The Original Adventures Of Ipsen and Trix...

Ipsen and Trix #1

"Let's go to Bronson County"

"But we're out of gas!"

"We're not in a car!"

"Oh... Yeah"

A tall man with long, dark hair falling straight across his face stood on the borderline. Next to him was a slightly shorter man, but also thinner and looking far less built. It was a sandy stretch of land that lay before them: the road to Bronson. Ipsen, the tall man, donning his dark cloak despite the temperature threatening to reach eighty, began to walk beyond the sign.

Trix caught up to the progressing Ipsen, "I think the bike broke."

"Just tighten the...wait a second! What Bike!?"

"Did I say anything about a bike?"

Ipsen was faced with two impending forces: the desire to smack Trix across his face and the need to fix the bike. Wait, there was no bike, so Trix got himself laid out.

Ipsen, hands slightly red from the impact, continued walking, wondering where on Earth Bronson County was. A plane was heard overhead as Trix caught up with Ipsen. As Trix was about to speak, a loud crash and a deafening explosion came from behind them.

"What the!? Oh my god! It's raining cars!"

"Trix, what have you been smo...aggggh!"

Ipsen dove out of the way as another car laid waste to the ground he had been standing on.

"See... I told you our bike was broken," said Twix, looking at the burning wreckage as he continued walking. Ipsen sighed and wished he had a license to kill.

"Ipsen... sooner or later we're gonna have to pull over for gas."

"Trix--- I will hurt you, you know that?"

"Well, I know there's a rest stop a mile or two ahead."

"Whatever..."

After approximately a half an hour, Ipsen, cloaked in heat, yet showing nothing but comfort, and Trix, hair now mysteriously spiked up with non-existent hair gel, looked around as if he had lost his security blanket.

"What did you do to my security blanket!"

"You don't have a security blanket, idiot."

"Oh yeah... give me the bike, it's my turn to ride it."

"No- We're at the rest stop."

The two entered an oddly transluscent rest stop. The chairs and products all seemed to be made of glass, not to mention the building itself. There was no one else in the store other than the clerk, who was barely visible. The two spent approximately ten minutes scoping out what they wanted to buy and approached the clear register.

"That'll be seventy-nine dollars, please."

"Seventy nine---that's all I have!"

"Take it or leave it..."

Ipsen forked over the cash, and immediately the building, not to mention the food they held in their hands, disappeared. Ipsen did a double-take...at nothing.

"That was all my money!"

"We've gotta get to Bronson, I need to get my bike fixed."

"I can't take it anymore!!!"

Ipsen remained silent for the remaining hour and a half, brooding over his lost cash. Trix followed him and commented on the rain. It was a cloudless day, but Trix insisted on taking out his umbrella to keep him from getting wet.

The tension was building as Trix again asked for his bike, but the two were fast approaching a canyon. Ipsen made a solemn vow to never pass through that county again, and leapt from the ledge. As he sailed in projectile direction toward the river or that ground below, he passed the borderline into Bronson county. Normalcy returned, and Ipsen fell approximately three more feet onto a mattress. Trix looked down the canyon, but there was nothing for him to see. He turned around and headed out of the room, back into Bronsonville. Ipsen, dazed, sat up on the bed, looked around, and spoke...

"Damn...I'm poor."

Ipsen and Trix #2: The Emergency Room

"I need a scalpel, some scissors, a spatula, a for, and an entree plate..."

"Doctor, you're losing your focus here, this person could be dying."

"See, you and the COULD this, COULD that--- i COULD be the Prince of Persia, but that would be fraud. Sooooooo, i say if this guy lives, I'd say he was a fraudulent patient."

"I'd call it a miracle you bastard."

"I have a father."

Outside the operating room lay the ER, suprisingly quiet at the moment. Many of the waiting victims had fallen into shock due to blood loss. Bored, a slightly shorter man, but also thinner and far less built, stood behind the receptionist counter, fighting lethargy. He made good use of the computer for his amusement, however, and found himself on an image search.

"Hmm... Explosions... Haha! That jerk must be dead! Ooooh, CAR CRASH! Yeah, I'd hate to be that guy..."

The injured stared wide-eyed at the man, wondering who the hell was dumb enough to hire him.

"That can't be good, looks like their cases are progressing," the worried man mumbled, under his breath. Into the intercom, "Emergency Room number 33 in need of assistance... many patients are showing potential signs of lapsing into post-accident insanity... I repeat: The penguin is sanguine in the hole with the mole- i REPEAT: Code 7RXt-, that's lower-case 't',-1."

No one appeared to aid his call, and he frantically pulled a tube-like object from a drawer. Frantically, he spoke, "ok, if any one of you thinks about getting tough here, remember, i've got a blowdart, and i can pack the projectile with approximately 10 ccs of anything i want, and that includes waste from colostomy bags and cyanide."

The patients, as if they had not already been statues, seemed to freeze in place ever more, not in fear, but in shear and utter disbelief at the receptionist's idiocy.

A new patient was wheeled in screaming. His leg had been blown off in some freakish accident, and he stirred emotion and gasps from most of the others in the room.

The receptionist, unphased, but trying to offer help, said, in a calming manner, "Hey. No worries man... walk it of, walk it off."

A passing doctor overheard and was enraged. He grabbed the blowdart pipe and smacked the receptionist over the head so hard, it knocked him out. Everything went black. The entire room. As a matter of fact, a countdown started, and the hospital blew up. the end.

Ipsen and Trix #3

Bossman Riggs perused the label of a tunafish can:

"SuperTuna: Like Momma Never Made..." and in smaller print: "Because She's Been in the State Penitentiary Since You Were Three"

The empty can was tossed aside as one of his henchmen delivered him his tuna on whole wheat multigrain bread. He began to eat the sandwich, but found himself overcome by a feeling of misplaced nostalgia.

"This reminds me of my momma. She never made me tuna, but i think if she hadn't been arrested before i was three, it woulda tasted like this. She musta made me some before i could remember"

The sympathetic but miffed henchman was next to him, and suggested, "This is some sorta trick, and if it's not, it's false advertising. No one scams us mobmen. I say we should hit up that joint."

"Yes, and the nuclear power output is down 37 percent, sir" said a high-paid woman acting as the secondary leader of the company to the SuperTuna CEO.

"Nora, you realize the situation? It is drastic that the nuclear core is restored to full power" the CEO spoke her name as if it were a swear word, and he held out a dictionary verifying that it was... in Cuban. Suddenly, the door burst open. Bullets were flying, hitting everything in the room except the heads of SuperTuna. Thoroughly frightened, the two clung together as if they needed the bodily warmth to survive the night. The problem was, it was high noon, and the gunners were led by Bossman Riggs, so the illusion of frigidity was shattered like freshly blown glass being hit with a rubber lamppost.

"You," uttered Riggs, "your tuna is giving me a false sense of nostalgia, like my mom had made me tuna when i was a kid, which she didnt, and it makes me upset in the head, kapiece? I get pretty angry when you make a false slogan and then screw with my head like that. You'd better change your ingredients, or else."

"Uh, ummm, you see, sir," stammered the CEO, a tall man with long, dark hair falling straight across his face, "the tuna is enhanced with nuclear energy, and we haven't tested the results. this is probably giving you that side-effect of nostalgia you grieve over. We'll change it, but make sure not to buy any of our children's toys in the future."

"You're an honest man. I like that," Riggs said. He and his men left the room.

Nora looked upset. "No more radioactive tuna? Can't we have one conspiracy sir?"

"There's no time for that, a patient in some hospital died from side-effects of our tuna the other day, i'm sure of it. It's a good thing the building blew up and so many more people died, otherwise, we'd have to face the heat. No one will mind the children's toys though... as long as no kid tries to eat one of them."

"You're a real heartless person, you know that?"

"This sucks, and how did i get all this money all of a sudden?"

Ipsen and Trix #4: Deuce McKenzie

A car pulled up into the GrandAutoworks parking lot. Suspect to curious glances, it did not stop until it reached the garage. It pulled in and the driver stepped out. He wore impossibly dark sunglasses, and as he began to stumble forward, hands outstretched, to find the receptionist, he tripped over a stack of spare tires. Maintaining his stunning composure, he righted himself, tilted his head down slightly, and walked to the desk looking above the plastic rims.

Stammering, the serviceman asked, "Wh, what kind of car is that anyway, and what work do you need done on it?"

"That, my friend, is a Lincoln towncar, a Proclamation, as a matter of fact. I need new chrome bumpers and i'd like my rear windshield to be a mirror, like the ones they have in holding facilities. I want to blind the hell out of any jerk who puts their brights on me, but i still want to be able to see out of it, you understand."

"And your name?"

"Deuce McKenzie."

He turned to leave as he flicked his business card at the man. Humming to himself, he promptly walked out into the road. It was evident that disaster was near. The mechanic approached the mammoth towncar and opened the door. Sitting there, it appeared, was Deuce McKenzie. The mechanic looked out at the road, the man was disappearing into the distance.

"Are you going to work on my car... Solo?" Deuce asked, squinting at the mechanic's embroidered name.

Solo was taken aback. "What's going on?"

"I know what you were doing with my car."

"What do you mean?"

"You wanted it so badly... you tried to run me down."

"I did nothing of the sort!"

"You yelled, 'There's nothing wrong with Purdue chicken!' and you glazed me with your mirror. I could have sworn you wanted to kill me."

"What are you talking about?"

"You turned around, drove by, back to the garage. You said there weren't enough honest people in this world as you passed me."

Deuce closed the door. Solo quickly opened it. There was no one there.

***

Driving home that night, Solo was listening to a heated, but thoroughly bogus debate on the radio. They were arguing about produce and other food.

"But you see, the chemicals are injected when they're born. They grow up without feathers so they can be skinned easier."

"Maybe fast food, but-"

"It's been proven: almost all commercial companies-"

"There's nothing wrong with Purdue chicken!"

The comment caught Solo off guard, and he swerved. Hard. He heard a thud. He pulled over abruptly.

Deuce McKenzie was barely breathing. Solo knelt down beside him.

"It's not a Proclamation... It's just a customized Towncar." Deuce gasped.

"There aren't enough honest people in this world. Thank you. You have saved me time. Your car will be ready by Friday."

Solo turned around and walked to his car, but, upon entering, jammed his foot on the gas.

***

The next day, the police arived at GrandAutoworks to question the mechanic.

"Have you ever been ticketed for driving recklessly?"

"No"

"Have you ever driven an excess of forty miles over the speed limit?"

"No"

"Thirty?"

"No"

"Twenty"

"...yes"

"Have you ever experienced road rage?"

"No"

"Have you ever felt the overwhelming desire to run a man down in cold blood while listening to soft rock?"

"No."

"Have you ever been tempted to kill a person while listening to elevator music?"

"Yes, but not because of the music"

"What happened on the night of February 29th, 1987?"

"There was no February 29th in 1987."

"You're an honest person, you know that? There aren't enough honest people in this world. Thank you."

The policeman tipped his hat, revealing the face of Deuce McKenzie, donned his dark sunglasses, and walked into the rush-hour traffic.

Ipsen and Trix #5: Twins

'This is my attempt at a burst of creation', wrote a slightly shorter man, '...the house exploded in a rush of flames equivalent to a Japanese Tsunami, which quickly set the houses of the nearby neighbors aflame as well'

Trix stood over the man. "Bro, why do you have to be all write-y and all?"

"I, uhh... there's gotta be some balance in the world with you running around."

"I can't believe we're twins."

The man looked nearly identical to Trix.

"I knew it was a bad thing that you were born a Libra. It was some coincidence, though, wasn't it? Mom giving birth to me at 11:59 and you and 12:01? We're identical twins... but we have a different sign."

"I can't believe you buy into that crap, man."

"You know," said Trix, changing the subject, "there are humans with spikes on their heads who can burrow into the ground and fly out into the Grand Canyon at the same time."

"What are you talking about?

"And garbage truck men are really femme fatale spies from the Cubasian government sent to deposit cans of radioactive waste into our sewers. The idea is to make nuclear-powered trash monsters who will overthrow our president."

"Are you on drugs!?"

"No, but every time a fence is put up, a fairy gets new angel dust. The fairy then goes to the back alleys of city streets and sells it to druggies who are out of their last package of Special K. They turn into rampaging baby chickens with three eyes and razor sharp claws and kill all of the bank managers in the vicinity."

"Trix... i don't know what's wrong with you, but-"

"Time for breakfast! what are you making?"

Ipsen and Trix #6

The ex-CEO of SuperTuna Inc., now the CEO of SuperToys Corp., walked out on the balcony. From this view he could see all of the city: the children playing in the park, the random hooded character on the roof, happy couples kissing on a bench, a family playing baseball, a less-than happy couple kissing. He loved his binoculars.

"Nora! What's the news?"

"There is no news, s-sir."

"Then make it up! This place is more dull than some anonymous western U.S. state beginning with the letter W!"

"Well, you see, the year is now 1101 A.D., and there are giGANTIC creatures from another planet who have come to abduct the first born son from every other family, while simultaneously, a group of bandits are threatening to break into ourheadquarters and stop our freakish experiments. They might know about project VAON, and we just dropped the bomb on another country."

"Well, it sounds like we have a lot to do then. You lead the front line defenses against the bandit group. This company is worth... 17 times your life. Don't go down without a fight, or i'll be forced to fire you. As for the first born son thing... that could be bad for our toy business, so why don't we just pretend you didn't say that?"

"Right away."

With that, Nora turned and left to get her machete.

CEO, now with nothing to do, nothing to think about, and no one to not listen to, turned and sat in his chair. He thought, 'how did i end up with such a high paying job all of a sudden? Just the other day I was strolling through Bronsonville and I was dirt poor! I need to go on a road trip.'

He Went back to the balcony, and stepped onto the rail.

"I hope this works just as miraculously as it did before...Geronimoooooo!!!"

As he fell, he got nearer and nearer to the street. The ground slowly faded into various shades of dustly tan. The street appeared to grow a sense of depth and was suddenly the color of a river. The CEO, back in his black outfit, plunged in, and welcomed his return to life.

Ipsen and Trix #7

"I'm gonna return to Villa," Ipsen said, and with that, he stepped from his uneventful trip through Bronsonville into his former hometown. Nothing had changed since he left, as a matter of fact, the people hadn't moved an inch, as if they were waiting for his return. "What the," he said, as the people spotted him and went about their ways.

It had been interesting, his stay in Bronson. He'd gone from getting by in his home in Villa to being a rich CEO in Bronson, and he'd managed to return with some cash to put away. He walked to his home, only a few blocks away. He opened the door and gasped.

"Hello, Ipsen" a man said.

"Trix? Wh-what are you doing here?"

"I'm not Trix, he's-"

"No! He can't be dead!"

"Hey you, that's not it. He's my identical twin"

"No way. I woulda thought you'd be cousins: you look more similar than twins."

"Man, you've been hanging around him too long, haven't you?"

"Nevermind him... i'm starving. Whaddya want to eat?"

"Whatever you're having, other than yak."

Ipsen ignored Trix's brother and opened the refrigerator. Where once there was milk, cheese, soda, cold cuts, and other food there was only cat food.

"What the!? What happened to the food? What am i gonna do with this?"

"Give it to Amvets"

"What are you talking about?"

"What did you mean when you said, nevermind me?"

"T-Trix? You fooled me!"

"I'm a patient man, Ipsen, but YOU are making me angry.:

"What did I do?"

"SuperTuna was a wipeout! There were so many traders in the ER after trying to kill themselves! I actually had to think!"

"How do you know about SuperTuna?"

"Like i know how i know what i know?"

"I've gotta figure out what to do with this catfood"

"I'll take it for you."

"No, Trix," Ipsen said, turning to the fridge, "You'll just put it in the Amvets."

Hearing no response, Ipsen turned around.

"Trix? Where the hell are you... and what did you do to my fishtank!?"

Ipsen and Trix #8: Doorbell

"I went to get the door, but there was no one there...sorry for disappearing like that."

Ipsen, thoroughly convinced he was suffering from the heat, blinked a few times to verify that Trix had just rematerialized. He was about to respond when the doorbell rang. He went to answer it and nearly fell over in shock.

"Sorry, I got locked out," said Trix from the outside.

"How the hell?" Ipsen said, and turned with Trix to see... the other Trix sitting on the couch. He demanded to know what was going on.

"Oh, sorry Ipsen, forgot to introduce you to my brother, Claudius Augustus Superius Maximus the Third, Chasm for short. Chasm, this is Ipsen."

"Pleased to meet you," said Chasm, Extending his hand in greeting, "but my name is Camden, and it's not an abbreviation for anything... if you know Trix as well as he said you do, then you should know that that was just a bogus name he came up with."

"Good to meet you...Camd-" Ipsen was cut off by the doorbell again, and went to answer it.

A man with impossibly dark sunglasses was standing at the door with a package.

"Sign here Mr... Gregaria"

"No one knows my last name... how..." Ipsen said, as he signed the form and took the package.

The delivery man said, rather mysteriously, "Long time, Mr Gregaria..." and turned to walk away.

Convinced that he'd never be sure about anything ever again, Ipsen closed the door to join Camden and Trix, who had procured glasses of coffee. Ipsen had just put down the box and was about to join them when the doorbell rang.

"Hel-!" Ipsen was abruptly cut off when he was grabbed by two men in black suits.

"You're coming with us," the man on the right said, as the door closed, and the carried the helpless Ipsen to the van.

Ipsen and Trix #9: Hero's Rations

Camden blinked first. "Ipsen's gone! What do we do... we're in his house!"

"I say we open that package. He's not gonna need it for now, and it could be perishable."

"Good point... what happened?"

"What do you mean 'what happened?'?"

"It's just, you never make--- never mind."

Pulling out a giant pair of scissors labeled 'The Ripper 2', Trix sliced the box open at all ends. Without questioning where Trix got the scissors, Camden looked inside. Within was a key that said: "CEO Special", a pair of impossibly dark sunglasses, and a business card for a car garage.

"These things seem to have a connection..." Camden stated, while trailing into thought.

"Yeah, like what? These things have no more of a connection than intelligence and fame!"

"Well, it would seem that these are all related to a car owned by Deuce McKenzie, the deliveryman with those same dark glasses, in an autoworks shop- the one on the card- and those are the keys to that car. Aparantly, Ipsen was to go and pick up that car and await further orders."

"How the hell do you know that!?"

"I write the script. Whatever I say, goes."

"Then how come I get away with all the crap I've been doing?"

"Umm... thank you?"

"What a nice thing to say! Now we must go to the auto garage in Ipsen's place!"

The two stepped from Ipsen's house, but not before Trix ran back to the kitchen to grab some 'hero's rations', as he so boldly dubbed them.

Ipsen and Trix #10

"Ipsen would have wanted it this way..."

"Cornelius, how would you know?"

***

"What do you want with me?"

"Can it, Gregaria. That's one heck of a cliche line for captives... but to answer your question: you have been placed under the witness protection agency's watch."

"What witness protection agency?"

"The Yugoslavian witness protection agency."

"Um...excuse me... but what does Yugoslavia have to do with me?"

"Absolutely nothing."

"Now who's cliche?"

"Enough of that. Now... you are being protected because we received information that you were given a package from a government spy."

"What government?"

"Exactly. It is believed that certain, umm, forces...will be after you in the near future."

"What are you going to do to protect me?"

"Son, you just got your protection: you know what's up. The rest is up to you."

"But... you didn't really tell me anything!"

"I'm sorry, but our budget prevents you from being in this van any further," the man said, and, as the struggling Ipsen was thrown from the vehicle, he yelled, "McKenzie may be trusted!"

The timing of the throw was unfortunate, and Ipsen was sent tumbling down the side of a very rocky hill. After three hundred feet of rolling, Ipsen unfolded on the ground. Pain shot through his head, and when his vision cleared, a figure was standing over him.

***

"Looks like we're on the road again, Charlie."

"Why don't you call me by my real name?"

"Real name?"

Camden let out a sigh, and continued to follow Trix. GrandAutoworks was quite a distance away, in the far end of the mysterious Sanilas County.

"We'd better get to GrandAutoworks as quickly as possible, so we can get our further orders."

"How come you keep saying that!?"

Ipsen and Trix #11

"So...this Senile county, what does it have to do with us again?"

"It's Sanilas, and your friend is in danger."

"Right... so what does that have to do with us?"

"Do you not care about your friend?"

"What friend?"

Camden let out a sigh. They had been discussing the need to cross into Sanilas for a good ten minutes. They were sitting at a bench marked 'County limits', and staring into the foreign land. GrandAutoworks was still an hour away, and he just wanted to get things over with. There were no canyons leading to Bronson, no transparent buildings that harbored a hope that using Trix as currency would make him disappear. Nothing, except the interstate.

***

"I see you have been contacted by the Yugoslavians. I'm glad you made it out alive. They have no concept of protection, and their logic is that if they kill you, they've protected you from being killed by their 'outside forces'. You'd do best to keep away from them."

Ipsen looked up at his darkened reflection. Belonging to the sunglasses was the mysterious Deuce McKenzie, and the Yugoslavians were right about something: he could be trusted.

"What do I do now?"

"Did you get to open the package?"

"Umm...no. They grabbed me less than a minute after you left. What was in that little box?"

"The secret to the universe..."

"Really?"

"No, and this is no time for joking, Gregaria."

"How come you all know my last name?"

"You work for us."

"Us?"

"You have been employed by the ultra secret organization, SHADE."

"What does that stand for?"

"You really need to know everything, don't you?"

"Well, no, I guess. What do you want me to do?"

"Catch up to your friends, they are our only hope. They are going to the GrandAutoworks in Sanilas County. Godspeed." Deuce pointed at the horizon, and when Ipsen returned his gaze to him with a puzzled look, he was gone.

***

Ipsen and Trix #12: The Accident

"In an isolated incident, two men were fatally wounded when they were struck by a hit and run driver earlier today. We have an exCLUsive interview with the victims. Let's go to Carlos SanAntonio for more."

"Thank you, umm, Mrs. Newscaster. Tonight we bring you a fascinating story of two men whos lives were spared through good luck in a trrragic turn of events. Let's here more from them:"

"Yes," said a man in a torn suit, "If the car had been three feet closer, I'd say it would have killed me."

"It seems odd," Carlos said, "that you are being proclaimed by local hospitals as having been, quote, 'fatally wounded'. You are still alive, and as a matter of fact, you somehow managed to capture your assailer as well. Can you please explain this to me?"

The second man, trying to seem less insignificant, spoke up, "You see, sir, language is a deceiving thing. Let me start from the end: How is it we managed to capture the hit-and-run driver you ask? Think of the term 'hit-and-run'. He hit us with the car, but, in order for him to run, he had to vacate his car. Now I'll explain the fatal thing. A wound is something, as according to most dictionary terms, that causes a breach in skin. Fatal is something that causes death or destruction of someone or something. Now, see my hand?" he held up his hand, "See my friend's hand?" he pulled the man in the torn suit's hand to the camera's view as well. "What happened was this: my pointer finger and his pinky were fatally wounded, meaning destroyed, when that man swerved in rage to hit us."

"Whoa whoa whoa," Carlos said, "what caused him rage?"

"We had a sign up that said, 'Proceed No Further: You are Entering a Tourist Trap'. This man ran the tourist trap, and got angry. He swerved at us, we were sleeping in our respective sleeping bags, all stretched out, but, due to his having imbibed multiple bottles of alcohol that night, he missed killing us. Knowing this would be called a hit-and-run, he did the only logical thing a drunk would do, he got out and ran. In pain, but still able to chase him down, we quickly apprehended him and called an ambulence. When they arrived, they suggested calling the police, and by the time the police arrived and took over control of the drunk, our fingers were too far gone to be saved. Therefore-"

"We've heard enough. Mrs. Newscaster: I QUIT. I've been out on this job for fifteen DAMN long years, and not ONCE have you given me a good story to report on. You send me out to some highway in the middle of nowhere tryin to cover a story where two dead guys misconstrue the English language, and I'm just supposed to take it!? I guess I'm Carlos the LACKEY to you! Well, no more, I'm gonna take this video camera and throw it down into that canyon over there, and since you owe me money anyway, don't expect me to pay for it!"

Carlos SanAntonio followed through on his words and hoisted it over the ledge. They never heard the splash. In a far off land, the video camera fell from the sky, killing an evil witch doctor. The people rejoiced.

Ipsen and Trix #13: Jerina

There was a static buildup in the town of Jerina, and it was affecting everyone. The view of the houses was beginning to become fuzzy, and the televisions suffered blackouts. Birds were bedridden, and men and women had to remain in their nests. Bicycles hovered ominously in the air while clouds remained in the garage. The town of Jerina upside-down and bats were standing right-side up. After quite some time, tuesday ended and monday began. The clocks ran backward along with the joggers, running in business suits and minute hands.

The buildup became so bad that, at once, Mayor Wilkenson, begging for food on the side of the road, and the hobo, going to work on the codes, were struck three times by lightning both. At once again 'twas Tuesday then, the birds were out along with the men, the woman went to shop. The buildup had reversed the time, but nothing was permanent, and once the lightning struck, it seemed everything went back to the way it was.

However, static buildup is quite common in this town, with metal sheeting for a ground, and nowhere else can there be found such a gigantic frequency jammer. It would seem, indeed, that the need would prove enough to uproot the sheet, but people must like it this way. No one's opposing the road crew's foreclosing and everyone works from their home. A city of wires, done away with tires, and cars are not missed, for no one shall roam.

Were you to find the town of Jerina, it wouldn't be a town at all. One would not expect a town of fools, who live by no rules, and don't know anyone's names, and would despair to see not one solemn tree, less they examine the houses' dull frames. A town without life is no town at all, and togetherness prevents us from taking the fall, but Jerina is a place where no man wants to be, and woman keep shopping, but don't want to see. No one wants to hear rhyming from me, about this mockery of existance.

Ipsen and Trix #14

"You know, Camden, it's your fault we're lost."

"Yeah, well if I hadn't found that tourist with the map and employed him as a guide, WE would have been the ones sacrificed by those weird indian people."

"Who would have thought people would sacrifice someone to celebrate another's death?"

"We got lucky, big time. Who would have thought that witch doctor would have gotten hit by a falling camcorder?"

"It was like...a Camdencorder from heaven! And that tourist from hell...well, he's going back home, I suppose."

"Just when we were having a normal conversation..."

"What's that?"

The two continued to walk away from the tribal village. From out of the forest, they returned to the desert. In theory, they would EVENTUALLY find the GrandAutoworks, but that would most likely take approximately seventy years. For all they knew, Ipsen could be trapped in a metal room, being held at gunpoint, while dark-eyed minions typed out coded ransom notes in Funeral Pire MT font at that very moment, and they were, undoubtedly, his only hope.

***

'Sanilas County,' Ipsen thought, 'What has SHADE gotten me into? Hell, how have I gotten into that organization anyway? I've never even heard of these people, and this Deuce McKenzie guy, he's...creepy' Ipsen shuddered. He was contemplating whether or not he was starting to lose it, and realized: "If I lose it, too, both Trix and I will make no sense. The story would collapse...what story!?" Ipsen said this so loud, that some running guy paused, mid-pace, and said, "What in G-d's name are you talking about?" Ipsen was silent and still as still as a tombstone. He began to speak, "Uh, umm... I'm looking for the GrandAutoworks."

"You mean the one in Sasilan, Salisan, Sanisal, Nasilas, Nasisal, or Essex?"

"Ummm... Let's see... Deuce said..."

"You're the recruit from Deuce? Ohhhhh... Well, then, you need the Salinas GrandAutoWorks"

"How do I get there?"

"Sorry... I've got a regimented schedule... Just go that way," the man pointed in a north northwestern direction and Ipsen looked toward the point. He turned to thank the man, but he was nowhere to be found.

Ipsen and Trix #15

Approaching the town of Jerina, Camden and Trix were nearly struck by lightning.

"Woah! Dude! That was, like, totally, a miss!"

"Since when did you talk like that, Trix?"

"Never, Christoph!"

"My name is Camden. Anyway, what do you think... should we go through this town, or detour around it?"

Trix said something that threw Camden off guard, "Let's skip it, Cheerio, messed up places like that don't suit me well."

Thoroughly astonished, Camden agreed, and the two began their 10-mile detour around the town of Jerina. Trix, making an off-hand remark, warned Carlisle, erm, Camden, to watch for falling bike chains around the perimeter of the town. Camden took the comment as one is trained to take a comment from Trix, and it was all but from his head when a spot of grease landed on his head, closely followed by a greasy metal link. Moments later, it was raining bike chains, and the two bolted a quarter of a mile away from the edge of town.

"See, Chameleon, you listen to me, and you wouldn't have that welt on your head."

"Man... who named me Chameleon? Was my mother a stoner or something?"

Trix instantly tackled Camden, "Don't you talk bad about my mother you a-"

"Who are you?...I said MY mother, not yours."

"Idiot," Trix said, smacking Camden on the head and moving ahead, "We're twins."

"Hey! I thought you said my name was Chameleon!"

***

Seven hours later, the fast-paced Ipsen approached the very same town of Jerina. Until he noticed the bicycle chains that hadn't yet been absorbed by the ground, he was convinced that he had lost the trail of his comrades. Deciding that this town would be way too much like Trix for the duo to pass up, Ipsen stepped within the city limits.

"Just what do you think you're doing, young man?" said a guard who had materialized from nowhere, looking ominously at Ipsen while waving a day-stick.

Ipsen started, "Umm, I..." the man shrank back at the words, yelled for reinforcements, and began to run away for his life. Ipsen, though perplexed by the guard's about face, continued into Jerina until a group of cops ran up to him.

"Drop your weapon!" an officer yelled, to which Ipsen could do nothing about, "I said DROP IT!"

Ipsen looked down. There on the ground was a five foot stick. He picked it up, and the Policeman told him he did the right thing. He continued on, telling Ipsen that he remembered when he was a old man once, back when everything was wrong and crazy, how his parents would fight and things didn't seem like they would ever right themselves. Ipsen stopped listening, and had timed his loss of interestperfectly, as the group of cops were moving on, revelling the Chief's stories.

Ipsen and Trix #16

Camden and Mr. T. approached a river, running rapidly across the path. They were about to give up crossing when the river converged to a point and a man materialized. Now, only this man stood between them and their way.

"State your business... we're on the lookout for suspicious characters," the man said, unaware of just how closely the two fit the description.

"We are looking to go to the GrandAutoworks in Sanilas County, why, what gives?" Camden asked.

"Santa Clause!" Trix chimed in, happily.

"What is your ethnic background?"

"Umm..." Trix started, before continuing under his breath, "trying to think of something impressive..." his voice crescendoed, and he finished his statement, "We're Nordic!"

The man pulled a walkie talkie from nothingness and said, hurriedly, "Code LSDPCPDDTMSG, come quickly."

Within moments, men in suits surrounded and accosted the two unfortunate brothers.

***

'Clank' was all Ipsen could hear as he walked the solid metal streets of Jerina. He stopped to grant his presence to a beggar.

"What are you saying, young man? Are you implying that this splendous town of mine is economically deprived?"

"No-"

"How bout impaired?"

"No, sir... just you."

"Well! If that isn't the rudest thing someone's said to me this hour! To think that I, mayor of this fine town, would be destitute? If it wasnt for the fact that my impulses are reversed, I'd beat you down for such vile slander! How bout a hug?"

Ipsen quickly strayed away from the mayor, and turned to see the most well dressed man, most likely, in the state. He addressed him to offer a compliment to this bright contrast to the mayor.

"Your outfit is incredible! Where do you find such things?"

"Me? In the trash!"

"Wh-what? How could you find something like that in the trash?"

"I can't afford anything else, you see. Whatever money isn't taken by this city is taken by the bottle... and I think I'm getting hooked on gambling, thanks to that home video program."

Ipsen, startled and confused, turned around to face the direction of the 'mayor'. He was gone. Ipsen turned again to face the well-dressed man. The sidewalks of Jerina were empty.

Ipsen and Trix #17

A man walked slowly up behind Ipsen, but his presence was audible due to the metal ground. Suddenly aware that, other than the clanking of the man's shoes, things were quiet, in fact, too quiet, Ipsen turned his head to look behind him. Like a stereotypical horror movie, Ipsen began to run from the man, looking behind him at three second intervals.

'Who is he and what is he doing?' Ipsen thought, as he ran toward another building, looking back at the running man. Suddenly, he ran smack into the hanging sign for the store, was uprooted, and right before he would have hit the ground, he was caught in midair, and pulled into the building.

"You'll be safe here..." the well-dressed bum said to Ipsen.

"Are you crazy? He WATCHED me go in the building!"

"Remember, sir: This is Jerina. He won't have a clue as to where you've gone for a few hours."

"Who was that guy?"

"I assume he was one of our town's many flunky murderers."

"You let MURDERERS run free in this town?"

"No, just the flunky ones. You see, if they actually SUCCEEDED in killing anyone, we would promptly exile them. These people are just like dogs and little kids: throw them a ball and they'll go darting after it: They're harmless. If they figured out how to use a weapon, they'd probably get scared and huddle in a corner or something."

Ipsen stared blankly, and waited for the hours to pass.

***

"Cornwalus, let me do the talking," Trix said, and before Camden could object, he said, "So, mister 'I materialized from a river and that makes me all high and mighty', what's with this Ph.D. code you've got dispatched to all your 'agents'?"

"That's none of your business. I know you think you're doing the right thing, but you people have no concept of how to correctly execute a plan or an order."

"What's that supposed to mean... us people?"

"You're like the people from Jerina: they're just like dogs or little kids or something. I mean really! I think if I threw a ball, every single person in that town would go running after it!"

Camden wanted to speak, so he nudged Trix and whispered in his ear, "Show him the box!"

"Alright, Ph.D. Man, we-"

"The code is LSDPCPSDDTMSG! Get it right or suffer the consequences!"

"Oook," Trix said, rolling his eyes, "sounds like someone's nap is lonnnng overdue. What I was TRYING to show you was this box."

Moments later, Camden, Trix, and the box were thrown out of the car as it hit its highest velocity, peeled out, and disappeared into the distance.

Ipsen and Trix #18

Everything was black. Everything was dark gray. Everything was getting bright. Camden opened his eyes, but felt he couldn't move. He could see that a man was huddled over him. He couldn't see Trix. Unbeknownst to Camden, the man was Solo Axel, the mechanic for the GrandAutoworks in Sanilas.

"Oh my god! I'm the only one who can help these people!"

"Ung..." Camden heard Trix mumble.

"Don't move! It's just me! There's no one else around...I'm gonna call an ambulence!"

Solo whipped out a cell phone and pressed one button. Seeing nothing happen, he threw it in anguish.

"It looks like I wasted my one chance to call for help, so there's only one place I can take you... the garage!"

Solo grabbed the two with one hand and began to drag them toward the Sanilas Garage, mere feet away. Ipsen was standing there, waiting, as he had been for days. Solo reached the entrance and dropped the twins. Camden immediately found his footing, shot a death glare at the mechanic, and ran back to grab the box.

"Oh! It was just ONE box! I didn't think it would matter too much!" Solo shouted. Upon returning, Camden noticed only one car in the garage, making him wonder how the maintenence garage had grown to be a chain.

"So... what's in the box?" Trix said, getting up.

"I'm surprised you haven't even looked yet," Ipsen said in disbelief.

"Nope!" The twins said in unison.

"Not even one little peek?" Solo asked.

"NO!"

"Let's open it," countered Ipsen and Solo flatly.

The box was opened a moment afterward, after Solo's personal drumroll (with one drumstick).

"Let's see..." Ipsen said, anxiously. Within the box was a key that said: 'CEO Special', a pair of impossibly dark sunglasses, and a business card for the GrandAutoworks.

"Oh yeah..." Trix said, as Camden nodded his embarrassed agreement, "I got it confused for the other box."

"What other box!?" Camden cried, wheeling around to face his brother.

Trix pointed out a black box in his hand. Stained in red blood letters were 'EXPLOSIVE'. A previously unexplained ticking noise came to a stop.

"I've survived worse..." Trix said, as the bomb went off. The explosion was so strong, it caused the building to implode first, before shooting billions of pieces of metal and concrete out into the atmosphere.

Ipsen and Trix #19

"You know," the well-dressed homeless man said to Ipsen, "Time goes backward in Jerina. If you left where you came in and hung out for a while, you'd probably see yourself."

"And?"

"I dunno, I just thought it might come in handy. Me, personally, if I left Jerina, I'd be struck with the black plague! Can you believe I've bee stuck here so long?"

"I haven't seen that flunky killer lately, I think we lost him."

"Good, son, good. You go out there and get infamous and go bankrupt."

Ipsen stared at the man blankly.

"...That's the way we say good luck around here," the man concluded, as he turned on the car in his garage so he could run the engine, despite the fact that he didn't live there and he didn't own a car. Ipsen blinked the way really confused or tired people do, and stepped back out on the street. Determined to do something constructive, he walked straight out of town. There, Camden and Trix were discussing whether or not they should go into town and, to Ipsen's surprise, Trix decided to avoid the town completely. Ipsen almost caught up to them, but, almost in a flash, the duo was abducted by members of SHADE. Ipsen chased after the car and eventually found the twins lying, unconscious, on the side of the road. He knew they were all very close to Sanilas because in Jerina there had been a sign that read: "Sanilas County Limits: 798,496 light years." It was obvious, then, that Sanilas was probably less than a mile away from Jerina. This led him to decide to call the garage and lead Solo out to where the two lay. This, he figured, would buy him time.

Soon later, or perhaps earlier, Ipsen met up with himself and the two entered Jerina. They established a plan. For some reason, it seemed obvious to this new Ipsen that doom was imminent upon Ipsen, Camden, and Trix. After some time elapsed and/or unelapsed, the two had managed to successfully duplicate the twins. All three duplicates went to the GrandAutoworks, and, as the real Ipsen was just about convinced that nothing was going to happen, the building exploded, sending a hail of shrapnel down upon the surroundings.

"I'm going home." said Ipsen.

For More of Ipsen's adventures: See The Goat Pen Forums at:

http://goatpen.proboards41.com/index.cgi?board=general&action=display&thread=1114320595&page=1

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