After a day of deep, meaningful and damned fun discussions on everything Fannish, I found myself in a state of neural overload. I checked into the Space Cadet central, where a comely young thing convinced me that I needed a brain scan. She handed me a sip of something minty, and a mad doctor scanned my brain. It seems as thought my brain is full of giant monsters, rampaging through London. I’m not surprised.
I decided to first try and drown my inner demon in a martini. That didn’t work, so I decided to dance my monster into oblivion. Belly Dancers and Demon Princes whirled in colorful chaos, while under the watchful eye of rocket powered Mounties and the Harlequin of Death. My inner monster was nonplussed. The exorcism didn’t work, so we came to an accommodation. I would take to parties.
There I met a Centauri holding what he called a cat (it had been declared to be so by Emperor Vir). Twin starship pilots steadies me on my course through the hallways
At some point in the evening, Lex Luthor hand me a glass of something he called a “Blue Nebula“, which prompted more dancing (The Time Warp! Paradise by the Dashboard Light!) until the wee hours of the morning. Sleep finally beckoned, the Gorgo in my brain was tuckered out. But I have the sneaky suspicion that it will re-awaken sometime this evening.