DESERT HENGE

THE ADVENTURES OF SUMMERLAND'S SALAMANDERS---
BIKER COVEN


by: Rick Johnson
PO Box 40451
Tucson, Az.
85717
RikJohnson@juno.com

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LANCE TRUEFOOT

When last we left out intrepid heros, Summerland's Salamanders -Biker Coven, they were levitating their bikes down I-10 approaching the latest annual Pagan Festival.

Suddenly from behind an unattractive billboard depicting sex to sell an unwanted product to a gullible public, came a shrieking wail and flashing lights. It was none other than Lance Truefoot, born again highway patrolman who had spied his mortal enemies at last..

"All right, you freaks!," he screamed in his irritating falsetto. "Get down here and pull over. What are you doing up there in the air!" (Lance Truefoot loved rhetorical questions as he never cared for any side of a situation save his own).

"Saving tire wear." replied Davidson, the High Priestess.

"Tire wear my eye," cursed Lance Truefoot cruelly. "I'm citing you lowlives for speeding, flying too low, leaving the pavement not in an emergency, wearing tacky leather robes in the Summer, and not belonging to my own x-ian church. It'll be a cold day in Benson when you get out of prison." And with that he began to emit the hideous laugh that made him infamous from Yuma to the Navajo reservation.

"Gosh all golly," he replied to nobody in particular. "I sure hope that I have enough tickets for all of you, ... otherwise I may have to shoot a few of you slimeballs." He smiled at the thought for a second (he would have smiled for another second but smiling made his jaw hurt).

Our heroes began to submit but then Harley, the High Priest of the Biker Coven, remembered that they were supposed to be an outlaw group ("It is so difficult to remember all of these details," he thought to himself). He pulled his combat Athame from his boot and with an invoking Pentagram and some very bad poetry, turned Lance Truefoot, born again Highway Patrolman, into a slimy-warty, green toad.

As our heroes continue down the road, we ask the following questions; Will they ever reach the festival? Will they be mistaken for an UFO by the Air Force? Will Lance Truefoot, born again Highway Patrolman ever be a born again human again?

Tune in again next time, next place for the further adventures of... SUMMERLAND'S SALAMANDERS---BIKER COVEN!


THE HORRIBLE DEVASTATION

When last we left our intrepid heros they had begun to wash a swarm of grasshoppers from their leather robes after becoming lost. Being lost irritated them not because they didn't know where to go (someone was always telling them where to go) but because they hadn't passed a junk food bar in ages and at least dome of them were going through Twinkie (@ trademark registered) withdrawal.

As it became dark Beemer suggested that they pull into a national park for the night just to avoid the bogie-men.

"What strange looking trees," mentioned Suzi for she was the most intelligent member of the Coven. "They are all three feet tall, flat on top and have no branches. Perfect for an Altar but not much good for shade."

Suzi stared at the forest for awhile then recoiled in horror! "There be lumberjacks in the land!"

The entire Coven gasped in unison, thus causing several insects and a California Condor to fall to the ground in the ensuing vacuum..

Beemer immediately pulled out his Tarot deck and using a method of his own design, pulled a card at random from the deck, tossed it into the air and watched as it hit the ground. The entire Coven stared at the direction the card pointed and saw a tree come crashing to the ground a few yards away, narrowly missing Indian's bike.

"That does it," She screamed. "My husband, yes! My dog, maybe! But my bike, NEVER!!!" And so she picked up a crushed beer can (made with pure Rocky Mountain spring water by tiny little artesians) and pummeled the tree killer senseless. She then removed all of his strength by ripping the hair off of his chest.

The Coven then bound the evil thing that they had captured to one of his victims and moved off some distance to hold a fertility orgy. As the sounds of the rite reached it's peak, a hoard of furry squirrels, cute wiggle-nosed bunnies and homeless song birds approached their helpless victim that they might take their vengeance.

The next day amid a new growth of green shoots and saplings, Davidson, Suzi and Indian threw up as their bikes lifted off leaving certain questions unanswered; Are the three bikers pregnant or simply airsick? Will the lumberjack ever be allowed upwind of decent people again? Will our heroes find a market for chest-hair wigs? Will Beemer ever learn to make a decent pot of chili?

Be with us next time when none of these questions will be answered as we continue the further adventures of... SUMMERLAND'S SALAMANDERS--BIKER COVEN!


THE BIKER WAR

Last episode, as you will recall (and if you don't, too bad), our heroes had narrowly escaped the lustful clutches of a hoard of New Agers who were heavily into degenerate sex (I never said that our heroes were smart, just that they were our heroes).

Our intrepid heroes were arguing over the proper spell that would fill their gas tanks when the sound of mo-peds filled the air.

Yami leaped into Suzi's lap and screamed, "Run for your lives!, It's the Preppies!"

The others quickly gathered their weapons and prepared for battle, knowing full well that this could be their last day on Earth. It isn't nice to see what the Preppies do to their victims. As usual, the Preppies attacked first to gain the advantage.

"Look guys," remarked Biff as he fondled the alligator embroidered upon the breast of his custom tailored riding suit. "See that tacky motorcycle seat with the torn vinyl? How plebeian."

Honda screamed and fell to the ground, the first casualty in the rumble. But Davidson, the High Priestess reacted with the skills in many a bar fight. "I thought that designer jeans went out with Brooke Shields!"

The Preppies fell back at this but responded thus; "Muffy, have you ever seen such tacky leather robes? Why they don't even match their saddlebags."

Indian and Harley collapsed at this dirty blow but Suzi saved them from further injury by saying, "Isn't that Chip over there? I hear he wears Underoos with the Dukes on the front." With that Chip fell, mortally humiliated and crawled of the road muttering, "I could just die."

"I say there, don't you 'people', and I use the term in it's most general meaning, ever wash and wax your...scooters."

Two bikes suddenly developed flats and the paint peeled off another. The surviving Salamanders held a quick war council and deciding to fight dirty against such horribly stylish people, they pulled out their cords and bike-chain scourges. Before the Preppies knew what had happened, they were stripped, bound and scourged not so tenderly until the demons of culture and good taste had been exorcised from their style conscious bodies.

"I know the pains of freedom," exclaimed Muffy as she fell to her knees before the Coven. "Please forgive our sins and allow us to join your faith." "No!" said Harley, the High Priestess of the Biker Coven. "First you must be purified. And the only way to do that is to burn those hideous Vespas and buying some decent bikes."

With that they kicked over their bikes and with the war cry of "Blessed Be!" ringing in the air, they teleported across the state.

Be with us next time when we seek the answers to the following questions; Will Honda buy a seat cover for his bike? Will Muffy realize that Biff is a jerk? Will Beemer ever get a decent all over tan?

Join us someday for the further adventures of... SUMMERLAND'S SALAMANDERS--BIKER COVEN.


THE ATTACK OF THE KLU-KLUTZ-KOVEN

It had been a difficult Ritual for our heros, First one thing, then another. When they finished this, they had to do that, then finally the other thing was due. And worse of all the ritual was done on a Sunday night and the Coven couldn't even buy any ritual wine until after noon. For a Coven that has toasted the Goddess so many times that they had become borderline alcoholics, this was too much.

They were lounging about their makeshift circle when impending doom occurred.

"Telegram for Summerland's Salamanders--Biker Coven." cried the delivery man. "Will you accept?"

Without waiting for a reply the messenger burst into song;

"Good morning, good morning, you've Worked the whole night through. Good morning, good morning to you! You've been invited to guest with the Ku-Klutz-Koven, we'll see you right there at noon! That'll be five bucks tip please."

"For goodness sake, Beemer, pay the man before he does another chorus!" implored Suzi. After the messenger left, the Coven began to discuss this latest problem.

"We can't attend their Ritual. Their High Priestess gets pregnant doing the Symbolic Great Rite (actually they do the Symbolic Not So Great Rite)."

"They use Thunderbird wine in their Rituals."

"When they ground the power, they sit on a point candle."

The discussion raged for hours, or at least it seemed like days when suddenly night fell and they knew that they were trapped. The off key chanting revealed that the Klu-Klutz- Koven had arrived.

Their white robes shining with day-glo symbols of their Kraft and the pointed hoods they wore left no hope that the Biker Coven could escape.

"This cow field looks nice and smooth for our ritual." commented the High Priestess as she waddled over to the make-shift altar.

The High Priest picked some three-leafed plants and began to itch as he used them for Altar decorations, and the Maiden dropped her Athame.

"I'm sooo sorry," she cooed as Harley tried to move his right foot which had suddenly developed a stabbing pain.

Davidson tried to corner the High Priestess but for a woman in her condition, she moved amazingly fast.

The Ku-Klutz-Koven herded our reluctant heroes into a circle and began to cast the Circle. "But we don't want to...," began Harley as the East was invoked by the High Priest who was facing the setting Moon.

One of the Coveners tossed Suzi to the ground and Bound her for Purification. "Oh darn, how do you untie a square knot? Or is it a sheepshank?"

Saki backed away from a Kovener and steeped into a cowpie.

Indian was handed a writhing reptile by a Kovener and pulled into a dance. "But snake dances are symbolic we don't use real..." he screamed.

All of our victimized heros were pulled into a Ring Dance that collapsed into a pile of broken humanity when the High Priest of the Ku-Klutz-Koven stepped on the hem of Honda's leather robe. In the confusion the Bikers slipped out and escaped on their two- wheeled hogs.

"Whew, " cried Honda as they roared down the road. "That was close. I almost thought that we were lost for a minute."

As our heros levitate their bikes down the road, we ask... Will they find an all night store that carries calamine lotion? Will they suffer the revenge of Montazuma's after eating the Ritual Bean Burros from Last night? What is in their incense that helps them to fly down the roads?

Stay tuned for the further adventures of ... Summerland's Salamanders Biker Coven.


THE MATHEMATICAL WIZARD

It was Indian Summer, a tactic developed by the Red Man to confuse the White invaders, when our insipid heros approached a local pond with the intention of skinny-dipping. They had just finished the Incredible Chocolate-Covered Ritual invented by a crazy Tucson Witch (a Ritual that causes the participants to be Banished by every robed Coven in the country and also causes the remaining Witches to purchase gallons of chocolate syrup in the hopes of being invited to the next Ritual), and felt the need to clean up.

Our heroes were carefully making their way to the water while keeping an eye out for the agents of the Environmental Protection Agency and the morality squad when a logarithm scampered across Suzi's foot. Suzi jumped in astonishment but Harley quickly grabbed the creature and proceeded to pull the log scales from its back.

"What the Summerland are you doing?" profaned Davidson!

"I want to see if they really do progress," replied Harley cryptically. This was so unlike Harley that the others suspected some evil curiosity spell had been placed upon their companion. They tossed him to the ground and began to strip search him, a situation that would have been more enjoyable had he not already been naked.

They had finally worked up to his head, after a few side trips to less hairy parts of his anatomy, when a theorem crawled out of his ear and spun a cocoon. Moments later the shell split apart and an established law appeared. The creature bared its teeth and dared anyone present to refute its existence.

"I think that we are in trouble," commented Honda.

"How do you know?" asked Suzi.

"If we aren't, we'd better move on to the next episode."

"Good point," replied Harley. "So, what do we do now?"

"Since the author appears to be in a bit of a rut, let's help the story with an aside..." offered Suzi.

Little did our heros know that just past the bend in the road was the home of that arch-mathematician, Dr. Ira Delaware Bunk, who after spending weeks proving to his calculus class that one did, indeed, equal one (a situation that any three-year- old could have done thus saving thousands of dollars in tuition) became curious about the scientific basis of magick. Unfortunately, just as he was about to stumble over a major breakthrough, he was overcome by a swarm of doubts and consumed by an improper research technique. Thus, all that he had invoked broke free and began to terrorize the local drop-outs.

"Well," said Suzi, "If that is all true, we have to do something."

Honda raised his hand. "I suggest that we pretend that nothing happened, go about our bushiness and hope that everything turns out all right."

The others considered this to be an excellent idea and began to leave when Suzi pointed out that the breakthrough had lumbered out of the woods and was stripping their bikes.

"We don't have any choice." Beemer commented while eliminating an option with his steel-toed sandal. "We have to exorcise this place."

Our reluctant heros low-crawled through the woods, dragging their bench press set and treadmill until they arrived, dirty and covered with flies (remember, they haven't washed the chocolate off yet. You have to pay attention to these stories to get the full effect) at Dr. Bunk's house. Between the Biker Coven and the House were arrayed a random conglomeration of postulates, theorems, symbols, datum and miscellaneous trivia.

"There is only one thing to do, cried Saki. He pulled out his combat Athame and chanting banishment charms, attacked the hoard.

"Eko! Eko pizza!" he cried and scratched a banishing pentagram on the back of a formulae.

"Eko! Eko Lasagna." And another corollary bit the dust.

The others pulled out an array of Tools and began to anoint, scourge, and bind their opposition. Eventually, with only a few casualties, Harley being overpowered by doubt and Suzi being wrapped up in overtime, the rest of the Bikers made it into the building.

"There it is!" screamed Davidson. And all looked to see the computer terminal still pouring out calculations at an alarming rate.

Davidson threw a Pentacle at the terminal, smashing the speaker. The alarm quieted and in the ensuing silence the Coven attacked their enemy. Davidson tripped over the bones of Ira Bunk and was covered with scavenging postulates. Saki threw himself at the keyboard and struck at the erase key but the fiendish device punched him out first. Indian grabbed for the power cord and was tackled by a doubt that lingered behind the bookcase.

And then there was one ... Beemer kicked himself free from a group of sine waves, avoided a question and valiantly attacked the console. He invoked a program and force fed it to the machine which responded with a do loop. Finally he grabbed a pi and tossed it into the screen which exploded with a spark that revealed a notable lack of breakers in the system.

Our heros dragged themselves back to their bikes and proceeded to effect repairs, leaving certain questions unanswered. Is Pi really infinite? Does the end justify the means? Will Indian ever get that chocolate-covered cherry away from Suzi?

Stay tuned for more adventures of ... SUMMERLAND'S SALAMANDERS--BIKER COVEN


To contact me or to request topics to be covered, send to RikJohnson@juno.com
by: Rick Johnson
PO Box 40451
Tucson, Az.
85717


Return to the Home Page.

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