Eta no longer had a sense of smell, the curse of aging. Other than touch and hearing, seemed like her senses were either really ambitious or downright apathetic, having not simply stopped at ‘dull’ and powered straight through to quitting altogether. Getting old wasn’t something to look forward to. Typically, this didn’t bother her, but, today with Scrub-bucket sitting so close to her bed, she downright loathed her uselessness.

Imagination was a powerful tool, and she’d learned to harness it to the fullest. His form fitting Spandex suit must get hot, what with how he was usually bouncing off the town walls with energy, added to the fact that he didn’t seem like the type to care about hygiene.

Mmm.

A deep breath and she pretended to soak in what she could only assume was a manly musk. The kind that would burn her nose with day old armpit sweat as she struggled beneath his thrusts as she bounced deep into the mattress. Yes, that would be how it happened…someday hopefully. She’d struggle beneath him, revolted by the musky stench, her legs jolting with stung pleasure. Next, he’d curl in his thumb and his fist would—

“How bout this one?” Scrub-bucket asked, snapping Eta from her delusion.

His innocent face racked her with guilt. She shouldn’t objectify such a well-meaning, if a bit quirky, man. Granted he probably didn’t have many friends, but it warmed her to think how much effort he put into keeping her company.

Today, he was reading her stories from his book and asking advice, though he probably didn’t need her opinions. He had a real gift for bringing those inventions to life, something she couldn’t match.

She bit her lip absentmindedly then cursed herself for the shamelessness of that action. Everything about her was whithered and tired, and a mercy fuck would ruin any companionship they shared. A companionship that meant the world to her. She had so few visitors these days.

Yes, she was determined to be useful in the limited capacities she was able to, at least after she remembered what he was saying.

“I—I apologize, really,” she said. “Seems I dozed off a minute.”

With a hollow laugh, she added a line attributing her inattention to age. Surely he couldn’t fault her then, not that his heart even held the capacity for anger. Truly, he was a gentle soul.

Shockingly, right after she claimed to have dozed off, he leapt to his feet, mouth frozen in an ear to ear grin and his arms wrapped tight around her.

“Someday I’ll be able to afford real sleep,” he said. “Without you, that’d be impossible.”

Perplexed, she patted his back. Her perplexion wasn’t from his bizarre turn of phrase. She was used to that. It was because despite his body pressing against hers, she didn’t have a single sexual thought. Considering this even after he sat back down, her attention easily turned to the task at hand, freed from lecherous thoughts. He didn’t show up to entertain her. He truly needed her help, today. God, that felt good.

“I remember the part about the weighted wheel,” she said.

He flipped back a few pages in his book and pointed at the picture. “Ooh, that one was good. The slinky beads will keep it spinning forever.”

She had to hand it to the author, he was a wealth of ideas and stories. Despite being pamphlet-thin, the pages never seemed to end, an endless trove of parables and sketched inventions complete with explanatory captions. More than likely, the author just took credit for the book, stealing the ideas inside from a multitude of people. That was how it usually worked.

For the contents of his well-read book, the parables were her favorite, especially the mythos surrounding the goddess Martha Kent. Scrub-bucket was crazy about Superman, but she preferred Mother Martha, a diligent useful woman.

Scrub-bucket claimed it wasn’t his book, that his buddy gave it to him. Somehow, the though of Scrub-bucket having a buddy was more unbelievable than the contents of the book itself. Still, she appreciate the gift nonetheless. It gave Scrub-bucket a real reason to seek her out and for that, “Prometheus’ Jumpstart” was a treasure of the heavens.

Her companion considered the wheel for a bit with a rare expression of resolve. “I really do think it’d run forever, right?”

Sure the weighted beads on the spokes of the wheel were designed to shift from the inside to the outside as the wheel spun, an idea that would work in theory, but that theory fell apart once any strain was put on the contraption. On its own, it could spin forever. As soon as it was used as an engine, the strain would begin to slow the wheel until it stalled completely. It was impossible to build the perfect machine.

However.

“It’s flawed, but we could use it to make a normal wheel better. It wouldn’t slow down as fast and—”

“No! No! No! No!”

Eta lurched. Scrub-bucket had yelled at her. He simply never did that before and that was all there was to it.

Towering above her, his eyes spun in a frenzy of thought. “I could—I could get the dragon to stitch up a wheel person. The beads could be little hands sliding up and down some bone spokes, see? And the circle part could be feet. Hmm. At least thirty feet to go all the way around, maybe thirty two if the feet are really small. It would—it would last forever.”

More disconcerting than his attitude was the thought of a dragon sewing wheel people, or rather, what did any of this have to do with a dragon?

Scrub-bucket knocked his chair across the floor as he bolted to his feet. In a whirl, he picked the banana can off the receiver.

“Wheelmen!” He cried into the mouthpiece. “I said wheelmen. Can you hear me? Pick up. Bwing, bwing, the phone is ringing.”

Eta started to reach out a hand to point out his folly, still startled from his outburst. His behavior was ridiculous and she’d never seen him seriously frantic before. As to why, she had no clue. That being said, regardless of how irrational he was, that fantasy was important to him. If it was important to him, then it was important to her. Mother Martha would never dismiss Superman, and she’d never dismiss Scrub-bucket’s delusions.

She tapped his arm.

His head whipped around to glare at her. “Don’t tell me it won’t work. It’ll work. Stick it to that greedy cunt. I’m all about it.”

Eta shook her head as much as she dared and pointed to the sting hanging slack between the banana can and the receiver.

“Oh.” He said and pulled the slack tight.

He opened his mouth to speak, but before any words came out, he glanced back at Eta. In a flash, he leaned over and gave her a peck on the forehead.

“All in a day’s work,” she said, giddy from his appreciation.

The appreciation of being useful, maybe that truly was her fantasy, even more so than sweaty armpit sex. Or are those actually the same thing? No matter, as long as Scrub-bucket’s happy, I’m happy not to question his delusions too much.

She listened to his inane ramblings all afternoon. None of them made any sense, but at least Scrub-bucket was happy. That was what truly mattered.

**********************************************

After giving his blue-haired muse a well-deserved kiss on the forehead for recognizing his blunder, Oenus called the dragon, giddy about ‘wheelmen’.

Eta thought the idea was flawed, but she didn’t know what Oenus had in mind. She didn’t know what the dragon was capable of.

“Bwing, bwing,” he said into the receiver.

According to Promentheus’s book, this was how a phone was supposed to work. As to why this was custom, Oenus hadn’t a clue. However, Prometheus hadn’t steered him wrong, yet. He would have been clueless about how to develop his world without all Prometheus’s ideas.

“Bwing, bwing,” he said again.

The phone was an expensive investment. It alone cost him two residents. Still, despite them being relatively weak, there was some power in the flesh of his bunsack citizens; all power came from the flesh.

Eta thought the phone was only connected to the DJ booth upstairs. This wasn’t true. Oenus also had a line going out to the starting realm, to the dragon’s territory.

With his unusual gift, Oenus was capable of crossing worlds with the wave of a hand, tearing down the invisible borders that separated them. In the starting realm, territories were basically mini-worlds stacked on top of each other, like the pages of a great book.

If one had enough power, they could rip a page straight out of that great book, and ascend to godhood, now capable of warping reality in that world they’d separated. That was how Oenus did it, and the dragon aspired to do the same thing.

Dragon had a useful gift of his own. He assumed it was his discerning eyes, but Oenus knew Dragon’s true gift was his stitched beasts. Because of that, Oenus opened a portal back into the starting realm with his own gift and sought Dragon’s help. That guy agreed in exchange for the knowledge he’d need to ascend to godhood, knowledge Oenus had.

Currently, he was stitching up a new body for Eta. The blue-haired bunsack body she had now wasn’t suitable for godhood. It was too weak.

When Dragon finished Eta’s new meat suit, Oenus would take her to rejoin the starting realm; to guide her through the game himself. However, he wanted to be sure her body was both strong and ever-lasting. In fact, ever-lasting was even more important than strong; he knew that now.

What good was strength when Mister Jenkens came to collect his dues? The most powerful body in existence couldn’t hold back that cunt. Although, an ever-lasting body, that might just have a chance.

“Bwing, bwing.” Pick up, Dragon! The phone, the phone is ringing.

“Yes, yes,” Dragon’s gravelly, distorted voice came over the line; quickly he corrected his greeting to the proper one Oenus had taught him. “Yellow?”

“Wheelmen!” Oenus cried.

“I’m not familiar with it,” Dragon said. “What is ‘wheelmen’?”

“Okay, get this. You know how a heart pumps delicious blood, right?”

“I am aware.”

“Okay. What if, instead of a heart, it was wheelmen?”

“That is…,” Dragon pondered for a bit. “That is stupid.”

“No, no, no, you don’t get it. I want the heart to be made of wheelmen! It’ll run forever and ever.”

Dragon sighed, why, Oenus didn’t know. It was a good idea. He knew that because Eta recommended it.

“I refuse to waste my time on this,” Dragon said.

“No backtrack! I don’t pay you to backtrack!” Oenus yelled.

“You haven’t paid me.”

“Okay, I won’t future pay you for backtrack that occurs presently.” Oenus knew had Dragon over a bare hole, as the phrase went.

“Fine. Tell me about this ‘wheelmen’.”

And Oenus did. It was always great to have your business partner over a bare hole.