The Doctor was finishing his patrol around Baffin when he heard the call. He had told Pueblo Bonito's guards to poke him when The Turkey Curse docked the temple.
A'aight maties... thanks for the enlightment... Lets see what Eris has planned for us on this day.
He set his course to the sacred grounds thinking about how good it would be to once again see the Polyfather in person, like the first time, when they met there in Pueblo Bonito and good ole Mal gave him his robes. He was expecting him to remember all that, so as to unveil the evil schemes of Patamunzo...
Some minutes after...
The trap-door of the Kiva slams open as an old man struggles to get into the room. In a funny way and with over-human efforts he manages to climb down the ladder and when he reaches the floor, he straightens his robes and looks at the two men sitting in lotus stance.
All hail Eris!
The two men turn their heads to see who the newcomer is. The first one, Malaclypse, with a smile. The second one, Patamunzo Linganada, so called Dr. Van Mojo, with the most serious of glances. All hail Discordia! they answer.
And boy oh boy, should we all salute Godess on this eristic time! Patamunzo Linganada, we finally meet! Malaclypse! It saddens me to have our reunion after so much time in this circumstances...
Holy Mother of Chaos! thought Mal to himself as he observed the entrance of the two "Doctors". Should I offer them beer, Sacrament or a gallon of "Ensure"...?
He could actually hear joints popping as the second "VanMojo" slowly assumed Za-Zen. Time to turn up the heat and loosen these geriatrics up a bit!
"Kallisti, Popes. Relax while the steam does its work, eh?"
He sprinkled a triple dose of Sacrament on the glowing Grandfather, and inhaled deeply. Might as well lighten the atmosphere as well...
"Now, as I understand it, one of you is an imposter. You have both come to me to arbitrate until we can decide in camera which of you is the "real" Dr. Van VanMojo.
"Once this thorny dilemma is resolved, as penance, you will both submit to two weeks at Geode center, for rejuvenation therapy and a healthy dose of 'Scrubby Tag' to tone up those flabby shells. Agreed?"
The two men nodded, reluctantly.
"Very well, then! Now, you will each have 5 minutes to present your case."
He pointed through the thickening steam to the first arrival, who had been referred to by the second arrival as 'Pasta Linguini' or some rubbish.
"Sir, you win the toss. Please tell us your story and defend your right to be the true Doctor VanMojo."
The man gravely looked at the newcomer.
He nodded when VanMojo replied to his look and a kindly smile appeared on his face.
"Ah. There you are my dear friend. We will be able to start." He said warmly.
He then gathered his thoughts while Mal-3 was explaining the modalities of the encounter.
It seems he was chosen to start.
The man almost smirked.
He was tempted during a moment to get on his feet and start theatrically a fine line filled with wild locutions.
However, the fine man decided instead to use the 'direct approach'.
He smirked once again. "E-Prime.... Sir...." The man nodded at Van Mojo. "I will be brief."
"First, gentleman, i must say my eyebrows raised in perplexity when you first called me.. Hmm... Patamunzo Linganada, is it?" He filled his pipe and took a puff.
"The name was somehow familiar and i must confess i had to search a bit to see. Interesting, is it?"
The man nodded and took another puff.
"So if you may allow, i will try to sum up the problem."
He tilted his head to one side, thinking for a while. "There is five alternatives, my friends. And i believe some may not be exclusive."
He counted on his fingers....
- There is only one apostle.
"And i believe it's typically what my friend over here has in mind. But how can we solve this assertion.
According to T.L.C.S, The fine Doctor is an imposter.
According to P.O.E.E, Our Mojo friend is the real second apostle of Eris."
He took a pause. "I'm afraid if we decide to believe in that alternative, we will soon run into those funny theorems of our fine friend Gödel, don't you think?" "And if the answer is in each Pope pineal gland. Are we to organize a fame contest?"
The man's eyes sprinkled with amusement.
He wasn't done. "Let's see the others alternatives then."
- There is no true apostle.
"Which may seem paradoxical, is it?"
He smirked. "But it may make sense. Let's see."
"If my find friend here is referring to me as 'Patamunzo Linganada', that certainly means he considers himself as the patron of The Season of Discord. Which sounds quite unrealistic, don't you think? Hoodoo is a dead 'science', as far as i know."
The man concluded, nodding. "If he isn't Van Mojo, How could i be Patamunzo Linganada'?
And you may notice my friend this reasoning can go both ways."
- There is two apostles.
"We have here two Popes. With certainly two divergent ways to interpret Eris's whispers."
He allowed himself to shrug softly. "Which vision of Eris is legit? Who is to be trusted and who is to be excommunicated?"
"Let's have a look at the sacred Chao... Can the Podge exist without the Hodge?"
He chuckled. "There is two more alternatives... But i believe the time i had to speak is up..."
The man took a puff and let Mal-3 speak to tell to the other man it may be his turn to talk.
As the other Mojo explained his arguments, this Mojo was taking out from his bag what it seemed to be a fusion between a bongpipe, an artificial lung, and a freezer (cold white fumes came out of it).
When the other Mojo finished, this one nodded smiling, and stretching his hand to reach the joint of Kallisti Gold his antagonist was passing, he said:
Excuse me gentlemen, but Puffing the Magic Dragon hasn´t been too easy for a decade already. This old body is not what it used to be.
He then looked at Malaclypse with a gesture that said proceed with the protocol my friend, and inserted the greenie in one of the free tips of his smoking machine.
Well, "Contestant Aleph" has certainly been doing his homework, thought Mal, as the sweet moist aroma in the Kiva became even "headier". But, "Contestant Beth" sure knows his herb... Hmm..
"Very well, 'Patamunzo', or 'Van', or 'Imposter A', your convoluted logic definitely smacks of Discordian Catma, sir. You even have me boggled a bit there! Kudos!"
He then nodded to the second Pope, who, due to the appliance attached to the hookah, was looking alternately like a sunken-cheeked cadaver, and a squirrel with an entire winter supply of nuts in his mouth.
"your turn, 'Doctor Dos', if you can turn off that ventilator for a few minutes. Begin, sir."
Dr. Van Van Mojo puffed again, then exhaled slowly and as he did, the other two gentlemen shivered for just an instant when the smoke that came out of his mouth danced forming with its flow a shape that vaguely resembled an apple.
He then paused staring at nothing for a moment, just meditating.
Well dear pope, the fact is that... I am the patron of The Season of Discord, hence my chariot is named Fifth of Discord... And I am the real second apostle of Eris. I have also lived for more than 230 years and have been to Sol, I have licked Goddess' cheek and it tasted funny... and a lot of other incredible things, yet I come back home, and simple discord as the one you can handle seems enough to make my day sour just before Verwirrung's Eve.
He stands then, and with an inviting hand gesture, continues.
As odd as it may seem, every one of us, thus not being the real deal, are investing a role wich is eternal. And there dwells Goddess. But as I said, it's Verwirrung's Eve! So lets put all this aside for a moment and focus our pineal on our Mother's breast!
Gentlemen, I invite you to join the preliminar festivities on board of my Corvo cruiser, The Fifh.of.Discord! He then lowers his voice. No matter what comes out from all this, I will let you keep the Turkey my 'Pat'.
Gad!! Door number 2 is 233 years old, and he's huffin' me under the table here!
Mal's last two focused brain cells decided to call an adjournment. He had to let those little THC molecules fizz for awhile. He still had Festival work to do!
"Well, Van and Van", he said as he swayed to a tentative vertical position, "I have recorded your "first round" of evidence and Pineal Posers, and I shall meditate thereon. Meanwhile, I believe we all have a Festival to prepare for. I suggest we postpone further discussion on the matter until after the weekend.
"Would one or both of you fine fellows give me a boost up the ladder? I seem to be giddier than Hassan I Sabbah himself!"
Two days at his private retreat in the Geode has rejuvenated Mal somewhat from the hectic "Werwirrung's Eve" Festival. He was still a bit tired, but had not forgotten his commitment to "arbitrate" the unusual debate between two Popes claiming to be the same person.. He spoke into the air...
"Activate Comms. Target(s): Turkey.Curse, Fifth.of.Discord. Message begins. Gentlemen. I will arrive at the Kiva in two hour's time. Let us resume. End message."
Time to put on some clothes again. Let's see.. blue with dolpins, I think. shorts, Huarache's. He whistled.
A school of Scrubbies appeared almost instantly, latching on to him with their small but strong mouth tentacles, and they began the journey "upwards" towards the Observation Platform, back to gravity, and thence to the Skyhook cars and a waiting shuttle at Shasta.
The Doctor had been meditating on board his ship in orbit of Planet Hodge since the Festival had finished. As soon as the E Prime's message was recieved, he set course to the Holy Penta Crown.
Like the old ladies say in Crete, "al que madruga, dios lo ayuda"
Before even noticing, he was docking at the Sacred Temple and searching for the ladder to the Kiva.
The fine Doctor Van Mojo had to admit that was not the best morning he experienced so far.
He spent quite some time celebrating during that festival thing... And when he woke up today, he had a terrible and ignominious headache.
The brave man considered his options.
Yes...
Better stay in bed for this morning and try to dream a bit. Dreaming was always good.
Also it was quite cold in his cabin, for some reason.
Leaving his bed given those parameters could be considered as incredibly heretical.
Since he amended himself with those wise thoughts, our great Doctor turned to find a more comfortable position.
He was about to fall into Morphe's arms when the comms insistently rang.
"Whoever you are i'm not there" he grunted imperceptibly.
Sadly, it seems the ringing wouldn't stop, and our hero had to wake up, cursing.
After listening while yawning to the call, he moaned and headed uncertainly towards the bathroom to grab some painkillers...
+++++
The Doc Van Mojo took the ladder with difficulty, almost succeeding to fall to the pit and land on his bottom.
He dusted off his coat and passed his hand on his forehead once he succeeded.
"Kallisti! So... Where were we? I lost a bit the track, my friend." He said while assuming uneasily zazen.