Dr. Maka Dudi, K. S. C.
A Tale of Duplicity

Focal Passage: Matthew 18:18 --
"Wherefore, if thy hand or thy foot offend thee, cut them off. And if thy eye offend thee, pluck it out!"

Prescriptures, Relevation X, Vs. 34 --
"And when thou hath tasted of the fluids of the glands of the worms of Mars, thou shalt wish it forever more."
There is a worm in the sea; it is called the Planarium. Occasionally they are caught in fishermen's nets. This makes the fishermen unhappy, so they cut the worms into little bitty pieces. And each one grows a new worm.

"Bob" walked down the shiny white halls of the SubGenius Research Center. His able assistant, the African herbalist Dr. Maka Dudi, strolled beside him.

"By Gobbs, I think we're onto something this time, Dudi!"

"Truly, Slack Master. Your idea for cloning body parts was pure genius."

"And who would've thought the lowly Planaria held the key? Pure chance tempered by strict discipline -- that's the ticket."

The two geneticists entered the laboratory. A fifty gallon aquarium dominated the room. Hundreds of worms swam within the glass container.

"Alright, Doc. Haul a couple out."

"Here you go, Chief." Maka laid two worms down on the table. "But I ain't squashing them."

"Stand back, Squeamish One." "Bob" raised this hand, clenched it, and brought that 'starkest of fists' down upon the worm. Guts flew everywhere. Maka brought a scraper, and heaped the viscera into a single slimy pile.

"Into the Psycho-Pslingotron." "Bob" scooped up the guts and gently placed them inside a metal gizmo. The machine stood six feet tall and was covered with dials and colored lights. Many of these were purely for decoration, following "Bob"'s maxim, "Looks are everything." On one side of the contraption were two cables which led to stick controls similar to those on many video games. Maka flipped the switch and grabbed one of the handles. "Whoooooaaaah." A gush of psychic energy flooded the herbalist's body. "Bob" seemed to light up like a half-charged flourescent tube, flashes of brightly irradiated gasses jumping from his footgland to his Third Nostril. The machine hummed like cicadas in the summer. Then a bell rang.

"All done," "Bob" smiled.

"Yummy." Maka grinned and reached inside the metallic container. "Soup's on." On the metal tray lay a pile of shiny black crystals.

"The Sacred Worm has turned..." began "Bob."

"...Into something even sacreder. " Maka's ebony face glowed with pride.

The holy Worm Essence crystals had a deep purple lustre. The Slack Master gingerly placed them in an airtight chromium canister. "They should be safe enough here."

Maka carried the canister across the room and put it in his knapsack.

"Let's go get lunch, boss."

"Sounds like a plan, Dr. Dudi -- we deserve a bit of celebration. Our first successful Essence crystalization!"

"Truly, Bwana Dobbs -- 'we done good,' as you Americans are so apt to say." The two Doktors strode out of the white marble building and boarded "Bob's" red-, white-, and blue-striped Cadillac. The driver, Gung Ho, opened the doors.

"How's The Work going, Boss?"

"Splendidly, Gung Ho. Maka has our first test results. Maka, take out the crystals for Gung Ho." Maka removed one of the stones from the chrome can.

"Be careful. These are priceless." Gung Ho took the gem and held it to the light.

"It's beautiful. What does it do?"

"You happen to be holding the first substance that can regenerate human flesh." "Bob" smiled at his bodyguard. Maka restored the gems to the container.

"Let's eat! Gung Ho, drive us to Big Boy's, please." The SubGenius Flag Car rolled out of the parking lot. Gung Ho signaled right, and pulled out into the traffic.

They were nearing Big Boy's when the car in front of theirs swerved violently. Gung Ho slammed on the brakes, and narrowly avoided smashing into the errant vehicle, which had quickly ground to a complete halt.

"Caca and cabbage! What's the matter with that guy?!" "Bob" was provoked. He leapt out to see what had happened. A lady emerged from the other car in a panic.

"She just ran right in front of me... I tried to stop!" The woman's mascara ran down her cheeks.

"Take it easy, lady. I'm a Doktor. Have you found her parents?"

The woman hovered over the limp body of a little girl. The head had been severed by the car's tire. The woman was trying to put the head back on, her eyes glazed with horror.

"Bob"'s firm voice shook her into reality. "Go find her parents. I'll wait with the child." She staggered off in search of the little girl's mother.

"Maka! Come here! And bring your bag." The herbalist was at his Slack Master's side in a flash.

"Oh my Gawd."

Maka paled -- which was not easy.

"Shake it off, Dudi, and give me one of the crystals," commanded "Bob."

Maka handed him one of the stones. "Bob" crumbled a tiny pinch onto the oozing stump that had once been a neck. Before their astounded gazes, the flesh seemed to grow. The spinal column rose from the back, and a skull knitted itself into existence. Eyes began to fill the sockets; skin and hair emerged from the bare bone. In less than a minute, the child's face was complete. She began to stir.

"Mama! Mama!"

"You're okay now, hon. Now you make sure and look both ways next time!"

"Yes, sir. Thank you." The little girl hugged "Bob"'s neck and ran off to find her friends. Maka scooped up the head and put it in the knapsack.

"Not the kind of thing one should leave in the streets. What should we do with it, Boss?"

"Actually, some good might come of this head, but I can't think what it could be..." "Bob" took the head, spun around, and shot for the Dempsey dumpster across the street. A perfect arc, and two points.

"Great shot, Boss."

"Thanks, Maka."

"At least we know the stuff works. We'll be the biggest thing since sliced Ugali."

In the next few months, Dobbs did indeed hit the medical big time. The crystals, it seemed, drew from the body's DNA code to replicate exact duplicates of any body part -- missing or deceased. "Bob"'s face was on the cover of Time, Newsweek, The AMA Journal, and Rolling Stone. He controlled life and death. He could name his price.

And name he did.

"I'd like to be Big Brother in '84."

The United Nations had a general meeting, and voted to go ahead and make "Bob" Big Brother -- if he would show them the secret of the crystals.

"The secret? There is no secret. I simply do it."

"But what about the machine you have at your lab?" demanded the President of the United States.

"It simply focuses my own innate abilities."

"Can anyone do this?"

"Mr. President, you may be head of the United States -- but Living Slack Master you're not."

Several weeks passed before "Bob" received final confirmation. The President again knocked on the SubGenius Foundation's door.

"Hello, Mr. President! Won't you come in?"

"No thanks, "Bob", I just stopped by to tell you that... well, we give in. You can be Big Brother."

"So! The Pinks are willing to give up their pathetic illusions of 'privacy' for 'comfort,' eh? Or, at least, Their idea of 'comfort'?""


"Fair enough. I shall engage my Snoop Machine; the crystals shall be available through my Emmissionaries in The SubGenius Foundation. You may go."

The President left the house in a hurry.


"Yo!, Boss."

"Call Philo and Stang. We've big things to talk about."

Maka hurried down The Hall to find the Overman and the Sacred Scribe.

"Dobbs wants a conference. Hurry -- this is Big Shit comin' down!'"

The three X-men scrambled towards "Bob's" Overoffice. Stang knocked.

"Come in, boys."

Maka, Stang and The OverMan seated themselves at a long table. "Bob" was at the far end. The Slack Master pushed a button, and a globe rose from the table.

"Earth," "Bob" stated, "is ours." Music swelled from hidden speakers. The Globe began to glow with a golden light. "The Pres-boy just came by and said we can turn on the SNOOP. They won't be able to take a piss without our knowing what they ate for dinner. We shall be Central Intelligence. The humans will have to cooperate, now! By Gobbs! I've done it!"

Maka stood up and shouted, "Three cheers for the Slack Master -- Hip Hip, Hoorary. Hip Hip, Hoorary. Hip Hip, Hoorary!"

"Thanks, Maka. OK, guys. I guess it's time to get down to logistics. It should be a snap to distribute the crystals in the U.S.A., since the Church is so firmly dug in there. Asia and Africa might pose a bit more of a problem... Maka, I guess you and Petro had best head back to Nairobi. I'll send Gung Ho to cover Asia and Australia. Gordon has South America; Gusto Plus can cover Europe from his Amsterdam vantage point. I suppose that's it; I would just like to say that, on this, our day of Complete Victory, that it all started with only a few, pushing in the right direction. Your tireless work for our cause has saved the Earth from being flushed down the Cosmic Toilet. Now, Man will finally 'get his shit together.' Nice going, guys."

"Bob" called a huddle. His Presence surged through the group. "May the Luck Plane slant towards you." As the men turned to go, "Bob" called out, "And make a buck!"

In but a few months, the world had indeed changed. "Bob" had created a form of the crystal that could be sprayed on crops. Corn kept making new ears even after it was picked. The bushels literally reproduced, even at the grocery stores. A single head of lettuce could feed a family for a year. As long as just a teeny bit was left, the next day a fresh head would develop.

Disease was eliminated. As the crystal entered the blood stream, healthy cells suddenly became super-charged.

For once, Man was not an animal. And "Bob" was to blame! He was, truly, The Missing Link. The SNOOP Machine (a prototype of MWOWM) had made crime practically nonexistent. The cops were out of jobs and were put to work gardening skulls no longer, but flowers! "Bob" was The Big Brother, the '999', the Super Savior, the 'OverClimax.'

Then the side effects showed up. It was discovered that after nine months the replicated part developed a mind of its own. If the body wasn't fed a copious amount of the mineral, the replicated part would go on strike. The healed liver would commit hari kiri if it wasn't placated... fast.

Suddenly, need for the crystal jumped ten-fold. Africa was the first to feel the brunt. Maka was adusting his Psycho-Pslingotron when Petro brought the news.

"There're huge riots in downtown Nairobi, Bwana. I don't think we'd better go to work today."

"Nonsense," Maka snapped. But then he looked at his SNOOP terminal. Petro was right! There were crowds of people duking it out for first chance at the crystal supply.

Another side effect was discovered. If crystal-sprayed food was eaten on a daily basis, it would regenerate inside the host's body. 'Lettuce abortions' became common. And God help those that ate watermelons!

Swelling, bursting humans.

"Bob" became a wanted man. Fortunately, as Big Brother, he had already destroyed all weapons. But bows and arrows soon made a resurgence. A mob of Pinks raided the SubGenius Mansion.

"Bob" had watched them gather. He sat on a bench in his Temple Garden and waited.

"Dobbs!! That rock shit you made us eat is killing us. Now we're gonna make you pay."

"KILL ME!!" "Bob" challenged.

"At 'im, boys." The air fairly whistled with arrows. "Bob" didn't try to block them. He was pierced many times through the heart. A Normal began hacking at "Bob" with a sword. "Bob" looked up. "Et tu, Fred?" The blade came down, again and again.

"Well, so much for that Slack dude."

The Pinks began to wander off.

But in the garden, a miracle was taking place. From each tiny, mutilated morsel, a whole new "Bob" appeared. Soon the garden was filled with "Bobs".

"I thought they were going to KILL ME," "Bob" 7 laughed.

Maka had watched the grisly scene on the Snoopotron. With awe, he realized there were now 72 Slack Masters; "Bob" was 72 in 1! "Now that's polytheism," he chuckled.

That night, the major nations of the planet banned the use of the Worm Essence. They also agreed to start killing each other again. And who did they most want to kill? The SubGenii. "Bob" had marked the foreheads of his chosen MetaPrimates with a special dye that could be 'whiffread' only by other SubGenii... until the Pinks developed an insidious machine capable of smelling traces of the dye passed in urine. "Subs" were hauled in by the truckload, and incarcerated in concentration camps.

Nothing could've helped the SubGenius cause more. As all the mutants were forced together, a huge party broke out. The Pinks were pissed.

"Hey! You in there! Stop having fun!" shrieked the commandant.

"Fuck off, asshole. I'm one of the Good Guys," Philo Drummond retorted, waggling from his forehead an enormous dildo, thence afixed with big RED straps.

The general took a shot at the Overman. Philo was hit. Ivan Stang rushed to his aid.

"Philo! Hold still. Don't try to talk." Stang loosened Philo's shirt. Blood gushed forth.

As if from nowhere, a manly voice intoned, "Maybe there's something I can do to help."

Stang turned.

" "Bob"! Praise Dobbs you're here!"

"Actually, I'm "Bob" 38."

"Huh?" The Sacred Scribe was baffled.

"There are 71 other "Bob"'s roaming the planet, seeking to right wrongs and catch a buzz."

Stang gasped. "72 true party animals!"

"Bob" 38 leaned over Drummond. "Philo, can you hear me, old friend?"

Philo opened his eyes. "My "Bob"," he gasped.

"You're going to be alright, pal. Just hang on." "Bob" 38 took a razor blade from his coat pocket. He made a slight incision on his own wrist and let his blood flow down into the Overman's wound. The bleeding stopped instantly. The skin closed around the puncture, and Philo sat up.

"Whew! That's better. Thanks, "Bob"."

"No prob'. Fellow SubGenii, I have come to give you the best news: you cannot die!! I myself was killed and hacked into little pieces, and... now... from one, there are many! I taunted them to KILL ME -- and, instead, they have made me strong. Our Yeti blood is the perfect combinant with the Worm Essence, yet it fucks up the Pinks! We shall overcome."

"Bob" 38 strode fearlessly towards the guards of the camp.

"Don't come any closer, Slack Man." The sergeant aimed his bazooka at "Bob". His finger tightened on the trigger. "Bob" paid no attention.

"Buzz off, Normal."

BOOOOOOOOM. "Bob" was blasted into a thousand pieces.

"OK, who's next?" taunted the sergeant.

Within the compound, hundreds of "Bobs" began to grow. The sergeant was horrified.

"What the..."

"You can't kill me. I am the Living Slack Master." Twenty of the newly-formed "Bobs" began pushing against the camp gates. CRACK. The way sprang open. The SubGenii poured out. "Bob" 38-7 took control.

"Fellow mutants! We must fight a guerilla war. Yet SNOOP is still in operation, so it will only be a matter of days before our financial empire is rebuilt. Hold the faith hot in your breast!"

The SubGenii scattered throughout the countryside.

In Africa, Maka was in deep bush. He had managed to carry his mini-terminal, so that he was able to observe the occurences at the concentration camp. By his latest count, there were now at least 1,288 "Bob"'s. The screen sparked to life with the image of The 'Frop Master.

"Maka, have you got our eyes on, good buddy?"

"Ndiyo, Slack Master -- I read you loud and clear."

"How goes it in Africa?"

"The SubGenius followers are the toughest in the land. We swore a Blood Oath. We shall not go down, Bwana "Bob."

"That's the spirit. Personally, I'd just as soon remain underground anyway."

"I hear that, Bwana. A whole buttload of Pinks and False Card Carriers were generated by our whimsical altruism."

"I'm reminded of another BushMan, Maka -- Henry Thoreau. He once asked me, "What possessed me, that I was so good?"

"The nicer you are, the more they want."

"It's a greedy world. And to think that I was stupid enough to believe I'd fixed it!! What a laugh. But, with nearly 1,300 of me now, I should be able to make faster progress."

"We'll hold the fort in this Dark Place, Bwana."

"Dobbs 38-7 out." The screen winked back to darkness.

In ten days, "Bob" was back on top. His intimate knowledge of the Luck Plane and the stock market enabled him to corner the whole petroleum market. Dobbs was filthy rich. And with money, power returned. Laws were repealed; SubGenii came back from the forests and swamps. They had been made tougher by their experiences. Hard lines chiseled their foreheads. Having to rely on their Third Nostrils for their daily bread had turned them into psychic Schwarzeneggers.

Faith is a muscle.

The Conspiracy allowed the SubGenii freedom, in return for fuel for their Death Machine. "Bob" let them have it.

He believes in Free Will.

-- Free, but not cheap!

We are living in the last DAZE. We are living in the last DAZE. We are living in the last DAZE. We are living in the last DAZE.

Job 21:5 --
"Mark me, and be astonished, and lay your hand upon your mouth."

Ezekiel 1:6 --
"And everyone had four faces."

This Bible study was made possible by a grant from Maka Dudi's Super Science Kitchen.