Part 30

Our young hero gulped hard, sweat washing over his face like salty spring rain. Growing up, he had heard tales of the mystical Bowie castle, stories of children being taken away in the night to the lair and having eyeballs torn painfully from their sockets, only to be replaced by elegant and undoubtedly very expensive jewels. Stories of having your flesh stripped and re-upholstered with bizarre and vibrantly patterned animal pelts. Stories of martian arachnids eating your face, leaving behind only the shape of a lightning bolt. It was a god awful large affair.

Bo sighed, "It's like a labyrinth in here," looking around quizzically. No sooner did the words escape his sweaty, grease-stained lips than did a brilliant puff of rainbow-colored, glittery smoke fill the area directly in front of our travellers. Through it walked an androgynous, tanned snow-white, and fashionably-minded being with a hairstyle that obviously never got the memo that the 80's was over.

"Greetings" the figure bellowed, shaking the very foundation they all seemed to be standing on. He gazed upon Bo and K Jax with a discriminating air. His once solemn glare brightened, seeming pleased with what he saw and confirmed it with a gleeful "Oh, you pretty things! You must come in. How I do loooOooove having guests over!" A weary wave of relief cautiously washed over our heroes, and although Tom didn't consciously know it, he had wished something more substantial would wash Bo.

"M-Mr. Bowie.." began Bo, only to be interrupted, "Please, my boy, call me Ziggy, or Starry D. Mister Bowie is my dad's name. He was a knife. He split up with my mother, no pun intended. It's a miracle I'm even here today!" Bo was briefly disgusted by the implications this carried and secretly hoped that the whimsical man would not make any further attempts at punnery. As his mind was slowly congealing this thought, Ziggy gasped and flounced, "What do you mean you didn't like my pun? It seems my taste in puns is not so sweet. Very well, I'm just happy to have you here! Come, join me for some light snacks!" With snacks now on his mind, Bo vibrated happily.

Kangy and Bo followed their host through winding corridors made completely of what appeared to be cocaine-brick and mortar, up flights of stairs that clearly harboured no interest in obeying the laws of physics, through a room with two doors each manned by one of two identical and equally irritating guards, across an unimaginably large snowflake, and into Ziggy's living room, which was large and very-much forgotten by the 1970's. In fact, it was so much so that even the shag carpet was velour. 

"Now," exclaimed the oddity who very well may have been from space, "I understand that you fellows would like to be heroes, even if for just one day."

Part 29

“Bo” Said Tom Jones, shaking the overweight monk. “BO! Wake up! You must have taken too many vicodin! You fell asleep before I could finish my thought!”

“Wha…what?” Bo said groggily as he forced his eyes to open.  Everything was a bit blurry at first as his eyes slowly went into focus.

“You must have been having a bad dream about an all you can eat buffet that ran out of food, because..”

“What? What’s going on? Where are we?”  Bo looked down to see the box full of his ingredients now seeping through the sides of the box. “Wait…so we aren’t about to have our souls eaten by some cloaked figure with poor English”
“Boy…you are crazy like a shoe” Tom belted out in a sort of sing-songy black preacher man voice.  Bo looked at the singer puzzled, then remembered that Tom was about to reveal the secrets of the box.

“Kangaroo Jim! Tell me, what did the box show you!”

“Oh…right….thaaaaaaaat” Tom whispered ominously.  They sat there in silence as the now hungry Bo was staring at Tom, wishing for him to get on with his thought so they could have lunch. About thirty seconds later, Bo blurted out

“Tom! Will you just spill it! I’m famished!”

“Oh really? What’s new, pussy cat?”  Pleased with himself, Tom ripped open his shirt to expose his chest hair.  He opened his mouth to sing, but before he could even take a breath, Bo bellowed

“DAMN IT TOM! WE DON’T HAVE MUCH TIME!  Repeat to me what you were going to say before I passed out!”  Tom crept closely to the edge of the bed where Bo lay and said

“Your precious missing jar is inpossible to find without the help of David Bowie”

“Tom, I’m pretty sure it’s pronounced IMpossible”

“No no no, my dear boy.  INpossible.   This is David Bowie we’re talking about.  It’s inpossible with the help of Bowie”
“What” Bo snarled out “You just said it was impossible without his help!”

“No, I said INpossible.  With Bowie, everything seems possible, and nothing is what is seems!”
“I don’t even…whatever….can we just get some lunch and head out?”

The next day, they approached David Bowie’s castle.  It was covered in glitter with sharp towers that seemed to have no way in or out.
“Wait” Tom said, reaching into a bag. “You can’t enter The Bowie Kingdom without these”  He handed Bo a pair of tight leather pants and instructed them to put them on.  

A few minutes later, the pair of tight leather clad men were walking through the front door.  When Bo saw what lay before them he began to nervously sweat.  The two men were faced with a myriad of stair cases.  Some leading up, some leading down, some that had no real purpose at all.  The thing that baffled Bo the most were the stair cases that were upside down.  
“Well” Tom started “Where would you like to start?”

Pt. 28

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There was a moment of awkward silence as Bo spontaneously hit puberty.

"Well then... um...  maybe we should get a box for this..." Tom said, indicating to their untouched meal.

As the weary travelers headed onward, Bo began to sense an accumulating wave of foreboding in the air... something was going to happen.
"Kangaroo Jim, do you think we should stop somewhere for the night?" he asked.
"Little boy kitty, I do believe that's an excellent idea! Where to?" replied Tom.
"Well, I was thinking we could stop in at the local tourist bureau and see if anyone there could tell us about a nice bed and br--- GAAAAAAAA!!!!!!!"
Out of the blackness of night sprung a cloaked figure, and gripping Bo by the neck and Tom by the chest hair, swung them in a high arc into the back seat of a horse-drawn hearse. Springing into the drivers seat, the mysterious figure took up the reigns and sent the coach whizzing into the black abyss of a starless night.
" This sure is one owl of a pot pie!" cried Bo, as he clung to his newly rebooted gut for dear life.
"I'd say it is!" Chirped Tom Jones, "If ever two cats on a way to the races were to be glued to the windshield and ran out into the storm, this is it!"
"Eye-eye-eye-eye..." began the driver before Tom Jones cut in,
"...Knee! Oh boy, this is a fun game!"
"Eye say, where da bloody bang farting blowtorch'd you boys say yous come from?" asked the cloaked figure.
"You watch your language, mister!" Snapped Tom Jones.
"We're going to... er... Nantucket... to um... sail... boats... we're sailors," said Bo.
"Well den! Dat's a right bloody fluffy fish of a profession!" said the cloaked figure, making conversation.
"Listen here, mister Tutti Frutti," said Tom Jones, rising to his feet, then sitting back down when he found the crouching position he could assume less threatening than he had originally anticipated, "I'd like you to stop using language like that! It is offensive and rude and ads little or nothing to the efficiency of the point you are trying to express! If you do not comply, I may have to become cross with you!"
"W-w-w-w-w-ell don'tchew be a bone busting bag of barf! I taught chew was a bleedin sailor!"
"I like to maintain an air of professionalism in my conversation, so as to make up for the generally tarnished reputation of a my profession's dialect. GUMDROPS!!!!!!"
"Eye-eye-eye-eye-eye beg yer bleedin pardon?"
"What?"
"Why'd yewe just say bloody gumdrops to me?"
"I didn't."
"Yes you bleedin' did, Eye 'erd it wit me own ears!"
"Then your ears are full of leprechauns because I most definitely did not say..."
"Enough!" cut in Bo. "Sir, we do so appreciate the ride, but perhaps you could let us off in a bit. You see, my... matey... and I are... um... looking to batten down the hatches in a... um... land... galley..."
"Eeee, donchew worry 'bout dat, bloody 'elephant! Me and SHAAAAAAAAAAARRRRRRROOON, da missus, be fixin ya a right cozy cuppa before we SLAUGHTER YOU AND EAT YOUR SOULS... er... give yewe a nice bit a rest."
"Oooh! I'd like that!" said Tom Jones, who had found a catalog under the seat and was looking at pictures of standing mixers.