Cineverse - Bride Of The Slime Monster Part 17

The man's voice boomed again as he waved his cigar. It was the Plotmaster in silhouette, backlit as usual, so that Roger couldn't make out any of the finer details of the man's appearance. Somewhere, faintly, in the distance, Roger could hear a heavenly chorus-a Mormon Tabernacle Choir sort of sound.

Roger could still tell the Plotmaster was studying him critically.

NOT SURPRISED AT ALL.

the Plotmaster said at last, then took a puff on his cigar. Blue smoke curled upwards, encircling the all-nun band who marched upside-down above his head. The choir music was lost for a moment beneath the clatter of drums and the tooting of flutes.SO YOU DO REMEMBER ME?

AND YOU'VE ACCURATELY IDENTIFIED YOUR SURROUNDINGS!.

Oh, dear, Roger thought. He wasn't supposed to remember this fellow, was he? He hoped the Plotmaster didn't hold a grudge. Now that Roger considered it, the dark sil- houette of a man smoking a cigar could appear rather threatening.

"I'm afraid I do-remember you, that is," Roger replied softly. "Is this a problem?"

But the Plotmaster laughed.

PROBLEM?.

I LIKE TO THINK OF IT MORE AS A PLOT COMPLICATION.

AND, HEY!.

I LIKE TO USE PLOT COMPLICATIONS.

THEY DON'T CALL ME THE PLOTMASTER FOR NOTHING, b.o.o.bALA!.

Roger guessed he should be relieved. But this was all so strange- The Plotmaster snapped his fingers.

OF COURSE, I COULD CANCEL YOUR CONTRACT JUST LIKE THAT!.

Snap...

Snap...

Snap...

Snap...

Snap...

There was that echo again. Cancel his contract? Did that mean what Roger thought it meant?

The Plotmaster pointed his cigar at Roger. The ember on the stogie's end burned blue.

I'M THE BIG GUY AROUND HERE.

NEVER FORGET THAT.

AND IF ANYBODY EVER CROSSES ME,.

I CAN BE RUTHLESS!.

His booming declaration completed, the Plotmaster waved his cigar more casually, chuckling softly, as if he were making a joke with an old friend.

BUT, HEY!.

YOU REMEMBER ME,.

YOU'RE CURIOUS ABOUT ME.

SO YOU WANT TO ASK A QUESTION OR TWO?.

His voice lost its chuckle for an instant as he added: NOTHING TOO PERSONAL, NOW.

The Plotmaster laughed jovially, as if he and Roger were indeed best buddies. For some reason, Roger thought once again about what it might mean to have your contract cancelled.

The Plotmaster paused, waiting. The angelic choir sang expectantly.

Well, apparently, the big man wanted Roger to ask questions. And, in his time in the Cineverse, Roger had indeed come up with a few questions.

But being in front of the Plotmaster seemed to call for more than casual conversation.

There must be some question that Roger should ask first. What was really his biggest concern in all the Cineverse? There was the search for Captain Crusader, concern for his friends-but, really, overriding everything else was the woman who had led Roger into this quest.

That, then, would have to be his first question. "Urn," Roger began, "about Delores-" But the Plotmaster had already started to speak again, as if he had forgotten he'd ever asked Roger to pose a question.

YOU'RE PROBABLY WONDERING WHY I ASKED YOU HERE TODAY?.

The Plotmaster waved his cigar like a baton, conducting a silent and invisible orchestra, or maybe a very distant chorus.

ROGER, SWEETIE, BABY!.

POINT ONE: YOU REMEMBER ME.

POINT TWO: YOU'LL LEARN YOUR WAY AROUND THE CINEVERSE.

DO I NEED TO SPELL IT OUT FOR YOU?.

IT'S A WINNING COMBINATION. I'M EXPECTING BIG THINGS OF YOU,.

ROGER!.

What? Roger thought. He was even more confused than back when Delores used to try to explain the Cineverse. Why was he-Roger Gordon of Earth-some kind of winning combination? And, for that matter, he still hadn't asked the Plotmaster about Delores!

The Plotmaster coughed before Roger could think to frame another question.

THERE WAS SOMETHING ELSE, WASN'T THERE?.

the Plotmaster asked rhetorically. His hand reached down to a table that Roger would have sworn hadn't been there a moment before.

OF COURSE!.

SILLY OF ME.

I WANTED TO REMIND YOU ABOUT THIS PART IN THE SCRIPT.

THIS VERY DIFFICULT PART-.

He picked up what looked like a thick, bound ma.n.u.script.

A script? About Roger? And everybody else, too, probably-including Delores!

Roger was astonished. The implications of this were enormous!The Plotmaster flipped quickly through the pages.

WHERE WAS IT?.

I HAD IT A MINUTE AGO.

I'M SURE IT WAS IMPORTANT-SOMETHING ABOUT-LIFE AND DEATH.

He nodded as he finally found his place.

AH-.

He looked up as an insistent trilling sounded all around him.

NOW?.

WOULDN'T YOU KNOW IT?.

WE'RE JUST GETTING TO KNOW EACH OTHER AND THE PHONE RINGS.

WELL, ROGER, YOU AND ME, WE'RE BOTH BUSY MEN, HUH?.

I HATE TO RUSH YOU, BUT YOU KNOW-IMPORTANT CALLS?.

Important calls? Roger thought. But the Plotmaster had been talking about life and death!

WHEN YOU'RE THE PLOTMASTER,.

YOU CAN REALLY HAVE YOUR HANDS FULL,.

LET ME TELL YOU!.

The Plotmaster snapped his fingers again, with the usual echo accompaniment. The angelic choir broke off mid-note. He waved to Roger as he picked up the phone.

LET'S GET TOGETHER AGAIN, SOMETIME SOON!.

YOU KNOW I'M COUNTING ON YOU, b.o.o.bALA!.

The Plotmaster puffed again, and was surrounded by blue smoke.

But the Plotmaster hadn't told Roger anything! This was not just a dream sequence, Roger realized; it was an anxiety dream sequence!

Roger wasn't going to let this happen. He couldn't let the Plotmaster go before he knew more. "But-" Roger called.

"But-"

"But-"

"But-"

"But-"

"But-"

And the echo faded away.

Roger opened his eyes. He was back in the hovel by the lake. He felt hands around his throat as he was once again dragged to his feet. A madwoman stared him in the face.The dream was over.

"Minsky mensky b.o.o.bala!" Liv yelled at Roger, every word bursting with hatred.

Roger once again looked at the subt.i.tle.

I HAVE THOUGHT ABOUT THIS FOR A LONG TIME.

"Minsky mensky b.o.o.bala!" she added. Hadn't she just said that? But the subt.i.tle was different.

WHAT I WOULD DO WHEN YOU CAME BACK TO ME.

Life and death, the Plotmaster had said. Was this the very situation the man with the blue-smoke cigar had wanted to warn him about?

Liv leaned over him. Her breath smelled like she had been eating rotting rodents.

"Mensky minsky granola puffenstuff!"

HOW I COULD MAKE YOU SUFFER THE WAY I DID.

She grabbed him by the back of the neck and pulled him towards her. Roger's first thought was how strong women's hands were in this foreign art film. He thought then for an instant about trying to say something to her again. The word "piglet" came floating into his consciousness. This, when combined with the continuing pain in both his throat and kneecap convinced him that, for now, silence was the best policy.

"Rottentotten nets!"

DEATH IS NOT ENOUGH.

She wasn't going to kill him? Maybe this wasn't the Plotmaster's warning. Roger allowed himself the slightest bit of hope. Maybe his silence was working after all.

"Minsky mensky somethingorother!" she added.