Tuesday, October 20, 2009

Czar d'Oz Episode V: Vegas

by Smitty

Start with the Czar d'Oz Announcement

Synopsis: In the year 2112, the characters retreated to a basement shelter to weather a monster tornado. Making an early trip to the local seat of government, they uncovered information pertaining to an experimental time machine located in Seattle. Making good their escape in the experimental TOTO vehicle, they have made it to the territory of the Southwest Czar. They've survived an encounter with two surreal characters en route Las Vegas.

"Look, they're lying."

[In the office of the Assistant Dean for Advanced Progressive Liberal Diversity Studies at UNLV. A desk, a bored secretary at stage center right, with Julius, Zeda, Martin and Peter at stage right. A wall divides the stage in two, with Assistant Dean Wentworth in a chair, picking his nose.]

Julius: Hello, I'm Julius Crowe, from Patrick Daley Obama University in Topeka. I'm wondering if Dean Wentworth has a moment to spare?

Secretary: [Nasal voice] I'm afraid he's occupied.

Julius: I should mention that I'm an article referee for the Journal of Hope and Change, and I have some questions for Dean Wentworth regarding a special issue we're preparing to support the election this Fall.

Secretary: [Nasal voice] I'm afraid he's digging in deep on his current task.

Julius: [Sighing] Oh, and another topic at hand is a research grant proposal from the Flyover Czar to inquire about the "Effects of the Crash of 2047 on the Racial Fairness of Gaming Rights in Southern Nevada," emphasizing of course the terrible plight of the several hundred Uighur poker dealers who migrated to Topeka.

Secretary: [Nasal voice] Oh, well, let me see if he has a moment, then. [Addressing an intercom] Dean Wentworth, sorry to bother you, but a Julius Crowe is here to see you.

"How, exactly…"

[Julius enters the office at stage left, leaving the other three with the secretary.]

Julius: Zoggie, old boy: your secretary is new and rather difficult to get 'round.

Wentworth: Oh, well, you know how it has gone. Working diligently to expand the field. The problematic nature of the cultivation of understanding amongst these Eternals, and worse still, the Czars. The academy is so little respected! Would you care for some tea, old chap?

Julius: I'm afraid I left some fellow-travelers to the mercy of your secretary. There has been a bit of a road trip, as a result of the recent weather in flyover country, you see.

Wentworth: Oh, dear. I'm afraid I haven't got any convenient visiting professorships to offer, though, come to think of it, the Inter-species Mating Rights and Habits Studies may have a…heh…opening. Sorry.

Julius: Well, I wasn't really out for a job so much as a bit of parking and some directions to where the Southwest Czar might be found.

Wentworth: Is that all? How am I to place you eternally in my debt if you don't take any liberties? I still owe you deeply for saving my skin back during the--

Julius: I'll hear no more of that talk. Though, if there is a visiting professor bungalow I could mooch for a day or two, as a base of operations.

Wentworth: Sure. Here are the keys. The address is…

"…I'm not sure."

[In the Great Hall of Czar's Palace, the casino floor has been emptied and replaced with a vast garden of plants that grow tall from halogen lighting. A dais is at stage left, with a few craps tables in front of it. Then the garden begins. Peter, Zeda, Martin, and Julius enter at stage right and advance, looking around, toward the dais. Czar Carlos ("Jefe") Schwarzenegger IV sits on a throne in a Miami Vice suit.]

Peter: Greetings, Czar Schwarzenegger!

Jefe: Please, call me Jefe. Formality is crap.

Peter: Fair enough. We're come from the territory of the Flyover Czar, as a result of the wreckage of that tornado, as you know. When it became obvious that other players in Topeka were going to have the upper hand on us, we thought we could add the most value to the country and our own well-being if we found somebody who could appreciate something possibly helpful.

Jefe: Go on.

Peter: As it turns out, there was a son of Czar d'Oz exiled to Topeka. The damage to his office uncovered certain information that, played properly at the New Chicago Vortex, cold hurt both the Flyover Czar and Czar d'Oz, conveniently in time for the election in November.
We request your aid in travelling to Seattle, were we might link up with the Environmental Czar, Phelandria Garofalo-Maddow, the infamous "Phlegm", to start a disinformation campaign that will weaken both of them, thereby strengthening you.

Jefe: No, I will not ally with any Eternals 'reproducing' by unspeakable means. But some aspects of your idea do not suck completely. The story that will accidentally leak is that you're travelling up I-5 to sneak into Seattle and discredit old d'Oz. You're disguised, albeit ineptly as union muscle sent to Southern Oregon to help with the election.

Meanwhile, you and your fellows get down to San Diego, where one of my 3rd Fleet ships will take you and your gear for a ride up the coast. That will save you time and hassle. Who would be good for this job? Oh, Captain Horatio Frothinghampton on USS Alinsky will likely be just the man and ship for the job. When you get to Seattle, I'll need to have you track down a certain Barry Cuda at a bar called the Mohican in Pioneer Square, who will help you get in touch with the Pacific Rim Czar. PRC is far more sympathetic to my cause than Phlegm.

Come back here tomorrow at nine o'clock for the orders to take with you. None of this is handled electronically, you understand? The wires cause fires.

Peter: We are in your debt, Jefe.

"This entire plan…"

[The four leave. An aide comes to the dais.]

Jefe: Look, they're lying. How, exactly, I'm not sure. This entire plan is bollocks. But it's low-risk, high-gain bollocks. If they survive the journey, i.e. if Frothinghampton doesn't find them out and give them a swimming lesson, then we'll see if "Barry Cuda" Kleindrubble can use them. Or PRC.

Aide: Very good, Jefe.

Next Episode: Sandog.

Copyright 2009, Christopher L. Smith

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