Dr. Keith Kuntz

(This is part 3 of a 3 part installment. If you haven't read Part 1 and Part 2 please do so, as otherwise none of the following will make sense!)

None of these facts explained why the three were deep in conversation and frankly, Clutchworthy didn't really care. It was a sad statement of his tired mental state that his mind was now pondering the significance of trivial matters. He made a solid effort to channel his thoughts into some mind control exercises instead, but realised after a few minutes that this was futile. Finally, he was forced to restrict his activities to some toe tapping and lustful admiration of Twila Lane's buttocks.

(This is part 2 of a 3 part installment. If you haven't read Part 1 please do so, as otherwise none of the following will make sense!)

One of the women was stuffing chips from a soggy bag into her mouth and trying to talk (futile over the music) at the same time, while the other was clutching the arm of someone who looked remarkably like Angus Blackhurst. Hedwig immediately headed for the bar in a hurried fashion, trailing chips, whilst Helga sashayed her way through the audience towards the stage, bashing into people, stepping on toes and losing Angus Blackhurst on the way. Parting the crowd with her arms, she began to sway as though listening to a Val Doonican ballad, despite the fact the band had moved onto a fast paced funk metal number called This Gun is Your Gun.

As usual, Nofaith was jumping on a Friday night and it was a chore to navigate through the mass of teenagers and other riff-raff, as Dr Keith Kuntz made his way along the tunnel passage. He hated crowds almost as much as he hated the Labour Party and he found that the tedious process of navigation was making him sweat. Still, he persevered until at last he stood in front of the entrance to The Other Forum, where throngs of people were piling in the doors, anxious to numb their paltry brains with drugs and loud music. Scowling, Kuntz scanned the area for maximum pamphleteering position and quickly moved to place himself in between the two entrances. As he was nearly there, he felt a tap on his shoulder.

Doctor Keith Kuntz threw down his printout of The Subterranean, knocked back his last few drops of coffee and rose from the chair. He walked to the window of his Mount Pleasant office and stared across the road at The Opera House, thinking that he could barely make out the figure of Professor Niels Rauch moving about in his lab. Doctor Kuntz felt a great deal of animosity, and yes, even hatred towards Rauch, who somehow seemed to get all the breaks in life.