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J. Jonah Jerkson
Fri May 27, 2005 at 12:39:33 am EDT
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The Baroness, Part 29: Tourism can be a bad thing
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The Baroness, Part 29
Tourism can be a bad thing

“I can’t believe we lost two and a half months of our lives!” Sally exclaimed.

“It wasn’t all a waste,” Elizabeth Zemo snapped. “We made a valuable discovery.”

“Which was?”

“Er, that the Skree Empire cheats on its new equipment warranties?”

“Like that’s a surprise?” Sally whined. “And while we were groping out there in nullspace (“You’d know all about groping,” the Baroness muttered), I missed the opening of Star Wars III. Lance was going to dress up in his clone trooper outfit for the midnight show, and then we were going to re-enact the pillage of Omicron V – at his condo.”

Star Wars. Now there were some villains, Elizabeth pondered. Even if none of them were women. Now if I were there –

“Aren’t you listening?” Sally interrupted.

“Well, at least I got us back here, even with time dilation. And I’m sure Lance – and Arthur – and Randy – and Dimitri – and Raheem –“

“All right, all right,” Sally pouted. “I know who I bonk. And I’ll probably be able to get most of them back. Although I should hurry; Raheem’s quite the playah.”

“Not so fast, Sally. Today’s the third Saturday in May. We’ve got the Parodiopolis Junior League House Tour coming in two hours.”

“Ack! I am NOT going to play tour guide to the likes of Agnes Wooster and Adele Jerkson. Why doesn’t Baron Otto do it? He’s just the type for those hags.”

“My grandfather, mercifully, has offered to show his half of the castle to any one of our dear guests who has a taste for the unspeakable. But don’t worry. All I want you to do is find Franz; he should have everything set. Then meet me upstairs in the big hot tub, and we’ll have a soak and a talk before you go off to do liplocks with Lance.”

An hour later Sally had left to restart her social life and Elizabeth was being dressed and made up by Liesl and Anna, the maids. Her thoughts, though, were centered a long time ago in a galaxy far, far away. Imagine what Palpatine could have done with a woman acolyte at his side. Instead of playing around with those stupid, phallic light sabers, I’d go straight for the mind control. I can just see it now . . . .

“Cue the trumpet-filled, martial, John Williams score.”

“Roll title.”


Once upon a time, in a galaxy far, far away . . . .


STAR WARS

PART THREE and ONE-HALF


REVENGE OF THE BETH


Senators and citizens of the Republic are shocked but elated at the death of Chancellor Palpatine, discovered by the young Jedi Anakin Skywalker to have a double role as the Republic’s archenemy, the Sith lord Darth Sidious. The Sith lord’s overtures to Skywalker were rejected by the young, ambitious Jedi at the last moment, and when Sidious was about to triumph over the council, Skywalker joined forces with his mentors and defeated the Sith lord’s use of the Dark Side of the Force. Because Sidious was so eager to recruit Skywalker as his new acolyte, and because there can be only a single Sith acolyte, the informed consensus is that the Sith danger is extinct. But, cocking his tiny head, the Jedi savant Yoda was heard to mumble, “There is another.”

“Wait a moment, Liesl. It’s too tight.”

Beth returned to her reverie.

In her palatial apartments in a suburb of the Galactic Republic’s capital, Senator Elizabeth Zemo turned the holovision in her sitting room off with a wave of her hand. Such male arrogance. Create a huge mess, then figure you’ll duel your way out of it with a light saber. They never learn; violence is the last resort of the incompetent. Well, now that Sidious has self-destructed, it’s time for the female line of the Sith to take over. Galaxy, meet Darth Beth.

“Your excellency,” Franz whispered, “your guests have arrived.”

Drat, just when I was about to make my first move toward galactic domination.

Nevertheless, Baroness Elizabeth Zemo von Saxe-Lurkburg-Schreckhausen, in an exquisite summer dress and a small but glittering tiara, proceeded down the grand staircase of Schloss Schreckhausen to meet the ladies of the Parodiopolis Junior League.

“Baroness, your Highness, yoo-hoo, here we are at last.” Adele Jerkson was going to leave no doubt who was in charge. Nearby, Agnes Wooster was standing rigidly near a stuffed antelope, with an expression on her face that either denoted extreme distaste or the recent consumption of a lemon or two. About 25 other women were accompanying them, having made a $1,500 contribution or more to the League’s fund drive.

“How nice to see you all,” the Baroness simpered, and welcome to Schloss Schreckhausen. I hope you’ll appreciate all that we are doing to make this example of Old World history a comfortable and appropriate neighbor for you.”

“The only thing that could make me comfortable about this fright show would be a couple of tons of gelignite – detonated,” Agnes Wooster quipped in a very audible stage whisper.

“Come with me, then, and we’ll tour the public rooms, and then we’ll have a little Gabelfrühstuck buffet before you go.” Eyes lit up and the buzz of conversation perked up as well. Frau Zuckerwolken’s reputation as a master pastry chef had leaked. Even Agnes Wooster’s face showed a trace of happy anticipation.

An hour and a half later, the tour had arrived at its end, a small, flower-filled courtyard with tables laden with the Baroness’s finest pastries, coffee, and juices. The ladies, exhausted from interminable staircases, rooms filled with shot and stuffed predators, and furniture, artwork and decor far more concerned with size and announcing the owner’s status than with comfort or aesthetics, were almost desperate to raid the buffet. They would follow Beth anywhere, so long as she went by the desserts.

So this is how liberty ends – not by war but with a pause – for refreshment, noted Elizabeth.

“Just a moment, ladies,” their hostess announced. Faint scowls were seen on most of the beleaguered faces of the guests. “As I mentioned, the other half of the castle is a restricted domain. However, for an additional contribution of $5,000, we will offer another hour’s tour through some of the more interesting portions. Your host will be my grandfather, His Excellency, Baron Ottokar Attila Kublai Tamerlane Zemo von Saxe-Lurkburg-Schreckhausen.”

“Good afternoon.” A frigid breeze seemed to blow through the group as the unalive Baron appeared in their midst. Even Adele Jerkson, who had thought she could brave anything that Parodiopolis could throw at her, quailed at the thought of accompanying the Baron.

“No takers? Good,” snapped the neo-necromantic Nazi. “Then I will take my leave.”

“Not so fast,” a steely voice came from the edge of the group. “I’m coming with you.”

“Agnes,” twittered Irene von Schlemmelmann, “are you sure that’s . . . wise?”

“I said I was going to get to the bottom of what’s going on in this cross between Castle Dracula and Sing Sing, and he’s not the man to keep me from it,” Agnes Wooster declared. “Especially because my spinless wimp of a son seems to be too afraid to try.”

“You have made the additional contribution, madame?” Baron Otto intoned. “Then it seems I am honor-bound to conduct you through my quarters. No harm will come to you – except any that you inflict upon yourself.” With a nod to his granddaughter, the jackbooted specter stepped forward, with Agnes right behind, toward a hidden doorway. Moments later, they were gone.

“Are you sure she’ll be all right?” Irene quavered.

“This way, everyone, for our modest repast,” Elizabeth countered, and the entire group crowded forward, Agnes Wooster completely forgotten.

-----

Seemingly unfazed by mold, rats, pools of what looked like congealing blood, and laboratories with more bubbling glassware and electric arcs than in three Frankenstein movies combined, Agnes Wooster continued interrogating the Baron.

“And you really expect me to believe that the man strapped up there is doing this voluntarily? And where do all those drains go? Into our sewers?”

“Unfortunately, the gag prevents him from speaking, but he did nod yes to your question, I think. And as for the drains, they go into our sewers, which we have our uses for. “

“And where is your license for medical experimentation, Herr Baron? Don’t you realize you are in America now?”

“Enough, meddling woman!” Baron Otto shouted, picking up a whip and cracking it to emphasize his frustration. Then he stopped, confused. Agnes Wooster was staring at him, bright-eyed, and whispering, “Could you do that again?”

The Baron obliged, somewhat closer to her head this time. “Was that satisfactory?”

Mrs. Wooster motioned him to come closer. Leaning toward her, he saw those bright eyes again. “Perhaps I can show you a bit more of our equipment,” he suggested.

“No, thank you,” replied Agnes, stepping into his arms. “Kiss me, you fool.”

[“Aaagh, blarrgh, retch, urrrrk,” came from the audience.].

“Peasants,” Baron Otto sneered, and proceeded with Agnes.

Playing the part of Baroness Elizabeth Zemo:

J. Jonah Jerkson
VOICE OF THE PEOPLE







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