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It was a dark and stormy. night. Unless one looked. closely, one could swear that the trees were actually moving. But if one did stop to look closely, one could see the figures moving furtively in the shadows between the trees in the graveyard. Quietly and cautiously they drew up to where a number of newer graves had been dug less than a fortnight before. Silently they broke out shovels and began to dig........

The road to the castle was difficult: strewn with boulders and rife with large potholes that threatened to engulf or demolish any vehicle foolish enough to make the climb. A typical mountain road, it switchbacked crazily up the sidé of the mountain, each side alternating between sheer air and jutting outcrops of monolithic size. The station wagon full of hardy O.P.’ers climbing the road, while possibly not suicidal, could definitely have been classified as crazy. After all, they were on a mission.

As they crested the hill a timely flash of lightning illuminated the castle ahead of them, making it seem extremely eerie despite its off-pink colour. The following rumble of thun- der did absolutely nothing to alter the situation, either.

“Wow!” exclaimed Norah Holtby, sometime fearless newswriter. ‘This sure is an eerie place.’’

“That’s for sure,’’ said Pat O'Doherty. ‘‘But what can you expect from an eccentric scientist like Dr. Ken Pagensteine’’

“Well, we're here.’’ remarked Kathy Nichols. ‘‘Let’s go in and get

__ .this-over. with... have to-have this

station wagon back to my parents by midnight.’

“Alright, all ready!’’ snapped new leader Ross Kelleway. ‘‘Who’s going to be brave and go ring the doorbell?’’

The silence was deafening, as nearly 20 index fingers pointed with lightning swiftness in Ross’ general direction.

“O.K., | can take a hint,’’ he grumbled, ‘‘but you guys better follow me!’’

Resolutely, he got out of the car, dragging a protesting Dave Stallard along behind him (no mean feat). The rest of the staff followed along at a distance behind Dave (an easy feat). Ross went up to the door and pushed the doorbell. A blood curdling scream arose from the depths of the castle, sending shudders up the spines of those present. After the scream had subsided, a very loud voice could be heard from inside.

“Read the sign!!’’ it bellowed. “Can’t any of you read?’’

All eyes turned to the sign up beside the door that, strangely, was not there a moment before.

“Please knock,” it read.

“‘Where the hell did that come from?2’’ asked Joel Hagen. ‘‘It wasn’t there a moment before.”’

“Oh. well, might as well do what it says,’ said Dave Watson, as he reached up and pounded on a huge brass door-knocker that he swore wasn’t there a moment ago, either.

“‘Enter,’’ boomed the same disem- bodied voice that had spoken before. With that, the huge doors swung inwards, and the motley crew trooped inside, where they were met by the owner of the disembodied voice, mad cartoonist Larry Fairfoull. ‘’Vellcome to zee humble abode of Dr. Pagen- stein,’’ he said in a very bad Romanian

accent,

‘‘Where is the doctor?’’ asked Ross.

“‘He’s already down in the lab- oratory with his mentor, Dr. Brian Bisset, who’s even more eccentric than he is. That’s him you can hear singing in the background. ’’

Sure enough, a voice pleasantly reminiscent of fingernails grating on a chalkboard could be heard arising from the basement of the castle singing off-colour rugby songs.

‘‘Yes, that certainly sounds like Dr. Brian,’’ remarked Jane Muskens, who had a good ear for musical talent, when her hearing aid worked.

“Well, let’s get on with it,’’ snapped Roger Bolen, who was getting rather impatient, and was wishing he had a beer or two.

‘Nery vell,’’ replied Larry. ‘’Walk this way.’’ Of course, he proceded towards the convenient staircase drag- ging one foot and holding one shoulder much higher than the other, and was immediately aped by the entire staff. As they descended the stairs, it became very noticeable that it was getting darker and darker, until only the famous Wonder Kitty could see his way around.

“Right then!’’ shouted Mark Tener, ‘‘Bics, everybody!’’ With that, a dozen Bics were flicked and the stairs became visible again.

“‘Geez,’’ said Rhonda Jeschke, “judging from the looks of this place, | think we were better off in the dark.’’

Suddenly, they saw a light ahead, and the illuminating accessories were no longer needed. Dr. Pagenstein’s laboratory had come into view, and

“they all caught «a glimpse of the ©

Doctor’s weird equipment, and of the Doctor and his cohort themselves in the flesh.

“Greetings, one and all,’’ said Dr. Pagenstein, ‘‘| am Dr. Pagenstein, and this is my mentor, Dr. Brian. Have you brought the necessary items? ”’

“Yessir. We even cannibalized Ernest Hawker’s Pan-Galactic Gargle-

blaster for spare parts.’’

‘‘Good. Then procedure.”’

The staff spread out to their preordained tasks, and Dr. Pagen- stein’s lab began to resemble the office on a production night, but the cloning procedure was underway. Kathy Nichols and Caroline Hardon argued over Punnett square and ‘designer gene’’-splicing techniques. Stewart Woolverton and Roger Bolen monkey-wrenched a_ clone-culturing container out of spare plumbing parts and a second-hand tardis that Mary Palffey had sent all the way from Ottawa. Dwayne Sutherland and Al Snider, under the watchful eye of the Wonder Kitty, put together the Zonga- tron that would be necessary to power the process. Meanwhile, Drs. Bisset and Pagenstein supervised the assem- bly of the remaining equipment neces- sary to carry out the cloning process. They then gathered the last remains of those killed in the raid and started the ball rolling.

The first specimen to be put in the cloning chamber was an androgenous pair of hips. Lightning flashed, the Van de Graaf generators were started uP, and the Zongatron was activated. The cloning chamber filled up with a bubbling green liquid with the consist-

let us begin the

-ency of spinach puree. Then it turned

clear, and gradually thinned. Where before only the hips had been, now

“THEOTHERPRESS

Oh no! It’s another O.P. saga

stood a full-sized and very vocal: Donna Forbes. ‘‘Where’s the coffee? Where’s my smokes? Why did | get left out of the last issue’s staff box? she demanded, obviously making up for lost time.

It .was just then that everyone noticed the much smaller clone that was still in the chamber. ‘‘Let me out

of here! This is a CSIS plot, isn’t it2’’ it

demanded.

‘Must be Little Sister,’’ muttered Pat O'Doherty to Norah _ Holtby. “‘Ouch!! Watch out for that poison ‘pen.”’

Next into the chamber were a pair of suspenders and a tongue. ‘‘Look out,’’ warned Dr. Pagenstein to Dave Watson and Joel Hagen, who were moving the specimen, ‘That tongue is extremely sharp! ’’

“Caustic, too,’’ added Caroline, looking at the holes in her sleeve where she had accidently brushed against it.

Again, the same process was per- formed, and mere moments later,there stood Board Chairman Victor Crom- arty in all his glory, with a Cheshire cat-style grin etched on his counten- ance. ‘‘Where’s the latest issue of Alpha Flight?’’ he asked.

Following the infamous V.J. into the chamber were a tartan-coloured jeans patch and half a beard. This time the process was accompanied by the eerie wail of bagpipes which seemed to fill the room, although coming from nowhere in particular.

“Strange, that noise,’’ observed Dr. Brian, ‘‘seems to fill the room, but it’s not coming from anywhere in particu-" lar.’” With’ that, he went back to humming dirty rugby songs. Mean- while, lan ‘Super Haggis’’ .Lyon emerged from the chamber demand- ing beer and Craven A’s.

““Well,’’ said Dr. Pagenstein, ‘‘the majority of them are out of danger, and they all seem to be properly put together, but | must warn you, there is some risk involved with this next individual. There is a distinct possibil- ity that we may have already overtaxed our limited resources, akin to what happens at 4:00 a.m. on a production night. Also, the machine may blow up. However, we shall perservere, and hopefully with luck we will be able to wind this up properly.’’

With that, a pair ot coke-bottle glasses and some talon-like-toenails were placed in the chamber, and the process started anew. Again there was a flash of lightning, and the same bubbling green liquid, and suddenly, there stood a half-formed Dan Hilborn. ‘‘What the hell’s going on here?’ it snapped, meanwhile flaking off large pieces of skin.

“We have cloned you and brought

you back to life,’’ Kathy Nichols stated

matter-of-factly.

“But | didn’t want to be cloned,’’ protested the clone.

“You should be glad they brought you back at all’’ harrumphed Donna Forbes.

“‘To me, it’s the real thing ‘or nothing at all. | wanna be me, or | don’t wanna be at all,’’ huffed the clone as it stormed back into the chamber.

Suddenly, sparks flew from one of the banks of machinery, and black smoke started to fill the room. ‘‘Look out!’’ cried Dr. Brian, ‘‘the Eludium 33 Expanding Space Modulator is going to blow up.’’

October: :5th, 1984

“Oh goody,’’ exclaimed Larry Fair- foull. ‘‘I’ll go get some marshmallows and we can toast them.’’

Quickly, Roger Bolen leapt into action. ‘‘Hurry,’’ he said. ‘‘Get every- one back, and I'll try to get rid of the faulty space modulator!’’ With that, he ran to the control panel and unscrewed the modulator and made quickly for a handy window, out of which he had the intention of hurling the sparking device. Unfortunately, he never made it. Roger tripped over one of the flakes of Hilborn, and went sprawling to the floor. Helplessly, he watched the space modulator roll under a bank of machinery, get kicked back by one of the castle rats hiding there, and roll back to within a few inches of where he laid. The last thing anybody could remember was the Hilborn clone, still dropping pieces, madly singing an archaeic jingle: ‘‘It’s the real thing, Clone-a-Cola is,’’...

An earth-shattering kaboom ensued and pieces of debris and smoke filled the room. When the smoke finally cleared, the staffoids brushed off the pieces of debris and flakes of Hilborn, and looked at the wreckage around them. They were stunned with an amazement that ‘bordered upon stupi- fication.

“Wow!’’ said Rhonda.

“‘Geez,’’said Jane.

‘| always thought that Hilborn was a flake,’’ thought the Wonder Kitty to Se as he licked his paws. ‘’Oh well.’

““Hey everybody,’’ exclaimed Mark Tener. ‘‘Look! We’ve somehow been blown back to our own office!’’ Sure enough, they looked around them and discovered that it was true.

“Wow!’’ said V.J. ‘‘Extra-dimen- sional transportation! Gee. | thought that only happened in the comics!!’’

“Is everybody here?’’ asked Stewart. Quickly they took a head count. It came out alright, except that someone seemed to be missing.

“Guess what, guys? Roger is missing’’..... (FADE OUT)

NEXT: IN SEARCH OF ROGER BOLEN!!!