Just as I'm getting ready to go over to the bar for the evening, the phone rings.

"Hey, boss?"

"Hey, Phred, what's up?"

"The power's out down here. You want me to keep the place open, or what?"

"No kidding?" I've got all the electricity I need, thanks to the midget fission reactor down in the basement. I look out the window, and notice that there are no lights showing from any of the neighboring houses. "Looks like power's out here, too. Huh. Okay, keep the place open. It probably won't be out for long. I'll over over in about fifteen minutes." I hang up, then head into my office, straight to the gun safe, and grab the AR-15 and a couple of clips of ammo. There's probably nothing sinister about the blackout, but it always pays to be prepared.

Hans pulls off the tarp revealing the yellow and wood-paneled glory of the '74 AMC Matador wagon that is the Gudmobile.

My mom had one of these when I was in college. I liked it.

"Well, I know you can see in the dark, but I can't." Cat purring on my shoulder sounds smugly self-satisfied.

"Oh, don't even tell me it's not dark. I know dark. Ow." I bark my shin on ... something hard. "Dammit. This is dark."

Oh, good, dark. I pull the purple (well, it was before the lights went out) velvet comforter over my head, push the cat off the pillow, and go to sleep. Let ita cope. She always does.

I'm walking down the street, and it's really not that dark out. The fog's finally gone, and soon the moon will rise, and since it's just a bit past full, there'll be plenty of moonlight. There are other folk walking about, some carrying lanterns or flashlights, and there's less a sense of foreboding than there is one of "Hey, you can really see the stars tonight".

You won't be able to see the stars if you get eaten by a grue.

I mean, that's just what I'm thinking. Meanwhile, still seems dark.

It's dark inside my new apartment. But after a few reminders of how solid my furniture is, I make my way to the my bag sitting by the front door and fumble around until I find the storage box. Unlocking it is a trick in the dark, but with a little more help from a shapeshift my eyes see much better in the dark, and finally I can reach in and pull out my newest toy.

Portable Sun [tm] Flashlight. Still in its box. I rip off the cardboard and screw in a few triple-x batteries (manufactured locally with The Power of Porn, garunteed to run for several years at least), then flick the on switch.

Ow. My eyes hurt. I point it *away* from my face. And, on second thought, shift into a form with slightly less sensitive eyes.

I was THIS close to finally getting my hands on Clippy's stainless steel neck and -- POOF! He's gone. And the whole city is dark.

Powers based on the manipulation of computer programs do not work when the power goes out. Damn, it's dark out here. Pretty stars. And I think I hear something moving in that alley. Time to make my way carefully back to the Folly.

There's a noise. My alarm clock seems to be going off.

That's weird. I don't have an alarm clock.

I grope for the chain on the bedside lamp. It does nothing.

I grope for the noise. I grab on to a lumpy cold thing. It's vibrating and making a Godawful racket. It feels like -- no, it can't be -- an old-fashioned windup alarm clock. I run my fingers over the case. ACME ALARM CLOCKS. Dear God, has the mad scientist set off the Merrie Melodizer again? Taking no chances, I stumble out of bed, step on the cat, who screams and runs away, and throw the damned clock out the window.

There is a faint "Meep meep!" below, followed by a sound that I immediately identify as that of a coyote being hit on the head by an alarm clock.

I crawl back to bed, pull up the comforter, and drag three pillows over my head. Morning cannot come fast enough.

I don't think I see a grue. But if I could see, which I can't, because it's dark, I think I would be seeing a dancing stand-up bass. And also a singing banjo. But it's dark, so probably, I'm just seeing the blood vessels in my closed eyelids. I hope.