The brilliant scientist, Portage McPeeve, does not want to take over the world.
He’s discovered a way to travel the stars, using them as gateways into other realities. With his Gateway Manipulator, he hopes to rule all the worlds of the multi-verse with an iron fist. However, when his beloved kitten becomes lost through the machine, he does not hesitate to cast plans for multi-world domination aside; instead, he follows her through the cosmos – encountering zombies, higher education for Supers, Greek gods, and killer ninjas along the way.
Will Portage find Mrs. Bumblefrost before it’s too late?
The scientist, Doctor Portage McPeeve, made the final adjustments on the machine, and the glowing sphere crackled once more to life. “Ready?” he asked his minion.
Snap Decision dutifully nodded her head, her glasses reflecting electric fire.
Soon the sphere stabilized to a round orb that shone softly against the laboratory’s fluorescent lighting. The link between worlds had been established. Peering through the portal, they gazed into another world.
The black clad warriors sized each other up, appraising strengths and weaknesses. The war between their clans had lasted centuries, generation upon generation brought up in mutual hate and detestation. However, a code of honor bound them both. Years of dedication, of training in deadly martial arts, of schooling in the ways of the warrior, had led them all to this moment.
Both sides knew they would be victorious, secure in the knowledge of their own moral superiority.
Slowly, the warriors drew their weapons; flaming silver flashed in the narrow beams of sunlight that streamed into the alley’s narrow opening. The small black kitten by the dumpster paused from licking its white paws to study the bright lights with interest.
The largest of the warriors by the alley’s entrance ceased baring her teeth at her foes, strolled over, picked up the small kitten, and deposited the animal inside a nearby crate. She pushed it to a place of relative safety behind the dumpster. She returned to her compatriots and resumed posturing.
“Just like a Spermacetti,” sneered her foes on the opposite side of the alley. “Falling over themselves over inconsequential lifeforms.” Though their mannerisms and attire were similar, the Ambergris clan could not have considered themselves more different.
“And just like an Ambergrisian,” retorted the leader of the Spermacetti ninjas, “to ignore the intrinsic value of all living things, no matter the size.” She smiled, but it was hard to see through the black material covering her face. All that was discernible was the tightening of the material over her cheeks and the crinkling around her eyes. “Now, die like the fiends you are!”
The Spermacetti clan surged forward like a great wave, swords flashing like fire in the intermittant darkness of the alley. The Amergrisians rushed to meet their enemies in a mighty clash of steel, blood, and cold, hard hatred.
None noticed the thin, awkward man with the runaway hair creeping behind the dumpsters that lined the brick and mortared wall of the alley. He had removed his white lab coat, revealing the darker clothing he wore beneath: a sweater knitted for him by his assistant the previous Christmas, dark brown dockers that he had been told matched his eyes (by that same assistant), and a set of worn loafers that splashed inconveniently in the puddles that filled every pothole he stepped in. He winced at each splash, but luckily for him both clans were occupied with killing each other.
When he made it to the dumpster, he heaved an enormous sigh of relief. Bending down behind the large metal bin, he lifted the crate, looked inside, and then dropped the container with a sound of such forelorn wretchedness that the battling killers paused in their massacre. After noting the stranger, his attire, and his expression, they went back to killing each other.
His appearance may have been a mystery, but they had bigger fish to fry.
Soon the heart-broken scientist – had any of the assassins cared to look – could be seen turning up debris, examining the underside of the enormous metal tins, and even looking through crumbling holes in the brick wall lining the alley. With an exasperated sigh, he turned and disappeared.
The ninjas continued their battle, and the spirits of dead warriors soon filled the alley like a sword filled a scabbard.
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**Look for the next exciting installment of Pinholes next Tuesday, same cat-time, same cat-channel… uh, blog. I mean, blog.