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8, vol 112 -- October 21, 2002

basket weaving 201: It's harvest time!
Mark Little & David Wilson McLeish, The Peak

'Twas the night of the harvest, and all through the motel, not a creature was stirring, not even Adèle. Buddy's clothes were strewn 'bout the room with care, and gumdrops and juub juubs were stuck in his hair. When all of a sudden there arose Sawchuck Latter, a biker who harvested organs and grey matter.

"On, Smasher, on Panzer, on Danzig and Jim! On Conner, on Dammit, on Fucker and Blitzkrieg. To the top of the bed - the one nearest the wall, and get those organs! Get them all!"

"I thought we were just gonna grab a kidney, boss."

"Yes. A kidney." Sawchuck laughed hysterically. Lolita stirred. Jim stabbed her with a syringe. Lolita faded in and out of sweet oblivion. Later, she would remember a bright light, and someone shouting, "Dash away! Dash away! Dash away all!" Buddy was awake the entire time, daydreaming of sugarplumbing. It was the sour key to his bitter plans.

Lolita woke up feeling cold. She was in a bathtub full of ice. A note was taped to the wall in front of her, saying, "We have your kidney. You need to get to a hospital in the next 24 hours, or you will die. Best regards, the biker gang. P.S. if you want it back, you can compete for it on the black market like everyone else. NO FAVOURS!" Lolita jumped out of the tub, clutching her side. She ran into the bedroom and grabbed Buddy.

"YAAAAUGH!" replied Buddy. "Er, I mean, hey what's up?"

"Someone's harvested my organ!" Lolita's face turned ghostly white, and she collapsed to the ground. Buddy tried to grab her, but missed.

"Stupid hands!" He noticed the blood spurting out of her side. "THAT'S AN ORGAN?!" Buddy ran and grabbed his medical dictionary for dummies. He flipped wildly through it until he came upon the page he sought. "FINGER! I MEANT FINGER!"

Wayne and Lance sauntered into the room. They had been awoken by the screams, but had failed to react appropriately. They now beheld an unconscious Lolita lying in her own blood, and Buddy rocking back and forth next to her in the fetal position.

"Man this jiggy is dope un-fly!" It was too early for Lance to remove himself entirely from his dream-world. Wayne began to whimper.

"Buddy? What's going on? What happened? Buddy? Lolita? Buddy? Lolita? Buddy? Lo -" Lance hit him in the back of the head with a chair.

"Ain't no thyme fo quittaz, bizza!" Lance muttered, as Wayne collapsed. Buddy opened his mouth to scream, but deafening silence came out instead.

"Man! That silence is DEPH!" Without breaking character, Lance grabbed all three of the bodies like firewood and jived them out to his mob-ill. The bodies? He piled them into the trunk. The medical dictionary? He stashed that shit in the glove compartment. His bad self? He got behind the wheel, turned the key, pressed on the gas, and got the fuck outta there. (The preceding paragraph should be read in the voice of Samuel L. Jackson).

The car moved with speed toward the hospital. The travellers had all awoken, and had taken up proper seats in the car. How did they get out of the trunk? Mystery is half the battle...for life!

"Why did you hit me with a chair?" Wayne asked meekly. He was so very afraid of Lance right now. Lance, however, had no recollection of the event. He was back to his old, cheerful self.

"No time for that! Bees!" Lance pointed to a swarm of "black n' yellas" buzzing around a bloody mass on the side of the highway. He slowed to get a closer look. Buddy's mouth fell open, as he saw that all of the victims had leather jackets and motorcycles. Lolita recognized Sawchuck Latter among the corpses. She touched Lance on the shoulder, and he inexplicably stopped the car. She then got out, and walked through the fray.

"Lolita! What are you doing?" Buddy cried. He was certain the murderous bees would attack her, but they parted as she neared.

"My organ," she said softly. "It's near." The gang watched as the bees turned their attention from the fallen bikers to the car. The bees reassembled into the shape of a giant man with flowing hair and a robe. The bee-man lumbered toward the passengers, who huddled in fear.

"It's Bee Jesus!" Lance whispered urgently. Wayne giggled, then shivered. Lance was right.

What will happen next week? Find out next week, in Basket Weaving 201: Adventures in NEXT WEEK! (And who is Adèle? NEXT WEEK!)

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