Chapter 10: Good Clean Fun

(An "I Can Read It By Myself" Chapter)

 AM ZAN."

She must be one of the Recycle Babes that Nicktoon mentioned to me, I thought. As she again ran past in the space between me and the Shrine, the Saran Wrap trailing behind her thwapped me in the face. I hate Saran Wrap.

"I AM ZAN."      "ZAN I AM."

That Zan-I-am, I thought. That Zan-I-am! I did not like that Zan-I-am.

She spoke to me. "Do you like my green Saran?"

That threw me for a moment. Somehow, I wasn't expecting her to speak.

"I do not like it, Zan-I-am. I do not like your green Saran." I tried to get around her.

"Would you like Kombucha tea?" She held out a mason jar, its top sealed with the damned Saran Wrap. Something floated in it. The Something blurped.

"No, thank you, I don't want your tea; it's much too weird, too weird for me. I do not like your green Saran. I do not like it, Zan-I-am."

"Would you drink some anyhow? Would you drink some with a cow?"

A cow? That seemed a strange thing to say, drinking with a cow. I tried to picture it, and nearly broke into a laugh despite my mood. The thought came to me, I wondered, when a cow laughs, does milk come out its nose, too? "Please, no Kombucha tea right now. I wouldn't drink it with a cow; I do not like Kombucha tea, it seems extremely gross to me. But most of all, your green Saran -- I do not like it, Zan-I-am."

Every move I made in my attempt to reach the Shrine was instantly reflected by her, and I found myself becoming increasingly distressed.

"Some tea with Twinkies would be nice,    And you could pour it over ice."

This Recycle Babe needs to go through a twelve-step program, I thought. She seems to have this ingrained need to make me drink this stuff. I felt myself about to indent.

"Not over ice, not on a bet.    And not in my house, or undernet.       I would not drink Kombucha tea.          I'd rather have a beer, or three.             Don't touch me with that green Saran.                I do not like it, Zan-I-am."

Okay, it's fourth and ten, and this team's not letting me through. Thinking back to my football days, I began to put together a rudimentary game plan for getting past her to the Shrine.

"Would you? Could you? On the List?      Drink it! Drink it on the List!"

"I would not, could not, on the List, although some folks there might insist."

"They may like it. You will see. You'll see, next week, on IRC."

"I can't afford that IRC; I like the List because it's free.    My Nicktoon story's on the List, assuming Nesmith isn't pissed.       I don't want Tea Blob in my house;          I don't want Twinkies, don't want cows.             Forget about Kombucha tea, I'd rather drink some STP.                I'm still creeped out by green Saran.                   I do not like it, Zan-I-am." "A trout! A trout! A trout! A trout!    Could you, would you, with a trout?"

Where the fish came from, I couldn't tell. It had happened too quickly. I had faked to the left, and then when I shifted balance to cut in the opposite direction, something cold and wet hit me on the side of my face, and knocked me to the ground. I stood up quickly, and backed up.

"Not with a trout! Not over ice!    Not with cow, or birds, or mice!       I would not drink on IRC;          Besides, there is no place to pee.             That Blob will not get near my house,                Or my computer, or my mouse..                   I do not like your green Saran.                      I do not like it, Zan-I-am."

I jumped sideways, then tucked into a roll, barrelling past her. Pushing quickly to my feet, I darted across the grass to a small window set into the near wall of the pyramidical Shrine. Standing on the other side was a uniformed guard, who bore a striking resemblance to Professor Marvel except for a long, drooping white moustache.

I blurted out between attempts to catch my breath. "Hi (gasp) My name's Nick (wheeze) I'm here to see The King."

The guard looked shocked, then briefly flustered. "The King has left the building!" He slammed the window closed. A sheet of green Saran Wrap whipped in front of my face, tightened, and I was pulled back away from the Shrine.

"Say!    A.m.m.? On a.m.m.!       Would you, then, on a.m.m.?" "I wouldn't dare on a.m.m.!" "Would you, then, on AOL?" "I won't use evil AOL;    'Downloading art...' can go to hell.       Not on the List, nor IRC,          Unless I win the lottery.             Not in my house. Not a.m.m..                Not with a trout. Not even then.                   I will not drink Kombucha tea.                      I do not like it, don't you see?!"

"You do not like it, so you say. Try it! Try it, and you may! Try it and you may, I say."

"Zan! If you will let me be, I will try it. You will see."

I cautiously unpeeled the green Saran Wrap from the top of the jar. I tipped the jar toward me slowly, allowing the Blob to float to the top and away from my mouth and nose. It seemed somehow malevolent to me.

I sipped.

"Say!    I like Kombucha tea!       I do!! I like it, Zan-I-am!          And I would drink it with a cow!             And I would drink it with a trout!                And I will drink it over ice.                   And then, with Glenn, I'll drink it twice!                      On AOL. On Prodigy. On Compuserve. On IRC.                         When I have Spam, I'll take a drink!                            When I have Twinkies, too, I think!                               That blob is kinda gross, I swear,                                  But I will drink this anywhere!                                     Don't cover it with your green Saran!                                        Thank you! Thank you, Zan-I-am!"

"...and, Nick?"

"Yes, Zan?"

"Milk does come out of a cow's nose. Where do you think yogurt comes from?"