Swampy 2

"Oh no!" Sandy cried. "We're trapped, and the room is filling with Dr. Hill's Acrid-Smelling Evil Green Gas! Whatever shall we do?" She placed the back of her hand against her brow, in a gesture Swampy had never seen, but somehow knew meant a number of things, none of them complimentary to a modern day woman.

From the floor where Swampy had collapsed in exhaustion, he mumbled "Boxes" and weakly gestured toward the stack of cardboard boxes stacked neatly floor to ceiling.

Ocean and Sandy looked at him as if he were nuts.

The Acrid-Smelling Evil Green Gas covered the floor of the room and gently rose in graceful curls. Swampy began playing with the tendrils of smoke, making them swirl and dance in the air.

"Uh-oh," said Sandy, "I think he's losing it!" As if in response, Swampy fell over sideways, in a perfect imitation of a cartoon character.

Ocean suddenly yelled: "Boxes!" and ran over to the stack and started chewing and tearing at the edge of one.

Sandy stared at him for a heartbeat, then said (in that careful way one uses with a child or a crazy person) "Uh ... there's an easier way to get into cardboard boxes. You have hands now, remember?"

Ocean blushed under his face fur and stepped back. Sandy started opening the nearest box and pulled out a pair of frilly underwear in a leopard print. They both stared for a second. "Gosh," Sandy said, "Dr. Hill is weirder than I thought!"

Ocean opened another box (using his hands this time) and pulled out a handful of electronic parts and an instruction booklet. "Extra Powerful Bio-Atomic Sub-Genetic Super-Super-Duper Transmogrifier" was printed at the top of the instructions. "Uh-oh," Ocean said, "I think Dr. Hill has plans for the future!"

Sandy glanced at the booklet and redoubled her searching. So far she'd found underwear in leopard print, fluorescent orange, green with orange polka dots and a truly hideous pig print. She didn't even want to think about how these fit into Dr. Hill's plan!

She set into tearing open another box and suddenly yelled "Eureka!"

Ocean's brow furrowed. "Eureka? Isn't that some kind of vacuum sweeper?"

"No!" Sandy said, "I mean 'Eureka' as in: I've found something!" She pulled out a couple odd-looking rubbery contraptions and read from the tag: "Acrid-Smelling Evil Green Gas Masks!" She pulled one over her head and handed the other to Ocean. While Ocean struggled to put on the mask, Sandy fished out another for Swampy.

When they turned around, though, Swampy couldn't be seen. He was apparently enveloped by the gas, which had risen to a height of around 12 inches. "Algernon!" she squealed. "Oh no! Where are you?"

Barely a foot away from Ocean, Swampy suddenly leapt out of the green fog like a flea had bitten him - a big flea. Ocean couldn't believe his eyes. Swampy didn't look the least bit like a rat-man anymore. He looked ... well ... human! No, more than human. He looked like a gorgeous human; like a Greek orthodontist (or something like that).

Sandy was staring doe-eyed at Swampy. Ocean thought the blanket Swampy was wearing suddenly looked a lot like a Roman toga; similar to images in a book of museum pictures his captors had shown him.

In a huge, deep voice, Swampy yelled, "Release the hounds!"

Ocean and Sandy glanced at each other, confused.

"Let loose the dogs of war!" Swampy bellowed, gesturing with his newly bulging arms. He strode forcefully toward the stack of boxes and brushed them away as if they were so much cardboard. He exposed a window that had been blocked by the stacks. In a fluid motion, he grasped the bars and tore the entire window out of the wall. He tossed the window aside and strode through what was left of the brick wall. "Be free! Fly!" he cried to the sky as he sent bricks crashing everywhere.

"Oh boy," said Ocean, "I think he's gone completely nuts!"

Sandy just stared, transfixed.

Ocean grabbed her arm and dragged her through the opening in the wall, warily eyeing the bricks still falling here and there. He wondered if the green gas would turn him into a Greek orthodontist, too. Oh well, better to be ugly and sane, he thought.

Sandy and Ocean emerged from the dust, blinking in the bright light. They pulled off their gas masks and scampered to catch up with Swampy, who was still busy being whatever the heck he was.

Swampy strode out onto the sidewalk from between two buildings just as Don & Carson pulled up and screeched to a halt.

"What the hell is that?" Don exclaimed. He pointed at Swampy, who was striding regally up the sidewalk in a dusty blanket wrapped around him like a toga, brushing away obstacles in his path. Don watched as he slapped away a couple light poles, a mailbox and an ATM machine. He noticed that the blanket-toga didn't quite overlap at the side and was affording the gathering lunch crowd a glimpse of his Adonis-like equipment. Women were giggling, pointing and fainting, while scruffy youths appeared as if from thin air and began rifling the wounded ATM, which was spitting out twenties like a slot machine at Vegas.

He noticed a good-looking woman and a man who was either wearing a Halloween mask or had the worse case of overgrown facial hair he'd ever seen. They were trotting behind the toga-dude. They were dusty, too, and kept calling out to the mystery man, who had continued up the sidewalk, doing his part for urban renewal.

"Would you look at the muscles on that guy?" Don exclaimed to Carson.

Carson nodded sagely and said, "It's time to call for backup."

In a short while, the street was full of police cars, fire trucks, ambulances, fainting secretaries and young men fist-fighting over handfuls of twenty-dollar bills. News helicopters buzzed back and forth overhead, several times nearly making their own news as they inadvertently played helicopter-chicken trying to get prize-winning footage.

Ocean and Sandy were still following Swampy as he made his booming proclamations while brushing away pesky traffic lights and trashcans.

"To be, or not to be!" he boomed in his deep, Greek Adonis voice. He gestured with his right hand and sent a gaggle of followers scampering out of the way of an airborne US News box. "Alas! Poor Horatio!" he thundered, while he gestured with his left hand taking out the hockshop display window. This set the three-balled sign flying end over end and caused a huge uproar as his followers grabbed jewelry, old saxophones and fake Rolex watches from the front window.

Sirens blared, alarms clanged, people yelled and whistled as his strides revealed the extent of his enhancement. Golden hair had grown magically on his head, flowing down to his shoulders. His muscles rippled and his voice boomed as he made his way up the street.

Crash! There went the bakery. Small children ran down the street with wedding cake, banana bread and cookies grasped in their fists.

Bang! There went the news truck onto its side. The anchorwoman didn't seem to notice her truck had overturned, and kept on chattering about this ghostbuster-style event.

Boom! Swampy quoted another bit of Shakespeare, and gestured away a statue of Herbert Sneed, the Mayor. The bronze sculpture made a huge clang as it hit the ground. Herbert's head cracked off and rolled out into the street, bowling down a small group of nuns from the local Catholic school. A screaming throng of young girls all dressed in green plaid skirts streamed out of the school, as if a dam had burst. They, too, joined Swampy's followers.

As he progressed up the street, Swampy quoted his way through a convenience store, a Nails R Us, and a Checks Cashed storefront (the sign now read "Checks ashed" which was probably closer to the truth). Angry Vietnamese women wearing paper masks and bright red nails screamed at him and shook their fists. The convenience store clerk calmly pulled out the Accident Report forms and started filling them out.

Then Swampy reached into the window at Sashes N Stuff and pulled out a large white curtain with gold trim. He pulled off the dusty blanket and wrapped his golden glory in the expensive drapery. Seemingly pleased, he quoted, "A horse! A horse!" and strode off. Several more secretaries fainted, giving the ambulances following Swampy something useful to do.

Swampy, apparently bored with trashing the left side of the street, crossed over to the right side. Over there he had it his way, as he enlarged the takeout window at the Burger King, and frightened a pimpled teenager to within an inch of his life. Then he moved up past the movie theater, briefly pausing to stare at a neon animation of a woman stripping, before taking a swipe at the ticket booth, bellowing "Fourscore and seven years ago!"

Suddenly, he paused and turned around to look at Ocean and Sandy, still doggedly following him, as they dodged pieces of buildings and garbage cans.

"Algernon! Algernon!" Sandy cried, "Please stop!"

"We don't want you to get hurt, son, " Ocean called to him. "Let us help you!"

Swampy cocked his head to the side, like a dog listening to an odd noise. "Help me?" he boomed. He cocked his head to the other side. The crowd following him had stopped and grown silent. Swampy took a stride toward Sandy.

The crowd began to murmur and back away from Sandy and Ocean. Swampy took another step. Sandy was no longer entirely certain she wanted him to come towards her. Those bulging muscles had just wreaked a 2-block havoc sure to be talked about for years to come. The crowd murmured a little more loudly and backed up even further.

Suddenly Swampy took two (long, muscular) strides toward Sandy and scooped her up in his arms.

"Eeep!" she said intelligently. "Uh, 451? Can you, uh ..." she started to say, but Swampy turned away and continued up the street.

"Son? Son?" Ocean called. "Son, where are you going? What are you going to do?"

The crowd started forward again, following their very own Pied Piper in a white robe. The whole parade approached the intersection, where police had formed a barricade. Every police car and fire truck within 50 miles was lined up in the street. A white-haired man in a blue uniform perched on top of the lead fire truck. "STOP!" he yelled into his bullhorn. "Stop in the name of the law!"