Saturday, July 07, 2012

Chapters twelve and thirteen

Chapter Twelve
A Trip To The Grocery Store

“Well, that’s enough diplomacy,” said the Scorekeeper when finally he settled his laughter. He turned to his octet. “Bag them.”

His accompanying footmen then poured into the dining room with their staves held forth and with them shot streams of energy at the Earthlings and the Dwingeloopian. Each of the targets immediately then found themselves in very awkward positions; each cradled tightly into some kind of individual energy sack. They then found themselves floating through the air in this highly uncomfortable manner, seemingly directed by the staves of the Scorekeeper’s soldiers. In this manner they were delivered down the curiously quiet and empty street to a Piggly Wiggly grocery store which appeared to be most normal and open for business, though with no staff or customers present, according to the view through the great front windows.

But once inside they found the landscape not remotely in line. The environments within were dark with walls and floors all bearing a rubbery look and with colour patterns, if one examined closely enough, resembling the rainbow effects in the surface of an oil and water mix. No ceilings came into view, but only a yawning darkness above.

They saw dark rooms and dark halls; gates and grates and sturdy vault doors, and everywhere these unicorn people in military style uniforms.

Still they floated seemingly at the direction of the soldiers and now they entered an enormous chamber where they drifted toward a great pedestal surrounded by a circular channel offering no view of a bottom. The six captives passed over this pit with varying degrees of terror and alarm and once above the pedestal, were unceremoniously dumped onto its surface. Bill Blake Senior, by design or otherwise, landed squarely on the very pliant belly of Admiral Bleeekxpritzle and was thus spared any breakage of old bones.

The six found themselves sitting up and observing their surroundings. Beyond the moat-of-sorts several single-horned blue-haired Tweeporans sat at workstations or some things of that ilk, some singularly; some in pairs.

The teenager in Pamela name tag and golf shirt, now hatless, looked around, giggling in a soft way. She then lay down on her side, closed her eyes and went to sleep. Somehow her chewing gum had migrated to her shoulder.

“Is she okay?” said Bleeekxpritzle.

“I gave her Valium,” said Bunny.

“Is everyone else okay?”

The others looked wearily at the Admiral.

“Well I for one,” said Mickey, “Couldn’t be better. I am having the adventure of a lifetime. I am so delighted that Green Goblin here has dragged us into this monumental shit storm of fucked-uppedness, well, I could just shit golden butterflies! All of the thank-you cards in the world can not express how ecstatically grateful I am. Thanks Shrek. Thanks so much. And if there’s anything I can do for you in return - hey - don’t hesitate. You know what I mean, pal?” He glared at the Admiral, his ear-do so canted it looked like it was about to fall off his little mouse head.

The Admiral stared back at him calmly. “You seem so much more sincere on TV,” he said finally.

“Blow me,” said Mickey.

The Admiral pursed his great wide lips and blew.

“Whooah!” cried Mickey as the gust pushed him, flailing and hollering, almost to the edge of the pedestal.

* * *

Chapter Thirteen
Bathroom Hog

Bruce Willis (of no relation to the Hollywood film star) sat on the bathroom floor, his cheek firmly against the door. When all had been silent a short time, he untied his dress shoes, removed them, and his socks, and then quietly slipped out the door to find the ruined dining room empty of life. Through the wide window openings he spied a strange entourage of fifteen individuals moving down the street; six of them curled like macaroni noodles and floating through the air; the others horned, with staves and long flowing hair. He watched them proceed to the grocery store and enter. He nodded thoughtfully.

He turned and began searching what was left of the ice-creamery. The glass doors had been shot out of the wide upright freezer but the multitude of ice cream cakes within appeared relatively intact. He nodded at this. He found Pamela’s visor on the floor behind the counter and he put in on his head, ditching the chauffer cap. He tried the door to the back area and was appropriately surprised to discover the gaping black void instead. Another door, however, revealed a large closet interior which was still intact. A great slop sink was there and a cleaner’s cart and mop bucket. He nodded again.

He pulled the car keys from the pocket of his dress pants and proceeded carefully; alertly out to the remnants of the limousine. The trunk had thoughtfully been blown open for him so he put the keys away. The large box within had been badly charred by laser fire but he ripped it open and discovered that very thankfully, the gift he’d procured for his ten-year-old son was perfectly intact. Bruce surrendered a half grin as he peered inside the box.

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