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Wednesday, December 15, 2010

Gums of Our Lives: Episode 4

As it seems like it always does during funerals, it was raining on the day of Teacherman’s. BabyFriday and Thisismynightmare huddled under an umbrella as the preacher stood in front of the gravesite. “Hello,” he began. “For those of you who don’t know me, my name is Father Mans. I have had the privilege of knowing Teacherman for many years. He was a brilliant scientist, a devoted husband, and a wonderful friend.” BabyFriday began to sob again as Thisismynightmare held her closer. Father Mans continued.

“Life, like everything in this world, is fleeting. We are born, we live, and like an unattended campfire, we burn out. In some cases we are not left until we become glowing embers, but rather extinguished in our full, raging prime. When we could still provide light. When we could still provide warmth. We are tempted to ask, ‘Why? Why would you pour sand on something that provided so much for so many?’ Instead we must remember that which is gone. Remember all that it was to all of us, and, in doing so, we retain just a little of that warmth and light.”

BabyFriday smiled faintly through her tears as the casket was lowered into the earth.


Just Desserts stared at the creature that was greeting him at the door. It was a seven-foot tall gleaming metal wolf man wearing a bow tie with a giant screen on its chest. It spoke, its voice a deep mechanical rumble. “Are you Just Desserts?” It asked.

“Who are you?” He responded, trembling.

“I am Jessica Alba. PSYCHE! Just kidding, friend. I am here to find Thisismynightmare.”

“She’s not here.”

“Are you sure because I am supposed to find her and pop a cap in her ass. Word bitches.”

“I haven’t seen her. I promise”

“You used the wrong ‘seen’ you said ‘scene’ when you meant ‘seen’ hahahahahah you are so dumb.”

“How can you tell from me speaking which homonym I’m using?”

“I am going to destroy you and it will be bloody like a back alley Bristol Palin abortion, you hypocrite!”

His metal arm glinted in the sun as it flashed towards Just Desserts. Fortunately for him, his reflexes were primed from his years of breakdancing. He quickly dropped to the floor, spun on his back, and kicked his leg out, catching the Winbot behind his knee. He howled out in pain, “???????????” flashing across the panel on his chest.

Just Desserts back-flipped onto his feet and slammed the door, locking it. He stood back, catching his breath, trying to think of what to do. Suddenly, a metal fist burst through the door. He could hear its voice from growling behind. “LOL you think you can beat me hahahaha what are you some kind of baby who was aborted hahahahaha. Racism is evil!!!!!!!!!!!!”

Backing away, Just Desserts turned and ran for the back door, taking out his cellphone and dialing as he did. The person on the other end picked up as Just Desserts exited his house, most likely for the last time. “Hey, it’s me,” he said, breathlessly. “I’m in trouble. I need your expertise. You still at 1537?… Good. That’s ten minutes away. I’ll be there in nine minutes and fifty-three seconds.” He ran into his garage, jumped onto his motorcycle, and sped away, taking one last long, mournful look at his house.


Dr. Principal Enchman stood and stared at the two people in front of him. “Wait a minute,” he said, slowly. “You two were in the park earlier. On the bench.” The monster and the Norma Shearer looked at each other, then back at Dr. Principal Enchman. The blue monster spoke.

“That is correct. We’ve had our eye on you for some time. Forgive me. Let me introduce myself.” He offered his hand. “My name is Agent Huckabeast, and this is my partner, Agent Cakeordeath.” She stuck out her hand as well. Dr. Prinicipal Enchman shook both, hesitatingly.

“What agency are you with?” he asked.

“The Agency.” Agent Cakeordeath responded with an air of finality that the doctor was wise to adhere to.

“We are here because we have information.” Agent Huckabeast began, but was quickly stopped by Agent Cakeordeath.

“How much do you know about The Narrator?” She interrupted.

“I mean, some. But you know I can’t say anything. Doctor-patient confidentiality.”

“We are aware of the law, Dr. Principal Enchman,” Agent Cakeordeath brusquely replied.

“Then you know I can’t tell you anything.”

“What if we were to offer you information in exchange? Information you were looking for?” Agent Huckabeast responded.

“Nothing you have could be worth me potentially losing my license.”

“What about information about her?” Agent Cakeordeath asked, mysteriously.

Dr. Principal Enchman stopped dead in his tracks.

“What do you mean, her?”

“You know exactly who we mean,” Agent Cakeordeath continued. “What if we were to tell you that not only is she still alive, but we know where we can find her.”

“That’s impossible! I watched her die!”

“Are you sure?” Agent Cakeordeath gestured to Agent Huckabeast, who pulled out a folder from his briefcase and handed it to Dr. Principal Enchman.

“This was taken two days ago.”

Dr. Principal Enchman opened the folder, his hands trembling. There she was, sitting in a café, two knitting needles busy in her hands, the sunlight reflecting off of her horn-rimmed glasses. Tears welled up in his eyes.

“This is fake and gay. It has to be!”

“I can assure you that it is real and most definitely not gay. Now, can we count on your coöperation?”

“You tell me where she is,” Dr. Principal Enchman began, “and I’ll tell you everything I know.”


  1. BF, I have a feeling that he isn't really dead!

  2. The best. I do speak with an air of finality.

  3. This is fantastic! I look forward to the next installment.