“That’s not a carriage,” said Timmy, “but what a caboose!”
“Why, look,” cried Doctor Longnitude, gesturing franctically at Lake Michigan beneath them, “I can see a roadway underwater, it must be…Atlantis!”
“Why do they call it Atlantis when it’s in the middle of Lake Michigan?” Sam asked. “Shouldn’t be Michigantis?”
“Sam,” said Dr. Longitude, “I think it’s clear from your choices so far in your history that you are not the best judge of logic, science or character; therefore, shut your piehole.”
Meanwhile, Bert in the pursuing Sopwith Camel wondered why he and Ernie had quite craving brains.
Lt. Potente squared up the cross hairs of the 20mm M61 Vulcan gatling guns dead nuts on the strange looking civilian air craft as it circled the underwater landing strip of Atlantis.
Just then his wingman said over the radio, “Break off, repeat, break off, Pinhead - we just got new orders to let them proceed!”
“There’s…some kind of tractor beam pulling us down towards the underwater landing strip!” Exclaimed Sam, as a beam with MASSEY FURGESON painted on the side began,well, pulling the Flying Lab down towards the underwater landing strip.
The hooker thought aloud, “They’re not getting away that easy!” as she nosed the Sopwith Camel into a dive that would inadvertantly intersect with the invisible tractor beam and the civilian aircraft.
Daylight was soon eclipsed by the murky haze of underwater translucence, as Sam and the gang began descending into an unknown underwater fate, only to resurface mysteriously.
DING. “Please roll up all windows before proceeding to the Underwater Atlantis Landing Strip, thank you for flying with us, and have a Nice Day,” “The hell?” muttered Sam.
Irony being what it is, waiting for them at the landing strip’s terminal was none other than their dear friend, “The Abominable Showman”, wearing the finest scuba gear available on the market, and (as is no surprise to anyone who knows anything about David Merrick) exceedingly peevish.
Meanwhile, the giant squid pumped its languid way toward the terminal, its ink sacs near bursting, its tentacles fluttering in the gelid water. How it had come to this place of saltless water, it did not know, but the strangeness of its situation exacerbated an already acerbic sensibility.
“That’s just what I was going to say!” ejaculated Timmy.
The Hooker, Gypsy and Company, having held their breath for quite some time, arrived at the opposite door of the terminal.
Gasping for air, the Gypsy belched “I wonder why we were holding our breath if the windows were rolled up!?”
“Because,” wheezed the exasperated Ernie, “There aren’t windows on Sopwith Camel biplanes…Maybe we should rethink this criminal mastermind aspect.”
“Of course, I knew that…” the Gypsy was interrupted as the sliding glass doors to the air-tight interlock began to open with gentle music from the Talking Heads spilling out across the threshhold and as soon as the doors were fully open they saw standing before them none other than…
Elvis, who expostulated, “Thank ya’, thank ya’ ver much…Now that y’all found the secret Atlantis Bermuda Triangle Space Alien Base, I dunno what we’re gonna do with ya…Would ya’ll like some mashed taters and bacon?”
But before anyone could respond, Lt. Potente appeared behind Merrick and gently and calmly placed the business end of his 9mm Glock against the forhead of The Abominable Showman and said; “Has anyone seen Ruth Buzzy?, this bastard Merrick kidnapped her and I’ve orders from the President to get her back…in one piece…for some reason.”