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October 3 - October 19, 2024
“Wow,” Donut said, looking him up and down. “I wouldn’t kick you out of bed for eating crackers.”
Donut sat on my shoulder and Mongo stood on her back, like we were a goddamned vaudeville act.
Now, if you’ve never had a flaming, skull-faced bear on roller skates barreling at you full speed, you don’t know what you’re missing.
That’s right. Let me say that again for the assholes in the back! A. CITY. FUCKING. BOSS. Welp. If you gonna go, you might as well do it with style.
And besides, you know what they say. The show must go on.
“It’s a sign of lazy writing, if you ask me,” he’d said. “It’s like on earth television shows. Every time there’s a cop show, the cop’s marriage always sucks. There’s always a storyline with a serial killer. There’s always that asshole lieutenant.
If they ask, tell them I know what I’m doing. Zev: Do you? Carl: Fuck no. I’m making this shit up as I go along.
It also makes you look all wispy and ethereal and druid-like. A great spell to have if you’re a club kid or trying to bang a vegan.
Mongo soon started to snore. I could feel Donut’s warmth against the back of my neck. She breathed softly, oblivious of all that had occurred tonight. This, I thought, this is my family.
“What kind of nightclub doesn’t let your children in?” Donut grumbled, oblivious to my sudden reverie. “We’ll just see about that.”
New Achievement! Yellow-Bellied Chickenshit! You initiated a boss battle, and it somehow ended with neither of you dead. What a disappointment you are. What a goddamned smear. Reward: Pussies don’t get prizes.
Fun fact. There is not a single dentist from your world left in the dungeon. A few made it to the first floor, but every single one of those fuckers is now tits up. There’re a few hygienists left, but I wouldn’t want to rely on those chuckleheads. What I’m getting at is that you need to install these yourself. Make sure they’re facing the right direction.
“And you thought to greet us with a mountain of rotting prostitutes?” Donut asked. “I’m not sure where you’re from, but the cultured amongst us no longer use corpses as icebreakers. Next time maybe just bring Carl a milkshake. He likes milkshakes.”
“Cats don’t drink cocktails,” I said. “Cats don’t shoot lasers from their eyes, either, but here we are, Carl. Mama needs a night off.”
Donut looked at Quint through half-slitted eyes. “Who are you again? And why are you floating?” She looked at me. “Carl, is that a talking anteater?” Ah shit. “You’ve taken like two licks of that drink, and you’re drunk already?”
“Those dogs sound just awful,” Donut said, her voice slurring. “Bitch-ass rottweilers. Almost as bad as cocker spaniels. Think they’re so smart.”
“Nobody likes your stupid slingshot, Carl,” Donut said.
We were headed into the legislative chamber of this town, and the last thing we needed was the murder chicken to go a’murdering when all we wanted to do was talk.
“Besides,” I added. “What are they gonna do? Throw me in the dungeon?”
You have killed a ranking NPC town official. *Sniff* It seems like just yesterday you were nothing but a scared, level-1 crawler with beautiful feet, pissing yourself as you faced down a rat. Now look at you. You’ve moved all the way up to political assassinations. What’s next? Killing a god?
“Zev says the shows on Earth are better than anything she’s ever seen. We could make new ones and bring them to the universe. Maybe if the television shows are good enough, people wouldn’t be so interested in watching real-life people kill each other,” she said.
“Oh mother fuck,” I said. “You sure have been swearing a lot lately. I’m not sure I like that, Carl.”
The group just looked at me. Finally, one of them said, “Dude, why are you naked?” I pointed east. “Go!”
Of little Ricky Joe, the one-armed, child dwarf.
But the sight of myself up on the screen, running full tilt through the Over City with nothing but a one-armed leather jacket and my nuts dangling free filled me with a strange, almost primal sense of vulnerability.
