“So,” said Thor, leaning back, his elbows against the concierge desk of the Secaucus Holiday Inn, “you’re not with Victoria.”
“I’m not,” said Chester A. Arthur XVII, standing next to Thor in a similar fashion. “You with Catrina?”
“Nope.”
“Meaning there shouldn’t be a problem with my taking her out to dinner then.”
“I didn’t say that.”
“So there would be a problem.”
“More than likely.”
“And that problem would be…?”
“You, mainly. And my inherent distrust of you, specifically.”
Chester A. Arthur XVII nodded slightly, conceding the point.
“That’s understandable, actually,” he said. “I’m assuming then that this is the juncture of our conversation wherein you ask me if there’s a problem with you courting Victoria?”
“Uh, no, actually,” said Thor. “I was just going to do it.”
“You are aware you’re nowhere near good enough for her, right?”
“What? I’m a fucking god, dude.”
“You
“Yeah, no. You misunderstood what I meant.”
Chester A. Arthur XVII thought about that for a second before saying, “Oh.”
“Yep,” replied Thor.
“You do realize that you’ve pretty much just proved my point, though, right?”
“What are you talking about? That was the greatest double entendre in the history of history.”
“She could do so much better than you, man.”
“Yeah, I don’t know about that.”
“What the fuck’s that supposed to mean?”
From the couch on the other side of the lobby Catrina asked, “What are they getting all worked up about now?”
“Not a clue,” said Queen Victoria.
“Whatever it is,” said William H. Taft XLII, situated between the two women, his arms stretched out along the back of the couch, “I’m not getting in the middle of it.”
Sixty-Three: Hippie Hippie Shake
Gil and Lil sat on the beach and watched the ocean burn.
“Man,” said Gil. “I don’t know why Quetzalcoatl had to go and do that. I mean, Mother Earth is going to be pissed.”
“Oh, no doubt, no doubt,” said Lil.
“I mean, seriously, we are in for some bad karma, just for being associated with him, you know? For letting him have his way with nature like that. And for what, man? Just so we can be there when he… when he… wait… Why are we helping him again?”
“No clue, man, no clue.”
“Right, right.”
The flames began rising, just as the sun began setting. The entire shoreline was bathed in a spectacular crimson glow. Gil and Lil couldn’t help but reflect on how beautiful it was.
“You bring any marshmallows?”
Sixty-Four: The Best Laid Plans
Thor and Chester A. Arthur XVII continued to stand by the Holiday Inn’s main desk talking about the girls, while the girls continued to sit on the couch opposite them talking to William H. Taft XLII.
Neither conversation was particularly interesting or engaging. The individuals involved were mostly talking to fill the silence—a silence that allowed them to hear a cybernetic hotel manager vigorously hump a vending machine.
This lack of involvement in their activities actually proved to be beneficial, as four men in dark suits, accompanied by a woman in a dark suit with a dark burlap sack over her head, soon walked into the hotel’s lobby. Catrina, her attention not focused on what she was doing, was able to immediately identify the woman.
“Judy?'
'Hi!” replied Judy, waving, and, Catrina assumed, smiling. It was kind of hard to tell, what with the bag and all.
“What are you doing here?”
“We’re here for Thor, actually,” she said, walking toward the couch. “We need his help.”
“I’m sorry,” said Thor, “could you repeat that? My friend here,” he indicated Chester A. Arthur XVII, “is a little hard of hearing.”
Chester A. Arthur XVII rolled his eyes.
“We need your help, Thor,” repeated Judy at a much greater volume.
“That’s what I thought you said,” replied Thor, turning to Chester A. Arthur XVII.
“Fine,” said Chester A. Arthur XVII, “you’re not
“Thank you.”
“What exactly is it you need Thor for?” asked Catrina.
“After the incident with subject 37-E, I was recruited by the Department of Science to… Well, not recruited, really. Since we fucked up so bad, the department pulled our funding and took back our building, confiscating all of our research and supplies. And me, ‘cause I was living there. Anyway, I told them about how Thor killed it with lightning and they put me in a cell for a while and then last week they had me tell the story again and then they gave me this suit and told me to go get him. So that’s why I’m here.”
“That’s great, Judy,” said Catrina, before repeating, very slowly and distinctly, “but what do you need Thor for?”
“Oh, right. There’s a renegade Mexican god with an army of philosophers marauding up and down the west coast and we need Thor to destroy it.”
“What?” asked Thor. Although, truthfully, it was more a statement of disbelief than an actual question.
“Renegade god?” asked Queen Victoria XXX. “What god? What the hell are you talking about?
“Whoa, new person, hi,” said Judy. “It was a name with a lot of letters. Catcher… Quesa… Quasimodo?”
“That’s the Hunchback of Notre Dame,” said William H. Taft XLII.
“Yeah, that’s not a god,” countered Judy.
“Right, that was my point…”
“Right.”
“I don’t…”
“Yeah,” said Catrina, putting her hand on the shoulder of William H. Taft XLII, “don’t do that. Just follow my lead.” She leaned forward and called to the four men still standing by the door. “Hey, suits, anyone over there not an idiot?”
Three of the men immediately took a step back and pointed to the fourth man. He looked confused. Catrina hung her head.
“That explains why they’ve come for Thor anyway,” said Chester A. Arthur XVII.
Thor smacked the reconstituted genetics of a former president in the back of the head and walked toward the
