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                                  Andrew Roller Presents
                              NAUGHTY NAKED DREAMGIRLS
                                                 in 
                                       BIKINI BRIGADE

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                                   Chapter Twenty-One

         ÒFilthy!  IÕm absolutely filthy!Ó Matilda swore.  TheyÕd managed to 
struggle back onto their raft and, covered with molasses, theyÕd poled it 
through the darkness, finally bumping against a bank.  They werenÕt sure 
where they were, and Percy and Paul were struggling to relight the lamp 
theyÕd been using for illumination.  Above them, through the branches of 
the trees, one could just see a bit of the moon.  It was headed west, intent 
on departing the sky and leaving them to await the morning for light.
         ÒIt doesnÕt taste bad, though, as far as dirt goes,Ó Al said.
         ÒItÕs not dirt.  ItÕs molasses,Ó Polly said.  She tried to arrange her 
hair, but it was hopelessly stuck together.
         ÒWell, they shouldnÕt leave shit like this lying around a movie 
studio, even if it is the back lot,Ó Matilda said.  ÒIÕve a mind to sue them 
for this.  ItÕs a toxic waste dump, thatÕs what it is!Ó
         ÒI dunno,Ó Al said.  ÒDonÕt you think itÕs more like a natural 
wetland?Ó
         ÒIt needs to be a parking lot, thatÕs what it needs to be, with a 
goddamn telephone!Ó Matilda said.
         ÒI think I see some kind of a castle, through the brush,Ó Wilma 
offered, pointing into the dark.  Matilda followed her finger.
         ÒWell, gosh dammit!  Walt Disney must be responsible for this 
mess!Ó Matilda said.  ÒGood.  He has plenty of money!Ó
         ÒItÕs the Citadel,Ó Polly said.  She looked at Percy and Paul.  They 
managed to get their lantern lit and it glowed, suddenly, lighting up their 
faces.  ÒYou boys are awfully fine navigators, in the dark,Ó she said.
         ÒThank you, maÕam,Ó Percy said.  
         ÒWeÕre black now too, considering weÕre all covered with molasses,Ó 
Paul said.



         ÒMy, what an excellent feast,Ó Licorice Lad sighed.  He sat back in a 
big chair at the end of a long dining table.  At the far end of the table, 
sitting on a cushion so sheÕd be able to eat from the table properly, was 
Katie.  She gazed down the table at Licorice Lad.
         ÒYou look sleepy,Ó Katie said to Licorice Lad.  She yawned as she 
said it.
         ÒYes, I am sleepy,Ó Licorice Lad said.  He put his feet up on the table.  
They landed on his plate, in the remains of his dinner.  ÒAnd IÕm going to 
have a quick snooze right here, if you donÕt mind, my dear,Ó he said.
         ÒGood.  IÕm sleepy too,Ó Katie said.  She put her head down on the 
table, in her arms, but had the good manners to push her plate back before 
using the table to rest upon.  Licorice Lad began snoring.  Katie, more 
quietly, fell into a sleep of her own.



         I looked down at Pauline.  She was sitting in the alcove of the 
Peppermint Portal, with me beside her.  She put her hand to her mouth, not 
to silence her sobs, but to stifle a yawn.  She was trying to stay awake, to 
help her father, but the industrious peanuts showed no sign of calling it 
quits.  They continued to paint the walls of the throne room a black 
licorice color.  I suppose, when thereÕs the incentive of being beheaded, 
one works with a certain amount of dedication, no matter the hour.  
         For myself, I was trying to stay awake, but it was tough, with 
nothing to keep me occupied.  I tried fiddling with the marshmellow gun.  
There was no real way to test it, though, without drawing attention.  

30

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