Mr Moustachio’s Multitude of Marvellous Multiversal Misadventures
Chapter 1: Farao Way From Home
A Tee Bone Man Multiverse Story
By Harrison Kopp
Continued from The Adventures of Tee Bone Man Chapter 16: A Crazy Crazy Night (Part 3)
Moments ago…
The cracks continued outwards, and the scaffolding that Moustachio was clinging to began to break loose. This was fairly alarming, and the Australian tried to hasten his ascent. But it was no use, it was too far to the top.
Ripper the squirrel clambered up ahead of him and desperately began pulling on his finger.
“No use buddy”, the Australian smiled gently. “Go up there and help the others, ok?”.
The squirrel was vehemently against at the idea of leaving the Australian to his fate.
“I’ll be fine”, Moustachio said with a wry smile. “They need you more.”
And, not taking no for an answer, El Moustachio grabbed the small ball of fur and hurled him high up to safety. He knew he could count on the little guy. Mere seconds later he was falling backwards towards the green pit as the scaffolding beneath him completely collapsed.
Enveloped by a tawny-coloured explosion on his way down, the Australian vanished without a trace.
Then, El Moustachio appeared out of thin air and hit the ground with a wet thud, rolling twice before coming to a gentle rest. He gingerly picked himself up and observed his strange new surroundings. He knew he wasn’t in Hell because he’d been there before and it was a lot more red. In fact, the world he now found himself was actually really green. He was in a city, but there was more plant life here than he’d ever seen before. Thick vines snaked up the buildings, and the ground was more like sodden earth than concrete.
But all through it all there was something familiar. A scent he was very used to, but stronger than he’d ever smelt it before. Even stronger than the aroma of the small item he still carried in his back pocket. And it was only getting stronger.
El Moustachio stepped out of the alleyway into the city. The cool night was dimly lit by the bioluminescent plants around him. In the distance he spied a figure, and a low rumble filled the air. Suddenly he realised just how alone he was.
The figure took a step forward. And then another.
El Moustachio took a step back and steeled himself.
One way or another, things were never going to be the same again.
Now.
El Moustachio had done some arguably brave things before (the only reason they weren’t called foolish though was because he had survived), but his friends always had his back then. Now he was alone in a strange land, with no weapons, and a humanoid creature bearing down on him at an alarming pace.
The ground began to rumble and the glow of the bioluminescent plants around him began to intensify. The figure in the distance was advancing rapidly and Moustachio decided it was time to make tracks. But this thought never became an action, as at this very moment vines erupted from the ground all around him, snaking their way up his body and restraining him in place.
Now upon him, the humanoid stepped into the light and El Moustachio recoiled. He was human-looking, but he was unlike anyone Moustachio had ever seen before. He was wearing mostly orange, but the attention of the eyes was drawn to his voluminous bright green hair and verdant cape, which contrasted well against his pale white skin.
The strange man grinned.
“Let’s see what we have here”, he said with a wave of his hand.
Two crimson flowers extended from the surrounding greenery and made their way on vine-y stems towards El Moustachio. The flowers hissed in his face as a reddish gas wafted from their “mouths”.
But then everything seemed to change, and the man before him withdrew the strange plants, no doubt having determined that Moustachio was not dangerous. The Australian could hardly believe he had been so cynical as to consider this man a threat earlier. He was, after all, merely investigating an intruder in his land.
The man then made a very reasonable request, asking who Moustachio was and how he came to be here. This was a dangerous place after all, Moustachio thought to himself, and the Australian was sure this man only wanted to help others avoid falling into it like he had.
So Moustachio told him who he was and were he came from, being extra certain to mention how his world had many good people who could run afoul of this world, especially if their heroes were not there to protect them. He then talked about how he had fallen into a strange cloud of liquid trying to stop a bad man from taking control of a source of terrifying power.
The man showed considerable interest in this and began to think intently. Moustachio was certainly right. There were lots of people in his world who would be unable to defend themselves here.
The Australian would have continued but he was forced to close his eyes as a gout of fire spewed forth from the sky and scorched the earth around him. The plants immobilizing him instantly shrank away in fear or ashes, and the man questioning Moustachio dove backwards into the shadows.
More fireballs spewed forth striking whatever greenery was around. The air was now thick with smoke as an orange glare lit up the surrounding area. El Moustachio began to stagger away, but his attention was caught by a man coming down from the sky.
The Australian had never seen the man before, but he looked familiar. A long grey beard masked his face, but Moustachio was sure he’d seen those eyes before. The cape/guitar combo was also mighty familiar.
The older man held out his hand and extended Moustachio an invitation that the Australian did not have to think twice about.
“Let us depart immediately, or else you will perish.”
Wasting no time, El Moustachio grabbed the man’s hand and was immediately taken skyward as a feral howl from below followed them into the air. The Australian held on for dear life as they continued to ascend into the night sky.
After a few minutes they broke the cloud layer, and the Australian was treated to the sight of beautiful starshine all around. He had never seen the night sky outside of the city, and it was better than he had ever imagined it would be.
El Moustachio took the chance to enjoy some peace and quiet for a few minutes, but soon spied something in the distance and, as they got closer, realized his eyes really weren’t deceiving him. That really was a floating chunk of earth with a red and white windmill on it.
They reached it shortly, and the Australian was gently lowered to the ground.
“Thank you”, El Moustachio said to his rescuer, who was touching down himself.
“Are you hurt?”, the older man asked.
“I don’t think so”, El Moustachio replied, “But I’m really confused. Where am I? How did I get here? Who are all you people?”
“There’s a bit of a lengthy explanation to all this.”, the old man replied, “Come inside and I’ll start from the beginning.”
The Australian obliged, following the old man into the humble dwelling inside the windmill. It was a simple dwelling, with the bare essentials of hospitality, though over against one wall sat a complex set of machinery and computers.
The old man laid his guitar against his bed and turned to face El Moustachio.
“Allow me to introduce myself first. Officially I am Professor Scotchafunkilus, but you can call me Troy.”
“Troy?”, the Australian replied, thinking of his friend back home. Or was that back in time?
“My name. My friends would call me Tee Bone, but I haven’t had any of those in a while.”
The look on Moustachio’s face told the Professor enough.
“Ah, I see you must be familiar with one of my counterparts then. In that case let me cut to the chase a little – you’re in another universe entirely, and not a good one I’m afraid.”
“You mean like a parallel universe?”, Moustachio asked.
“Yes. One of many in the multiverse.”, Scotchafunkilus replied.
Moustachio had to sit down.
“How…how did this even happen? How did I get here?”
“Radioactive scotch particles. Powerful stuff that, but very volatile. There’s some of them floating around in every universe, and once in a blue moon two of them occupy the same spot in different universes. This causes them to react in an explosion that causes a temporary bridge between the two universes. Anything caught in that explosion can transfer between them.”
Moustachio thought back to his fall from the scaffolding only hours ago.
“My scanners picked up your entry and I rushed there as fast as I could.”, Scotchafunkilus continued. “What worries me though is that these events are becoming larger and more frequent. Something’s happening out there. Look at this here. Two events within a short time frame of each other and the scotch quotient of both are off the charts. Something massive came through there and left again here.”
This did not make Moustachio feel good. Nor did the prospect of staying in this universe.
“But what happened here?”, Moustachio asked, “This place is almost as bad as Hell.”
Professor Scotchafunkilus exhaled slowly. After a short pause he gravely answered.
“A couple decades ago a man gained control of a great power on an island not far from here. He was never the same again. He let himself fall deeper and deeper into darkness. His desire to create, his desire to protect, his desire to mean something, they all twisted him into the horrible being that attacked you – The Cabbage Lord.”
A shot of fear went through Moustachio’s heart. He thought back to his friends on Wicked Lester’s Island. What if they couldn’t stop him without Moustachio? What if this hellscape here was the future of the Australian’s world too now? Scotchafunkilus continued.
“We formed a resistance. Tried to fight back. But his empire only grew. Now I live alone here, researching the multiverse. Eventually I’ll find a way to revert this universe back, or I’ll die and my problems will be over.”
El Moustachio hated to see Tee Bone like this.
“Come on, we can do better than that. Surely we can do something to avenge this world at the very least.”
“No. My priority now is getting you out of here. The Cabbage Lord will probably manage to track us down tomorrow, and you need to be gone before then. This isn’t your fight.”
“Tomorrow comes today Tee Bone!”, screamed the Cabbage Lord from outside the building.
Scotchafunkilus and Moustachio were sent lurching forward as the floating island came to an abrupt stop, wrapped in the tendrils of a large plant.
“How did he get here so fast!?”, the Professor asked.
But he wasn’t particularly interested in the answer. Wasting no time, Scotchafunkilus ran to his guitar and began to play.
“I’ve devised a guitar solo that attracts radioactive scotch particles. But there’s no guarantee on how long it will take two to collide. Or where you’ll end up.”
“Then I should stay here.”, Moustachio said, “He’s outnumbered – we can take him now.”
“No”, the Professor replied, “He’s too powerful and you deserve better than to die here to him.”
The old man continued to play, as the rumbling sound got louder. The Australian looked around, worried. Any second the plants would be through the ground.
Then Moustachio heard a loud crack and felt a burst of liquid behind him. But before he could think any further, Professor Scotchafunkilus kicked him into the Mahongany explosion, and everything went black. Only for a second. And not for the first time today (not that the day had been anything even remotely close to the usual passing of 24 hours he experienced), El Moustachio fell out of thin air into a strange new world.
This time his fall was not cushioned, and he gingerly held a hand to his side as he got up from the rocky ground. He was on a mountain somewhere. He wasn’t high enough to see snow yet, but it certainly wasn’t warm up here. Plus it was pouring with rain.
He was soon soaked, but gunfire from the dark sky drew his attention to the heavens. He peered into the murky gloom, trying to spot the source of the noise. And he seemed to have done so. Becoming more visible by the second came a peculiar skycraft.
It was, well, it looked like a lead zeppelin, but that was impossible because those..didn’t..exist?
But this was one very real, and it was heading right for where El Moustachio was standing.
Back in the windmill, the Cabbage Lord stood alone in the smouldering building, as blood and Scotch mixed together in a pool on the floor. He tenderly rubbed some aloe on his wounds and examined the remains of the computers in the room.
The machines had suffered a lot of exterior damage from the fire, but most of the hard drives inside seem to have only suffered superficial burns. This was good news. There was a whole multiverse out there, and now the Cabbage Lord was close to being able to make it his.
Here. Now.
Far far away, across universes, Tee Bone awoke with a jolt. He had the weirdest dream. He was an old man, with a beard right out of a ZZ Top album cover, and Moustachio was in it too.
A cold breath escaped his lips. He had died, hadn’t he? That’s how the dream had to have ended. It was only a dream, but it felt strangely real to him. Too real. At least I know Moustachio is still out there he thought to himself as he rolled over and snuggled under the covers. It was a comforting thought and it got him back to sleep within minutes.
To Be Continued…
THE ADVENTURES OF TEE BONE MAN: PHASE ONE – THE SQUIRREL SAGA 
THE ADVENTURES OF TEE BONE MAN: PHASE TWO – THE MULTIVERSE SAGA
THE COMPLETE ADVENTURES OF EDIE VAN HEELIN’
THE WRITER’S ROOM
PIECES (1982 Almena Films)
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