(From out of nothing comes the sound of feet tramping in unison to martial music. In the distance, something appears to be approaching. From no particular direction comes a commanding voice.)

VOICE: Now hear this, souls of Spartans! It's time for Uncle Mort's Resting Place, with the Dead Spartan Marching Band!

(The Spartan band has now marched clearly into view. Some play instruments while others begin to sing. All continue to march, performing various close order drill maneuvers flawlessly.)

SPARTANS: Spartans, we're the Spartans.
We're mean; we're tough; we're bold.
We spill blood by the cartons.
We're a wonder to behold.

We're always in a hurry
To march into the fray.
Our clothes are soft and furry
'Cause we like them that way.

We've a duty. We won't chuck it.
To our destiny we'll go.
But now we've kicked the bucket,
So let's watch Uncle Mort's show.

(The Spartans have divided into two columns. They face center and present arms as Uncle Mort marches forward, double time, between the columns. The music ends, and Uncle Mort salutes.)

MORT: At ease, everyone. Welcome to Uncle Mort's Resting Place. I'm really proud to be among a group of souls who are so gung ho about everything, even being dead. I think we have a few things on the agenda that you'll agree are good morale boosters. But first, let's show some appreciation for the Dead Spartan Marching Band.

(Uncle Mort gives them a salute and applause. The band marches off. Uncle Mort walks over to his desk.)

AN INTERVIEW: MEET YOUR MAKER

MORT: Now it's time for something really Priority One. It's a little operational exercise that I like to call "Meet Your Maker". And here comes our VVVIP guest now!

(There is the sound and fury of every battle ever fought. In a manner defying all description or explanation, Fury, the Primal Being of War, has joined Uncle Mort. Lord Fury sits in a comfy chair, automatically turning it into The Comfy Chair of War.)

MORT: Welcome to "Meet Your Maker", Fury, Primal Being of War. It's an honor to have you here, and I know all the souls of dead Spartans are really excited to experience the glory of your divine presence.

FURY: Thank you Uncle Mort, it really great to be here. I feel honored and blessed that you have choosen to do this interview with me. And I must say, that the bits and pieces of your show that I've managed to catch have been wonderful. One of my favorites.

MORT: Well, gosh! Such praise from a transcendentally powerful being is more than a mere celestical spirit such as I could ever hope to hear. But enough about me. All the Spartan souls are at full attention to hear about you, my lord. So, things sure got a bit testy arount the time of the Creation of the World! Do you suppose that being a Primal Being makes it hard for ordinary gods to relate to you?

FURY: Oh definitely. I'm sure being a Primal Being makes many of the other Gods afraid. I think it creates a sense of alienation and separates us into almost another level of beings. Sadly I have no other Primal Being's to relate to and so find myself alone in this position. I think the other Gods misinterpret my aims and goals as a Primal Being. My concern is War, and ensuring that *all* the races, all the beings, this includes the Gods, are fit for the upcoming Armageddon. If they aren't ready for the battle that is sure to ensue we are all doomed. Me and my dear Spartans simply don't have the power necessary to protect all the Gods. And sadly, I must say, that after the incidents surrounding the creation of the world, we are doomed. I will be doing my best to try and make sure all of the Gods and their patron races survive the onslaught that is sure to come ... but alas, without some cooperation my efforts will prove to be futile. It is a shame.

MORT: How true, how true. But if ever there was a race up for tackling an impossible task, the Spartans certainly are. How exactly did the idea of creating Spartans come to you and Gale?

FURY: I had been speaking with Gale about the onslaught that was on its way and he agreed with me that without true bred fighters all of our great work was sure to fall to the destruction. So we agreed to enter into a pact and create our Spartans. We know that the Spartans alone won't be enough to protect all the Gods but we hope, that if only a handful of the Spartans and their patron Gods survive, we might be able to start anew. And perhaps, to all those other Gods who are listening out there, they might realize the great benifit it would surve their races to invite War into their pantheon for protection. It is amazing what a small percentage of preparation can do.

MORT: Does it bother you when the priests who record the myths spell your name "Furry"? It seems to me it's the Spartans themselves who are furry.

FURY: (A soft laugh) No, it doesn't bother me at all. It has sort of become a term of endearment between me and my people. Indeed the Spartans are furry and the term has come to signify the fact that they were created from my hand and from my blood and that I am one of them and they part of me.

MORT: What a lovely story. I think I see some moist Spartan eyes out there, which is certainly a rare event. Are there any special projects you're working on that you'd like to tell us about? We'd love to hear about any plans for revenge against those nasty demons, but those guys might be listening anywhere, so I guess you better not reveal any secrets.

FURY: Yes, the demons are always listening. No, I can't really reveal any secrets at this time. Just know, that I have reason to believe that the Greater Gods have a demon or demon sympathizer masquerading amongst them. I'm currently undergoing an investigation into this matter and hope it to be resolved in the next couple of hundred years.

(Uncle Mort shivers at the mention of a demon among the Gods.)

MORT: I hope so, too! Finally, is there anything in particular you'd like to say to our dead friends? Any special things you'd like them to do as denizens of the afterlife?

FURY: I would just like to congratulate my dear dead children on the many battles that they fought oh so bravely. I would like to tell my dear dead Spartans that when the Armageddon does come, I will free their brave souls from the Underworld and call upon them to fight again for the glory of War .. but most importantly to prevent the desturction of the world as we know. The power is yours my dead childeren, yours should you choose to train hard, yours should you choose to take. Be wise in all your actions.

MORT: Thank you, War, whose name is Fury. It's been fascinating talking with you. I know all the dead Spartans will be much more at ease with their existence in the Afterlife, based on what you've told us. So long, and good luck with that whole Sword of Obliteration thing.

FURY: Thank you Mort. It was a pleasure.

(There is an overwhelming sensation that while every battle comes to an end, War itself goes on without cease. Fury is gone, leaving Uncle Mort alone and the comfy chair again simply an ordinary comfy chair.)

A COMEDY: MY FAVORITE SPARTAN

MORT: Now let's relax with an episode of "My Favorite Spartan".

(Uncle Mort and his set vanish and are replaced with a view of the interior of a home in the style of one of the soft, civilized races. MARIAN enters. She looks like a Bibliotheque or perhaps one of the offshoot races, appears to be in her mid-20's, and has absolutely perfect clothes, hair, and make-up, as if just a few seconds ago she was groomed by a large professional staff.)

MARIAN: Hello! Mr. Soldier, sir! Are you there? We need to talk.

(This speech is greeted with laughter, as in fact is every utterance or action in this segment. Almost immediately, the SPARTAN enters, to cheering and applause. He's in his soldier's armor, but with a Bibliotheque robe draped over it in a manner that could only fool an idiot.)

SPARTAN: What is it, Marian?

MARIAN: My boss will be over any minute now, and I just have to make a good impression. What are we having for dinner?

SPARTAN: The best food there is... camp rations!

MARIAN: Oh, golly! (She rolls her eyes. The doorbell sounds.) There he is now.

(Marian answers the door and lets in MR. CARNEGIE, pompous and middle-aged.)

CARNEGIE: Why, Marian, who is this?

MARIAN: Oh, this is a Spart - I mean, this is my Uncle Sparky. Uncle, this is my boss, Mr. Carnegie.

(The Spartan begins to salute, checks himself, then extends his hand.)

CARNEGIE: A pleasure, sir.

(Carnegie and the Spartan tickle each other's palms, in the fashion of the effete peoples.)

MARIAN: Uncle Sparky, um, made dinner tonight, sir. I would have done it myself, but you know I spend so much time at work, I just can't bear to tear myself away, I love working...

CARNEGIE: (Interrupting) Well, uh, Marian, that's why I wanted to talk to you at home, in a more comfortable surrounding. It seems that our budget isn't quite what it used to be, and we have to let someone go. Now we're really pleased with your work, Marian, but you're the most junior. You have until the end of the week.

MARIAN: But I really need that job! (Sobbing) What am I going to do?

SPARTAN: No problem.

(He grabs Carnegie and twists his head. Carnegie drops lifeless to the ground.)

SPARTAN: I was kind of hungry for a double ration tonight anyway!

MARIAN: Oh thank you, Mr. Spartan! What can I ever do to repay you?

(The Spartan gives her a knowing look, which she returns. After a pause, he draws his sword and tosses it to her. She begins thrusting at him, which he dodges expertly. They both are clearly enjoying themselves.)

MARIAN: You really are my favorite Spartan!

(The scene dissolves and we're back with Uncle Mort.)

MORT: Ha, ha! Amusing, but quite unrealistic, of course. What Spartan soldier would ever take double rations?

PARTING WORDS

MORT: I'm reminded of that old Spartan saying, "the soldier who keeps a spoon in his kit bag won't feel lost is the Land of Broth." And doesn't that apply even now? Instead of the Land of Broth, we're in the Land of Death. And instead of keeping a spoon in your kit bag, all you need is to keep you Spartan spirit in your souls. So, until that day when Lord Fury summons you to the Final Battle, this is Uncle Mort saying Dis...MISSED!

(Uncle Mort salutes again. The martial music returns and we find ourselves marching along with the Dead Spartan Marching Band until we awaken.)