Snake-Boy Loves Sky Prince Chapter 2: Sky Prince Loves Lady Dogface

8/3/2019 Snake-Boy Loves Sky Prince Chapter 2: Sky Prince Loves Lady Dogface

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Chapter Two: Sky Prince Loves Lady Dogface

Notes

Snake-Boy Loves Sky Prince is currently running in near-daily

serialization in very, very small installments at the official

website: http://sblsp.wordpress.com

I'll be providing a semi-monthly compilation of the serial installments

into meatier chapters here at Scribd.

Please comment and share!

Fear ofFlying

Sky Lord made his home in the hollow top half of Mount Campbell, one of the highest peaks in Antarctica.

He himself had done the hollowing-out. He called it, the Eyrie. On this beautiful, bright day, he sat

outside, beautiful and bright himself, in a lounge-chair pose on the thin air beside a small ledge, reading

the New York Times on his tablet. A beer bottle hovered beside him, at shoulder level.

He got to the end of an article.

He said, Hunh.

He pressed a button on the ledge wall beside him.

A metallic door, like an elevator door, opened onto the ledge. A new, pink, perfect Sky Prince stepped out

of it.


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Hello, son, said Sky Lord.

Hey dad! said Sky Prince.

Youre going to learn to fly today, son, said Sky Lord.

Around the boy, he found it difficult to project his usual personality, to be the happy-go-lucky, avuncular,

omnipotent but emotionally vulnerable dude that he always liked to pretend to be. The boy made him

stern and stiff: one of the many bones he had to pick with the boy.

Sky Prince walked to the edge of the ledge. He stood up on his tip-toes. He came back down. He walked

back to the elevator door, which remained closed.

I cant, he said.

You can, said Sky Lord.

Im scared, said Sky Prince.

Sky Lord stopped reading. He placed his tablet on his abs, clasped his hands on top of it. He looked at the

boy. He smiled. You can do it, he said. I have faith in you.

Sky Prince walked over to the edge again. He started to look down, but his dad flew, zippety-zip, in front

of him.

No. Dont look down. Just do it.

He turned aside, swept his hand and arm in a half-circle toward the emptiness beside him, like an usher

in the theater, showing you which aisle to take.


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Sky Prince didnt move.

Look. I know you can fly, said Sky Lord. I know every atom of your body. I made it. I made it specifically

so that you would be able to fly. Its in there. You just have to try to.

Sky Prince didnt move. Tears formed in his eyes, but did not fall.

Im afraid.

What are you afraid of?

Sky Prince walked to the edge, but he didnt look down. He looked up. He blinked. He was trying to get rid

of the tears before they fell. He took a breath, which could have been a hiccup, or a sob, but also could

have just been a breath. Maybe.

Im afraid Ill die.

Sky Lord laughed. He flew a figure eight, landed beside his son, shrugged.

Then Ill just put you in a new body, he said. Just like always. You die all the time.

But I was just made, said Sky Prince. He backed away from the edge, like a man bargaining with a tiger.

If I try to fly, and I fall, you wont be able to put these memories into my new body. My brains will be all

over the place. I wont exist anymore. The me that is me, right now, this person, me. I will die.

Sky Lord had never heard such nonsense.

He flew away from the boy. He flew high into the sky. He screamed. He must keep calm. He flew back

down. The you, he said, that is you?


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Yes.

The you that is you is less than one minute old, said Sky Lord. His voice was rising now. He didnt want it

to. He couldnt help himself. The you that is you is nothing significant. All of your of my sons life is

stored in the computers downstairs except for this ridiculous, and on that word, ridiculous Sky Lord

realized that he was screaming. He stopped himself. He said, quietly, this one li ttle ridiculous

conversation. Thats all youd lose. Have you enjoyed this conversation so much? You want to keep it with

you forever?

Sky Princes tears fell openly now.

Look, said Sky Lord, in an understanding tone, touching the boy on his shoulders, looking into his eyes.

If you dont want to die , well, fine. Just fly. Its as simple as that.

He stepped aside, patted the boy on the butt, to move him along.

Sky Prince, sobbing, walked slowly to the edge again.

Sky Lord screamed, Now fly! Do it! Now!

The boy jumped off of the ledge. He landed in an explosion of blood and meat and bone but mostly blood

half a mile down, beside a dozen other Sky Prince bodies. The pattern they made in the snow

resembled a Jackson Pollock painting: bright and beautiful.

Sky Lord sighed.

He sat back down on his imaginary lawn chair. He took a sip of the beer that had been waiting for him,

hovering there, all this time. He read another article on his tablet.


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He pressed a button in the side of the wall.

A new Sky Prince came out of the elevator door, fresh and pink and smiling.

Hello, son, said Sky Lord.

Hey dad! said Sky Prince.

Today, youre going to learn how to fly.

How Was Your Day

From the air, its easy to spot a jumper. They dont look across the bay at the minor mountains over

there. They dont look at the Bledsoe skyline. They stand on the edge of the railing too long. They look

straight down. Theres one every few days. The bridge calls them out. The bridge possibly gives birth to

them, crafts them out of its own dark, grimy substance, the way that Sky Lord has crafted his son. Maybe

each jumper, like each incarnation of Sky Prince, is another failed attempt at perfection.

Sky Lord caught this one only a couple of yards down, a shifty-eyed old queen, with dyed black hair and a

fedora, something right out of Midnight Cowboy. He set him back on the bridge. He shouldnt have done

that. But his mind was elsewhere.

Specifically, he was listening to the goings-on at Crimebuster High School.

10,000 Little Sisters.

Here.

Aeroboy.


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Here.

Bitch.

Thats Lady Dogface.

Lady Dogface?

Yes. I changed my name. I felt that Bitch was kind of misogynistic.

Lady Dogface?

Like Gaga, you know. Yeah. Lady Dogface.

That puts you later in the alphabetical order.

Not my problem.

(sigh). Lady Dogface.

Here.

The sixteen-wheeler should have stopped two red lights back. There had already been small accidents in

its path. One possible death, in a Volvo, of all things. Sky Lord stood in front of the truck, crouched like a

catcher behind home plate. He caught the bottom of the chromed-out grille, lifted it and let the truck,

briefly, keep shooting past him, running him over as it bent into the sky. Once he was personally in the

middle of the bottom of the truck, he grabbed a serious hold with both hands, and flew it into the air. It

cramped his fingers a little, holding it the way he was holding it, so he tossed it away from him and

caught it again, holding it differently. Ah. Much better. Possibly the driver was drunk, or tweaking, or

asleep. But wait. No. There was no driver. Sky Lord looked more closely with his X-ray vision. The driver

was in the passenger-seat floorboard, dead probably a heart attack. Sky Lord set the truck down at a

nearby rest area. He took a minute to use the facilities. He called an ambulance, even though he knew it

was too late.

Sky Prince.

Here.

Snake-Boy.


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Hhhhhhhh. Sssss. Hrrrrr.

Assorted nasty giggles.

Hhhhhhhhere. Ahem. Here.

Sky Lord caught the old queen a second time, just before he hit the water. This time, he had a parasol,

Mary Poppins style. Sky Lord dropped him off on the city-side bank of the bay, at the piers, among the

tacky Midwestern tourists. He was beginning to think that this was not a serious suicide.

Dude. Be nice to that guy. Hes the son of Sky Lord.

Seriously? That guy? That is so unfair.

Unfair?

A creep like that. He doesnt deserve to to be the son of Sky Lord.

Who does?

Point.

Sky Lord put out a warehouse fire. He saved a kitten from a deep hole. He corrected an accountants

error which would have caused a stock market crash in three months time. He found a professional

bowlers contact lenses, which had fallen out at the concession stand. He saved the bridge-jumping old

queen again, took him to the hospital this time.

Sky Prince! Why are you telling people Im your girlfriend?


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Im not telling people that.

No response.

Well you are my girlfriend.

I am not your girlfriend.

Youre my friend, and youre a girl.

No response.

Bitch.

Thats not my name anymore.

Oh really.

Sky Lord saved the old queen one last time. On their way to the hospital (he couldnt think of anywhere

else to drop him off), he broke his legs. He just put them right over his knee, one at a time, and broke

them. That would keep him away from the bridge for a little while, anyway.

Who said I said that?

The new kid. The Snake-Boy.

I heard hes dangerous.

Dangerous? Dont be silly. Hes a sweetheart. He saved your hide that last time SerpenTerrorist

attacked!

Oh. Um. Yeah. I yeah, I remember.

You dont sound like you remember.

Whatever. Maybe I forgot. Leave me alone.

Hey! Im the one thats supposed to be mad at you! Hey! Where are you going?

Back home, at the Eyrie, Sky Lord waited in his imaginary chair in the main gallery. The body of his wife, in

her cryogenic chamber, glowed and hummed beside him. He liked to greet the boy like this in the


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evenings, after school, with her at his elbow. Gave a sense of family and stability, he thought. Behind him,

the as-yet-unused Sky Prince bodies hung on their rotating rack like unclaimed clothing at the dry

cleaners.

Sky Prince opened the vast front door of the Eyrie like some rude beast, slouchily. He slammed the door

shut behind him, as usual. He walked toward his dad.

How was your day at school, son?

Fine.

Sky Prince walked past his dad.

Anything happen?

Sky Prince went into his room. He slammed the door shut behind him, as usual.

I know you are listening, he whispered.

First Flight

It felt like nothing had happened, even when something had happened.

He would record his memories every morning. He would step into the machine. They had no other name

for it, just the machine. It was shaped like his body. It was made of glass and metal, the machine, except

for the helmet part. The helmet was only made of metal. The helmet smelled of singed hair and sweat. The

helmet did the real work. It had cords coming out of it, etc. It had gauges and dials. The rest of the

machine was just there to hold him still. Sky Prince would put the helmet on. The world would go empty

and itchy itchy not on the outside of his skin, but on the inside of his brain, the nape of his neck, the

tops and backs of his eyeballs. He would jerk spastically. He would think he was going to explode, except


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that the machine, of course, was there, holding him in, holding him down. Then the itching and the

emptiness would stop. He would take the helmet off. Done. Memories saved. If he died now, he could be

restored back to this precise moment, just like a videogame character. Easy, peasy. He would step out of

the machine. He would go l ive his day.

Sometimes he woke up and he wasnt in the machine anymore. Thats the only way he knew that he had

died and been restored. Like just a minute ago: he woke up weak on his feet, cold and naked, in front of

what appeared to be an elevator door.

Ding.

He stepped outside, onto a bright snow-covered ledge near the top of the Eyrie. He had been here before,

but he couldnt remember when, or why.

He blinked his eyes.

His dad hovered in the air in front of him, a little past the ledge, in a flying pose, smiling back over his

shoulder. He looked like a big, goofy dog, ready to chase a ball. If he had had a tail, it would have been

wagging.

Today, youre going to learn how to fly! he shouted. Come on!

So Sky Prince ran and he jumped off the edge of the ledge, and he fell, for a heart-stopping second. What

else would he have done? Then he flew. Of course he flew. He was the son of Sky Lord. He flew hard and

recklessly into the cold air, which scrubbed past him, like two invisible walls, one to his left, one to his

right, rough as concrete. He loved it. It hurt and it was fun. He didnt have to decide when to turn or bank

or loop the loop: the air told him. It was like an amusement park ride. He turned. He banked. He looped the

loop. His dad chased him around. His dad laughed and shouted, tailing behind. His dad actually was it

possible? giggled. Sky Prince had never seen his dad so happy.


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Then Sky Prince fell out of the sky.

Bam! like that, flying had become impossible. Had become ridiculous. He couldnt have said what had

changed.

Ah well. So much for that.

He let himself relax into the fall. Might as well. Once death became inevitable, it seemed okay, somehow,

almost a relief. Besides, the next version of him would never have to live through any of this. It wouldnt

be recorded. It would be forgotten.

It did not occur to him to wonder how many times this had happened before.

The last thing he saw was his dad, chasing after him, straight down, hand outstretched. The look on his

dads face broke his heart. Son. Come on. What are you doing. You idiot. Fly! His dad sounded angry, but

Sky Prince knew better. His dad shut his eyes right before he hit the ground.

Thats how Sky Prince knew it was coming.

Thats how Sky Prince knew that his dad loved him.

Character Profile: Laurynn Lee

Laurynn Lee met her husband, Sky Lord, when he saved her from falling into the mouth of a live volcano.

The volcano had been walking across the ocean for several days, ranting in a sibilant volcanic language,

looking like it wanted to fight. It pounded its fist into the palm of its other hand.


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Laurynn, an agent for the solar system government at the time, had been trying to talk the thing down.

She was sitting on its shoulder, whispering into its vast ear, when it happened to twist its ankle stumbling

across the Marianas Trench.

Ouch, ouch, ouch, it said. It hopped around. Laurynn lost her grip.

Sky Lord caught her just before she fell into the volcanos open mouth.

Oh, thank you, she said. Now, please, put me down.

He put her down in Honolulu. He had a fight with the volcano. He won.

Then he found Laurynn again (she had been hiding in the bathtub of a cheap room at a cheap hotel

curtains drawn, lights out, bathroom door locked). He took her to his favorite restaurant, an Indian buffet

in New Zealand. They got married the next day in Vegas. The day after that, they had a kid sort of. Sky

Lord built a clone out of their combined genetic material. The day after that, he hollowed out a mountain

in the Antarctic for their family to live in. Things were going fine. They were in love, he assured her. The

day after that, she died. Supervillains killed her. Sky Lord never figured out which ones. They were very

smart. They made it look like she killed herself. He knew that that wasnt possible. He knew that they had

been happy together, that she, in particular, had been happy with him. There was very little that he didnt

know. Here was one thing he did not know: what to do now.

Sky Lord had never encountered death as an irreversible condition before. He had never really seen it

after-the-fact. It had always been something that might have happened if he hadnt been there to stop it.

He couldnt stand the thought of her death. It made no sense. He put her body into cryogenic sleep

saying that he thought maybe he could save her someday, but he knew better. He had opened his third

eye. He had looked for her soul. It was no longer there.

Then he invented the memory-dumping technology he uses today on his son. Good thing, too, because his

son has died more than a thousand times since that day.


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A Good Idea

Crimebuster High School was a lie. Students there did not learn how to fight crime. They learned algebra,

and social studies, and English. They supposedly learned these things. Some of them learned these things.Most did not. Nobody cared. These kids already knew what they were going to be when they grew up, and

only their mentors, usually their parents, were qualified to teach them anything about that. Every set of

superpowers came with its own special cluster of educational needs, after all. There was no common

pedagogy that could simultaneously prepare, say, a waterbreather, a cosmic surfer, a mind-reader, and

a humanimal for a career as a superhero. Thats what the Sidekick Program was for: one on one, hands-

on instruction in the streets, or the oceans, or the jungles, or the skies, etc. Crimebuster High School

really was exactly what its most cynical students (Sky Prince first among them) said that it was: aglorified daycare, a sort of quarantine for kids too powerful, or too weird-looking, to go to school with

normals.

Sky Prince knew everything, and not just because of his superpowers (which were, anyway, inferior

versions of his dads powers, and hardly ever worked right). He made a point of knowing. He came to

school early. He hung out with the custodial staff: One Leg, Fluffy, Fig Face Jimmy and Slow Flo. Most kids

never acknowledged the custodial staff, or even realized that they existed. He hung out with them in theirbreak room: a tiny windowless closet with a microwave and a card table, no chairs, no sink, no windows.

It smelled of green onions and scorched plastic. It smelled of Lysol. Sky Prince always knew when the pop

quizzes were coming. He always knew when there would be fire drills. The custodial staff kept him in the

know.

Hey its the kid! they would say when he showed up. Hey kid! Have a seat! One of them would get up,

stand in the doorway outside the tiny closet, to make room for him. Whats cracking?

At first Sky Prince thought that they welcomed his presence among them. He thought that they

appreciated being noticed by a student. He thought that they fed him gossip, played cards with him, called

him their friend, out of gratitude for his attention. Later, he realized that they were only tolerating him


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because of who his dad was. He realized that he made them nervous. He realized that they were making

fun of him, just a little bit, whenever they talked to him, that their very enthusiasm itself was a way of

expressing contempt. Not a lot of contempt. Just enough.

Nothing much, he would say. Whats cracking by you?

Everything in Sky Princes life, for good or for bad, came to him because of who his dad was. He had

stopped fighting this a while ago. There was nothing he could do or say that would change the fact that he

was the only son of the worlds most powerful superhero. The worlds most powerful anything. People did

not think of him when they thought of him. They couldnt. They always thought of his dad.

Whats your real name, One Leg? he said one day.

My real name is One Leg, said One Leg, stiffly. Whats yours?

I dont have a real name, said Sky Prince. He could have said, My real name is Sky Prince, echoing One

Legs response, making a joke of the whole thing, but that would not have been the truth. Sky Prince

was just a knock-off of his dads name. It didnt mean anything on its own. Sky Prince was only interested

in the truth anymore.

That sounds about right, said One Leg, making a hop down the hallway, pushing his electronic broom in

front of him, then making another hop, looking back. I didnt figure you would.

Sky Prince was pretty sure that he didnt like that response. That there was an edge to it, somehow. He

couldnt have said, though, exactly what kind of response he would have preferred.

Later that day, back at the Eyrie, Sky Prince said to his dad, I think I want to have a secret identity. Go to

school with normals. I came up with a name. Desmond Touch


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His dad looked down at him from where he was hovering in front of the Sky Computer, a massive wall-

sized installation, which he mostly used to read his fanblogs and watch Netflix movies. You think that

thats a good idea?

I dont like Crimebuster High, said Sky Prince. I dont have any friends. I have to hang out with

the janitors.

I meant the name. Desmond Touch. You think people would buy that?

Sky Prince shrugged. Theres weirder names.

Hm. I guess so. Sky Lord turned his attention back to the computer.

What about that dog-headed girl? I thought she was your friend.

Shes cool, yeah.

Sky Prince fidgeted. He had never spoken to his dad about Lady Dogface. He knew that his dad used his

super hearing to spy on him, and he knew that his dad knew that he knew, but they never talked about it

out in the open. When his dad slipped up, let drop things that he wasnt supposed to know, it made for

awkward moments.

Shes your girlfriend, right?

She doesnt seem to think so.

His dad chuckled. He turned back to the computer screen, frowned in a thoughtful way. I could set

something up, he said. He swiped his hands around in the air. A map came up on the screen. For both of

us. Your secret identity would have to have a parent. People wouldnt understand you living out there on


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your own. Theyd get suspicious. Unless you want to be a runaway on the streets? No. Too dangerous.

Here. Let me see. I could get us a house out in the suburbs, find a job A house came up on the screen.

He gave it a yard by making some sort of precise-looking hand gesture. He gave it a car. He gave it a

swimming pool. Ill be lets see. Desmond Touch Sr.

I was just thinking maybe I could go to a normal school, said Sky Prince. Just the school part. We dont

have to do the rest of it, do we? The whole living-the-life thing?

His dad turned to face him fully.

A secret identity is more than just play-acting, said his dad. A secret identity is an investment. You

have to put time and energy into it, or its not worth doing. Its got to be real, or its meaningless.

Which is why you never bothered? said Sky Prince.

What makes you think I never bothered? said Sky Lord, slowly.

Sky Prince sat on the cold floor of the Eyrie. He pulled his knees up to his chin. Never mind, I guess.

What is this really about, son?

I wish I could do something alone, by myself, for once. Be somebody on my own.

Sky Lord descended to ground level. Oh, thatll happen someday. Dont you worry. He slapped his son on

the back. Come on, he said. Lets go have some fun. What can we do. What can we do. Hm. I know! He

put a finger in the air, as if the idea had only just now occurred to him. Ill teach you how to fly!

Maybe another time, said Sky Prince. He shut his eyes and sat there. He kept sitting there.


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After a while, his dad turned back to the computer. He subscribed to a parenting blog. He subscribed to

another. He thought about the secret identity thing. He called up the map again. He looked at the house.

He looked at the yard. He gave it a lawnmower.

You know, he said, after a while. Let me tell you about when I tried to have a secret identity. Its kind of

funny, really

He turned, but Sky Prince had already gone to his room. Without a word. Without slamming the door.

Worrisome.

Sky Prince Sucks

Every weekday morning, Sky Prince rode in an elevator down from the Eyrie to a white-tiled air-

conditioned lobby near the center of the earth. Except for the slightly janky gravity, it could have been

any waiting room, anywhere: soothing music, fluorescent lights, a row of thirteen modernist plastic

chairs bolted to the concrete floor. But he never had to wait. Across the way, on the opposite wall,

another elevator always stood open for him. He was the only one who ever passed through here. His dad

had made this place for him.

His dad used to fly him to school. He would ride on his dads shoulders. But it became embarrassing for

the boy, after a point, to have to explain to his friends that he couldnt, himself, yet, fly. He had almost

none of his dads powers. The only power he had was the abil ity to peer into another persons soul with

his third eye, and that power always got him into trouble. That wasnt really a power so much as a way to

seem rude, he figured.

This morning, Sky Prince found a dead body in the elevator lobby, one of his own past bodies, flat on its

face, in a pool of black blood. Just worn out. They do that. He stepped over it. He would have to remember

to tell his dad to clean it up. He felt sorry for himself, that he had had to see that.


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He arrived early to school. His elevator opened in the basement, to the smell of wet cardboard and

cleaning supplies. He went upstairs via the emergency stairwell, taking the steps three at a time. He

walked around, looking into the classrooms. He saw a few teachers bent over their lesson plans. Some of

them looked up and waved at him. Some of them, pointedly, did not. He enjoyed both responses. They

made him feel like a boss. They made him feel he owned the place. As son of Sky Lord, the most powerful

and respected Crimebuster who ever lived, as the son of the man who had, after all, designed the school,

he figured that he well, yeah, kind of did own the place.

He went to the first floor boys room. He had markers in his back pants pocket. He wrote on the wall: Sky

Prince Sucks. He marked that out, inefficiently, so that it could still be read, then wrote, with a different-

colored marker, in bigger, more jagged letters, Sky Prince Rocks beside and across it. He believed in

cultivating an air of controversy. It was important, he felt, to make people think about him. To make

people think, whenever they thought about him, that other people were thinking about him, too. He had

learned this from his dad. He went to the second floor boys room.Sky Prince Loves Lady Dogface he

wrote. He went to the third floor boys room. Desmond Touch was here. He went to the fourth floor boys

room. Who is Desmond Touch? he wrote.

Crimebuster High had seventy-two floors. Not all of them, though, thankfully, had boys rooms.

Who Is Desmond Touch?

After school Sky Prince and the Junior All-Stars converged on the roof of Crimebuster High. Sky Prince.

Lady Dogface. Pirate Girl. Nanolad. And the new kid, Snake-Boy. They werent really friends with one

another. They were the sidekicks of the most powerful and popular superheroes, the first-string team of

the adult Crimebusters organization (Sky Lord, Beast Mistress, Blackbeard, Nanoman, and the Great

Hunter, respectively). They were expected to hang out together for this reason.

Sky Prince climbed onto the top of the two-foot-high brick wall that surrounded the rooftop patio. He

said, Im going to fly now.

He looked over at Lady Dogface.


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Im going to fly now, he said, more loudly, and directly at her.

Okay, you go, she said. Whatever?

She was sitting cross-legged, showing the new kid, the Snake-Boy, how to do yoga or something.

Sky Prince pointed his face up at the sky. Im going to fly now. Did you hear that? He was talking to his

dad.

The other Junior All-Stars did not know this. They just thought he was being goofy. They also did not know

that he was unable to fly. It had been a long time since anybody had seen him on his dads shoulders. They

assumed he had grown into his powers by now. He had possibly lied to them and told them that he had. He

couldnt remember.

His dad did not respond.

Sky Prince looked down at the street scene seventy-two storeys distant. Normals went about their

business. There was a normal selling hot dogs from a vending cart. There was a normal buying a hot dog.

There was a normal tying its shoe. There was a normal looking up at him. The normal looking up at him

waved. Sky Prince waved back at it.

He jumped.

He flew.

He flew rings around the building.

He landed on the brick wall, where he had started.


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He jumped again. He flew again. He laughed and laughed. He flew very high. He flew very low. He bought a

hot dog, hovering in the air. He flew very high again.

Hey dad! he said. Hey dad!

His dad did not answer.

The Junior All-Stars watched him, slack-jawed.

What idiots, he thought.

Sky Prince made up his mind. This was his big chance. He flew to a department store in the midwest. He

bought himself a bunch of normal human clothes. He put them on. He left his superhero outfit in the

dressing room for some souvenir-hungry normal to find. He flew to another city he wasnt even sure

which one and sat himself down on the sidewalk beside a fast-food restaurant.

He lived like that for four days.

He said to people, Change? Change?

His dads point about his secret identity needing a parent or being homeless had struck him as a

good idea.

He said to people, Can you spare any change? My name is Desmond Touch.

After four days his body died. It lay there in a puddle of black blood. Just worn out. They do that. In the

Eyrie, a sensor clicked, a gear turned, the sliding rack of clonebodies advanced one notch, and a new Sky


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Prince, who did not have any memories of his predecessors past few days but who, weirdly, would find

that he was still easily able to fly stepped off of the assembly line.

He found his murdered father on the living room floor.

Beast Mistress and Blue Spark in The Capetown Caper

She did not come here often, to Africa, but she loved it. She rode into Capetown on the back of anelephant. It is the Human Continent, she told her husband, the Blue Spark, who was currently host-lessand disincarnate. The place where we began.

I did not begin here, he said, buzzing about her head in the form of four micro-gods.

There they are! said Beast Mistress, pointing at two hapless street vendors on the corner. The vendors

disappeared in a puff of black smoke and reappeared as the supervillains Mirror & Mirror.

Everybody fought. The heroes won.

In their hotel room that night, Beast Mistress said to Blue Spark, I am so lonesome.

Blue Spark said nothing, I am here, my sweet.

Beast Mistress said, Why dont you take on a host tonight? I need, you know, companionship.

I am here, my darling said Blue Spark.

You know what I mean.

The Blue Spark could only take corporeal form by inhabiting the body of a willing human. His host would

die after twenty-four hours. There was a long waiting list of people who wished to go out in a literal blaze


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of glory cancer patients, mostly, and condemned prisoners. Calling up one of them for selfish reasons

was out of the question.

I cant waste a host like that, he said. You know that I cant.

Beast Mistress dropped her garment to the floor.

You call this a waste? she said.

Outside, it rained. The rain fell in big soft warm drops on Africa, the Human Continent, kisses on the body

of a woman. Quiet thunder came to the window.

Oh well, okay, he said.

But then the host whose number came up turned out to be gay. They all three laughed and laughed and

laughed about it, and drank sharp local wine. They watched old movies on television.

Notes

Snake-Boy Loves Sky Prince is currently running in near-dailyserialization in very, very small installments at the official

website: http://sblsp.wordpress.com

I'll be providing a semi-monthly compilation of the serial installments

into meatier chapters here at Scribd.

Please comment and share!

Snake-Boy Loves Sky Prince Chapter 2: Sky Prince Loves Lady Dogface

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