Free The Decoding of Lana Morris by Laura McNeal Page B

let’s just bang out of the bull chute with issue uno, which is a little issue we happen to have with those folks over at the Disney Company. We have just one question and the question is, WHAT IS IT WITH THIS DONALD DUCK GUY? I mean, what was old Walt thinking?—
THAT WHAT THIS WORLD REALLY BADLY, URGENTLY NEEDS IS A SPUTTERING DUCK
?”
    Lana has heard this voice and this peculiar paranoia before, but Chet doesn’t seem like the sort of person who would start his own talk show. There is a long pause, so long Lana wonders if the recording somehow got cut off. But then the voice is back.
    “Well, I’d take Walt’s money and build myself a beach compound in Tobago and I’d do it tomorrow by four p.m., but that doesn’t mean old Walt wasn’t WAY WRONG ON THE DUCK THING.” Another long pause, and then in a calmer voice: “And how about the little guys, Huey, Dewey, and Louie, and their little Hispanic cousin Chuy, always going to their little
Junior Woodchucks Manual
every time they get themselves in a pinch?” Pause. “Okay, Walt, I can see where that would be useful if you want to get, you know, a real-life version of the
Junior Woodchucks Manual
in our hands for use next time we get in a little fix, then, okay, you can say you actually finally did something for the global community.” Pause. “But inthe meantime the very best next thing you can do, Walt, is to OFF THAT SPUTTERING DUCK.”
    Pause.
    There’s something oddly interesting about the pauses, Lana thinks, the way it makes you wait for the next thing.
    “Okay, Chetteroids,” the voice continues, “issue numero two. We’ve got the Olympics coming up. We’ve talked about this. We’ve expressed our opinions. We know, for example, where we stand on the pentathlon. We need alternatives; that much we can all agree on. And your good Chief Chetteroid has in mind something cyberspatial that he in his Chetness has anointed”—here the speaker seems to thin his lips to expel a sibilant trumpet-like introduction—
“the Oddball Olympics.”
    Chief Chetteroid
?
He in his Chetness?
    Lana pulls her earphones from her head, goes to the front window, and stares across at Chet’s house. Through the upstairs window she can see him pacing back and forth with his mouth moving. His Chetness, the Chief Chetteroid, is doing his next show. She can’t stop grinning. It’s weird and kind of endearing and definitely blackmailable. She slips the earphones back on.
    “That’s correct,” the voice says. “The Oddball Olympics. And the first event in the Oddball Olympics is”—another trumpety intro—“SPUTTERING DUCK EXPUNGEMENT.” Pause, then more calmly: “I don’t need to tell you, there are no rules for this event. Bare hands, buck knives, or AK-47s, we Chetteroids don’t as they say give a fig, AS LONG AS SOMEBODY BRINGS DOWN THAT DUCK.” Pause. “Okay, enough on the Disney segment. It’s time for—”
    Lana is no longer thinking about her bad evil heart. She is grinning at the thought of not-normal Chet podcasting his not-normal thoughts at three in the morning, thoughts to which she now has access.
    She goes back to bed and listens while Chet does a segment on finding your cat’s purr spot and one on statues of animals and in particular cows and then finally what must be his signature sign-off, “This is kay-ess-oh-dee, K-SOD, where no subject is too small for lengthy and uninformed consideration. You know who we are. We’re aliens hiding in nearby trees, where we can see it all. Good night, Chetteroids and Chetteristas. Keep those cards and letters coming. And please don’t call again.” And then he plays a song sung by a woman with a high, haunting voice:
    Good night, ladies
    Good night, gentlemen
    Keep those cards and letters
    Coming
    And please don’t call again
.
    Lana walks to the hall window. The lights are off in Chet’s room. Past his house and down the street, all the houses are dark. She can hear the distant drone of a truck on