The Return of Captain Conquer. Mel Gilden
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first one way and then the other.
Mr. Congruent put down the screwdriver, then spun a lazy Susan that stood on one corner of the bench. A television set swung into view. Watson switched it on, and adjusted the sound on the Corny Cobs commercial that was on the screen, then sat in a big raggedy overstuffed chair next to the one in which his father was already sitting.
As the jaunty march music that was the theme of The Adventures of Captain Conquer began, and clips of Captain Conquer taking off in the Great Auk, thwarting bad guys and shaking hands with Chuckles, his assistant, rolled across the screen, Mr. Congruent leaned forward expectantly in his chair. When the words “The Attack of the Proto-Penguins” flashed on the screen, he said, “Oh, I remember this. This is a good one.”
Watson was not surprised at his father’s words. Mr. Congruent rarely said anything else when he saw the title of each day’s episode.
Mr. Congruent studied his fingers and picked at his thumb while the first Chocolatron commercial was on. He said, “I wish they were still giving premiums. I’ll bet a lot of people would want an authentic metal-tone styrene plastic Captain Conquer Signet Ring. Or a model of the Great Auk, or a Chuckles activity book. After all, when you’re a Captain Conquer fan, you’re a member of a big happy family. Don’t you agree, Watson?”
“It’s nice to think so,” Watson said. His family had consisted of just his father and himself for so long that the possibility of being a member of a big happy family made Watson feel warm and wistful.
“Yes,” said Mr. Congruent, “I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again: ‘Fandom is a way of life’.”
Soon “The Attack of the Proto-Penguins” began. Mr. Congruent instantly stopped playing with his fingers, leaned forward and followed with interest the story of android penguins from the ice floes of Venus. When Captain Conquer spoke, Mr. Congruent paid attention as if the Captain were speaking directly to him.
He nodded when Captain Conquer wisely did not use weapons until the true nature of the penguins and their mission was discovered. As it turned out, the penguins were programmed by the evil Destructowitz to explode if attacked. If the Captain had fired at them, as so many of his advisers wanted him to, the laboratory and half the mountain it sat on would have been blown to smithereens.
Mr. Congruent laughed at the antics of Chuckles as he tried to free himself from the evil Destructowitz’s quicksand field. He shook his head and groaned when Captain Conquer was captured by the evil Destructowitz.
During the next Chocolatron commercial, Watson handed the mail to his father. One of the letters was from the Charlieville Planning Commission.
“At last,” Mr. Congruent said as he tore open the envelope and started to read the thin sheet of paper inside. He stopped smiling as he continued.
“What is it?” Watson said.
“The Planning Commission has denied our request to build a Captain Conquer Museum next door.”
“Can they do that?” Watson said hotly. “They don’t own the land. We do.” Watson’s sense of honor was often offended by the Charlieville Planning Commission.
“It says here that building on that land would violate certain city zoning ordinances and planning policies.” Mr. Congruent angrily balled up the paper and threw it to Watson, who smoothed out the paper on his knee and read the legal language with disbelief. Yes, it did seem to say what his father claimed, though only a lawyer could be sure.
“I wish they would write these things in English, don’t you?” Watson said. Mr. Congruent did not answer, for suddenly, there on the television, Captain Conquer was once again in the clutches of the evil Destructowitz and Mr. Congruent once more became engrossed in the story. He seemed to have entirely forgotten how angry he was at the Planning Commission.
Watson knew it was impossible to distract his father while The Adventures of Captain Conquer was on. He folded the letter from the Planning Commission and stuffed it back into its envelope.
Things got worse for Captain Conquer. Ravenous proto-penguins attacked seafood restaurants all over the Earth, ate out their freezers, put everyone of them out of business. People who frequented sushi bars could not get enough raw fish, and were rioting in the streets.
Just before the proto-penguins were about to dive into the ocean to eat everything that swam or crawled, Captain Conquer wriggled out of the ropes holding him and got to the Great Auk. He flew over the crowd of proto-penguins and dropped a powder that reduced them to their component organic molecules. The evil Destructowitz escaped back to Venus, vowing revenge. As he flew into the sunset, Captain Conquer spoke the famous line he said to Chuckles at the end of every show: “So much for that mess!”
Mr. Congruent shook his head in wonderment. “Wasn’t that swell?” he said.
“Swell. Yeah,” said Watson with all the enthusiasm he could muster.
The same Corny Cobs commercial they had seen at the beginning of the show was running again.
“Well,” said Mr. Congruent as he hit his knees with the palms of his hands and stood up, “I think it’s time for a little celebration.”
“What sort of celebration?” Watson asked innocently.
Mr. Congruent opened a cupboard above his workbench and took a cake from it and displayed it before Watson. “It’s your birthday!” he said. The cake was really a package of Twinkies. Thirteen candles, each in a pink plastic candleholder, had been punched through the cellophane and into the yellow cakes.
“Gee,” Watson said happily.
Mr. Congruent lit the candles, and with one huge breath, Watson blew them out. They removed the candles and opened the package of Twinkies. Mr. Congruent said, “Let’s get outside that cake!” Mr. Congruent never “ate” anything. He always “got outside” it. He and Watson each had a Twinkie with vanilla ice cream on a little paper plate. They had big glasses of cold milk and Chocolatron to wash it down.
As they got outside their cake, ice cream, and Chocolatron, Watson and his father joked and laughed. Mr. Congruent mentioned how proud his wife would have been of a fine young man such as Watson.
When they were done eating, Mr. Congruent threw away the paper plates and plastic forks. Watson said, “Thanks for the birthday party, Dad. I enjoyed it a lot.” He stood up. “Well, I guess we’d better get back to work.”
“The store will wait, Watson. We’ll hear the bell over the door tinkle if someone comes in. I have a little something for you on your birthday.” From a pocket, he pulled a small white box.
“Jewelry?” Watson said. He and Mr. Congruent laughed and Mr. Congruent handed him the box. “I suppose it is jewelry of a sort. You’re old enough to use it properly now.”
Trying to make the surprise last longer, Watson slowly pulled off the top of the box. Inside was a mound of cotton. Beneath the cotton was a bulbous hunk of plastic about the size of a walnut. It was connected to a plastic ring. On the surface of the hunk of plastic, Watson could see a tiny compass and a chip of mirror. The thing that Watson held in his hand was not something that he had expected. He didn’t know whether to laugh or cry.
“It’s a Captain Conquer Signet Ring,” Watson said evenly.
“Yes, indeed,” Mr. Congruent said proudly. “And it is not one of those replicas. It is a genuine metal-tone styrene plastic Captain Conquer Signet Ring that I got for five inner seals from Chocolatron when I was about your age. Do you like it?”
“It’s a real surprise,” Watson said.
“Well, I figure that I won’t be around forever, and you’ll need something like that in case you ever get into some really big trouble. The ring has many secret features that might come in handy.” Mr. Congruent spent the next half hour explaining all the features of the ring. Watson smiled and nodded, though he’d been familiar with Captain Conquer rings