Outer Frontier: Two Stories

By Sean Munger

The line between fantasy and reality gets a work-over with a metaphysical eraser in this duo of stories about the existential and philosophical dimensions of entertainment and pop culture. In “The Collection of X,oraan,” a nerdy teenager’s innocent purchase of a mysterious plastic monster figure in a comic book shop ignites a 30-year obsession with a collection of toys that only one other person in the world seems to have heard of...and which may not be as benign and playful as they seem. Meanwhile, “Outer Frontier” asks you to imagine yourself in distress: laid up in your apartment with a broken leg during a ferocious heat wave, your supply of painkillers dwindling, what price are you willing to pay for a momentary escape? Binge-watching a cheesy 1960s science fiction TV series may seem a harmless enough diversion, but be warned...the series finale involves you losing your mind!

• Language: English
• Publisher: Lulu.com
• Release date: Jul 9, 2017
• ISBN: 9781387103676

Book preview

Outer Frontier: Two Stories

Outer Frontier: Two Stories

By Sean Munger

All text copyright © 2017 by Sean Munger and/or Buffalo Fetus Productions, all rights reserved.

Cover design and text copyright © 2017 by Sean Munger and/or Buffalo Fetus Productions, all rights reserved.

www.seanmunger.com

First Edition: Lulu, Published July 2017

Table of Contents

The Collection of X,oraan

Outer Frontier

About the Author

The Collection of X,oraan

The plastic creature, ten inches tall, was one of the strangest figures David had ever seen. It looked like a sort of spiny dragon with feathers, mostly gray, but its folded wings were pink. In one claw the figure carried a sword, in the other a knobby weapon that looked like a grenade launcher. The dragon was apparently female. Its thick thighs were rounded rather than muscular and it had two protrusions on its chest that were obviously supposed to be breasts. Nevertheless the monster’s leering expression was warlike and ferocious.

What is this? David asked the shop clerk, picking up the creature to examine it more closely. He tweaked one of the arms which was articulated. Unlike the other figures on the store shelves there was no price tag attached to it.

Oh, that. The clerk’s tone was unmistakably one of annoyance. The She-Dragon. Some guy sold it to us a couple of days ago.

What’s it from? I mean, a comic book, a movie?

I don’t know. Nobody here recognizes it. My guess is it’s Japanese. The guy who sold it to us was a foreigner.

The little shop was called Spaced Out, an explosively garish continuum of comic books, toys and science fiction bric-a-brac nestled in an otherwise nondescript strip mall in suburban Richmond. David was fifteen, a bony raw-featured lad with shaggy hair, acid-washed jeans and a Millennium Falcon T-shirt, and the Saturday afternoon when he and his mother entered the store happened to fall at the very end of the fleeting window of time when plastic action figures interested him. The She-Dragon had drawn his attention instantly. It stood upright on a shelf surrounded by mute plastic Batmen, Supermen and Wonder Women, but despite David’s familiarity with nearly every comic book, cartoon franchise and science-fiction film of the era the character it depicted was unknown to him.

He put it back on the shelf. He was there ostensibly to pick up the last few X-Men comics, and his mother, who didn’t understand that fantasy stuff, was impatient to leave. After browsing a few more minutes he returned to the She-Dragon. He asked the clerk how much it was.

We hadn’t priced it yet. I can let you have it for twenty.

David’s mother balked at spending twenty dollars for a plastic dragon with breasts but he convinced her by eschewing the X-Men books and promising to weed the garden. He wasn’t even sure why he wanted it except that it was so unique and the mystery of figuring out what obscure franchise it belonged to was appealing. The She-Dragon found a home on the shelf overlooking David’s bed, across from a poster proclaiming I GROK SPOCK against which the warm Virginia sun cast shadows of the X-Wing fighter and starship Enterprise models hanging from the ceiling on gossamer threads of monofilament fishing line.

It was usually quite easy to identify action figures and similar toys. Each one was branded with little raised lettering noting the trademark and copyright notices and the name of the manufacturer. On Star Wars figures the copyright brands were on the back of the character’s left leg; the older Meco dolls had them on the back of the neck. David easily found the registration on the She-Dragon on the underside of the left arm, but he couldn’t read it. The raised symbols were a curious mess of triangles and hash marks, like Arabic mixed with Greek and a little Korean thrown in. Clearly the toy was made in some other country. Beyond this basic fact the She-Dragon’s identity remained unknown, and as David rather liked the mystery he didn’t pursue it. The next year his father, who served in the state legislature, was defeated for re-election and they moved back to Norfolk. At about the same time he became more interested in girls than toys.

* * *

David going off to college was an extinction-level event for his toy collection. He was the youngest of three in the family and there was no one else to pass it to, so the dozens of Star Wars, G.I. Joe, Transformers and M.A.S.K. figures trickled out into the world through garage sales, Goodwill stores and gifts to families with younger children. The She-Dragon was among the hardy survivors that David insisted on hanging onto, shuttered in a box in his parents’ attic, with the somewhat disingenuous suggestion that They might be worth something someday, Mom. In his senior year at UVA when he moved into an off-campus house he shared with three classmates David brought the box of saved toys with him, and the She-Dragon regained her traditional perch over David’s bed. There she was an object of curiosity, fawned over curiously at a dozen parties. When he packed up the dragon at the end of the year he noticed the pink paint on her wings had faded considerably. It was now seven years since he’d bought her.

It wasn’t until graduate school—David pursued a master’s degree in mathematics at Cornell—that his curiosity about the figure was rekindled. David’s friend Rolf happened to be a collector of action figures and comic book/science fiction memorabilia. One evening he spied the She-Dragon on a bookshelf in the living room of David’s apartment. Wow, I’ve never seen one like that. Where’d you get it?

David told the story, and Rolf put down his beer to turn the figure over in his hands. I don’t even know what language that is. Rolf squinted at the raised markings on the left arm. This is obviously really rare. I bet only a few of these were ever made. He offered David a hundred dollars for it.

He was intrigued, but