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Reginald Blisterkunst, Ph.D.
Among the Remembered Saints: My Life and Subsequent Death
Pluto Wars

Greg Chandler
"Bee's Tree"
"Local Folk"
"Roland's Feast"
"Pond Story "

Doug Childers
"The Baptism"

Gene Cox
The Sunset Lounge

Clarke Crutchfield
"The Break-In"
"The Canceled Party"
"The Imaginary Bullet"

Jason DeBoer
"The Execution of the Sun"

Deanna Francis Mason
"The Daguerreian Marvel"

Dennis Must

Charlie Onion
"Love Among the Jellyfish"
Pluto Wars
"Feast of the Manfestation"

Chris Orlet
"Romantic Comedy"

Daniel Rosenblum
"A Full Donkey"

Deanna Frances Mason
"The Daguerreian Marvel"

Andrew L. Wilson
"Fat Cake and Double Talk"


Pluto Wars
Charlie Onion & Reginald Blisterkunst, Ph.D.

Editor's Note: This is a sequel to Reginald Blisterkunst's Among the Remembered Saints: My Life and Subsequent Death, which was originally serialized in WAG. Readers who prefer to begin at the beginning may read the first book by clicking here.

Part Four

I find Ronnie
(pompadour lightly dusted cobweb-gray)

When I wake up the next morning, there is a pounding in my head. It takes me a minute to realize that it is in fact coming from downstairs. Stooped over, I limp to the head of the stairs and peer down. A short, fat man with an enormous shining-black pompadour is standing in the front hall, inspecting the taped panel.

—May I help you? I call down.

—No, he says, without looking up. I'm going to help you. I'm Ronnie.

—Oh, I say, descending.

We shake hands and he nods at the panel, pompadour swaying.

—Did you tape this up?

—Yes, actually. I did.

He looks from me to the panel and shakes his head.

—You a writer?

—Yes, I say, steeling myself. How did you know?

—Eddie told me. Says you're trying to lock his papa up.

—That's absurd, I say.

—What's the lock for, then?

—I keep my computer in there, I say.

—Well, I don't blame you for wanting some extra security for it, if the best you can do with this front door is taping it shut.

—I knew you were coming this morning. It was temporary.

He nods the pompadour, disbelieving.

—She also says you need a medicine cabinet fixed.

—This way, I say, leading him up the stairs.

We crowd into the bathroom and I wave my hand game-show-like over the empty cavity above the sink.

—Where is it?

—Um, I say, under the house.

He stares at me, suspicious.

—It's where?

—Under the house, I say.

—How the hell did it get there?

—Fell, actually. Bang. She closes the door and it's gone.

I smile.

Without another word, he disappears down the stairs and out the front door. A few minutes later, while I'm making coffee in the kitchen, I hear him crawling around under me, cursing. Maybe he'll get wedged under that, I tell myself, hopefully. Then I hear him dragging the cabinet toward the crawl door and, momentarily, he is knocking on the kitchen door. I fumble for the key and as I swing it open, I find Ronnie (pompadour lightly dusted cobweb-gray) holding the medicine cabinet under one arm while with the other he holds out the cabinet's abandoned dental plate.

—This yours? he says.

—Yes, I say, for the hell of it. I've been missing that.

I take the plate it stick it in my back pocket.


He grunts and walks past me. While he bangs away at the door panel, I slip next door to Woody's house and make a bowl of cereal and find a shovel. I come back in time to find Ronnie inspecting the padlock on the front room door.

—Can I help you?

—I'm trying to free Eddie's papa, he says, without looking up.

—Don't worry, I say, walking past. I let him out at night.

—I'll bet you do, he mutters, to which I decide not to respond.

—I'll be in the garden if you need me, I call over my shoulder.

El Capitan's hitting Broadway

—Okay, here's what I need. Have a pencil? No. Of course. How foolish of me. So—oh yes. Here we are. We're moving the production north this weekend—yes, that's right. El Capitan's hitting Broadway. But I want to leave the peasants with a bang. So I'll need a dozen chupas, at least eighteen hoverers and an even dozen of those sparkly things—you know, the ones that make it look like the sky's falling. Right. Now I want you to spread them out over a ten mile radius here—yes, that's right. Spread them too far apart and we miss critical media mass. Right you are, old man. And—

Oh. Hello there. I didn't see you at first. Allow me to introduce myself. My name is—

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10



About the Authors

The late Reginald Blisterkunst was a college professor whose areas of expertise were Milton and the Metaphysical Poets. Among the Remembered Saints, his first novel, was also serialized on the WAG Web site.

Charlie Onion is a frequent WAG contributor.


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