Banishment was the price handed down by the Jhew Alliance, or so it would appear. That's how those on the wrong side of Fate felt about it. But, to be perfectly honest, Wazinski and his comrades would never admit to the actual split from their home society. They were, in fact, spoiled brats who were too self centered to see what their beloved Conversation-Makey's were doing to them and their society as a whole, and feeling oppressed by the Jhew Alliance decided they'd have enough of this and packed up their belongings, joined the forces of Adolph Industries who were abandoning ship, and they all together ran away from home.
* * * * *
Five years ago, as the products and promises of Almighty Steve were finally beginning to flourish upon this mostly aquatic planet, the interstellar equipment on the home world began to take notice of a dramatic shift upwards in the local background radioactive idiot levels upon the Earth. And this alerted the Jhew Alliance to the coming troubles mounting on an alien world, and as it was an unfortunate by-product of what had happened twenty-five years prior, the Jhews decided to take action.
"Oi, such a problem those boys are causing," said one of the leading members of the Jhews, in their native Jhew language.
"Look at 'em, You'd think they'd learn, but noooo, too good they are to listen to their mommas." said another prominent member.
"Now, you mustn't beat yourself up like that. It's not your fault." said the first voice.
"You're right," came the second voice. "Melvin! Melvin, get down here. And put down that iPorn. You know what those things do to you."
"Yes, mother," came the voice of a fifteen year old boy as he and his father came into room.
"Kids these days, whacking off to gadgets. In my day, I'll tell you, I never had none of those fancy pants iPorns to whack off to! I did it properly, at the farm I'll have you know!" came a third voice of the male persuasion.
"Harold, you stop that right now. You're going to give the boy ideas." came the first voice again."
"Melvin, you listen to your father, there's no shame in whacking off at the farm! Here, Melvin, I'll take that while you take care of your mother."
"Yes, father."
"Incidentally, this fancy doodad thingy doesn't have horses on it, does it?"
"Harold!"
"I'm just asking, Gertrude. Go help your mother, son."
* * * * *
Melvin, Chief Communications Officer* of the Jhew Alliance, had only had a few minor troubles in contacting the planet known as Earth. *Well, that's how he liked to refer to himself. Being The Grand High Mystic's little brother, Melvin was intimately aware of the situation, and had been volunteered by their parents to put a stop to the elder brother's society wrecking shenanigans. Knowing full well it would earn Melvin further respect by being a miserable little tattle-tale on his brother's actions, he'd set to work with almost manic glee. It had been Melvin who'd sent messages through Susan The Receptionist via altered states of consciousness.
Bizarre stretches of shiny alien substances had been deflecting the communications of the home world to Earth, and it was obvious the runaway splinter group was intent, it must be said, on not picking up the phone.
So a round about way was devised, an Earth female was enlisted, who then passed on certain vital knowledge to what Melvin had considered was an Earth male, though he had unique characteristics and a DNA pattern which varied depending on which extremity or internal organ you were studying.
"He'll do," said Gertrude upon Melvin's report.
* * * * *
And now, in the final hours before the inevitable invasion forces arrived, Igor waited in his workspace in the lowest levels of the Temple of Scienceology. A final communiqué had arrived just hours ago, and given its interstellar nature, it was surprisingly simple and effective in its message: Nearly There, Just A Few More Hours. Mom Thinks You Look Thin. She Suggests Having A Snack While You Wait.**
** Mothers, even interstellar mothers, can't help themselves. Doesn't matter how old the child is; they could be in their mid-thirties and a mother would still offer unneeded motherly advice. Some men in their mid-thirties have come to the conclusion that You Can't Spell "Smother" Without Mother.
Confused as to the somewhat altered tone in the messages, Igor replied "Igor not have time for snack. Besides, Igor hate pistachio ice cream."
Igor had barely finished sending his response when he heard the hum of the lift and
became increasingly closer to the basement. In the instant before the doors opened, Igor grabbed up a mop and pretended to be hard at work cleaning the floors of his work space, while something shadowy moved in the furthest darkened corner. Igor took quick notice of it, made an ever so brief acknowledgement of it, and went back to his assumed position.
As the doors of the lift parted, the smiling face of the Grand High Mystic was seen flanked by two cronies, and down by their knees, frowning with his arms crossed was Tommy.
"Ah, Igor my boy. Hard at work, I see. But there's no need for you to push that filthy old mop anymore."
"Igor not understand. Is Igor fired?"
"Fired, oh heavens no. In fact, you're being promoted! It's time, Igor, you enjoyed the benefits of full membership of Scienceology."
"Igor say screw that. Scienceologists crazy. Not one scientist here."
Suddenly the Mystic, his cronies, and Tommy advanced on Igor. Igor made a quick scan of the four individuals advancing on him, avoided the onrush from the blank faced cronies crying out "JOIN US. JOIN US. JOIN US." Igor executed a roundhouse kick, knocking the aluminum foil hat off one of the cronies, and landed on his feet.
The man on the floor, dazed from the impact of Igor's attack, swayed uneasily on the floor for a moment, and then had a sudden realization.
"What...what happened? I...can think...clearly. Oh my god! It's all a lie! It's all about control and money, just like other religions! I'm free! Free!"
"Stop him, Tommy!" bellowed the Mystic, as he and the remaining crony began scrambling about the floor in desperate search for the aluminum foil hat. In the ensuing chaos, the recent convert back to sanity headed for the elevator and made his get away.
Then Igor called out "NOW!" to the shadows.
ARF! was the response he received.
"What's going on?" Tommy looked to the corner from where the sound of the Cheewahwah had come, and was knocked unconscious as Igor wielded his mop like a club and took out the tiny man. Momma Igor would've been proud.
"What's the meaning of this, Igor?!"
Igor just smiled his toothy, decaying smile, then turned and punched the secret button which raised the central hub of Almighty Steve's iLive containing the nearly healed brain of Steve himself.
"What are doing?! Who told you about this?!"
"Jhew Alliance sends its love."
And, for the first time in years, the Grand High Mystic knew horror, as Igor made his way to Steve's iLive, pulled an iGoBboom from his pants pocket, and held it over the whole setup.
"Crazies leave Igor alone, or beloved messiah get it."
"Put that thing down! You don't know what you're doing!"
"Igor know what Igor doing very well. This iGoBoom, designed by Adolph Industries if Igor not mistaken. It used to eradicate devices and services similar to those offered, but not owned or trademarked by, Adolph Industries. Jhew Alliance kind enough to send Igor schematics, now it target all Adolph Industries products. Including iLive's.
"You're bluffing."
"Crazies sure about that?"
Igor then dropped the iGoBoom into the vessel containing Almighty Steve, and was detonated via remote by a tiny shaking paw at street level outside the Temple of Scienceology. When the neon signage exploded, the Cheewahwah took shelter from the falling debris and ARF-ed in joyous celebration.
Down below, a resonance field activated, and sent a wave of energy feedback through the airwaves, to the ground based broadcast towers, and back again into the minds of those who had dedicated themselves to a lifetime of compliance at the hands of Adolph Industries. The Mystic and the remaining crony fell screaming to the floor, clutching their heads in a vain attempt to release the pain coursing through their nervous system as the Conversation-Makey's implanted in their cerebral mass self destructed.
Unaffected by these events, Igor took the mop in hand again, and with a solitary swing, sent the again rapidly decaying brain of Almighty Steve across the room, and landed in a corner. Igor's task had been completed.
"Igor be seeing you." he said as he stepped his way across the fallen bodies and headed for the elevator, but stopped short as the decaying brain weakly bounced over to Igor's feet.
"You! You've ruined everything!"
"Igor no think so. "
"I'll have my followers again! You can't keep them from me! Tommy! Where's my
sweet Tommy? He gives good brraaaiiinnn!" With this final gasp, Almighty Steve was no more.
Then Igor looked around to where Tommy had laid unconscious, and was now stirring again. Uncertainty dominated his face, and then certainty set in.
"Oh my god, I am a terrible actor! And gay too!"
"Igor knew that for years. That not hard figure out."
* * * * *
Sometime about midnight, the Jhew Alliance arrived. By bus, no less.
At least, it was bus shaped. What it was, was an actual means of interstellar transport, powered by space\time warping engines and what could only be termed as gravity magnets. It landed with a slight jolt in front of what had been up until recently the Temple of Scienceology, and a was made from several sections of what were apparently second hand pieces of metallic materials and other compounds that had been holding the loose pieces in place.
What had to be their equivalent of an airlock hissed, then pulled aside. And out stepped the Jhew Alliance. Wazniack had not been looking forward to this.
Out stepped Getrurde Wazniack, followed by her husband Harold and Joe's younger brother Melvin, who was busy with his iPorn.
"Joe Wazniack, I told you this would happen! Just look at you! And when's the last time you had a proper meal! Here, would it kill you to eat something?"
"Mom..." Joe whined, but Mrs. Wazniack pushed him aside, stepped up to Igor, grabbed his cheeks and kissed him on his forehead.
"Now there's the good boy who gave me back my son and prevented the destruction of his own society. In one night too! I bet he listens to his mother."
Igor simply blushed.
"Igor love Igor's mother."
"Just like a good boy should. Thank you, son, for all you've done for us. Now, we must be going."
"Ahem..." coughed Harold, briefly.
"Oh, right. My husband was wondering, what with all the junk you've got orbiting such a pretty planet, if it'd be all right if we might could do you a favor and take some of it with us."
"You're not using it anyway," said Harold as he took away Melvin's iPorn.
"Igor guess. It no use to Earth anyways."
"Splendid!" Harold clapped his hands together, and ushered his sons into the bus.
"Well, dearie, again thank you. And I'm sorry for all the trouble our oldest son has given your planet."
"It not problem."
"Ah, so modest aren't you? Now be certain to take care of yourself, and you'd do well with an extra meal here and there. No sense a boy your age being all skin and bone." Gertrude then pulled a frilly space hanky from her pocket, spat on it, and cleaned Igor's cheek before getting back into the bus.
"Igor have question."
"Yes, what is it?"
"Why space people want Earth's old orbiting junk?"
"No sense in letting it go to waste, my boy!" came Harold's reply.
And then the state of the bus and Harold's interest in salvaging NASA's old equipment made blinding sense, as the ship lifted up and headed for the starry skies and beyo
