Synopsis:

Another BigCloset TopShelf story.

Joanie meets Suzy's mom and bares herself -- literally & figuratively. Joanie and Pinky visit Iowa & the Johnson's. Joanie tries to keep a low profile -- oops! Pinky chaparones Eric and Joanie just-in-time. Suzy comes to Whateley & Joanie learns her kittens are vicious killers.

Andy Warhol said,"In the future, everyone will be famous for 15 minutes." What if your 15 minutes came late in life, and fame decided to never let you go? Could you survive the circus your life would become?

Story:

Timeout 3-Continuous play: A Whateley Academy Fan fiction

This is fan fiction for the Whateley Academy series. It may or may not match the timeline, characters, and continuity, but since it's fan fiction, who cares? To see the canon Whateley Stories, check out either Sapphire's Place,

(http://www.sapphireplace.com/stories/whateley.html) or the Big Closet (http://bigclosetr.us/topshelf/taxonomy/term/117)."

Another chapter in part three of my TG/sci-fi/superhero/magic and the kitchen sink epic. I’m much better now than when I started this, honest, though comma useage still confuses me; ask Itinerant. Your constructive criticism and advice always helps. This is an exercise in the joys of creativity and in appreciation of the wonderful Whateley Universe. Any violations of copyright, trade mark or use of real people or incidents are purely for purposes of humor or parody and done solely for the free enjoyment of the reading public. All rights reserved in perpetuity, John from Wauwatosa WI, 2005-2006. George, Gracie, no scaring the freshmen, that’s the seniors job.

Adult content advisory: this chapter deals with sexual topics and may not be suitable for younger readers but if you’ve read my stuff you know it’s not graphic and is often silly but you were warned.

Timeout 3

By John from Wauwatosa
Text therapy by Itinerant
Thanks Janet Nolan for additional proofing

Chapter 5- Oops I Did it Again 2, The Big Broadcast of 2007, What’s New Pussycat? 2

Madison WI, Des Moines IA, Whateley Academy Dunwich NH, April 06-09, 2007

April 06, 2007, Madison WI

I awoke back in that same familiar hospital room again; Dr. Sara, Gin, Dari and Pinky were all staring at me.

“Can I get frequent flyer miles for my hospital stays? What happened, I fainted?”

“The question is, why? There’s nothing wrong with you,” said Sara. I glanced around to see if we were clear.

“It’s not everyday I find out Wisconsin’s latest mutant is the daughter of my cousin. Susan’s grandmother is my dad’s sister.”

“Oh Ghod!” said Sara.

“You know how I feel, then. Better bring Christine to my room, but only her for now. I’ll need some privacy when she gets here. Someone please brief Red and Carrie on the ‘relative‘ situation.”

* * * *

“You asked to see me, Ms. Joanie?”

Christine was ten years older than me, but wore it well. She was the oldest of my Aunt’s children, and the best and brightest. She’d made a good life for herself. She sat in a stuffed chair, I swung my legs over the edge of the bed nearly exposing myself in the process.

“Just a moment while I fix this hospital gown. I didn’t flash you, did I?”

She blushed.

“Oh dear, I did. Sorry, but if what her Doctor says is correct, Susan’s will be the same color.”

~~Gee, how glib. ~~

“What did you want? I doubt it was to prove you’re a real strawberry blond? You’re better now I take it. You had us worried, Ms. Joanie.”

“I fainted from the shock of realizing who you and Susan are.”

“You know us?” Christine looked puzzled. I giggled from tension.

“I’ve known you for 49 years, or more correctly you’ve known me. I was just a baby then.”

“How? You’re a teen!”

“Remember the press coverage last year, when I rescued the girl on Labor Day. All the press speculation on my origins -- what was the wildest one?”

“That you were a 48 year old man from Milwaukee … NO!”

“Take Joan. What’s the easiest conversion to a common male name?” I suggested. Her eyes were locked on me. She knew, but couldn’t believe it.

“Well, John I suppose; substitute ‘h’ for the ‘a’.”

“And what’s my last name? I didn’t change that.” She went wide eyed and tried to speak. I got off the bed, and gave her a hug. “I missed you, cousin Chrissie.” Then I kissed her cheek.

We spent the next hour or so talking, crying, and laughing in turns.

“My own cousin saves my daughter. What were the odds?”

“I think someone, somewhere, is yanking my chain. I can’t explain it. What were the odds I’d be in Prairie Du Chein at precisely the right moment to save Melissa Johnson’s life, or be at Merrimac to save Susan’s at the ferry? And my mutation is one for the record books, so late in life, and such rare powers. I have several the press doesn’t know about, and one of them makes my time stop seem a cheap toy. What, if anything, is the purpose to `this’? It’s like some deity is loading the dice of chance, or has his or her thumb on the scales of fate -- not that I’m complaining. So far it’s been great, but I wish I knew if there is a grander purpose to all of this. I’m so glad I could tell you, Chrissie. The only members of my family that know about my mutation are Dad and Sis. You’re number 3.”

“All we were told was you were gravely ill, but recovering.”

“How’s Suzy?” I asked as I got up and started to dress.

“She’s been out of bed a couple times.” She looked away. “You want some privacy?”

“We’re all girls here, now.” She looked at me, and laughed. Chrissie had a carefree laugh. “Stay, I could use the company and some advice. You’ve always been a snappy dresser. I don’t age like a normal person anymore, so how do I make this look adult?” I dropped my robe, and gave her several model’s turns.

“You have the most beautiful body, Joanie. My Ghod.”

“Yeah, but I look, what 17?” I asked Chrissie.

She studied me closely.

“17, maybe 16 given how perfect your skin is, and how high and firm your breasts and rear are. With your tiny waist and skinny butt you could be fifteen, but by your height and the size of your breasts, you’re a college girl.”

“See my dilemma, and why I wear all that tough girl leather stuff?”

“I think you’ve chosen well on the clothes. That LBD you wore for the dance with the Iowa Governor’s son looked exceptional on you.”

“You saw that, Christine?”

“North Carolina is not some backwater; even there you’re big news.”

“Me, I’ll admit to having had my fifteen minutes of fame. I guess my recordings may sell for a while, but I’m hardly newsworthy.”

“Can the false modesty act, cousin, it doesn’t become you. You’ve saved the lives of two people, one I …” She paused and wiped a tear. “The speculation in the East-coast press is that the mutant reputed to be critically involved in breaking the Boston child pornography case is you. Why else would Senator Williams of Iowa be identified as being involved in assisting the prosecution? It’s obvious in the press coverage that the man dotes on you. The whole Williams-Johnson family is your biggest cheerleader, Joanie.” I made a gesture to shush her, she continued anyway. “It all makes sense now. The girl with you, the one they call Pinky, was one of the victims?” I nodded and checked to see if we were still alone.

“For her protection I can’t say much, but, yes, she’s how I found out about the crimes. I’m trying to help turn her life around. The 'incidents'," Christine blanched when she realized it was multiple sexual assaults, “left her in a disturbed mental state. The loving teen was being replaced by a cynical manipulator.

"The bastards who did this to Pinky hurt others, too, and further abused their power in attempting to stop the police investigation. The woman detective who pursued this case after higher ups thought they’d quashed it deserves the credit. I just had access to some investigative tools she lacked, and the Senator had the contacts to get us an honest and sympathetic judge for the necessary subpoenas. With our help, the detective assembled a rock-solid case and nothing can stop it. I’m so happy I could help. Several of the victims are suffering serious mental trauma and are receiving psychiatric help at my expense. I didn’t want them to have to wait for government aid. So far, I hear they’re doing better. I know my friend Pinky is, thank Ghod.

"Despite her fine work, there’s been a backlash against the detective by members of the force. It's regrettable, as my interactions with Boston’s finest have been nothing but professional and positive. It’s a combination of the ‘don’t rat on your fellow officer’ mentality and the fact that there may be supporters of the accused persons on the force. The Senator’s contact, Judge Juday, used his influence to get the detective an indefinite assignment to the Massachusetts Violent Crime Victims Assistance Bureau where she’s helping the other victims recover. She cares, and it’s the best we could do for her now.”

“That’s exactly the point, cousin Joanie. You’ve been a mutant nine months, and look at the impact you’ve had on this country. From my contacts in the civil service, I’ve learned your Senator’s Federal judge friend is on the short list for the next US Supreme Court vacancy, and has moved up within it since the Boston case broke. Governor Johnson is a favorite to win his party's nomination for President, if not for the 2008 election then most certainly for the 2012 race. Flashes in the pan do not run in these high circles. You’ve taken down a US Senator and the speculation is rampant over who’s the next target of the Avengers.”

~~They’re calling me and my cohorts from this case 'The Avengers'? I could see the Senator in a suit and hat like Patrick Macnee’s, and me in a cat suit, meowrrr! ~~

“Christine, that was a cult TV show and movie, and I look much better in leather than any of those actresses did. Oh Ghod, did I just say that?” She smiled. “It’s not like any of this is planned. It just happens,” I added.

“Maybe it’s proof that your unknown deity is yanking your chain. You have all these gifts and he, or she, is ensuring you use them wisely.”

“If that’s the case, why give me these?” I said as I cupped the undersides of my breasts with my hands.”

“To distract your enemies and give delight to your lovers?”

“Christine!” At least she didn’t say Eric’s name out loud, for which I was grateful. “Before we got sidetracked, you were giving me fashion tips.”

“Remembering back to that dress from the school dance, Joanie. I think, um … how old was your … ah, date?”

~~So I’m not dodging that today.~~ I gave her “the look.”

“Sorry, Joanie, that’s none of my business, but that was a good look for you. Perhaps a classically styled formal dress or a woman’s business suit could make you look 20ish. Maybe you could change your makeup, hair style or accessories, but that’s all I can think of.” She got this thoughtful look on her face, then smiled broadly. “Cousin Joanie, with your face, and that body, I’m surprised one of the fashion or men’s magazines hasn’t made you an offer.”

I burst into a giggle fit. It was a while before I was coherent.

“They have?” I nodded.

“You accepted?” I nodded again.

“Tell me which one. You’re driving me crazy.”

“They’ve been around over fifty years, starting originally in Chicago.”

“Chicago? You’re being mysterious, why? Is it embarrassing? It’s not naked photos?” I snorted, trying to hold in the giggles.

“I’m the cover. I’m being interviewed, and I’m the main photo spread of the issue. I’m Ms. July in Playboy. It’s their first all-mutant issue.”

Christine did the dignified, mature, fifty something thing; she broke into giggles. I had a hard time keeping from joining her.

“This is serious stuff, Christine. I’m getting two million, plus a cut of their overseas sales, and I’m donating it all to Whateley Academy, the mutant prep school I’m at. And yes, Eric is too young to buy it.”

“The Iowa Governor’s son? Was that just for fun, or are you seriously dating the boy?”

“He’s not a boy; he’s a man -- a young one, but a man, Christine. I’m very fond of him, okay.”

“Nine months, and you’re dating a bo … man. You’re crazy, but I’m happy for you.”

”Ghod help me, but so am I, when I’m near him. If you think of anything else, here’s my e-mail address.” I handed her a business card. “Let’s see your Suzy.” I dressed, and we walked to Suzy’s room.

* * * *

We walked, hugging each other constantly on the way to Suzy’s room. We caused some commotion in the halls but didn’t care. Her husband, Greg, and Red were the only others in the room. Suzy grinned happily when she saw her Mom and I enter the room holding each other.

“Suzy, Joanie’s back, and she’s fine. She fainted because she knows us.”

“You know my Mom?”

“Red, can you make sure we’re not disturbed?” She smiled, then left the room.

We all sat down, Christine smiling all the while. I let her speak.

“Greg, Suzy, Joanie knows us because she’s your Aunt once removed.”

“You’re my Aunt?” Suzy said. She and Greg locked their eyes on me.

“I’m your mom’s cousin. I went through a similar mutant burnout last July, and ended up looking like this. It was a shock; I used to be a middle-aged guy.”

“John?” asked Greg.

Greg may sound like a Southern Good Ole’ Boy, but he’s a sharp one.

“What you think of my makeover, Greg? Did I come up trumps or not?” Then, I giggled. I was so happy I could burst, then I started to cry. I’d regained some of the family I’d thought I’d lost. “Your Grandma Denny is my dad’s sister, Suzy dear.” I was almost sobbing.

“It's true,” said Christine. I gave Suzy’s hand a squeeze and kissed her forehead.

“I’m not alone, you understand this mutant …” then she cried, too.

I sat next to her on her bed, and held her for sometime until we both settled down.

I explained where I was living, and what I was doing for a living. Since the people behind this Ultra-X-Amine homolog were at large, I felt Suzy should come to Whateley, both for training and her safety. I offered to pay all her expenses.

“We can’t have you do that, we’ll pay,” said Greg.

“I have money coming out my ears. Let me do this as a favor to your family for all they’ve done for us.”

“The press said you’ve made a lot of money off the recordings,” said Greg.

“I’ve had some success.”

“Success, Joanie? You’re the odds on favorite to win Artist of the Year at the next Grammys, and the nominations don’t close until September. You have half a dozen songs in the top 25 spread over four charts. They said so on VH1 the other day,” said Suzy.

“So I’m not likely to be singing at the next family wedding or funeral? Too expensive?”

“You’re number one on two Billboard charts, Miss July, and no one has challenged you for number one on the country chart since you re-took first place six weeks ago. My Ghod, Joanie, you bumped Shania Twain off number one with her own song.”

~~ Man! 'I Feel like a Woman' is doing okay then. ~~

“I may not be a professional singer anymore, but I follow the business. Joanie. You’re number one in Japan, and Australia, and in the top ten in nearly all of Europe. There probably isn’t a more popular singer in the World today. Forbes said you were one of the top grossing entertainers for 2006, and your first recording didn’t come out until Halloween, wasn’t it?” Christine said.

~~Huh?

Of course, I haven’t considered overseas sales; I wonder how much I’ve made? I thought I’ve only made few million. Mr. Karaoke needs to explain this one; I have exclusive worldwide rights. But that is chickenfeed compared to my real assets. ~~

Greg looked at me then his wife and back at me again.

“What did you mean by ‘Miss July’, Christine?” He looked back at her; her face screwed up like a guilty child’s.

“I’m getting two million dollars, and a cut of the overseas sales, to be on the cover, give an interview, and be the Centerfold model for this July’s Playboy. One snicker, mister, and you’re out of here.” He broke out laughing. Susan stared at me like I was a pop idol. Then again, I guess I am.

“Cousin, that’s not even the tip of the iceberg. I made some investments early on and have done real well.” I winked at my cousin. I saw a look of recognition.

“The ‘other thing’ you told me?” said Christine. I nodded. She’d guessed I had some other time power, but I knew she’d tell no one, even Greg. “Okay, cousin, I assume we’re not to tell anyone, even our families?”

“Be certain you don’t, or you’re all at risk for kidnapping or worse -- terminally worse. The people behind Suzy’s mutation and the two before her are dangerous, and I’m a target because of my time stop and for other reasons.”

“Hon, cousin Joanie told me she’s donating all the magazine money to this prep school for mutants where she teaches. I think Susan should attend there,” My cousin Christine finished.

* * * *

We agreed that they’d only say I was doing this as a charitable act for a fellow Wisconsin mutant, should anyone ask. Suzy would stay at the Mutant Wing until Pinky and I returned from Iowa, then she’d fly to Whateley with us.

“You’ll love my kittens, Susan; I rescued a pair the other day,” I told her. Christine spoke next.

“You and cats, Joanie. I swear if you had the money you’d have a pair of lions.” I saw a panicked look flash on her face. “They’re not lions, are they?” I snickered.

“ No, not lions, Christine.”

* * * *

Before I left to check on Pinky, Christine talked to me in private.

“What are you up to, Joanie girl. Just how wealthy are you? That motorcycle you said on TV it was your grandfathers, but I don’t remember ever seeing it, even when I was a little girl.”

“I bought it from the man who bought it from him, soon after grandpa sold it in the 1920’s.”

“But that means… You can time travel?”

“See why I live at Whateley? I’m a big target now. It'll be worse if ‘that’ power ever becomes public. Those investments?” she nodded. “I made them starting back nearly 100 years ago. I may make Bill Gates look a pauper in a decade or so.”

“The Meridian Foundation, you own it?” I told you, Chrissie’s the best and brightest.

“The entire board is here, and present, and it’s all mine -- all 20 billion, give or take a few.” My investments had done well in the last few months. “You can never tell anyone this.”

“If I did, the banking system might collapse. Thanks for trusting me, Joanie.”

“Oh, I was serious about singing at family events. You could claim you’re advising me on my taxes, and investments, as a thank you for what I did for your daughter, and that my singing is a gift in return. You are a former bank auditor after all. Want to do a duet?”

* * * *

As a favor to me, and a safety precaution, MSG held a get together in the mutant wing. They all visited my relatives, and offered their assistance. Only the Gang of Four, Dr. Sara and Dari knew our blood kinship; the others saw Susan as just a fellow mutant, but all made her feel welcome. Suzy was so happy afterward, and said she thought the Cranberry Kid was hot; so did Pinky. Who am I to say?

* * * *

April 07, 2007, Madison WI to Des Moines IA

Pinky and I left for Iowa in my Focus after I’d made quick calls to my sister and dad. I let them know the basics on what happened with my cousin, and her family, and to keep quiet even in his e-mails to the Kenners, unless Christine or I said otherwise. They were happy I had helped family and wished me well. MSG arraigned a diversion so we could get away from the reporters; my car and plate were known to the press since the November Iowa sleepover, so I needed some help. Once on the road, its common shape and color proved effective camouflage.

We arrived in Des Moines at four pm. The Johnsons were just back from some event, and preparations were underway for an Easter egg roll on Sunday. Security was extra tight for the upcoming festivities as a precaution against a terrorist attack, but the officers soon recognized me, and, after verifying my temporary guardianship papers, let us through. We parked, walked to the front door of Terrace Hill, and rang the bell. To my surprise and delight, Eric answered.

“Egg roll registration is at the … Joanie!” He gathered me in his arms and smiled.

~~Is he taller again? We’re eye-to-eye and I’m in heels, and the muscles! Eric’s down right buff. Has it only been seven weeks? My, I feel something else growing too. Sorry boy, but you have to wait a few years. Oh Ghod, I’ve missed this!~~ We kissed, then broke apart. My heart was racing.

“Glad to see you, too. Eric. This is Pinky, a sister student at Whateley. She’s with me for Easter.” Eric gave her a big hug and a kiss.

~~Hey, that kiss is lasting a bit too long.~~ I felt my anger rising.

“Break it up before I hit someone.” Eric quickly came and hugged me; I felt foolish.

“I’m sorry, I’m new at this boyfriend/girlfriend thing, and I get jealous for no cause when I see a beautiful woman with Eric. I shouldn’t, but I do.” Pinky came, and gave me a lovely kiss.

“Thanks, no one ever called me a woman. You said I was beautiful.” Pinky gave me a hug.

“Joanie is right, you're not a little girl, dear lady.” He gave her friendly hug and a peck on the cheek. Then he gave me another powerful squeeze and tantalizing kiss.

~~I could get to like this girlfriend stuff.~~ I thought as we walked into the governor’s mansion.

“Joanie,” she whispered, “Eric’s a hunk, and I see how he looks at you. I envy you, girl.”

“Well don’t. I love Eric.” He heard and smiled. “But it hurts waiting until he’s of legal age. If you think he’s handsome now, imagine what he’ll look like in a few years. You’ll understand when you see his dad and grandfather. Hunks run in the family.”

* * * *

We walked up to the fourth floor private rooms and came upon Babs; was she ever pregnant.

“Joanie, I’m so glad you made it. We saw the video from your rescue of that girl.”

"Huh Babs? I knew there was coverage, but video?”

I’d been so busy with other matters I’d never checked out the news. I think I deliberately stayed away from it.

“You haven’t seen it, Joanie? There were closed circuit cameras on the ferry, and a man shot some home video. How is the girl doing?” Babs asked.

“Susan is fine, and she’s a close relative.”

“Joanie?” Babs asked.

“Her mom’s a first cousin on my father’s side.” I knew Babs would be discreet, and Senator Joe would likely know soon anyway.

“What were the odds of that?”

“I don’t want to know. How are you, Babs? Duplex my ass, you’re an apartment building and your breasts, I’m jealous. I’ve seen strippers with silicone implants less impressive.”

“Bob’s happy too, but these are a pain to carry around, and there are the two gymnasts I’m housing. John and Joan are the most active I’ve carried.”

“That’s wonderful, I’m glad my namesakes are healthy. How are you?”

“Blood pressure is up slightly, but still normal. A nurse checks it every day to be sure. I’ve been lucky and avoided most complications of pregnancy, but we’re taking no chances. The only major one I haven’t avoided Bob is helping me with.”

“Nothing serious, is it Babs?” I asked.

“Only if Bobs refuses me. I’m hornier than a drunken nymphomaniac on aphrodisiacs, but morning, noon or night Bob’s been there for me. It’s a good thing you inspired him to get into top condition; I’d have killed him otherwise. If I knew he’d be like that, I’d have ten kids by now, at least,” Babs said, then giggled softly.

“I take it this is Pinky Connors; she sure fits your description. You’re a lovely young woman, Ms. Conners.” Pinky blushed. “A friend of Joanie is a friend of our family, Pinky. You’re welcome anytime.” Pinky giggled nervously.

“Babs means it, girl, and that’s for both of you.”

“She knows about my other form?”

“Joanie had to tell me, I’ve been giving her advice on how to help you. I do have BAs in sociology and human psychology. I’m not just a pretty face; I’m the Governor’s brood mare, too.” Pinky and I fought to hold in our giggles. “She e-mailed a photo of your hermaphroditic male form, and Pinky, you’re dreamy. I’d go out with you if I was younger and single. I have no qualms of you dating either of my children. If Joanie trusts you, that is all I need to know.”

“I’d have some objections, Mom!” I said. “Mel’s a bit young to date yet, but I’d not object.” I paused for effect. “If you as much as touch Eric, you die.” Then I kissed Pinky.

* * * *

We talked a while, then us kids left Babs and went out to the back lawn to see the preparations. I could see Bob and Senator Joe showing Mel around the site.

I called out, “Is it too late to register?” Mel screamed, ran, and leaped on me, nearly knocking me over. Babs and Eric weren’t the only two growing like weeds. As she’d approached me, it was like watching a rerun of Baywatch and those lady lifeguards running in slow motion. Mel’s figure wasn’t blooming, it was exploding. And she was so tall. She’d be a fashion model in no time if she wanted -- a busty one at that.

~~Mel’s not even twelve? What will she be like at eighteen? Does Victoria’s Secret offer a finders fee? ~~

“Mel! I'm glad to see you. This is Pinky Conners, a friend from my school. I’m her Mommy for Easter.”

“You’re not my Mommy, you’re my Auntie,” said Pinky, then she snickered. I held mine back. Mel smiled at us curiously.

“It’s hard to explain, but I’m her legal guardian for this trip,” I said.

“Hi Pinky, I’m Mel. Isn’t Joanie the greatest? She saved my life, you know.” Mel turned to me and looked mad. “Joanie, are you crazy jumping in freezing water to save that girl?” She paused and broke into a broad grin. “I’m so proud you’re my friend. Don’t ever stop being so brave and sweet. When the press said you almost drowned, Eric cried.” Eric appeared embarrassed.

“Did he?” I laughed. “That’s sweet, Eric, but I was okay, and the poor girl needed my help. I knew the Gang of Four, Dari and Pinky would help me. Speaking of help, want some help with the egg roll? It sounds like fun.”

“Sure, Joanie, let’s see Dad,” He replied. We walked onto the well-maintained grounds.

* * * *

“Joanie, are those two their dad and grandpa?” Pinky pointed to Bob and Senator Joe who were off to one side of a group of workers who were prepping the site. I nodded. “They’re major hunks for older guys.”

“I told you. Why do you think I put my claws into Eric so young? I’m taking no chances.”

“Hello, Joanie, who’s the lovely young woman with you?” asked Bob. Pinky’s blush threatened to overrun the city.

“Pinky, this is Governor Bob Johnson of Iowa, and the equally handsome older man is United States Senator Joseph Williams, also of Iowa and Bab’s father.” The men bowed and kissed the back of her hand. Pinky nearly fainted.

~~If that doesn’t make her feel like a desirable young woman again, nothing will. ~~

“You helped catch that sick man who raped me, my so-called doctor!” Pinky spat out “doctor.” She had this odd smile her face. “I love you!” she exclaimed and hugged the Senator. I could see tears running down her face. The Senator hugged her back and wiped her tears with a hankie. He whispered something in her ear; she giggled and moved next to me.

“I see you did the superhero act yesterday, Joanie. Life getting too dull, is it?” asked the Senator.

“You know me, a sucker for kittens in the rain. I’ll tell you about her someday; let’s say I’m so happy I could help her. A word of advice -- wait a couple months before swimming in any northern lakes, they’re cold now. Are you going out to eat or staying in, Bob? Anything but fish is fine. I feel too much like one at the moment.”

“We're going out. Want to tag along, Joanie? I’m scheduled to appear on a nationally broadcast, live, radio show tonight. They serve a catered meal to the cast, guest stars, and VIPs. A Prairie Home Companion is on its spring tour and is broadcasting from the main auditorium at the local University of Iowa campus. Heard of the show?”

“With Garrison Keillor, Lake Woebegon, the Sidetrack Tap, sure; I’ve listened to it for years. Never been to the show; I’d love to come.” I turned toward Pinky. “It’s a throwback to the golden age of radio, Pinky, you’ll love it. Is Babs coming? I’d hate to think of her all by herself.”

“We’re all going. She wants to get out while she still can. Did you ladies wish to change your clothes? You’ll have to hurry; we need to be there by 4:30 at the latest.” said Bob.

Pinky and I hustled to the guest rooms and put on our best outfits. I went all out and chose the same LBD I wore for Eric’s Prom. Don’t ask me why I packed it. Right, I know why. I danced with Eric in it. I added three inch heeled dress sandals, sheer hose, Mel’s ponytail clip and some tasteful jewelry; very classy. A light touch of makeup and I was ready. I wore a tan cardigan to keep warm and to stop the guys from drooling. Pinky wore a pink sundress, tan stockings, modest heels, a cream V-neck sweater; and loads of jewelry. I helped her braid her hair and touch up her makeup.

* * * *

We rode in a government limo. Pinky and I helped Babs to her seat in the auditorium. The stage manager walked over to us and spoke.

“Governor, thanks for coming, and you, too, Senator Williams. Mr. Keillor would like you to do the same speech and skit you did at the Friday rehearsal show. Here’s a script to refresh your memory. I see you brought some guests with you.” Bob made the introductions.

“This is my wife Babs, our son Eric, and our daughter Melissa. The shy ones over there are our dear friend Joan, and her school friend Pinky.”

The stage manager stared at me then said, “You look familiar.”

“I get that all the time. Who do you think I look like?” Mel giggled, Bob and Joe laughed, while Babs and Pinky held their hands over their mouths.

“The singer, Joanie?” he asked hesitantly. I stood up and took off my sweater.

“Honestly, do I look like myself?” I asked, then giggled.

~~That was subtle.~~

The stage manager looked pale.

~~I do keep doing this to people.~~

Mr. Keillor walked over. I was busy helping Babs and Pinky with their sweaters.

“Good evening, Governor Bob, Senator Joe, wonderful you could make it. Who are your guests?”

“This is my wife Babs, my son Eric, my daughter Melissa, our good friend Joan and Ms. Pinky Connors, a friend of Joan’s.”

The stage manager continued to stare, and then Mr. Keillor turned to me.

“Joan?” I turned and faced the tall writer/performer.

“Hello, Mr. Keillor, I’m a fan, but this is my first time at the show.”

I shook his hand. His bushy eyebrows threatened to stampede.

He, and his staff, worked frantically to rewrite parts of the show. I’d join in several old gospel and country songs, and they wrote me into a skit or two.

“Sorry, gang. Okay if I perform?”

Their hugs told me all I needed to know. Eric’s hug had my motor racing; I’d take on a Panzer division for one of those again. Keillor sang the opening to the tune of Tishomingo Blues, did a comic bit about Iowa, then introduced the Governor.

“Please welcome Governor Bob Johnson, of Iowa.” There was a huge roar of applause as Bob walked on stage, he is a very popular governor.

“I’d like to formally welcome you, Mr. Keillor, and the show, to Iowa, which is pronounced eye_oh_wah despite any confusion caused by The Music Man.”

“I understand you brought a special friend with you,” Keillor said.

I was waiting in the audience, holding tight onto Mel and Eric’s hands, and terrified with stage fright.

“We first met last Labor Day when this dear woman saved the life of our daughter, Melissa, and we haven’t let her forget her mistake. Certainly our Mel hasn’t.” The audience laughed politely. “She’s become famous for other reasons since that day, but as her heroics yesterday reminded us, she’s just a darn nice girl. May I introduce my favorite ex-Wisconsinite and the prettiest school teacher I know, Joanie.”

I walked onto the stage to thunderous applause. My nerves settled down like someone had thrown a switch. Bob gave me a loving hug and the best kiss on the lips I‘d had since Eric. The last of any lingering stage fright was replaced by pure joy at the outpouring of love. I waited for the applause to die.

“I thought for a moment I was being eulogized. Hello, everyone.” I waited a moment. “I’m not prepared as I didn’t know I’d be at the show an hour ago, but I’ll give it a whirl. Mr. Keillor?”

We sang a silly version of 'Here Comes Peter Cotton Tail', complete with wacky sound effects by Tom Keith. Being radio, we could hold the scripts and sheet music in our hands -- a big plus. We next sang the classic gospel, 'His Eye is on the Sparrow', Keillor’s deep voice complemented my soaring vocals to perfection. I’m not a particularly religious person, but the song struck a cord. Later, I returned to the stage for the Ketchup Advisory Board skit. The long running series of fake ads has the premise that … On second thought, why don’t you look it over and judge for yourself, dear d/j/w reader?

* * * *

Garrison Keillor: “… after this word from the Ketchup Advisory Board.”

Tom Russell: “These are the good years for Barb and me. Our children in college, the mortgage paid off, and we’re finally getting enough fiber in our diet. A time for well earned bliss. Then my wife came to me the other day... “

Sue Scott: “Jim, I’m concerned. I’m so stressed these days.”

TR: “Why, Barb, aren’t you getting enough ketchup? Ketchup contains natural mellowing agents that make life’s little problems seem less important.”

SS: “I know Jim. It’s our new neighbor, the singer Joanie. She’s up at all hours of the night singing and playing her electric guitar. She was at it until two am last night, and it’s wearing me out.”

TR: “Sounds like she needs more ketchup in her diet, Barb.”

SS: “I’ve tried, but it isn’t working, not even my prizewinning ketchup, macaroni, and green bean hot dish I brought her the other evening, or the ketchup and cottage cheese desert.”

TR: “That’s serious. Barb. Let’s call the Ketchup Advisory Board.”

GK: “I’ve reviewed the case, and I fear your neighbor suffers from KIS, or Ketchup Insensitivity Syndrome.”

SS: “Is there any thing that can be done?”

GK: “In cases like these an intervention is in order.”

Joanie: “Hi, Joanie here. The Ketchup people came to my home and explained my neighbors’ fears. Turns out I do suffer from Ketchup Insensitivity Syndrome, a side effect of my mutation, but they found a solution. Whenever I feel the need to practice late into the evening, I mix up several pitchers of ketchup cocktails and share them with my neighbors. Ketchup makes the perfect mixer. I find eight ounces of ketchup, mixed with eight ounces of a fine Minnesota Chardonnay, and a jigger or two of an aged Iowa scotch, shaken, not stirred, and served over cracked ice in a tall glass does wonders. After a couple of these, my neighbors wouldn’t care if I did chainsaw sculpture at three am. Ketchup, I never leave home without it.”

Rich Dworsky sings: “These are the good years,
Spring eases winter’s shocks.
Life is flowing like ketchup on the rocks.

GK: “Ketchup for the good times.”

RW sings: “Ketchup … Ketchup …”

* * * *

In the second hour, I sang several country classics, the Creedence Clearwater Revival hit 'Bad Moon Rising', and the 1930’s hit 'Wahoo'. Pinky’s backing vocals were magic. The musicians and professional singers on stage all complimented her on her performance. It gave her long suffering ego a needed booster shot. I was so pleased. I told her back stage, as we waited for our next part.

“I told you you’re good, but you wouldn’t listen. why wouldn’t you listen?”

“A parody of Oscar winner Burl Ives speaking to a dying Chuck Connors in 'The Big Country'.” said Pinky. I exploded in giggles. The cast looked at us like we were loonies.

I played a bimbo 'femme fatale' in the Guy Noir sketch -- a big stretch, huh? Pinky and I sang backup to Keillor and others on several songs. My time on stage was exhilarating. The highlight of the show for me was singing with the University of Iowa-Des Moines chorus and orchestra. I joined with the chorus on a medley of parodies of patriotic and popular American songs as re-written for 'The Songs of the Cat' by Keillor and Co. The Marine hymn, originally a mid19thcentury Orpheus comic-opera tune, now irrevocably linked to the United States Marines after someone rearranged it to fit the poem. 'From the Halls of Montezuma', is not the same after Keillor’s rewrite.

I sang one serious number with the chorus and orchestra, the Roy Orbison song, 'A Love So Beautiful'. By the end of it, I had tears streaking my face as the emotional impact of the music and lyrics got the better of me. For the show's finale, I borrowed an electric guitar and for the first time I played the instrument in public. The show went off the air to the strains of the full cast and I singing 'Dream Baby', another Orbison classic.

* * * *

We were mobbed trying to exit the auditorium; I’d forgot about the live web-cast, but the campus security and police sorted things out, and we returned to Terrace Hill.

“Joanie, that wasn’t just the press, I think most were fans,” said Mel.

“Why do you say that, Mel?”

“I recognized the Joanie Fan Club T-shirts and buttons.”

“Wah, um what, Mel?” I was so coherent.

“You said my friend Lisa and I could start one, and your producer at Warners was real helpful. We give all the profits to big charities, and have sold over two hundred thousand button and T-shirt combos. They’re in kewl colors, and have your face on them.”

“Two... hundred... thousand?”

~~And I thought the Barbie doll was bad.~~

* * * *

April 08, 2007, Terrace Hill, Des Moines Iowa

The Easter egg roll was a sea of screaming kids, parents, and press. I’m not sure who was loudest. I had a great time helping the younger kids, and posing for photos with them. I signed tons of autographs, and I did speak with the press for a while. This made Pinky happy, as she spent most of the day in the company of a friend of Eric’s who came to visit. She was increasingly holding the young man’s hand and giggling as the day went on. They disappeared several times, and the last time they returned her lipstick was smeared, mostly on him. I took her aside.

“Pinky, we don’t need to buy you one of those home pregnancy test kits, do we?”

“Not yet, but almost. He said I was so pretty. Ghod, I love being a girl.”

“He didn’t do anything wrong, or try to take advantage of you?”

“He was a perfect gentleman, though I was a little naughty.” This worried me.

“You didn’t take advantage of him, did you, Pinky? Sometimes those who were physically, or sexually, abused abuse others. They can’t help it; they’re sick in their minds.”

“Never, Joanie, I would never do that to someone. We just talked and kissed. We kissed a lot. It felt wonderful, and I got all tingly.”

“Good for you, Pinky, but go slow, okay? I don’t want you setting your self up for a disappointment when the person you’re going out with finds out you switch forms.”

“I told him before we kissed, and he said he wouldn’t mind, since I’d still be a girl just also a boy. At worst, I could be his friend.”

~~Gees, what nice boy, but I worry she’ll get burned by someone. ~~

“You think your other self could be happy doing something like this?”

“Maybe, Joanie. I don’t hate him anymore. He’s me after all, and it could be fun being both. It’s certainly easier to pee like that.”

“Rub it in, Pinky. I miss that, you bitch.” I pouted, then we both laughed.

~~She’ll be all right. ~~

* * * *

Sunday evening, we kids watched movies on DVD. I fell asleep on a couch next to Eric. I dreamed Eric and I were engaged in lovemaking; one of his hands was massaging a breast, another teasing my womanhood as my hands rubbed his back and stroked his stiff… Something or someone was trying to wake me.

‘Wake up Joanie. Eric, wake up.” It was Pinky.

In our sleep our hands had wandered and were doing exactly what I dreamed, except our hands were outside of our pajamas, thank Ghod. However his hands were on my …

“Eric, Joanie, cool down or get a room.” We both realized where our hands were.

~~What am I doing?~~

“Oh my! Thanks, Pinky. Uh, Eric, we need to break up for the night. Not that I mind your hand rubbing my breast, or my ...“ He retrieved his hands.

“Same here, Joanie. I guess we let things get out of hand?”

“More like in hand, and it felt glorious. Please be patient, Eric, as I can’t be patient alone.” We kissed, lightly, and went to our separate beds.

~~That felt so good, I didn’t want it to stop. Ghod forgive me, I *wanted* him. Fourteen or not, I wanted *him*! What’s wrong with me? … Joanie, you have to be strong, for Eric’s and your sake.~~

* * * *

April 09, 2007

Early Monday, Pinky and I drove to Madison. The Senator made sure no one bothered us. My cousin and her husband reaffirmed Susan should come to Whateley ASAP, so we planned to fly her out on my charter jet as soon as we got the okay from Dr. Sara.

“How’s Suzy?” I asked Dr. Sara.

“Well enough to travel with you, and we have preliminary powers results. She’s a mid to low level shifter, and medium or higher mimic. This means she can consciously, or subconsciously, copy another person’s body so precisely that if she’s given sufficient time, to an MRI or DNA test, they’re nearly identical. The mimic power means she can copy another mutant’s power, though at a slightly lesser ability, at least in the short term. Her copied powers improve with practice. When she copies a male, she’s fully male, down to fertile sperm, and similarly for girls. It’s remarkable. The shifting does deplete her energy levels, but she’s able to draw on the surrounding environment to replenish them, so she recovers quickly. In that respect she’s like an energizer or mage.”

“Does she have control?” I asked.

“So far yes, though in copying powers, she has to be careful when she first uses them. They confuse her initially, but I don’t feel she needs to be in Hawthorne.”

“Can she copy warper's powers?” I worried about this one.

“To a limited extent, and the same for magic. With TK, exemplar, energizer, bricks, and empath/telepath powers, she’s the equal of the original for as long as she retains their pattern, and she doesn’t need to mimic their body or sex to do it. She’s also a low level regen,” added Sara.

“She’s in real danger of being a kidnap target, if word leaks,” I said.

“I agree. Your friends in the National Guard will escort you to your plane, and the Air National Guard has made arrangements to escort you all the way to the Airport near Whateley. They say it’s to repay you for what you did for Susan. The guys you did your ‘graduation exam’ all volunteered to be the air escort.”

“I suppose they want dinner, drinks and dancing again? Mind you they are pretty sexy … oh!”

“Joanie?”

“Sorry, Sara, residual frustration from earlier.”

~~My Ghod, I’m picturing the pilots as Eric. This is ridiculous, I’ll be one insanely jealous bitch by the time he’s 18. I have to talk to Dr. Bellows soon. Screw that, I’ll just have intercourse with Eric and go to prison a happy woman. ~~

* * * *

We arrived at the small airport near Berlin, NH, where officer Lex Luthor, Alexis, that is, picked us up in a Whateley Security squad car. Gas turbine-electric, very fast and quiet, and one of the less sophisticated vehicles we had.

“I hear you did it again. What are you, a serial do-gooder, Ms. Brown?” said Lex shaking her head.

“Sorry, Lex. Next time I’ll let the victim drown. By the way, let me introduce you to the drowning victim, Susan.” I knew Lex was kidding me but I was pissed, and Lex could sense it.

“I didn’t mean anything by it. My apologies, ladies. I was just joking.”

“You’d better be!” Then I whispered to Lex. “Susan’s my cousin’s daughter.” Lex was shocked.

“I’m so sorry, Joanie. Susan, you’ll love Whateley; it’s a great place. Listen to what your friends, Joanie and Pinky, tell you and you’ll be fine. Joanie, Operations” — she said that last word slowly — “needs you to do another ‘research trip'. Something about a cable laying project.” Pinky giggled, she knew what Lex meant.

“’Research trip?’ Aunt Joanie, let me in on the joke, please?”

“I’m a warper. You probably know that from the press reports after I saved Melissa Johnson’s life last labor day.” Susan nodded. “What is not known, and you must never tell anyone, is I can time travel -- real, physical time travel. I did it before for Operations to determine the origin of a magical object buried in an area scheduled for excavation as part of a construction project.”

“Kewl! Auntie, can I come sometime?”

“Maybe, if you live that long -- which you won’t if you keep calling me Auntie. Our blood relationship is potentially dangerous, if the wrong people find out. I’m glad we’re related, but keep it under wraps or you’re more of a kidnap target than you already are.”

“Okay, Joanie. Can I see your kittens when we get to Whateley?”

“George and Gracie? Sure, Susan. How are they, Lex ?”

Lex gave me a queer look.

~~Oh dear, what’s happened? ~~

“Speaking of your ‘kittens’, Joanie; you owe me a couch. They decided mine was the ‘purrfect’ scratching post.”

~~I’ve got to get my own place, soon. ~~

* * * *

To be continued
Thanks again to Itinerant and Janet Nolan for their assistance

Notes:

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