Nick Neercassel and the John Deere Tractor Beam

Is There a Deus Ex Machina in the House?

We were approaching the Dark Side of the Moon. Prof. Zukuni put away the IRS forms, remarking, "When we leave here, we might as well travel to Pluto. Going there and back should take about 22 years. That's about how long it will take me to complete these insidious forms!"

Hello, Cosmos. I'm Nick Neercassel, a Theological Private Eye (TPE), i.e., I work for the Marshal of Mars. The income rarely comes in, the hours rarely run out, but somehow it's all worth it.

Before I could attempt, by some soothing, insightful remark, to alleviate the Prof's pain, my celestial cell phone rang. Well, thank goodness, it was about time I'd heard from Third Heaven Central. I was beginning to wonder if I was still a Class II Certified TPE. But it wasn't THC.

"Nick here."

"Hello, Nick. It's Jaime Marco, your literary agent."

"Not a great time, Jaime. We're on the Dark Side ot the Moon, attempting (probably ill-fatedly, I might add) to rescue Sir Alexander Thomson from the Rene the Relentless and his Big Bird Hordes."

"That's why I'm calling you Nick. I think you've got some really great potential theofiction there. We need to exploit it."

"Nothing fictional about it! We're risking life and limb here."

"Even better. I can see it now. We'll do a movie treatment and call it 'Nick Neercassel Conquers the Universalists.' It's money in the bank, son. What do you say?"

"I say you're crazy." I replied and hung up. I'd call Jaime and apologize for my rudeness when I got back to Earth. That is, if I got back to Earth.

Suddenly a loud siren-like noise went off. It sounded like a bat out of hell.

"What's going on!" I screamed. Dala screamed back, "We're getting ready to land!"

"Land on what?" All I saw out of the porthole was the blackness of space.

"I don't know," Dala cried back, "we're being pulled relentlessly by some kind of tractor beam toward that small, black dot."

I peered out the porthole more intently this time and yes, I saw the small, black dot we were relentlessly hurtling toward.

"Can't you hit the brakes?"

"Sorry, Nick, we're being pulled by a power unknown to modern science."

"How about you, Prof. Zukuni? Got any ideas?"

"Yes, maybe we can get a work travel allowance from the IRS."

I pulled out my celestial cell phone and called Third Heaven Central.

"God Afternoon. How can we help you?"

"It's Nick. Know anything about the Dark Side of the Moon?"

"We're drawing a blank here. It's been off limits to Third Heaven Associates for about 3 million years."

"Why's that?"

"Nothing official but the scuttlebutt is that the Big Guy locked up a bunch of Evil Associates there for trying to take over the Universe."

Oh, oh.

THE END