Buzz on the Street
                            by Tom Gordon

        Buzz Roman scratched his broad forehead and stared in
quasi-religious awe at the piles of clutter and tawdry bric-a-brac
freely spread over every niche of the shop, as though he had been
miraculously elected president of the Baghdad Merchant's Association.
Suddenly he was glad he HAD taken Rashid up on his consultation offer...
this was just the thing to get him out of the massive financial hole
that failed Tails of Baghdad merchandise contract had dug for him.
Rashid's Discount Magic Mart practically REEKED of potential profits...
the only remaining hurdle now was how to convince the suckers, er,
consumers of Baghdad that the merchandise in Rashid's possession WERE
really endowed with supernatural powers... and NOT nearly worthless
junk.
        "Well, first thing's first, Rash my compadre... will you hand me
that parchment and that brush over there?" Rashid, a squat, hairy lump
of a man, resplendent in a colorfully garish outfit that almost
complemented the matter-of-fact ugliness of Roman's suit, nodded quietly
and retrieved the items requested.
        Buzz Roman hunched over the paper and began scrawling. "Okay my
friend, once we post this outside your store entrance, no one will be
able to complain to the city government that they were treated
unscrupulously. Caveat emptor, the cave is empty. Voila!" He held up the
sign with the words "NO REFUNDS"
        Rashid looked puzzled. "But Mr. Roman, why would they even WANT
to return what they have purchased?  These ARE enchanted objects, after
all... LOOK!!!"  He picked up a tarnished piece of crockery and opened
the lid to reveal three white doves, which promptly shot off towards the
exit, leaving a few spatters of residue on Roman's meticulous jacket on
the way out, actually lifting it a few notches from the fashion abyss.
"Whee!" Rashid exclaimed like a frenetic child.
        Wiping off the droppings, Roman grinned tolerantly and forced
back the desire to strangle the little man. "Come on now, Rash...
nobody's listening. You and I both know that was a simple matter of
sleight-of-hand. Anyone can do THAT stuff."  And to emphasize his point,
Roman instantly extracted a medium-sized bulldog from his jacket and
withdrew several hundred feet of multicolored pearls from its
dumbfounded drooling maw, before finally making the slobbering creature
dematerialize under a convenient draping of hankerchief. "No, when
people come to Rashid's Discount Magic Mart," he continued, stressing
the capital letters, "they want the REAL deal. They want
industrial-strength Tails of Baghdad, Aman Ra kind of power, at least
for the period they're actually INSIDE this shop. So what we'll need to
do is employ a good freelance illusionist who can keep his mouth shut,
and THEN-"
        Rashid bristled at his suggestions. "No, Mr. Roman, I'm afraid
it is YOU who are mistaken. You have my personal guarantee everything in
stock is bona-fide, certified one-hundred percent MAGIC. Follow me, I'll
show you my BEST products, cream of the crop." With that, the
fur-covered toad bolted past a curtain of beads on the wall that most
cleverly concealed a hidden storeroom.
        Exhaling sharply, Buzz pondered the precariousness of the
situation. Okay, so the idiot truly believes all this garbage is endowed
with special powers. Would he REALLY gain anything by tearing down the
wall of Rashid's elaborately constructed, self-enforcing delusion? Nah,
why bother? Let the poor slob go on with his ridiculous antics... as
long as I play along, the man will be in a MUCH better frame of mind to
fork over that generous consultation fee later. With that, he brushed
past the hanging chintz and followed his client.
        The tiny, dimly-lit room was much less cluttered than the rest
of the store. Inside, several brightly-colored hats and a shining linked
chain of large metal rings sat upon a row of hooks, a large picture
frame covered with opaque cloth rested in a corner, and a ordinary deck
of playing cards lay upon a nearby table. "Well," Rashid grinned,
stretching his arms, "what do you think?"
        Buzz surveyed the room and made a vague sound that could be
construed as either positive or negative, depending on the listener.
        "Heh heh, I THOUGHT so!" Rashid cried, obviously pleased. He
snatched the silver rings from the hatrack. "Behold, the Mysterious
Chinese Rings of Chan-Kai! They defy the doctrines of the physical
world!" Holding two of the linked rings, he overlapped one upon another,
and suddenly, miraculously they were separated. Rashid's eyebrows shot
up slyly, as if to say "Pretty good, eh?" Then he brought the
independent loops of metal together, and once more they formed a chain.
"How about THAT, smart guy?" Buzz unenthusiastically clapped his hands
and piped "Bravo, Rash, bravo," trying desperately to keep the sarcasm
out of his voice.
        Apparently it worked, for Rashid then snatched a large, conical
blue hat covered with astronomical symbols from the rack. "NOW watch, as
I demonstrate the Pan-Astral Headpiece of Quanish Mombazu!" He stuck his
hand into its clothy depths, and retrieved -miracle of miracles- a
nauseatingly adorable white rabbit. 
        Buzz smiled weakly. He could feel the muscles in his face ache
from the forced exertion.
        "And FINALLY," Rashid boomed triumphantly, "the piece de
resistance, the TRUE essence of magic..." He fanned the deck of cards in
a single hand. "Pick a card, any card!"
        After several unsuccessful guesses by the exasperated Rashid,
Buzz ignored the man's idiocy and instead directed his attention towards
the remaining cloth-draped object in the corner. "What's THAT thing over
there, Rash old chap?"
        "Eh? Oh, nothing at all, some piece of junk the previous owner
of my store left behind when I moved in. Nothing magic. Come on, I'm
really, REALLY sure THIS time I'll get it..." He spread the deck of
cards again.
        Pushing him out of the way, Buzz pulled off the obscuring cloth.
In the low light, the picture frame's contents were a flat, black plane.
Grasping the panel by its sides, he tilted it towards the flickering
torchlight.
        And stared back at a dust-covered reverse image of himself.
        "Hmm, it's a mirror! Rash my boy, this should be hanging on the
wall or something... a honest businessman's public appearance is very
important." Demonstrating this, Roman preened in front of the sheet of
silvered glass, fixing his hair, loosening his dapper outfit, adjusting
his dropping-stained lapels. 
        But as he went through the motions some tiny part in the back of
his mind began to tick off the inconsistencies. Maybe it was the low
illumination, but didn't the image in the mirror seem to be a fraction
of a millisecond slow in matching his movements? And what the hell was
wrong with his EYES? They looked more deeply-set, and ringed with red,
bloodshot streaks... as though he had binged at the Willing Harlot, back
in the days when he'd still been welcome there. Suddenly the Buzz in the
mirror flashed a malicious grin of yellow-orange enamel.
        Now THAT'S not right, Buzz thought. I brushed them pearlies this
morning.
        And I didn't smile just now...
        Then he screamed in horror as the mirror-image Buzz Roman LUNGED
at him THROUGH the surface of the glass, horrid teeth filling all of his
vision. He briefly felt a hand on his ankle. Then, the storeroom began
to whirl around him like a carousel, and Buzz experienced a brief,
enjoyable sensation of flight before an ill-placed wall quickly
concluded his adventure, knocking him out.
        Rashid backed off in terror into the main showroom, staring at
the deranged anti-Buzz grinning maniacally at the prone unconscious form
of his double on the floor, then at him. "Pathetic, isn't he?" His
sentence was a remarkably unappealing monotone; even through his fear
Rashid conceded it was perhaps the most BORING sound he ever had the
misfortune to hear... the complete opposite of his counterpart's
musically well-honed pitchman's voice. The real Buzz Roman could make
even random readings from the dictionary sound like high drama worthy of
the stage.
        "Who.... what do you want?" Rashid squealed like a piglet.
        "In fact... if there's one thing I could never understand," that
VOICE again, it was almost lulling him to sleep, "it's his infernally
masochistic penchant for suffering the eccentricities of the incompetent
likes of YOU!" Anti-Buzz pointed a crazed finger at him. "Yes, YOU
Rashid! You disgustingly fat brain-dead nincompoop! This store is filled
with USELESS REFUSE, propped up by your CHEAP, PETTY PARLOR TRICKS!
There is NO magic here, only the fabrications of your TINY INSIGNIFICANT
mind! And the only reason THIS greedy, exploitive jerk," anti-Buzz
pointed at real-Buzz, "put up with it at ALL was so he could keep that
oh-so-PRECIOUS deal from falling through!  You stupid idiot!"
        "But... but.... WHO are you?" Rashid sputtered.
        "I.. I am Zzub Namor! And now that I have entered THIS world, it
will be my GREATEST pleasure to purge THIS long-suffering Baghdad of the
sickening plague of crass commercialism and economic slavery that has
infected it for so long! Only when EVERY business enterprise, every shop
lies in TOTAL ruins will I then be satiated! And what better place to
start my people's crusade than right HERE?!" With that, Zzub withdrew a
nasty-looking dagger from his sport jacket, and approached Rashid, a
menancing gleam in his bloodshot eyes.
        "No.... please.... stay away..."

        "Jeez, what a mess." Studd muttered, as he tiptoed around the
numerous pieces of broken crockery and shattered ceramic baubles. What
had once been the main showroom of Rashid's Discount Magic Mart was now
reduced to an even layer of rubble, cinders and other miscellaneous
debris. Only the thin enclosure of the walls and ceiling served to
remind one of the space's original function. That, and the bloodied
corpse of Rashid himself, splayed higglety-pigglety upon the shattered
countertop.
        Smart Alec shook his head, surveying what was left of the store.
"My sentiments exactly. Frankly, why someone would do something like
THIS to Mr. RASHID of all people escapes me entirely. The poor fellow
was a laughably minor merchant, a pure junk dealer who kept maintaining
his junk was magical. But in fact most of the merchandise he carried in
this place was worth less than nothing."
        "Well, EVERY Elvis fan LIKES Less Than Zero," happily added the
airborne Sherbert, floating in on his carpet. Smart Alec sputtered for
an instant at this, then thought the better of it. "Uh, okay, if you say
so, Sherbert. And while you're at it, do me a favor and check the parts
of the store we can't reach, okay? Using my amulet to clear out this
place'll take hours."
        "Sure! But always remember: without an amulet, you can't egg
what's been made broken."
        Studd and Smart Alec groaned. Almost at the same time, a
similarly agonized groan issued from behind a curtain of cheap-looking
pearl strings on the wall, one of the few ornaments in the shop that
still lay intact. Studd winced. "Oh no, that doesn't sound like who I
think it is...?" Smart Alec blinked and twisted his mouth noncommitally.
"It just might be. Come on, let's get this over with and take a look."
And they both brushed past the curtain, entering Rashid's secret
storeroom.
        "Bleah! It's Buzz Roman!" moaned Studd. "I just KNEW it!" Buzz
Roman had just come to, rubbing a particularly large bruise on his
forehead. He squinted at the wavering images of annoyed-looking monkeys
until they came into sharp focus. And gave a predatory smile. "Well,
fancy seeing YOU fine gentlemen here!" Then, as if nothing had happened,
he was on his feet, waving a brand new merchandising contract which had
materialized from nowhere in Studd and Smart Alec's faces, along with a
new set of prospective product samples. The sales pitch had begun anew.
        "...and SO... if you verify THIS revised edition of the Tails of
Baghdad action figures -which reflect the anatomical changes you, my
good man," he pointed at Studd, "requested- we can begin production in
six months time! Of course, we'll hold off on the release of Sherbert's
Kitchen Playset-"
        Sherbert floated into the room and grinned at Roman. "Did
someone mention my name?" He did a fly-by and snatched up the minature
Sherbert doll.
        Without missing a beat, Buzz continued. "-unless consumer
demographics indicate otherwise. But, right now, I can almost
practically absolutely GUARANTEE to you right now these babies will pick
up sixty percent of the marketplace, easy-"
        "THE ANSWER IS NO! SHUT UP!!!" shouted Studd and Smart Alec in
unison. "Okay, Mr. Roman," growled the latter, "would you care to
enlighten us as to WHAT exactly took place in this establishment earlier
today?"
        "Certainly," piped Buzz merrily. "I was just about to close a
business consultation deal with my good friend Rash, honorable
proprietor and owner of this shop-"
        "We already knew about THAT, dumbhead." Studd snapped. "The
dude's dead."
        "Yep," Sherbert added. "Doob dub done ed. Whoosh!" He waved the
Sherbert figure through the air.
        The shell of Roman's calm confidence cracked slightly. "Rashid
is DEAD, did you say? But, but I was advising him just this morning..."
He tried calling back the images immediately before his being knocked
unconscious, but they were a fuzzy, vague blur.
        "It's true, Mr. Roman. Follow me." The Tails ushered Roman into
the gutted main showroom and showed him Rashid's broken body, a gruesome
sight that was more than enough to dissipate his salesman's collected
demeanor altogether. "But.... but..." he sputtered, "I was... was..."
        Studd sneered at his confusion. "Heh heh. Save it, bud. We've
really got you THIS time! You've been able to get away with a lot in
this town, but MURDER is a fish of a different color."
        "Horse," Smart Alec corrected.
        "Whatever."
        "...And I think you're being JUST a bit hasty, oh simpleminded
brother of mine. Mr. Roman here may be a LOT of things... a con artist,
a penny-ante street hustler, an outright swindler, surely.  But a
MURDERER? It's not something that immediately comes to mind. So shall we
proceed to get his side of the story, before resorting to vigilante
justice, Mr. Let's Kick Butt And Ask Questions Later?"
        "Yeah, okay, I guess you're right," Studd conceded glumly. "But
just say the word, and I'll make Shish-kebob Au Buzz." And to emphasize
this, Studd's scimitar lashed through the air in a white arc. Sherbert
giggled, and imitated the motion with his toy counterpart.
        "Continue with your account, Mr. Roman."
        "Well, after advising my late client out here, I, uh... went
into THIS hidden stockroom, at which point, Rashid proceeded to show me
his, uh,  'deluxe' product line; some unextraordinary items mixed with a
most mediocre performance on his part. Then... and then...," He stopped
and rubbed his aching head. "Blast it all, I just CAN'T remember what
happened after that."
        Studd smirked. "Sounds pretty convenient to me." But a harsh
glare from Smart Alec shut him off.
        "Mr. Roman, I'm afraid until your recollection of this incident
returns, you understand you leave us no choice but to turn you over to
the authorities. You WERE the last person to meet with Mr. Rashid before
his untimely, unfortunate end, after all..." His words drifted off as he
noticed Roman wasn't really paying attention. The businessman was
instead looking at Sherbert, playing with the doll.
        Of HIMSELF.
        Two Sherberts.
        And then something clicked into place. The haze over his memory
lifted to reveal a split second of large yellowed teeth.
        "It... it was ME." Buzz Roman whispered, his voice cracking with
fear.
        "Hah hah! I just KNEW it!" shouted Studd triumphantly. A feral
smile came to his lips as he menacingly brandished the scimitar. "Come
on bros, we've got him at last!  Let's carve THIS turkey up!"
        "No, not ME you fool!" screamed Roman. "It was ANOTHER me! The
MIRROR!" And like a bolt from a crossbow, the entrepreneur shot back
into the hidden storeroom.
        "...'ANOTHER me'?" Studd repeated in disbelief.
        "I think it's a soap opera." Sherbert quipped.
        The Tails quickly brushed past the curtain again, and faced an
exasperated Buzz Roman, furiously tearing at the walls, fixtures and
random pieces of furniture before finally collapsing to the floor in
exhausted satisfaction.
        "It's not here." he droned.
        "WHAT isn't here?" Smart Alec asked, for himself and his puzzled
brothers.
        "The magic mirror. It's gone."

        Zzub Namor strolled into the dark-shrouded, seedy interior of
the Willing Harlot, Baghdad's notoriously preeminent tavern. Almost
immediately, the half-naked females on stage stopped undulating to the
music, the ambient noise and chatter died down, and even the hopeless
drunks pried themselves away from the liquor they were nursing in pure
anticipation of the fireworks to come.
        The heavy-set bartender of the Harlot scowled at Namor hatefully
from behind his post. "Damn it, Buzz! I TOLD you before, you ain't
allowed back in this joint until you paid off your bar tab! AND replaced
that disgusting green swill you suckered me into buying with REAL Tiger
Breath. Now you've got to make me break in Baby Kamal here... and on his
first day, too." He gestured towards the burliest of his bouncers, a
human-gorilla hybrid standing eight feet tall. "Boy, remove Mr. Roman
from the premises, if you please." With a grunt, Baby Kamal lumbered
towards Zzub, the earth shaking with each oversized step.
        "Sorry to disappoint you, fat boy," Zzub sneered. "This
festering, obscene hole of unhuman scum and illicit pornographic
activity is now officially condemned, courtesy of Zzub Namor, Defender
of the Public Good!"
        "Who?" droned half the bar.
        With a ear-piercing shriek, what once had been Zzub was replaced
by a miniature tornado. It flew violently past the drunken barflys and
sprung into the air, landing hard on Baby Kamal's broad chest. Then Zzub
reappeared, his hands over Baby Kamal's throat, eyes blazing with
murderous fury. With only the slightest exertion, he flung the meaty
behemoth over his shoulders. Baby Kamal then hit the tavern floor with a
thunderous thud, kicking up a large plume of dust. The bouncer did not
get up.
        "Buzz, what in the hell did you do to my employee?!" screamed
the bartender.
        "The community of Baghdad," continued Zzub, wiping his hands,
"will tolerate this immoral den of depravity no longer. I'm shutting
this place down blobbo, whether you like it or not."
        "We'll see about that!" growled the bartender. He grabbed a
nearby large bottle by its neck and smashed the lower part, leaving him
with a makeshift dagger. The bartender then leaped over the bar and
lunged towards Zzub with the weapon. Zzub dodged his initial thrust,
grabbed the man by the arm and similarly flung HIM into the air, over
the bar and into the well-stocked shelves behind. The air rang with the
crash of shattering bottles as an explosion of jagged glass and fluid
rained upon the Willing Harlot patrons, drenching the entire tavern with
sour-smelling liquor and sharp fragments.
        "And now, all my dysfunctional friends," Zzub smiled as he
plucked a torch off a nearby wall, "I must ask you to now please exit
the building." He hurled the flaming stick onto the alcohol-soaked bar,
setting it and a good chunk of the surrounding architecture ablaze, and
then walked calmly out... ignoring both the screams and the frenzied
mass of people fighting over themselves in the mad rush to get out of
the Willing Harlot.

        "So let me get this straight," Smart Alec remarked dubiously,
"You looked into this particular mirror of Rashid's and then a duplicate
of yourself leapt OUT of the glass?"
        The Tails and Buzz Roman were flying back towards the center of
Baghdad, with Sherbert at the helm. Far across the other side of town, a
dim column of smoke pouring from the Willing Harlot began to rise.
        "Yep, that's right." said Buzz. "It strains credibility, believe
me... I have trouble even accepting it myself, but so help me," Studd
loudly grunted, "that's honestly," Studd cleared his throat, "what
happened. Rashid told me the mirror was left over from a previous
occupant, so who knows where it actually came from? All I know is that
it was most definitely magic."
        Smart Alec smiled cynically. "You know, Mr. Roman, I don't know
what's MORE ridiculous, your story, or the fact that Rashid actually DID
have an enchanted item in his possession."
        "On that last part, you'll get no argument from me," Buzz
chuckled, then turned dead serious. "But you gents MUST believe me, I
had absolutely NO reason to kill Rashid, he was my CLIENT! Look at
THIS," he said, producing the consulting contract.
        "Big shmeal," Studd snapped. "You could have forged that bit
hours ago."
        "And," added Smart Alec, "you've had unpleasant run-ins with
former 'clients' before... do you want me to run down an alphabetical
list? Let's see, Abu the artist, Achmad the apprentice, Aman Ra... shall
I go on?"
        Roman sighed, dejectedly, and held up his hands. "Okay, fine.
You win. I'll go quietly. Just lock me up in the Emperor's dungeons and
throw away the key. But keep me away from Ra's cell, will you? That man
really bugs me."
        "Nah, you don't have to worry about that. Usually he just EATS
them." Sherbert said, meeting several tired glances of incomprehension.
        "Hey, what's the heck's THAT?" Studd yelped, pointing towards
the ever-advancing line of thick black smoke smearing up the sky. Buzz
Roman squinted his eyes at the shifting clouds of dirty vapor. "Hmmm.
Looks like there's a fire afoot... at the Willing Harlot, if I'm not
mistaken." 
        "Oh... NO!" Studd cried. "Anywhere but THERE! Quick, Sherbert,
get us over to the Harlot as fast as you can!"
        "Wait a minute," Smart Alec interrupted, "we've still got to
figure out what to do with Mr. Roman here."
        "Ah, we can worry about THAT kaka later... right now I just want
to make sure my second home in one piece."
        "Yes, of course, my dear brother..." Smart Alec lip curled. "The
undetermined fate of a dingy hole-in-the-wall is ALWAYS more important
than the taking of a human life. Where ARE my priorities...."
        "Shut up, dumbhead."

        By the time Roman and the Tails caught sight of the smoking
shell that was once the Willing Harlot, Namor's fire had already been
extinguished by a makeshift volunteer army (mostly faithful Harlot
patrons) who ran a supply line of water buckets from a nearby well. But
the damage had been done. Studd gave out a low, mournful howl as he
gazed upon the familiar tavern, now blackened with soot and partially
torn asunder.
        "It's all...ruined! They even burned up the twins!" Studd
sobbed.
        "Where?" Smart Alec exclaimed. "Other than the bartender and
that rather large gentleman, and barring Mr. Roman's most implausible
tlae, I do not see any other serious casualites."
        "Them!" Studd pointed hysterically to the two well-endowed
female carytid sculptures outside the Harlot entrance, irrevocably
charred by the flames. 
        Smart Alec snorted. "I HAD to ask..."
        "Take her down, Sherbert..." Studd sniffed.
        The carpet touched down in the dead center of Baghdad's main
throughfare. All the pushcart traffic had been diverted elsewhere to
accommodate the firefighting effort, so it was mostly empty, save for a
few healers tending to the injured bartender and a crowd of onlookers.
Stepping off, the Tails and Buzz Roman approached a bored-looking
Baghdad centurion.
        "Good officer, might we inquire as to what happened here?" Smart
Alec asked the guard.
        "Nothing much. Some clown named Zzub Namor went nuts, torched
the place and left an hour ago. The regulars said he thought was the
Defender of the Public Good or somethin'. But that's supposed to be MY
job, I don't know what HE was talking about." He picked his nose.
        "Thank you, my man." The Tails headed toward the medium-sized
mass encircling the shouting bartender bickering with his healers and
the still-unconscious Baby Kamal.
        "Hey, waita minute," The guard stopped Buzz Roman. "You look
familiar, didn't I see you fiddling around in the the sewers earlier?
You DO know playing in that stuff's bad for you, right?"
        Buzz Roman stared at the centurion as though the man were
completely insane. "Yes, you've caught me. I've ALWAYS had this thing
for wandering around in human excrement. Clears the sinuses." He brushed
the guard aside and caught up with rest of the Tails.
        "Most peculiar," he remarked to Smart Alec.
        "What was peculiar?"
        "That civil servant we just encountered, he said he saw ME
loitering inside Baghdad's waste system recently. As if there was any
OTHER place on earth I wouldn't be caught dead frolicking about. In
fact, it's the absolute LAST place I'd want to go." Roman's eyes lit up
in sudden comprehension.  "Could it be he's ACTUALLY talking about my
mirror twin?"
        "Yeah, whatever Buzz," Studd snapped. "Don't start dragging
others into your twisted little games-"
        "Look, it's HIM!!!!" came a ear-rattling shout. It was the
bartender pushing back his bewildered healers, lifting a burned,
cloth-swathed hand to ultimately point at Buzz Roman. "You evil, sick
son of a jackal!" the man screamed. "I don't care if your name IS Buzz
Roman or Zubnam-whatever! You had no damned right to burn down my
joint!" The bartender looked at the dumbstruck bystanders and gawkers.
"Well, what ARE you idiots waiting for?" he exclaimed. "THAT'S the guy
that did it!  GET HIM!"
        The Tails began to feel a low rumble running through the crowd,
mumblings of "that IS the guy" and "it really IS him," the distinct
music of a congregating lynch mob as reflected in their clenched brows,
teeth and weapons suddenly appearing in their hands. Smart Alec's amulet
burned with fiery colors as a wall of force temporarily held the
attackers on one side at bay, while the other side menacingly advanced
with impunity. Without a second's hesitation, Sherbert quickly unfurled
his magic carpet, pushed the stunned Smart Alec, Studd and Buzz Roman
onto the fabric, and shot off high above the ruined tavern and the
enraged masses, barely evading a few eager arrows from someone's quickly
loaded crossbow.
        "Good work, Sherbert," Smart Alec exhaled with relief, as the
mob on the ground shot off safely toward the horizon. "If you hadn't
acted quickly, Mr. Roman here and ourselves would have been quickly
ground into the dirt by those people."
        Sherbert smiled. "It could've been worse; they could have had us
DIRT into the GROUND, and THEN where would we be?"
        Smart Alec shook his head, but grinned nevertheless. "Mr.
Roman," he turned to Buzz, "it appears we owe you something resembling
an apology."
        "What?! What are you talking about? You don't actually-" shouted
Studd.
        "So, you DO believe me now," Buzz Roman finished the sentence
for him.
        Smart Alec nodded. "An hour ago, as the centurion said, YOU were
in Rashid's store with us, not setting the Willing Harlot aflame in a
manic fit of pyromania. Logically, therefore, we have two distinct
possibilities. Either you're STILL lying to us, in which case those
hundreds of vigilantes we just encountered must've been suffering some
heinously complex mass delusion. OR you're telling the truth, and we
really DO have another Buzz Roman in Baghdad, wreaking havoc. A little
application of Occam's Razor will suffice."
        "Huh? What razor?" Studd grunted, swinging his scimitar, "You
want me to stick Buzz with THIS and get the answer?"
        Smart Alec's eyes rolled. "NO, you simian dolt... Occam's Razor:
'the simplest answer tends to be the correct one.' In this instance, two
distinct roamin' Romans. You know, the Theory of Least Hypothesis?"
        Sherbert giggled. "Um, is that cheaper than a rented
hypothesis?"
        "Oh, be quiet you oaf! And take us to Baghdad's aquaduct
already!" Sighing with frustration, he turned his attention to Buzz
Roman. "If this is true, that your double is dwelling within our most
pungent sewage system, it is imperative we apprehend him before he
inflicts any further damage to your already questionable reputation."
        "Um.... there's something that disturbs me much more than that."
        "What do you mean?"
        "Well, it seems like this chap, despite his outward appearances,
is absolutely nothing like me at all. It's not just his apparent
predeliction for the sewers, a place I find most abhorrent. He's also
killed Rashid, someone I was working for and got along reasonably well
with. And this character set the WILLING HARLOT on fire! Okay, so I'm a
little bit sore they banned me from the place. But it's the biggest
commercial attraction in Baghdad... even I make an indirect profit from
the customers that go there: souvenirs, offical clothing, et cetera.
Destroying a wonderful place like that would be unthinkable, almost a
sacrilage... to ME. Do you begin to see the pattern?"
        "I believe so. You're saying this anti-Buzz is diametrically
opposite from you in matters of personal choice."
        "That's right. Everything I seem to value he loathes, and vice
versa. I'm a free enterpriser out for gold, he adopts the mantle of
'defender of the public good.'"
        "So by inverting that you approve of and admire, we may be able
to discover what he actually intends to destroy. What is it?"
        Roman grinned. "Well, I certainly like this town, why do you
think I've hung around all these years? But more importantly..." Roman
fumbled inside his jacket and thrust the original, unsigned "Tails of
Baghdad" franchise agreement in Smart Alec's face.
        "...I like YOU guys."

        Zzub Namor walked down the pipeline, up to his knees in filth,
inhaling the putrid stench of Baghdad's refuse with relish. Under his
arm he held Rashid's Mirror, the portable gateway from whence he came.
It had been a miraculous coincidence that his sickening vulgarly
profit-minded alternate self ("Buzz Roman" he giggled, what a ridiculous
moniker) appeared at THAT place and THAT particular time before he
passed through.
        Unlike conventional dimensional gateways, timing was an
important factor with the Mirror. Zzub could not just bring in the whole
of the Dadhgabian army through the gate unless the Emperor of Baghdad
just happen to assemble each and every member similarly on HIS side.
Which was pretty damned unlikely in this reality, as his research had
shown THIS Baghdad was run by one of the most militarily incompetent
governments in recent history... imagine, an entire city being taken
over by a old man ("Aman Ra!") and trio of muscle-bound meatheads! He
smiled yet again at the eccentric reversals of fate.
        No matter, this all would change as soon as the allies in his
world crossed over. He had started the time-consuming process by
eliminating the repugnant insignificance of Rashid and laying waste to
that cultural monstrosity, the heart of the cancer devouring Baghdad:
the Willing Harlot. The ones that came after him would finish the job.
Under military administration, Baghdad would be transformed into another
Dadhgab; a classless, stable society of public SERVICE... stripped clean
of its sundry merchants flaunting the wares of the oppressed and the
perverts that bought them and the miscreants that stole them and social
deviants that loved them. His plan was nearly complete. No one could
stop him, not even Nama Ar and his feeble band of organized resistance
back home. They didn't have a Mirror, and once the conquest of the new
world was completed, they'd be finished.
        Now, there was nothing to do but wait. He had left enough
glaring clues for the city guardians as to his whereabouts. It would
only be a matter of time before the loathesome Tails of this universe
would be looking for him.  He would HAVE to make sure the placement was
correct, to ensure the safe passage of the first wave.

        "Yeeuck!" Studd kept his nostrils shut with his fingers. "This
has to rank as the most disgusting place I've ever been. And I DO mean
RANK."
        Having found the aqueduct, the Tails and Buzz Roman were now
bobbing through a narrow sewer pipeline on Sherbert's carpet, only a few
inches from the wretched stew that noisily churned below.
        "Remind me why we're in here again?" Studd continued. "Why
couldn't we have hung around Baghdad and waited for Buzz 2 to show his
face there?"
        "Because, oh simpleminded one," Smart Alec lectured, "besides
the fact he's already killed and destroyed during his previous
visitations, Baghdad's waste system stretches throughout the city as a
decentralized grid... our anti-Buzz could emerge practically anywhere in
the city if he were so inclined. But fortunately for us, he can only
reach those junctions by utilizing THIS pipeline. If Namor makes a break
for the surface, sooner or later, he'll HAVE to cross paths with us."
        "Wonderful. So in the meantime we have to keep putting up with
that SMELL."
        "Stop complaining. It could be worse," Buzz Roman reflected. "We
could be WALKING in this stuff."
        "Or EATING it," wistfully added Sherbert... as though the idea
actually appealed to him. Thinking that one over, Studd and Smart Alec
both concluded the prospect of devouring raw sewage WOULD occasionally
be preferable... to some of the quaint things their oddball brother
cooked up for them.
        "What's that up ahead?" Buzz pointed to a dim yellow tint in the
distance, flickering. Sherbert increased the carpet's speed. As they
drew closer to it the illumination of the unknown light indicated a
T-shaped junction in the pipeline; at the dead center point of
divergence, set upon a ceramic outropping where the branching began, the
Tails could see that it was only a simple lighted wax candle piercing
the darkness.
        "That's strange," remarked Smart Alec, "Why would somebody
consciously choose to leave THIS thing lying here-"
        "Yoo hoo!" chimed a mind-numbingly monotonous voice... Zzub
Namor's voice.
        At that point, nothing short of physical restraint could have
kept any of them from turning to look towards Zzub's startling outburst.
But instead of yet another grey corridor of pipery weaving to the left,
the Tails saw themselves, similarly washed over with yellow light.
        WITHOUT Buzz Roman.
        "It's a trap!" screamed Buzz. "That's the MIRROR!" He leapt off
Sherbert's carpet and ran toward the reflection, just in time to see the
reversed image of the anti-Tails similarly float AWAY from the frame, as
if passing through an open window.
        "Uh oh." said the Tails and Roman, simultaneously.
        "At long last, the Tails of Baghdad..." came that profoundly
dull VOICE again, and the reflective, emptied pane dropped downward,
revealing the sardonic snarl of Zzub Namor. "Allow me to introduce you
to Dduts, Trams Cela, and Trebrehs.... the Tails of Dadhgab!"
        "Oh dear, what an moth CHARMING predicament," lisped Dduts, the
anti-Studd, as he brandished HIS respective scimitar with a clearly
effeminate flourish.
        "CRUSH!" grunted Trams Cela, leering at his counterpart like a
mindless ape, behind a set of glasses. The anti-amulet on his chest
flashed in the candlelight.
        "I'm certainly pleased to make your acquaintance," said
Trebrehs, the apparent leader of the anti-Tails, manning Sherbert's
mirror-carpet. "It's a shame we're going to have to kill you now, but
that's the only way the most complicated scheme of Mr. Zzub Namor here
will work, I'm afraid."
        The utter surreality of the reversed personalities left his
brothers with dazed expressions on their faces, but Smart Alec forced
down his shock long enough to reply, "And what scheme is that, pray
tell?"
        "Isn't it obvious, you faux-intellectual little fool?" Zzub
croaked from behind the anti-Tails. "In MY world the Tails, instead of
fending off Dadhgab -YOUR Baghdad- from every would-be conquerer and
money-hungry criminal, instead decided to righteously SEIZE the reins of
power themselves! By wisely tearing down and eliminating every last
shred of the city's contemptable marketplace: the pointless shops, the
wasteful foundries and two-bit hucksters like Mr. Roman here... their
benevolently iron-fisted rule soon transformed Dadhgab into a harmonious
communal utopia, free of selfishness, sin and unconscionable human
greed! Public security, forever!"
        "That," gasped Buzz Roman, "sounds like true hell on earth."
        "Perhaps," shrugged Trebrehs, "But something also had to be done
about those pesky misfits and upstarts that still clung to the old
order, yapping about 'individual rights' or some such childish nonsense.
My brothers made short work of them."
        "Yeth," sang Dduts, "Little 'ol Tramthie here had more fun than
a thchoolgirl, cleaning THEIR clockth."
        "DESTROY ENEMIES!" bellowed Trams Cela.
        "So now that we're HERE," Zzub continued, "in THIS filthy,
orderless hole of amorality, myself and the Tails of Dadhgab intend to
continue the cleansing, and establish a SECOND public regime in Baghdad!
First, we'll have to eliminate each of you, quietly down here in the
subterranean depths, and THEN we'll return to the surface to publicly
assume your roles! After that, overthrowing your weakling Emperor should
be a relatively simple task... he gets kicked out of office every other
week. And once we can establish a link to our armies on the other side
of the Mirror, Baghdad shall be OURS!" He threw his head back and gave a
hideously uninteresting robotic cackle.
        Smart Alec glanced meaninfully at Buzz, touched his amulet and
gave a quick nod towards the carpet. Reading the gesture, Roman began to
slowly back off from the Dadhgabians. "Unfortunately, Zzub my most
unpleasant twin," the businessman remarked dryly, "there seems to be two
fairly important stumbling blocks to your hostile takeover."
        Zzub's face twisted in an ugly sneer. "And what might THAT be,
you materialistic cretin?"
        "Well, if the 'public' you so adore should happen to SEE us
together, your charade will be finished." 
        "And the other?"
        "HOW," Buzz Roman leapt back onto Sherbert's carpet, "are you
going to bring in reinforcements," a light suddenly blazed upon Smart
Alec's chest, "without the MIRROR???"
        With that, a gigantic concussion wave slammed into Trebrehs,
Trams Cela and Dduts, pushing them back into the Mirror before it was
irrevocably replaced by an even spray of shattered glass fragments. Zzub
Namor's body smashed through the sewer pipe's ceiling and the several
feet of rock and soil above, finally bursting through the surface
pavement of the city, his body writhing upon a large geyser of broken
ceramic and flying dirt.
        "Well, that takes care of THEM for the time being," Studd said,
pointing at the unconscious Tails of Dadhgab, floating in the sewage.
"But I think we should get rid of their talismans... that'll probably
take away most of their power." His brothers agreed.
        Buzz Roman angrily stared up into the sunlight pouring through
the new hole his double had created. "Gentlemen, I would much appreciate
it if you'd take me up to the surface. I have a bit of unfinished
business with my imposter."
        Smart Alec's brow twisted. "Whatever for? With his Mirror
destroyed, Zzub's sinister plan for the conquest of Baghdad cannot
succeed. He's forever trapped in this universe. So are THEY," he
indicated, pointing to the filth-covered anti-Tails.
        "Nevertheless," Roman seethed, "though it pains me greatly to
say it, I'd like very much to get a grip on myself. Namor's vicious
actions are tarnishing MY reputation-"
        "WHAT reputation?" Studd chuckled.
        Ignoring him, Buzz went on, "-and the only way to TRULY remedy
this is to expose him publicly to all of Baghdad. Zzub Namor must be
stopped at all costs!"
        Okay, it's your decision." Smart Alec agreed. "Sherbert, take
Mr. Roman up to the surface, then come back here and help us tie up
THESE unsavory characters."
        Sherbert looked at Trebrehs. "Hey, I resemble that remark." he
babbled.

        Buzz Roman trotted his way across the rubble-strewn, tree-lined
expanse. The hole Smart Alec punched through led to the center of
Baghdad's public square, and the ensuing explosion had already attracted
much attention. Frenetically scanning the piles of debris, Buzz began
lifting the large chunks of rock and ceramic, searching for his
mirror-twin.
        "Okay Zzub," he called out, "it's time to give yourself up. We
both know your cockamamie scheme was dependent on Rashid's Mirror, and
now it's a useless pile of broken glass. So come on out, perhaps we can
cut a deal with the Emperor or someth-"
        Suddenly Roman felt a bloodied, dust-coated hand reaching over
from behind him, grabbing his throat with an iron grip. "Gghhkkk..." he
croaked.
        "NO DEALS, you contemptible parasite." Namor droned into his
ear, " I'm afraid you're SORELY mistaken," A flash of metal appeared
near Roman's neck; the dagger most efficently used on Rashid. "My plan
can STILL work... even without the Tails of Dadhgab or their armies! I
can still kill YOU and pass your wretched carcass as my own!"
        "Sooffph?  URK!" Roman gasped.
        Namor chuckled. "What do you think killing the man that burned
the Willing Harlot would do to your, -MY- reputation? I'll be a hero! 
The public of Baghdad will worship me! And in a few months, with my
bootlicking constituency behind me, I'll make my political debut and
directly challenge your brain-dead Emperor for his seat of power! He'll
have no choice but to abdicate... to the Will of the People!"
        "Geef, I hadth thut boutf THATF," Roman gurgled."
        "Of course not, you bloodsucking capitalist leech!  It was
always the FARTHEST thing from your mind! And THAT'S why I'll win this
day! Contemplate THIS, while you slowly die." With that, Namor moved the
blade inward.
        "Enngh!" Roman grunted, pulled his elbow back behind him, and
cracked Namor on the nose. His double squealed with pain, relasing his
grip as he clutched his face.  With a savage yell, Roman spun around and
tackled his smarting foe to the ground. A large cloud of dirt filled the
air as Roman mercilessly pummelled his opponent.
        "Take that! And that! And how about a couple of THESE, eh? To
hell with the pundits, self abuse is GREAT for the soul-OOF!"  Namor
bent back his knees and kicked Buzz in the chest. Wheezing with pain,
Roman crumpled to the ground.
        "Now that's one of the few things," Namor growled, spitting
blood and tooth fragments, "we can BOTH agree on." And with the dagger
extruding from his left hand like a cat's claw, Zzub moved in for the
kill. "Prepare to DIE-"
        "HOLD IT!! STOP!!!" screamed an all-too-familiar voice. Buzz
Roman and Zzub Namor froze, painfully turned their aching heads. Across
the square, there was assembled several hundred surly-faced Baghdad
citizens, all clutching torches, swords, spears and other instruments.
It was the lynch mob from the Willing Harlot.
        "What the blazes?" the bandage-swaddled bartender barked,
disbelieving his eyes as he stared upon two equally dirty, bruised and
bloodied Buzz Romans. "I'll be damned, there's TWO of him!"
        A wave of utter befuddlement moved through the congregated mass
like a magnet passing under metal filings. The air was suddenly filled
with loudly-voiced questions, conclusions and idle speculation.
        "...it's impossible to tell them apart..."
        "...but which one burned down the Harlot?"
        "...personally, I think it's the guy with the dagger...."
        "...nah, the REAL Buzz is a back-stabber..."
        "...hey Roman, what'd you do with my security deposit?"
        "...maybe they BOTH were in on it..."   
        "HEY! Are you dense, people?" Buzz snapped. "I'M Buzz Roman!
THAT'S the man that burned down your tavern!"
        "No," Buzz gasped in horror as Zzub executed a flawless
imitation of his own voice, "HE'S Zzub Namor, the man that destroyed the
Willing Harlot! I'M the real Buzz!"
        "An impressive trick, oh evil one," continued Buzz. "but only
/I/ would know what got me booted from the bar in the first place! It
was-"
        "-the combined might," interrupted Zzub, "of an exorbitant
financial deficit, and a selloff of fraudulent Tiger Breath to the
owners of the establishment!" The crowd buzzed as the bartender nodded.
        "All right, that tears it," Buzz snapped. "Though it disturbs me
greatly, I'm forced to reveal information of a profoundly personal
nature." He gestured towards a pudgy-looking fellow among the earlier
spectators who was carrying a hefty ledger book under his arm.
"Everybody knows this is Mr. Abdullah, Baghdad's chief banker, the man
responsible for all of MY- Buzz Roman's- financial dealings. Abbie ol'
boy,  go ahead, ask THIS me-wanna-be what my outstanding balance is!"
        "But SIR, there's noth-" sputtered Abdullah.
        "Just DO IT!" screamed Buzz.
        Abdullah complied.
        Zzub's brow furrowed in silent contemplation of the question,
the lines of his eyes were scrunched up in a wide X. Finally, after a
few seconds, he opened them. And smiled.
        "Negative six thousand, nine hundred and eighty-nine gold
pieces."
        "WRONGO!" screamed Buzz Roman. "The REAL answer is negative six
thousand, nine hun-wha?" His voice drifted off as he gaped in disbelief.
        "This gentleman," Abdullah pointed to Zzub,"is correct." 
        Several angry men in the amassed crowds starting yelling, "I'll
get you for this, Roman!" "Buzz, you ripped me off!" and "How the hell
did you lose my money Buzz?" while the rest murmured in confusion. Zzub
Namor's teeth glinted as he tapped Buzz's forehead with an accountbook:
Buzz's accountbook.
        "You pilfered that when I was out cold in Rashid's place, huh?"
Buzz muttered to Zzub.
        "Of course, you fool." Zzub whispered.
        "Hold it!" Smart Alec interrupted from above. The Tails had
emerged from the sewers, Sherbert's carpet topheavy with the securely
bound, unconscious forms of their Dadhgabian counterparts. "Everybody
here," he continued, "knows the REAL Buzz Roman is a consummate
salesman, one who could convince the blind to purchase eyeglasses. It's
also readily apparent his evil twin, Zzub Namor, loathes this
socio-economic process entirely; THAT'S why he killed Rashid, that's why
he burned down the Harlot. So I do believe we've finally found a perfect
litmus test to prove the real article. " He took the anti-scimitar he'd
removed from the unconscious Dduts earlier, and threw it to Buzz Roman.
"Catch."
        "What.... what do you want me to do with THIS?" Roman asked,
puzzled.
        "Isn't it obvious?" Smart Alec replied. "SELL it."
        Comprehending at last, Buzz Roman grinned.
        Holding the entirety of the sword with two outstretched index
fingers, Buzz began his pitch, his voice a seductively musical song that
practically PULLED money from the audience's pockets.
        "Ladies and gentlemen, boys and girls, monkeys and miscreants,
BEHOLD! Your wait is over! I give you the one and only, totally unique,
multi-functional, ask for it by any other name and it STILL won't be the
same New and Improved Deluxe Quinzu Knife!" Practically on cue, Roman
reached into his pocket and threw a handful of colored glitter up into
the sky. The shining words QUINZU hung momentarily in the air as his
manic pitch continued. "Yes, Quinzu, a name synonymous with quality the
world over! It's practical! Attractive! A perfect addition to ANY home!
Honestly folks, just LOOK at this beauty of a blade!" Buzz held Dduts'
sword in the sun. The audience oohed. "Gaze upon the immaculate
craftsmanship, the painstaking detail!" The audience aahed. "YES!
Meticulously forged by only the most anal-retentive blacksmiths in East
Asia, the New and Impoved Deluxe Quinzu is guaranteed to throughly
satisfy EVERYTHING you've ever wanted or needed in a kitchen utensil or
an item of self-defense! It dices! It slices! It cuts through everything
and anything! It even makes salad!" Buzz began to juggle several
vegetables and fruit, pulled from the recesses of his dirt-caked jacket
and hacked away. The fragments rose into the air to subliminally spell
out the word BUY, then plunged to the ground, spelling out QUINZU yet
again. "Now, how much would YOU pay for a knife like this?"
        The audience fell silent. None of them really knew how much the
thing was worth. For that matter, none of them had heard of this Quinzu
outfit (though it certainly SOUNDED highly reputable.)
        "Would YOU, my friends, pay NINE thousand gold pieces?"
        A few heads nodded in the crowd, a few hesitant smatterings of
"sure" and "yes" ensued. It seemed reasonable, if a little high.
        "Would you pay EIGHT thousand gold pieces?"
        This got the majority of the audience's attention. A drop of a
thousand gold pieces was not to be taken lightly. Over half of the crowd
was shouting "Yeah!" at the top of their lungs.
        "I don't know," Sherbert whispered to his brothers. "It STILL
sounds awfully expensive to me- OW!"  His remark quickly earned him a
smack on the head; though the Quinsu Knife was completely
indistinguishable from his OWN scimitar, Buzz Roman's well-constructed
arguments had even STUDD considering a purchase.
        "Now... what would you say if I charged... the measly sum of
SEVEN thousand gold pieces?"
        The lynch mob exhaled in amazement. Only seven thousand! That
was a full two thousand less than the first price! It really MUST be a
bargain! Nearly all of them were on their feet, stamping, clamoring:
        "YEAH!!!"
        "But for only SIX THOUSAND, NINE HUNDRED AND NINETY NINE gold
pieces," and THIS caused many women in the crowd to fall unconscious,
"the New and Improved Deluxe Quinzu Knife can be YOURS! Now... any
takers?"
        Whipped up into a maddened consumer frenzy, totally ignorant of
the extremely limited quantity of Roman's product (which made it all the
more desirable) the entire audience practically stumbled over each other
in their crazed attempt to purchase the precious Quinzu Knife first.
Seconds later, there was a disappointed howl of "awwww" when a bag of
gold finally found its way into Roman's hands. After counting his
payment, Roman smiled and handed the scimitar over to his customer: an
eight year old girl. Then, with only the slightest bit of reluctance, he
turned this bag over to the scowling Abdullah, and bowed. Everyone
applauded.
        Smart Alec tossed Trams Cela's useless amulet to Zzub. "Now it's
YOUR turn, 'Buzz'." He'd already figured it out, but Zzub's deception
had to be made visually plain to the rest of Baghdad.
        "Uh..." Zzub stammered nervously, staring at the hundreds of
inquisitive eyes bearing down on him, "Um.... Right! This thing is...
um... a p-pretty necklace. Real, um... super pretty. It looks nice." He
fondled the amulet with trembling, sweaty hands.  "It's got...  lots of
um... g-gold and stuff on it. I think... and-" The strain of imitating
Roman's voice was beginning to hurt his throat. Slowly but surely, Zzub
realized that the people in the audience were starting to frown
suspiciously. "...and it's," he coughed, "...it's got a real pretty
d-diamond too, s-see? right here... and... l-lots of other, you know...
t-things around-" Zzub Namor stopped himself, and his face relaxed into
his usual hateful expression. With his real voice, he snapped at last.
        "AARRRGGGGRRGHH!!!! THIS IS A UTTER WASTE OF TIME!!!"
        The bartender of the Willing Harlot suddenly woke up from the
sleep-inducing diatribe,  pointed furiously at Zzub, and shouted,
"That's the voice! It's HIM!" 
        Angrily hurling the amulet into the ground, Zzub flung himself
towards Buzz, arms and hands outstretched, murderous fury in his eyes,
his mouth stretched in a frozen scream: "I'LL KILL YOU, ROMAN!!!"
        Instead, he bashed his head against an invisible wall of force.
Smart Alec's chest had quickly flickered with supernatural light.
"Sorry, Zzub," he remarked, "you've overstayed your welcome. I'm afraid
it's time to meet... your adoring public."
        And with a second flash from Smart Alec's scarab, Zzub was flung
bodily into the newly-vengeful mob of Baghdad, his arrival subsequently
met with dozens of angry fists, sticks, rocks and blades, striking him,
poking him, cutting into him. He even managed to catch a glimpse of
Roman's Quinsu Knife somewhere in the blood-soaked mix.
        "Noooooooo!!!!!" he moaned.
        Mercifully, Zzub's high-pitched shrieking ceased in about a
minute. Buzz Roman and the Tails had made their unassuming exit long
before.

        Several months later, on a cool desert night, the Tails were
walking the streets of Baghdad, trailed by a small army of children. The
city would be holding its annual celebration of Aman Ra's defeat
tomorrow, and the air was filled with the sounds of revelry, dancing,
games and music.
        "Well, so what if it LOOKS the same?" Studd complained. "What
I'm saying is... the new Willing Harlot doesn't FEEL the same. There
seems to be SOMETHING missing, I dunno."
        "Yes, something's missing all right. The stench of dried vomit,"
Smart Alec retorted. "That establishment was about as sanitary as Aman
Ra's dental work."
        "Hey look, there's Buzz!" exclaimed Sherbert.
        Like many other vendors, in anticipation of the big day
tomorrow, Buzz Roman was busy setting up a display stand for himself in
the middle of Baghdad's public square. Seeing the Tails approach, his
overly tooth-laden smile widened considerably.
        "Greetings, Mr. Roman," frowned Smart Alec. "I trust now that
you're back in the Willing Harlot's good graces, you'll be hawking THEIR
merchandise this year?"
        "Not entirely," Roman replied. "What I'M selling stands to be my
biggest moneymaker YET, even GREATER than that short-lived Quinsu Knife
fad. In fact, I'm convinced THIS new product line will earn me more
profit than the previous eight years COMBINED!"
        "That's a very optimistic assessment, Mr. Roman. Let's see it."
        And Buzz opened the case on his display stand to reveal hundreds
of miniature Studd, Smart Alec and Sherbert-shaped action figures, along
with accessories, playsets and villains.
        "WOW! These are neat-o!" Sherbert yelped, picking up a Dr. Null
and Sherbert figure with each hand. "Boosh! Zoom! Ahhhh!!" Studd did not
seem quite as enthused over the development, and Smart Alec's face was a
stony mask.
        "Well, what do you think?" Roman smiled.
        "What?!!! WHAT DO /WE/ THINK??!!!" Smart Alec exploded. "You
complete and utter BLOCKHEAD! For YEARS we've explicitly forbidden you
from selling ANY "Tails of Baghdad" merchandise! We've turned down EVERY
inane contract, EVERY crassly stupid promotional deal you've indecently
flaunted in front of us!  And now, after YEARS of objections and
denials, you STILL go right ahead and manufacture THESE," Smart Alec
picked up a Smart Alec doll, and shivered with disgust,"monstrosities,
without even consulting us? Honestly, Roman, where is your brain? Did
you REALLY, SERIOUSLY think you could get away with THIS??!"
        "Yep."
        "Then you are most SORELY mistaken. Come along my brothers,
let's take this to the Baghdad Chamber of Commerce. In less than an
hour, Mr. Roman, we'll shut you down. Yet again." Pulling Sherbert
(forcibly) away from the toys, the Tails started to walk away, but not
before hearing Roman's response.
        "Sorry, not THIS time."
        Smart Alec turned around, stared a question. "What... do you
mean, 'not this time'?"
        Roman's smile was almost obscenely wide, an overly white
crescent glowing in the blue moonlight. "Shortly after that rather
unpleasant incident with Rashid and the Willing Harlot, I took the
liberty of paying a visit to Baghdad's most notorious dungeons."
        "And? So?"      
        "Well, besides waxing nostalgic, the purpose of the visit was to
meet -in person- some mutual friends of ours, and confront them with an
unprecedented profit-generating scheme."
        Studd guffawed. "Cretin, Dull and Duller? THOSE morons can't
even do simple arithmetic-" Smart Alec cut him off.
        Roman continued, "Oh, initially these chaps were QUITE resistant
to my proposals, but THEN I discovered all that was necessary to clinch
the deal on MY end were a few bits of well-researched method acting, and
some yellow paint. From there it was VERY easy to get their cooperation
in the matter. They actually believed I was rising through Baghdad's
political ranks, and would soon be in a position to release THEM!"
        "No, it CAN'T be." Smart Alec droned in disbelief.
        With a hugely triumphant smile, the largest the Tails had EVER
seen on his perenially chipper face, Buzz Roman -entrepreneur
extraordinare- replied, "Yes, my friends. It is."
        And from the depths of his pocket, Buzz pulled out an
all-too-familiar contract and handed it to Smart Alec. Right above the
broad swaths of semantically meaningless legalese, were the words:
        TAILS OF DADHGAB" MERCHANDISE AND LICENSING WRITTEN AGREEMENT
        On the bottom of the page were three barely legible signatures:
"Dduts," "Trems Cela" and "Trebrehs."
        Taking back the contract, Roman gave the Tails a short bow. "So
I guess I'll see you gents tomorrow. Have a nice day!"
        "Ka-boom!  AHHH!!! NOOOOO!!!!" said Sherbert, still playing with
the figures.

THE END