Tibbs yanked his fingers out of the way as Boy In A Dress' hair avidly grasped the arms of the sunglasses.
He knew that the Man-Girl's tresses seemed to have a life of its own, but to feel the black strands coil around
one's hands in their effort to clutch the shades and then nudge a thumb out of the way for better purchase is
still unnerving.
"Do I look like her?" BIAD asked as Tibbs stepped back and allowed the disguised being stand to his full height
Inspecting the beret-wearing hermaphrodite, the small bearded man decided that his friend did look similar to
Aura Rhanes. "Yes" Tibbs answered and looked to the tall lean Gunman standing next to a stack of Coca Cola
crates for confirmation.
Ninurta scanned the red-dressed oddity with indifferent features, although somewhere in his mind, he did find the
scene humorous. "If this Rhanes-broad looks like a French Resistance spy, then yer've nailed it" he drawled with an
obvious tone of sarcasm.
Mucklebones slipped around the corner of the Diner and like a weird mantis, crept across the deeply-shadowed and
dirt-packed yard of the coffee-shop. "He's in there with two other men" she whispered loudly -and for no real reason.
Tibbs smiled and wondered how he would later advise his wife that at times, she could be over-dramatic.
The long leather coat finished the facade and Boy In A Dress treated his friends in the yard to a slow twirl, "What do I
say to this fellow?" he asked in his rotating display. Tibbs was busy tucking the hood of his robe away and allowing
Muckles to comb her fingers through his hair in an attempt to hide the length. After all, this wasn't an age when long
hair wasn't socially-acceptable in the small town of Glendale.
Just south-west of this town, Frank Sinatra and his brylcreem friends were showing the contemporary fashion in a
neon-lit Las Vegas setting, but for these four people hiding behind Jake's All-Nite Diner in the early hours of August
1952, such pursuits in dress-sense would certainly fail.
The burden of being the Outsiders, I guess.
"I'll do the talking..."Tibbs said pushing his wife's preening away. "Truman Bethurum will be more focused on trying
to impress his associates in order to verify his previous encounters with Rhanes. But I'll do the talking" he warned BIAD
with a serious look.
The Man-Girl in the calf-length black leather coat, black beret and knee-high black boots, just stood like a mannequin
in the desert night and his gun-toting friend across from him shook his head slowly.
"Where do yer' get all this gear?" Ninurta muttered and halted his hand from reaching for his makings. Igniting a cigarette
when in hiding wouldn't be a good idea, he mused.
Tibbs sighed through his nose at the distracting query and focusing on jamming his long beard into the front of his brown
attire, he let Mucklebones explain how the clothes were acquired. "That flyin' ball spews 'em out, Yer' just ask and it shits 'em
out the back" she said without looking at the Gunslinger and gave Tibbs a last once-over at his sparse wardrobe.
There wasn't the time to get into explaining that the time-machine held a multi-quantum access router on the hull behind its
single leg. This small box-like apparatus constantly monitored the visited time-zones and by using plasma-subdued anti-matter,
could generated clothing and fixed non-mechanical items.
But it didn't 'shit' them out.
The 'flying ball' in question stood behind the rear of Bethurum's pick-up truck and to Ninurta, the time-machine didn't look like
it held the capacity to hold a quantity of different clothes and footwear. "Think time and space... there's plenty of room" Tibbs
said towards the contemplating Vandalian and slipping on his own sunglasses, he turned to prepare for his acting role.
...................................
"I beg your pardon, lady, but haven’t we met before?” Truman asked as he leaned against the empty seats opposite from the
pair being asked the question. His work-mates -Whitey and Chad, had retired to Bethurum's vehicle due to their spoken fears
of being zapped by these two aliens Truman had talked about.
The reality was that the two men who shared the same shift as Truman were tired of his bullshit, but with living out at Henderson,
the use of Bethurum's truck demanded that Jan Whiteman and Chad Hunt kept their opinions on frigid spacewomen to themselves.
Sometimes it's easier to go along to get along.
"Eh fella, what you're doing back there?" Chad said as he was about to climb back into the truck. The stranger in the cowboy hat
was leaning against the wall that divided the diner from the closed gas station next-door. It was almost 3.00.am and to the burly man
who's father had built the Hoover Dam, he knew nobody delivered to Jake's at this hour.
Whitey glanced at his friend's concerned face and realised what was up, maybe it was tramp looking over the tools on the back of
the pick-up.
Smiling to himself, Jan Whiteman pondered that the night wasn't going to pan-out as a just a cup of coffee with the crazy bastard
who believed in gorgeous alien-women, maybe a kicking would improve the situation.
As Muckles receded into the shadows unseen, the two muscular men approached the solitary stranger who had made the poor
decision to not run away.
"This is going to be fun" Chad muttered from the side of his mouth to his co-worker.
He knew that the Man-Girl's tresses seemed to have a life of its own, but to feel the black strands coil around
one's hands in their effort to clutch the shades and then nudge a thumb out of the way for better purchase is
still unnerving.
"Do I look like her?" BIAD asked as Tibbs stepped back and allowed the disguised being stand to his full height
Inspecting the beret-wearing hermaphrodite, the small bearded man decided that his friend did look similar to
Aura Rhanes. "Yes" Tibbs answered and looked to the tall lean Gunman standing next to a stack of Coca Cola
crates for confirmation.
Ninurta scanned the red-dressed oddity with indifferent features, although somewhere in his mind, he did find the
scene humorous. "If this Rhanes-broad looks like a French Resistance spy, then yer've nailed it" he drawled with an
obvious tone of sarcasm.
Mucklebones slipped around the corner of the Diner and like a weird mantis, crept across the deeply-shadowed and
dirt-packed yard of the coffee-shop. "He's in there with two other men" she whispered loudly -and for no real reason.
Tibbs smiled and wondered how he would later advise his wife that at times, she could be over-dramatic.
The long leather coat finished the facade and Boy In A Dress treated his friends in the yard to a slow twirl, "What do I
say to this fellow?" he asked in his rotating display. Tibbs was busy tucking the hood of his robe away and allowing
Muckles to comb her fingers through his hair in an attempt to hide the length. After all, this wasn't an age when long
hair wasn't socially-acceptable in the small town of Glendale.
Just south-west of this town, Frank Sinatra and his brylcreem friends were showing the contemporary fashion in a
neon-lit Las Vegas setting, but for these four people hiding behind Jake's All-Nite Diner in the early hours of August
1952, such pursuits in dress-sense would certainly fail.
The burden of being the Outsiders, I guess.
"I'll do the talking..."Tibbs said pushing his wife's preening away. "Truman Bethurum will be more focused on trying
to impress his associates in order to verify his previous encounters with Rhanes. But I'll do the talking" he warned BIAD
with a serious look.
The Man-Girl in the calf-length black leather coat, black beret and knee-high black boots, just stood like a mannequin
in the desert night and his gun-toting friend across from him shook his head slowly.
"Where do yer' get all this gear?" Ninurta muttered and halted his hand from reaching for his makings. Igniting a cigarette
when in hiding wouldn't be a good idea, he mused.
Tibbs sighed through his nose at the distracting query and focusing on jamming his long beard into the front of his brown
attire, he let Mucklebones explain how the clothes were acquired. "That flyin' ball spews 'em out, Yer' just ask and it shits 'em
out the back" she said without looking at the Gunslinger and gave Tibbs a last once-over at his sparse wardrobe.
There wasn't the time to get into explaining that the time-machine held a multi-quantum access router on the hull behind its
single leg. This small box-like apparatus constantly monitored the visited time-zones and by using plasma-subdued anti-matter,
could generated clothing and fixed non-mechanical items.
But it didn't 'shit' them out.
The 'flying ball' in question stood behind the rear of Bethurum's pick-up truck and to Ninurta, the time-machine didn't look like
it held the capacity to hold a quantity of different clothes and footwear. "Think time and space... there's plenty of room" Tibbs
said towards the contemplating Vandalian and slipping on his own sunglasses, he turned to prepare for his acting role.
...................................
"I beg your pardon, lady, but haven’t we met before?” Truman asked as he leaned against the empty seats opposite from the
pair being asked the question. His work-mates -Whitey and Chad, had retired to Bethurum's vehicle due to their spoken fears
of being zapped by these two aliens Truman had talked about.
The reality was that the two men who shared the same shift as Truman were tired of his bullshit, but with living out at Henderson,
the use of Bethurum's truck demanded that Jan Whiteman and Chad Hunt kept their opinions on frigid spacewomen to themselves.
Sometimes it's easier to go along to get along.
"Eh fella, what you're doing back there?" Chad said as he was about to climb back into the truck. The stranger in the cowboy hat
was leaning against the wall that divided the diner from the closed gas station next-door. It was almost 3.00.am and to the burly man
who's father had built the Hoover Dam, he knew nobody delivered to Jake's at this hour.
Whitey glanced at his friend's concerned face and realised what was up, maybe it was tramp looking over the tools on the back of
the pick-up.
Smiling to himself, Jan Whiteman pondered that the night wasn't going to pan-out as a just a cup of coffee with the crazy bastard
who believed in gorgeous alien-women, maybe a kicking would improve the situation.
As Muckles receded into the shadows unseen, the two muscular men approached the solitary stranger who had made the poor
decision to not run away.
"This is going to be fun" Chad muttered from the side of his mouth to his co-worker.
Edith Head Gives Good Wardrobe.