern Osaka, where the Kuchi Sakeh Onna was on the move. Instead, they had just come back up through the river and run back to the taxi. The same woman was driving them. Their clothes were soaked with river water. Dowell thought they might want to focus less on computers and monitors and more on a way to get into and out of the facility without swimming.
Dowell turned to the taxi driver, whose face alternated between dark shadows and the bright colors of the neon signs they were passing on the street outside. “What’s the plan?”
“Catch her.”
“But, doesn’t she kill people?”
“Yes, sometimes.”
“So, isn’t it dangerous?”
The taxi driver smiled. “Anything worth doing is dangerous.”
Google doc of the text so far.
For years, Mick Aloha had been talking about writing a messiah story. Aloha was better at talking about ideas than he was at actually following through on them, so his messiah story, solid as it was, remained in the back of his mind. As he sat on the bottom of the river, unable to breathe as he had yet to develop the ability to breathe water, he wondered if this was his messiah story. Was he going to die? Was he going to come back to life? Was he going to save the world?
Aloha thought, for a moment, that it was true, that he should just give up, take in a big breath of water, and drown on the river bottom. Coming back to life and saving the world was better than just swimming out of the river. There was some logic in him, something he’d never before felt, that told him he had to move, he had to breathe air. That sounded like Dowell-talk, but there was not time for Aloha to contemplate how much he hated his arch enemy. There was only time for him to save the life of his favorite person. Himself.
Aloha tried again to free his hands, but they were tied too tightly. He kicked with his feet and came to the surface, where he took in a gulp of air. The air went down smooth. He sank again to the bottom.
Pain shot from the center of his belly to the right side. He gritted his teeth against the pain.
Google doc of the text so far.
The Kid was just, like, totally standing there, staring at the guy in Eri’s doorway. The guy’s hair was long and blonde, but more of a tough, dirty blonde, not a Hanson blonde. He was wearing a wife-beater and both of his arms were sleeved out with tattoos. It was good work—some of the best the Kid had ever seen—and the way the tattoos related, the way they almost told a story, was cool. The Kid was totally into the guy’s tattoos, in a big way.
“You just going to stare at me, man?”
“Spssshh, like, I might. Where’d you get your work done?”
The guy scratched his nose. “Work?”
“Like, your tattoos.”
Google doc of the text so far.
The sirens grew fainter. The taxi driver dropped from a run to a fast walk. Apocalypse Dowell followed close behind.
Dowell thought about just running away. The taxi driver seemed like a good guy, and he’d taken out all of those robots, but Dowell needed to move on. He needed to find Aloha and the Kid and then find the Witch Doctor. Following the taxi driver would just delay him.
“Where are we going?”
“Too many question.”
“That was my first question.”
