How Captain Mojo Struck the Wrong Note

by Kat Beyer

Powered almost entirely by whiskey and attitude, Captain Mojo’s ship “Chastity’s Bottom” sailed its way across the sky in search of trouble and rock ‘n roll—but more importantly, in search of her.

The crew had sold all the cannon for hammocks and guitars. The First Lieutenant gave herself the nickname “Ten-Shot Hammond,” the Second Lieutenant called himself “Six-string Butler,” and everybody called the Third Lieutenant names that could not be printed in the presence of gentlemen—or ladies, for that matter.

They swept through the air, and the other travelers of the skies feared them, especially when they started to play.

“Tell us where she is,” they would shout across the range of clouds, “or we will start a fifty-minute guitar solo!”

So folk in their air boats would lie rather than listen.

“She’s in the City of Rain!”

“She’s dead!”

“She’s joined a band and they’re on tour in the Twelve Currents!”

“She never wants to talk to you again, she hates you, and she wants all her sheet music back!”

“Who the heck are you looking for? Who is she?!”

Only fools asked this question: Captain Mojo would answer them in song, before he burst into tears and hurled empty whiskey bottles across the abyss between ships; he would tell them of her red, red hair, and her glow-in-the-dark tattoo, and her smile like a thunderhead looking for a fight.

The last whiskey bottle flung, he would always end by leaning his elbows on the gunwale and sobbing, “If you see her, tell her I meant it as a compliment!”

The Mad Scientist’s Evil Twin

by David

His brother started it. Fame and fortune weren’t enough for Stephan. He had to rub it in Eldon’s face every day by being gracious, magnanimous, and successful. Curing cancer, solving world hunger, inventing a practical matter transmitter, discovery after sickening discovery. Whatever Stephan did just added to his wealth and reputation. He got more girls. He even had a better name!

Eldon was not going to be a copycat. Being the second most famous scientist in a family just didn’t cut it. He chose a darker path.

* * * * *

Eldon specialized in biochemistry and genetics. He started small, a new viral disease here, a rust that ruined the taste of sweet corn there. He wore black, cultivated a mustache and goatee, and found that this persona drew women to him like vultures to a sheep carcass. He smiled a lot, and stroked his beard. He married frequently, if not well, and spent a lot of time in the lab. His brother was never far from his mind.

* * * * *

Carol buzzed around him, angry reminder of another almost-successful experiment. Maybe next time he should try something more substantial, something with a bigger brain. Not a mantis or spider; something benign, harmless. Perhaps a grasshopper, or a katydid. That was it! He’d always liked that Steely Dan album.

Carol came to rest on one of the windowsill plants. As the green jaws closed she realized she’d chosen poorly. Her tiny struggles grew louder, then were muffled, silenced. To his first wife, a housefly was nothing more than a snack. The Venus fly trap rattled its leaves suggestively.

Eldon pressed a button on his desk.

“Ms. Collins? Would you assist me in an experiment?”

* * * * *

Eldon picked up on the second ring. “Stephan! So good to hear from you. I’m in the midst of a groundbreaking experiment, Stephan, so you’ll just have to wait. Perhaps lunchtime on Friday, my treat. Yes, let’s meet in my lab.”

Eldon turned back toward the examination table, where Miss Collins rolled her eyes frantically above the duct tape. Eldon adjusted the controls on the somatic gene-therapy transformer.

“This won’t hurt a bit.”

* * * * *

Eldon slammed the cup down over the oddly deformed grasshopper. “Got you!” The grasshopper hopped weakly, bumping into the glass. He dumped it into the terrarium. The machine had performed perfectly on this last run. Friday he would use a cicada.

the end