McEdifice Returns by Timothy the Tremendous Talking Cat and The Artist Formerly Known as Straw Puppy. Assume n is a chapter, then n+1 would be the next chapter and therefore as “next chapter” is by definition a chapter, chapter n+1 is also a chapter. Therefore for all n ∈ ℕ, chapter n is a chapter. As the cardinality of ℕ is ℵ0 therefore the total number of chapters is also ℵ0.
Planet Campus – the Boot Camp and Corporate Office Planet of Tau Bootes X. [We’ve done that bit.]
[Ok, skipping ahead]
It was week 4 of intensive training for the new recruits of the Intergalactic Space Army. Trainee unit Alpha 57 consisted of Dweeble, Mush, Henumhein, Chuckowitz, Mertlebay, Shumpwinder, Scoot, Pumpwhistle, Pendlebee, Zorb, Feratu, and McEdifice.
“I HAVE NEVER SEEN, a more mangy, misbegotten, NO GOOD, bunch of FLEA INFESTED, scum-bag eating EXCUSES for recruits in all MY DAYS at Bootcamp 67!” Drill Sergeant Ernie (Earnest to his friends of which he had none) was professionally loud, cantankerous and had master degrees in bullying, verbal abuse, and counterproductive unfairness.
McEdifice narrowed his eyes. Sure, he understood the basic principle of psychologically breaking the recruits down so as to rebuild their personalities as a hardened unit of warriors but McEdifice couldn’t ignore his instincts and his instincts told him that the camp had been infiltrated by SPACE VAMPIRES. He didn’t know who the infiltrator was but he knew that he didn’t like Drill Sergeant Ernie.
“Trainee Unit Alpha 57, you have ONE HOUR to sweep this drill yard cleaner than a nun’s browsing history! DISMISSED!” Shouted Ernie to the quivering recruits (obviously, McEdifice wasn’t quivering but the recruits, in general, where – you get the idea).
“Hey, McEdifice,” another recruit called over to him as they grabbed their brooms. It was Recruit Feratu or “Noz” as he liked to be known. A stringy looking bald guy with a sickly pallor. McEdifice was concerned for Noz’s health and was unsure whether the poor guy would make it through basic training.
“How you holding up Noz?” asked McEdifice.
“I’m OK. It’s just being out in the sun, it’s not so good for my skin. I just wanted to thank you for the large floppy hat and the factor 100 suncream.” said Noz with a timid smile.
“Not a problem Noz. Remember we are a TEAM and a team works together and looks after each other.” counselled McEdifice.
“Thanks, I’ll remember. Hey, could you tell me again about the super-secret anti-space-vampire weapons you were talking about last night?” inquired Noz.
“Sure, basically it is a nanotech shotgun shell that contains nanoscopic machines which emit tiny UV laser beams and garlic essence simultaneously. This allows them to burrow into the skin of the space vampire or even attack its essence when in bat, rat or spooky cloud form,” explained McEdifice.
“Gosh,” said Noz, “that’s remarkable. Those space vampires won’t know what hit them!”
“Exactly! It is a good job it is super secret so don’t tell anybody who isn’t in the armed forces, understood? Also, I think you should visit the camp dentist, your teeth are looking quite ragged and discoloured.” said McEdifice comradely.
“Um, sure. Will do!” said Noz who then began brushing the drill yard in a different direction.
Just then Chuckowitz tripped over his own broom and fell sprawling onto the yard. McEdifice dropped his broom and went over to help.
“Stop right there McEdifice!” It was Drill Sergeant Ernie who had briefly returned to check on the recruits.
“Ow! I hurt my ankle!” said Chuckowitz.
“One of our men is down,” growled McEdifice, “and that means we help them. That’s the space marine code.”
“Yeah, well you aren’t in the Marines any longer old-timer. The only code on this drill yard is the code of do whatever I say when I say it!” Drill Sergeant Ernie leaned right into McEdifice’s face which was partly obscured by his space helmet.
“I’m not one to disobey the chain of command,” said McEdifice, which was strictly not true because McEdifice is a maverick who GETS SHIT DONE and knows when to break the rules but was true in principle I guess.
“Ha, I knew you were just a scared little mouse,” sneered Ernie, “too lilly-livered” he added
pocking poking McEdifice in the chest, “and soft-hearted,” poking again, “and too much of a wishy-washy, namby-pamby, Navy-boy to stand up for yourself.” On each word, he poked McEdifice in the chest some more.
“Did you, Sir, just insult the Intergalactic Space Navy, Sir?” asked McEdifice in a voice that was both respectful and yet full of charged menace.
“Yeah, I insulted the gruddam, no-good, culottes wearing, up-itself Intergalactic Space Navy and you, recruit, are going to stand there and take it.” growled Drill Sergeant Ernie with a mocking grin.
“Really? Am I? Because regulation 12.12a.iic of the Intergalactic Uniform Code specifically states that insults pursuant to one service in relation to another service of the combined defence forces of the peoples of the galaxy and beyond must be resolved by the relevant complainants and parties according to the method of TRIAL BY COMBAT and according to the honoured tradition of the GENTLEMANLY DUEL.” said McEdifice barrack-room-lawyerly.
“What? You insubordinate little shit! I’ll see you placed in the brig for that!” howled an enraged Ernie.
“STAND DOWN SERGEANT!” gasp! It was General O’Fiercegaiters! “I heard the whole thing and the recruit here is quite correct. You crossed a line sergeant, insulting another arm of the United Intergalactic Defence Forces. The recruit is quite within their rights to demand restitution from you.”
“But…but…this is Chisled McEdifice! He’s a stone-cold killer trained in multiple forms of unarmed, partially armed and fully armed combat! He’ll murdelize me!” squealed Drill Sergeant Ernie.
“Not at all! This will be a gentlemanly bout of boxing following Space Marquis of Space Queensbury rules,” explained General O’Fiercegaiters, “let’s say oh-six-hundred hours tomorrow morning, at the old boxing rink out by the spooky forest.”
“Oh, I love the spooky forest!” said Noz.
“That’s the spirit!” said the general, “This match will be good for morale!”
McEdifice said nothing but smiled inwardly – he knew this was the perfect opportunity to expose Drill Sergeant Ernie as the Space Vampire that he probably was, but it would take all night for him to prepare.
“Oh, it is spam fritters for tea tonight!” said Pumpwhistle, changing the subject.
“Nooooooo!!!!!!” cried McEdifice.
[Scene: a quiet evening just outside the southeast conservatory of Felapton Towers currently relocated to the former home of Doctor Morbius on Altair IV]
Timothy the Talking Cat: I’m going to sue France.
Camestros: Perhaps it is the pleasant evening weather echoing a summer that has since passed or perhaps it is this third tumbler of gin and tonic but I will release myself of my vow and humour your random context-free outburst with a response. Why are you going to sue the French government? They have deep pockets and scary French lawyers at their disposal.
Timothy: The French Government? I’m not going to sue the French Government! Why would I sue the French Government?
Camestros: But…OK, do you mean that you are going to sue the French people in general?
Timothy: I think you’ve had too much gin.
Camestros: I suspect I haven’t had enough.
Timothy: I’m going to sue FRANCE. France as the thing that is itself France. Not ‘the French’ not the French Government. Not any kind of the adjectival case of France but France strictly as a noun.
Camestros: Ah, you’ve been at the Krell machine again and given yourself a brain boost, haven’t you?
Timothy: I may have partaken a smidgen. How can you tell?
Camestros: Never mind, please continue so I can at least get some hint of what kind of monster from your id will be attacking our defences later.
Timothy: Well I was reading Plato…
Camestros: Hold on I just need to pour more gin.
Timothy: Do you not want tonic in that?
Camestros: I suspect not…
Timothy: Anyway, as you are aware this reality is but a mere shadow of a more perfect reality.
Camestros: I’m aware of the concept…
Timothy: And what we consider abstract concepts, such as a circle, are the true reality – one that we perceive but dimly as if we were enslaved being watching shadows upon a cave wall.
Camestros: Carry on Polonius, why are you suing France?
Timothy: I think you mean Plotinus, the third-century AD Neoplatonist. Polonius is the character from Hamlet.
Camestros: Oh dear…your id monster is going to be bigger than usual. But while we wait for the invisible beclawed two-footed manifestation of your squirrel-phobia, you still haven’t said why you are going to sue France.
Timothy: Well the key issue is not the government of France, or its geography, or its people but rather the paradigmatic ultimate ideal of France.
Camestros: Yes, but WHY do you want to sue France at all!
Timothy: I…oh…I mean, I wanted to sue France before I went into the machine. I was trying to find a clever way of doing it.
Mr Atomic: WARNING! WARNING! Perimeter alert!!
Camestros: OMG! That monster looks just like Steve Bannon!
[Exit pursued by Timothy’s id monster]
McEdifice Returns by Timothy the Talking Cat and Straw Puppy. For all rights reserved under both Common Law and Admiralty Law for ever. For the corporate shells known as TIMOTHY THE TALKING CAT and STRAW PUPPY.
Oh we should start this chapter with an excerpt from a future encyclopedia so we can do a subtle info-dump for background!
Planet Campus – the Boot Camp and Corporate Office Planet of Tau Bootes X. Straddled by a single ring-shaped continent that alternates in bands between lonely countryside fall of barracks and obstacle courses and dull looking office buildings full of out-dated office equipment.
The hyper-specialism of the galactic civilisation has inexorably led to planets that were just-one-thing: the desert planet of Sandy, the lumpy planet of Lumpus, the planet that just looks like Amsterdam all over of Damsterham, and the Sydney Opera House planet of Utzon-Jørn to name but a few. To resist the planetary monoculture creating a fundamental fragility to galactic civilisation, the ruling Galactical Confederation of Galactic Imperial Republics had instigated a controversial “Come on, Every Planet Has to Have at Least Two Things Guys” law, that mandated that every planet had to have at least a pair of signature things. The desert planet of Sandy for example also became the unfeasibly large worm planet whereas the lumpy planet of Lumpus tried to skirt the law by declaring itself also the Planet of Very Tiny Valleys planet.
Planet Campus of Tau Bootes X had already staked out a very stable niche as the planet of early 21st Century offices. In an attempt to preserve cultures of historical note and ways of life that might become extinct due to social and technological change, Planet Campus had been populated with low-rise office buildings and locked into 21st-century technology. Dealing with paperwork, and project management methodologies the planet had descended into urban warfare due to a quasi-religious conflict between traditionalist adherents to the church of Prince2 and ninja-heretics committed to Agile Methodology.
Only after the civil war had consumed much of the planet was it revealed that the conflict had been orchestrated by histriosocioempiricists committed to Seldonism, who wished to see if 21st-century social media was the root cause of the factionalism witnessed on Earth at the equivalent time. After careful consideration of the evidence, they had absolved social-media as a root cause and had concluded in a lengthy report that the primary cause was that “people are just dicks.”
The Space Galactical Space Army landed in force as peace-keepers to end the conflict and to ensure that Planet Campus could return to its vital economic work of moving gradually towards the paperless-office by printing huge reports on the topic. After thirty years of a second civil war between the Space Galactical Space Army and the insurgents, a peace of sorts was brokered. The planet was divided into alternate bands – business zone/boot camp/business zone/boot camp etc. Thus successfully separating warring project management ideologies with military zones mainly filled with new recruits. The success of a planet with two signature things would be an inspiration for planets everywhere. – Extract from “What’s the Thing about Planet Campus of Tau Bootes X” Omnipancyclopedia Cosmosicos 3576
McEdifice stepped out of the post-orbital drop craft and looked around him. In the hazy distance he could just make out what looked like the central business district of a small town but surrounding him was green countryside, obstacle courses, barracks and a habit designed for cruel, demanding, sadistic and shouty drill-sergeants.
“Welcome to Bootcamp 17 of Planet Campus the Bootcamp Planet of Tau Bootes X.” said a particularly loud drill sergeant.
“Nooooooo!!!!!” cried McEdifice.
Tune in next time for another thrilling chapter!
McEdifice Returns by Timothy the Talking Cat and Straw Puppy ©Timothy the Talking Cat and Straw Puppy. McEdifice™ Timothy the Talking Cat and Straw Puppy. All rights reserved. Patent pending. Also, we put this whole chapter in an envelope and mailed it to the Pope but we deliberately used the wrong address so it came back to us which means our copyright claim is recognised by the Vatican and the Post Office.
McEdifice was still recovering from having punched himself out of a hallucination, staggered onward to Outlaw’s Gulch, the infamous hideout of the Treerat Gang against who he had sworn revenge for what was now a multitude of crimes. To wit:
- Shooting at his head
- Killing Chuck the Pony (don’t worry he isn’t really dead)
- Sabotaging Simon the Bicycle (sadly Simon is definitely dead – also we decided to call him ‘Simon’ so you knew which bicycle we were talking about)
- Putting hallucinogenic drugs on the handlebars of the bike
- Being all round bad people
Oh, those miscreants were in for a heap of trouble once McEdifice got their hands on them! This was going to be a showdown of epic proportions! A gunfight of some significant magnitude! A veritable brouhaha of brutality and bruises. A Toccata and fugue of Bach-like proportions where violence is the organ keys and McEdifice would be pulling out all the stops. (Nice one SP!)
McEdifice stepped through the entrance to Outlaw’s Gulch with a brazen swagger, knowing that his very appearance would intimidate the feeble willed outlaws.
“Come out and meet my vengeance!” shouted McEdifice.
But the only sound was the echo of his cry.
“They’re all gone McEdifice,” said a snide and yet familiar voice.
With reflexes so quick that the nerve impulses in his nerves probably go like faster than lightning, McEdifice whipped around lightning fast with his laser pistol ready to spurt lightning at the intruder behind him.
There was nobody there.
“Over here, you stupid ass.” said the snide voice.
McEdifice looked up and then left and right.
“In the tree. For goodness sake. It is RIGHT IN FRONT OF YOU.”
McEdifice turned back to the centre of the gulch where stood an old oak tree. On a branch sat a man in full dress uniform of the Intergalactic Space Navy Marine Corp.
“Well, well, well,” said McEdifice, “if it isn’t Commander Clench, my old nemesis. I thought I told you never to set foot again on the Grassland Planet of Steppe.”
“Well yes, you did but as I explained at the time, I’m free to go anywhere I like and also I outrank you and also I have an orbiting space-dreadnought directly above us that could wipe you off the face of the planet before you could even grimace at me in a way I didn’t like.” explained Commander Clench.
“Well, I told you then that I was never going back. I’m officially retired.”
“Your choice McEdifice but I’ve some bad news for you. If you want those Treerat boys then they’ve already left the planet.”
“War has returned to the Galaxy McEdifice. The massed armada of the evil Space Vampires is claiming huge tracts of space. The Intergalactic Space Army has conscripted every lowlife, miscreant, outlaw, ner-do-well, street punk and tax account into a desperate rag-tag yet elite army of the meanest, nastiest and most financially prudent scum-of-the-earth battalion you never imagined. This ‘bad battalion’ as we have named them will form the vanguard of an assault on the space vampires followed by more conventional (and better groomed) forces.”
“That means nothing to me Clench. My mission is vengeance not another one of your endless wars. No, not even the looming threat of my ultimate enemy – the insidious space vampires – is enough to sway me from my course of avenging Chuck and Simon.”
“Actually Chuck is fine.”
“I won’t fall for your lies again Clench.”
“Have it your way, but the only way you can kill those Treerat Boys is to shoot your way through the Intergalactic Space Army, killing brave soldiers intent on defending the galaxy from evil space vampires. Oh, I know you McEdifice, better than you know yourself.”
“Damn you Clench. What is it that you want from me?”
“Mainly to humiliate you and make you look stupid. To that end, here is a once only offer. If you join the Intergalactic Space Army then you will have the right under the military code of settling debts of honour via the ancient tradition of a duel. Your course is simple: join the army, make your way to the front, challenge the Treerat Boys in turn to duels. And, of course, while you are out there KILL SOME SPACE VAMPIRES.”
“Grrrrr. DAMN YOU CLENCH! OK, you give me no choice. If Major Commander McEdifice needs to take to the field of battle one more time then I’ll do just that.”
“Minor correction: that would be PRIVATE McEdifice. Your rank was for the Space Navy Marines. You’ll need to join the ARMY. It’s back to boot camp for you McEdifice!”
Chiseled McEdifice: Returns – by Timothy the Talking Cat and Straw Puppy
McEdifice softly caressed McEdifices swan-like neck. “Oh darling,” he whispered into his ear, “this night is so magical. I feel we could fly forever upon this magical wingéd horse.”
“This has been the most beautiful night of my life…hold on…wouldn’t a flying horse need both musculatures to sustain flight and to support more standard equestrian activities?” said McEdifice.
McEdifice held on tighter to the manly chest of his beloved McEdifice. “Good point,” he said, “Also a flying animal necessarily has a lighter skeleton structure making a flying horse unsuitable to act as an animal that could bear the weight of two very manly men.”
“Also, now that you come to mention it…isn’t there only one of us?”
“Hmm that does seem fishy but maybe this is all the effect of the magical kingdom far below us?”
“No way McEdifice! I can believe in faster than light travel, mutant talking ponies, psionics, time travel, non-mammalian alien species that nonetheless look like sexy women, laser-swords, space wormholes and space vampires and star-whales BUT I draw the line at such absurd notions as ‘magic’.”
“Hmmm, then I must draw the conclusion that I…”
“…ating and must”
“wake myself up.”
“Brace yourself McEdifice – this is going to hurt!”
“Are we awake yet?”
“No, you’d better hit me again.”
McEdifice awoke with a start. He was lying next to the burnt remains of the bicycle. Cautiously he sniffed his hands. There was the soft sweet smell of decaying blueberries.
Hallucinox 17! The slow acting psychotropic drug that could be easily absorbed through the skin!
McEdifice inspected the handlebars of the bicycle. Despite the charred smell, the scent of hallucinox 17 was still detectable! Those despicable Treerats had not only tried to sabotage his bike but also his MIND!
“Nooooooo!!!!!!” cried McEdifice.
He swore on the lingering memory of the star speckled Pegasus that he would seek revenge on those who had attacked his basic sense of reality. Before it had only been personal now it was PHARMACEUTICAL.
[Postscript: this episode was inspired by a book tweeted below
I don’t think I could fully do it justice but I felt a homage was needed.]
Chiseled McEdifice: Returns – by Timothy the Talking Cat and Straw Puppy
REVENGE! There was but one thought on McEdifice’s mind: REVENGE! The outlaws of the evil Treerat Gang (a bunch of outlaws and pagan worshippers of the ancient demonic squirrel god) had killed (not really but that’s what he thinks right now) the only friend he had on the Grassland Planet of Steppes. They had a lasting hate for McEdifice ever since he drove them and their filthy ways out of town and killed their leader in a shoot-out. Yes, I KNOW I used that sentence already – it is called helping the reader out. What if they had accidentally skipped over that sentence – maybe they were briefly interrupted by an insensitive fellow householder demanding to know what all that mess was on the floor? Where was I? Ah, yes! REVENGE!
With his pony Chuck now dead (not actually but that’s what he thinks), McEdifice had no recourse but to use an old bicycle that was sitting in the barn. As he stood by the barn gates, McEdifice paused for a moment to remember all the good times he and Chuck had had in the barn. He would never forget Chuck and how he had both been a good friend and a useful form of transport on the rugged but on average quite-flat world of Steppe.
McEdifice strapped on a bandolier of knives and guns and ammo and probably grenades and then hopped on the bike and set off on his way to Outlaw’s Gulch – the hiding place of the infamous Treerat Gang!
It was a charming day for a bicycle ride. The sun was out and a cool breeze rippled across the plains, causing the tops of the tall grasses to shimmer as if the ground was glad in yellow-green velvet. Excellent sentence all round I think. High fives for that one. McEdifice whistled a jaunty song as he cycled along the stony path.
Eventually, he reached a slight incline as the ground made its way towards Outlaw’s Gulch. As his speed increased McEdifice attempted to apply the brakes but to no avail! The brakes were not working somehow! Oh, my gosh. The path to Outlaw’s Gulch was becoming steeper and the bike was bumping along the rocky road in a way that was quite uncomfortable!
“Oh dear!” said McEdifice as he once again made a futile attempt to apply the brakes! Just then the front wheel hit a particularly large pebble! The bike crashed and McEdifice was thrown clear!
KABOOM! The bicycle exploded in a fiery explosion as a consequence of it hitting a rock. McEdifice rushed over and beat back the flames and then with one mighty flick of his shoulders he hoisted up the flaming bike and threw it into a near by pond which I should have probably mentioned earlier.
With a heavy heart, McEdifice examined the now parboiled bicycle. The brake lines had been cut! One of the outlaws must have sabotaged the bike before they shot at him, maybe like five minutes before hand. I guess they did it quietly.
He stared at the now ruined bike and then picked it up and cradled it in his arms. This bicycle had been his one true companion on the Grassland Planet of Steppe – a trusty steed in times of need, a faithful servant and a mechanical marvel that could deftly make use of normal human effort to provide a more efficient use of the energy produced when travelling along relatively flat surfaces. But now that bicycle was dead. Another victim of the evil Treerat Gang.
McEdifice looked up to the sky and howled “Noooooooo!!!!! Why must it always be the good ones who are taken?” He then laid the broken remains of the bicycle softly on the cool grass – saluted it and set off on his mission with a renewed purpose.
Before it had simply been about revenge, now it was PERSONAL.
When seasons change the two of them like to dig out their epic space-fantasy-revenge-western-with-vampires. Here is Chapter 1.
Chiseled McEdifice: Returns – by Timothy the Talking Cat and Straw Puppy
Standing proudly before his lonesome homestead on the far prairie plains of the Grassland Planet of Steppe, Chiseled McEdifice was chopping wood. He was standing when he was chopping the wood obviously – I don’t think those two things contradict each other and I wish the beta reviewer would JUST GET OUT OF MY FACE and learn their place. Me: the author, in charge, creative genius. Them: the lowly moron who should be grateful that they get this kind of opportunity to learn from the best quite frankly. Can you chop wood sitting down? No, so what are you going on about? He is STANDING and chopping the wood and those two images do not “clash”.
Here, in this dusty retreat, McEdifice was seeking the peace his life had never given him.
“I’m just looking for peace,” he said wistfully as he stared out over the grassy plains before him.
Just then a gunshot rang out and a bullet ricocheted off his space marine helmet (he was wearing his space marine helmet obviously – look at the cover image). The HUD display flickered on in his helmet (no that isn’t ‘redundant’ I can’t just say ‘his HUD flickered on’ as that sounds perverted to me). Targeting identified a heat source 501.67 metres away to the north east.
“Enhance,” McEdifice vocalised and in some sort of cool special effect way the helmet magnified that area of his vision (with maybe a hi-tech noise like boop-ooohwushboop). It was one of the Treerat gang!
The Treerat Gang: a bunch of outlaws and pagan worshippers of the ancient demonic squirrel god. They had a lasting hate for McEdifice ever since he drove them and their filthy ways out of town and killed their leader in a shoot-out.
With one deft movement, McEdifice hoisted his wood chopper into one hand and then with a mighty flick of his elbow he sent the axe careening through the air. THUNK! it landed straight in the miscreants head who then let out an ungodly scream: “aieeeee!” and then died.
“I guess that trespasser should have axed for permission before stepping on my land.” quipped McEdifice sardonically.
Just then, McEdifice realised that the back paddock was unguarded! He ran as fast as he could but he was too late! Another outlaw had sneaked round and now was pointing a gun at McEdifice’s only friend: a lovely pony called Chuck.
“Don’t move McEdifice or the pony gets it!” said the outlaw.
“Don’t you harm a hair on that pony’s head!” said McEdifice.
“Shoot him McEdifice!” said the pony – this is in space right so it can be a talking pony I think. Probably a mutant pony or something.
“Stay calm Chuck,” said McEdifice.
“I’m just going to mosey on out of here with this here pony,” said the outlaw in that kind of accent that outlaws have in cowboy movies.
McEdifice checked his pocket and in his pocket, he found a pencil. With one deft movement he hoisted the pencil into his hand and then with one mighty flick of his elbow he launched the pencil onto a ballistic trajectory (yes I do know what that means and on this planet the gravity means it is like a straight line because that is cool) which flew straight into the outlaw’s head.
“aieeeee!” said the outlaw and then he died.
McEdifice ran over to Chuck.
“Thank God you are OK old buddy!” said McEdifice to Chuck. I guess it was obvious he was saying it to Chuck (the pony) and not the outlaw because the outlaw was not his buddy and was also very dead by now. I guess he could have said it sarcastically to the dead outlaw – that would be kind of cool if he said it in a drawl. Anyway, he didn’t do a quip at this point because I couldn’t think of one.
“I’m not OK dear friend,” said Chuck, “in the stress of the moment I caught a terminally pony-sickness and I’m now dying. Goodbye old friend, we had good times together.” and then Chuck died. Oh gosh, this is so sad.
“Noooooooo!!!!!!” said McEdifice and at that moment he swore revenge! He knew his quiet life of peace on the plains was over. He’d tried to escape the horrors of space-war but war was what he knew and it would always keep pulling him back!
Oh! I thought of a quip he could have said when he killed the second outlaw! “I guess I was quick on the draw” because he used a pencil you see. That’s what he said when he killed the outlaw – sardonically. So just imagine now I told you that earlier, OK?
Sorry about Chuck the Pony dying. Don’t be upset beta reviewer – it’s for motivation. OK, ok. Later after McEdifice goes off to get revenge, it turns out that Chuck wasn’t quite dead, he was just very, very tired from the space-mutant-pony disease and needed a long nap. He then got better but McEdifice had already left. So in the next chapter Chuck isn’t actually dead but just asleep but McEdifice thinks Chuck is dead. OK? Good.