He coughed as the room filled with thick, dark clouds of smoke. "Where are you?" he called out.
"Over here!" a voice answered.
"Over where?" he asked.
The voice let out a squeal. "HELP!" it yelped, "HELP ME!" He ran towards the voice. His legs numbed. The smoke grew thicker and darker, filling his lungs, stinging his eyes as he made his way closer, seeing the owner of the voice.
"ITSY!" he called to her. He suddenly felt dizzy and the room began to spin. The next thing he knew, he was in bed. Chills ran down his spine as he realized it was only a dream. He let out a cough, still slightly convinced that he was surrounded by smoke.
He heard a knock at his door, then saw it crack open as two shadowy heads appeared. "Are you alright, George? We heard you shouting again," one said.
"Yes, Polly," George replied, "It was just another dream. How she loves haunting me when I sleep -- I wonder how she'd feel if I were the one disturbing HER sleep like that! But I'll be okay, you two should go back to bed...I can't believe I just told you two to do that! But really, I'll be fine."
"Alright, you sure?" asked Paul.
"Yeah, I'll be fine!" he said, becoming irritated, and shooing them away. The two shadowy figures left, closing the door behind them. He was left alone once again, thinking to himself, "Two years, two whole years. Feels like an eternity." He settled back down, and tried to sleep.
As Paul and Polly made their way down the hallway, Paul began to think about how happy everyone used to be. He thought about how Jessie had left, and how Jack only popped in to visit every once in a while, and what they might possibly be up to. He thought about Itsy and Julia had left as well, and how he was glad sometimes that the Cheese-weasels were all extinct. He thought of Polly...
He looked over at his wife, who also seemed to be lost deep in thought. He noticed a tear slowly making it's way down her cheek, and he wondered why everyone had to be so miserable.
"Polly," he said, breaking the silence. "Remember how happy everyone used to be?"
"Yeah," she answered, confused.
"Well, I think it's time to be happy again, don't you?" he said, smiling.
"Wuddaya mean?" Polly asked. "It's not that easy to be happy after a tragedy like that."
"Polly," he started. "For the longest time, all I've seen is sad faces and tears, and nothing else. I'm fed up with it!" He put his hands on her face, forcing her lips to stretch into a smile.
"But Paul-" she said, pulling away.
"Ob-la-di, ob-la-da!" he blurted out, frustrated.
"What?!" asked Polly.
"Ob-la-di, ob-la-da!" he repeated. "Life -- or death -- goes on! You can't stay like that forever, Polly!"
"What?!" she laughed.
"See, that's more like it!" exclaimed Paul. Polly smiled and shook her head.
"Your turn," Gerry said. "Good luck." Itsy rolled her eyes and attempted to play pool, even though she was very bad at it and lost every game she'd ever played.
Itsy was dead. If you don't know how or why, I suggest you go back and read 'The Cheese-weasel Revolution.' It's fairly important to the plot. (Oh, and for those of you who feel very sorry for Polly and Paul because they lost Julia, don't. {much.} Itsy's been taking care of her.)
"I'm getting better," she said, as she lost miserably. "A little better all the time."
"Can't get no worse," Gerry commented.
"Oh, shut up!" Itsy snapped. "YOU didn't leave behind a husband...or wife...and four kids when YOU died!" Gerry shrugged.
"Drug addictions are worse," he said. "You at least got to have a dramatic love scene."
"Yeah, but YOU get an on-line memorial! All I get is this stupid story!" Itsy complained. "And it's about time, oh, All-Powerful-Narrator! You never wrote a story about me all this time, and I'm based on your schizophrenic self."
"Oh, don't pull that pathetic act on me, I'm not falling for it! I'm dead, for Pete's sake!"
"Oh, shut up, you stupid git!" Itsy yelled in frustration. "First you make fun of my kids -- And YOU were the one who named them all George! Then you kill me! Now you're making fun of my pool-playing skills!" She crossed her arms.
"I've had enough! I'm going to sit here and do nothing until you promise to give me my own story, where something goes RIGHT for a change! And no making fun of me!" Late Queen Itsy sat on the pool table, glaring into thin air. "And don't think I'm kidding," she added.
"Oh, yeah? Ahem, and I quote: '"You can take my daughter to help," the elderly Moon Queen said. "But-" Paul started. "PLEASE take my daughter!" the Queen begged.' You certainly DID write that!"
"That's better," Itsy said, standing up. She looked around for Gerry, but he had left during the weirdness. "I wonder what George is doing. And George Jr., Georgia, Georgina, and dear, sweet, little Georgi." She paused. "Hey! I'm not shmarmy! Stop it, you stupid narrator!"
*Fine, be that way! *
"Thank you!" she snapped. John appeared at her side. (Not evil John -- cool John.)
"Did you ever think about appealing to the Ghostly Powers that Be? The Man in Charge? They can get you sent back, you know," he suggested. She stared.
"I've been dead for years, and everyone is miserable, and you never mentioned that! Hey!" she said. "How do I do it?"
"You go though there," John said, pointing to a helpful doorway.
"Thanks, John!" she exclaimed.
Itsy stood before the Ghostly Powers that Be (a council that rules the Other Side, lead by the Man in Charge.) "I really wish I could go back," she begged.
"We'll vote, your Late Majesty," the Man in Charge promised. She walked from the room, only to be called back in.
"Here's what we decided," the Man told her. "We'll let you go back for a short time-"
"Oh, thank you!" Itsy interrupted.
"But you'll need to convince your friends to go back in time and rescue you. If you can do that, you'll never have to come here in the first place."
"Wow, I can hear Jack now: "...mumblemumbleStupidparidoxesmumble..." But how do I convince my friends?"
"That's up to you, they're YOUR friends," the Man said. "But there's one catch. In order for this council to legally let you go back, you'll have to work with a medium, someone in touch with this Side. And I have just the person in mind..."
"But how will I see them?" Itsy asked, "I don't think George is going to see a fortune-teller any time soon,"
"I can convince her to go to him," the Man said. "She's very..."
"Gullible?"
"Insane," he continued. "Don't worry though, she's mostly harmless."
"Oh, great," she muttered. "Well, thanks anyway."
"Hey, Itsy!" a voice shouted to her.
"Who said that?" she demanded.
"I did," the voice said, "I'm the part of Polly's soul that was trapped on the Other Side. Otherwise she'd just be alive totally."
"I'm here too," a voice that sounded like Paul's added.
"Oh, great! I thought I at least got rid of you two when I died!"
Inexplicably, Itsy's hair floated up. "Stop it, Polly!" she snapped. Her hair dropped back into position.
"Well, I was just going to give you some advice," Polly said. "As an expert, I want to warn you that you'd better be careful. Everything you say, do, or touch can effect all time and space. But if you're with a medium you'll only be able to be heard by those who you really want to be seen and heard by, but you can still get in trouble. Watch your mouth and be careful."
"Why do you -- of all dead people -- care so much?" Itsy asked.
"Um, well... it was through something that I did that caused George to invent those Cheese-Heads which upset the Cheese-weasels, causing the revolution, causing the fire, and...well...sorry."
"POLLY!" the Queen shrieked. "You killed me?!"
"Not on purpose," Polly's soul tried to explain. "I'm really sorry. But I'll go back and haunt Jack, we'll work something out."
"You...you...DORKMUFFIN!" Itsy screamed, but she had the feeling Polly had already left.
At the Sand Castle the next morning, the King awoke and walked downstairs to find Polly and Paul eating breakfast. The three of them had an unusually cheerful conversation about the dietary habits of Vietnamese caterpillars, until Jack was suddenly standing by the bar. He was wearing a bathrobe, smoking a bubble-pipe, and stirring a dry martini. As he stirred he muttered, "Sedimentary, my dear Watson, sedimentary." George, Paul, and Polly stared at him. "I hear you want to get in contact with your dead friend," Jack continued. "Well, a great chum of mine is an expert in the field."
Just as suddenly as Jack had appeared, he disappeared, and through the door a very colourful old woman burst in. "I've lent my unicycle up against that little cloud over there, it should be perfectly alright if no one touches it," announced the woman in a rather squeaky voice.
"Who are you?" asked the King, afraid to hear the reply.
"I am Madame Manicotti!" she answered, taking a highly exaggerated bow. "I've been called here to do a seance. You have a table?"
"Yes, I suppose this one will do," answered George, unsurely.
"Change over," mumbled Paul.
"Alright," she said, pulling a gramophone out of her very large purse. She stuck in a record of a song she called 'Anyways,' and turned off the lights.
"Is there anyone there?" she asked, as if in a trance. "One rap for yes two raps for no. Now then, is there anyone there?" The table bumped twice, and a small white ghost appeared, her curly dark hair up in high pigtails. "Is that you Darla?"
"No!" the ghost whispered to her.
"Well, then. Is there anyone there who wishes to speak to anyone here?"
"Yes!"
"Please rap on the table. That's a good girl, Darla." Madame Manicotti said.
The ghost groaned and rapped once on the table.
"Is it the King?" There was one bump. "There's someone who wishes to speak with you." she said, turning to the King..
"Itsy?" George asked, looking directly at the ghost, who had become visible to him.
"George!" the ghost exclaimed.
Madame Manicotti looked at the King. "You mean, you can see Darla?"
"Darla?" George asked. "No, it's Itsy, my late wife!"
"Now, Darla, stop fooling the nice man!"
"But I AM Itsy!" demanded the ghost. "Darla took a sick day!"
"But you're only a child," said Madame Manicotti.
"No, you just think I am!" snapped Itsy, almost in tears.
"Why are you crying, dear?" asked George with concern.
"I don't know," she answered with a sob. "I've missed you sooo much, George!"
"I've missed you too." George said, reaching out to touch her. He looked extremely disappointed when he discovered that his hand went right through her.
"George, who're you talking to?" asked Polly, who obviously couldn't see her.
"I think he's finally gone completely bonkers!" announced Paul. "I knew he would someday."
"Paul, I think this is serious," Polly said.
"Since when have YOU become serious?" asked Paul. "That's like some sort of strange contradiction."
"It's Itsy!" the King answered. "You mean to tell me that you... none of you can see her?"
"Oh, yes George. We see her!" said Paul sarcastically. "She's in the window-seat with Mr. Hoskins!"
Itsy picked up a book, and threw it at Paul. "Oooow! Where'd that come from?!"
"She really IS here!" exclaimed Polly, "She IS!"
Madame Manicotti let out a shrill scream and fell over. "What's the matter with her?" George asked Itsy.
"Oh, don't mind her. She does that sometimes," she replied, lifting Polly's hat from her head.
"Knock it off, Itsy!" screamed Polly, grabbing her hat back, and trying to hit Itsy with it. That was rather pointless because she couldn't see her, and George and Paul laughed. Polly hit Paul with her hat and looked at him evilly.
"Don't get mad at ME because Itsy's picking on you," said Paul, teasing her even more. Polly hit him again. "Oooow! Why's everyone beating me up?" Polly felt guilty, so she kissed him on the cheek, but then changed her mind, and hit him again. "Oooow! Polly!"
"You don't see something like THAT terribly often!" laughed Itsy. Madame Manicotti let out a groan. "Ono!" squealed Itsy. "When she wakes up, I'll have to leave again!"
"Oh, Itsy," George muttered sadly. "Itsy, tell me, if you can, what's it like to be dead?"
"I play pool against Gerry." she answered. "But it's mostly boring, sitting, waiting for you... When are you going to die, George?"
"Itsy!" the King said in disgust. "I miss you, but I'm not going to kill myself!"
"But Paul did for Polly..." Itsy mumbled, disappointed.
"Am I Paul?!" he shouted.
"Thankfully no!... Fine, I'll wait," said the Queen.
"Maybe I'll live forever..." teased George.
"George," Itsy started seriously. "You need to do something..."
Madame Manicotti woke up and sprang to her feet. "Alright, Darla," she said, "Our time's up!"
"George!" Itsy said again, starting to fade away. "Tell Jack...to...use the..."
"Used to what?" asked George.
"...ime...mach...ne...use the..." she repeated, until she had completely gone.
"ITSY!" shouted the King. "Used to...?"
"Would you say that had been profitable?" asked Madame Manicotti perkily.
"No!... Well, sorta, I guess," replied the King.
"Well then, I must be on my way," said Madame Manicotti. "Do you mind if I take a few of these delicious tofurky sandwiches with me before I go?"
"Ono, go right ahead," replied the King, wondering where these mysterious sandwiches had come from. She took the plate, dumped all of the sandwiches into her purse, and handed the plate to George.
"Something to munch on on the way home," she stated.
George looked at the empty plate. "Yeah, a light snack."
"Well, cheerio!" sang the crazy old woman, "And remember: There are more things in Heaven and Earth!" Then she burst out though the door, never to be seen again.
"What was that all about?" asked Paul, confused.
"I don't know." said Polly, shaking her head in disbelief.
or 