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Wednesday, January 19, 2011

Gums of Our Lives: Episode 8

Speeding down the street on his motorcycle, Just Desserts was talking to Paper Street Soap Company through the earpiece he had set up for him. “So, Papes, any idea where I can find Thisismynightmare? She needs my protection.”
“That’s what she said!” Paper Street blurted out on the other line.
“Ugh. This is no time for games. Someone’s life is in danger! The Winbot came to my house looking for her. He’s not going to stop looking until he finds her!”
“Sorry, dude. You set me up perfectly. I couldn’t not say anything. Hold on a second. Let me see here…” He trailed off. Just Desserts heard the sound of typing through his monitor. After about fifteen seconds Paper Street got back on the line.
“Ok, so, this is what I was able to find. Apparently she has a sister who lives in the area. She could have gone to stay with her.”
“Perfect. Where is she?”
“192 Bangs St.”
Just Desserts swung his motorcycle around and gunned the engine towards Bangs street, hoping against hope that Thisismynightmare was there, and, if she was, that the Winbot hadn’t gotten there first.

A Serious Monster arrived at El Rey Delicioso at 4:17 and proceeded to walk to the back alley, one hand with a death grip on the handle of her gun, the other with a death grip on a chorizo tostada. A voice spoke from the shadows.
“You’re late.” It said.
She spun around and pulled out her gun. “I had to get lunch.”
“It’s after four. That’s too late for lunch,” the voice growled.
“When you keep my hours, it’s never too late for lunch,” she responded, taking a large bite out of the tostada.
“Fine. Whatever. You’re here. That’s what matters.”
“Who are you?” A Serious Monster asked, walking slowly towards the shadows.
“Holster your weapon and I’ll tell you,” the voice rumbled.
She did so, simultaneously finishing her food. She held her hands up after wiping her mouth. “Here. I’m unarmed. And untostadaed. You can come out.”
A tall man stepped out of the shadows, wearing a long trench coat with the collar turned up and a fedora pulled down low over his eyes. A Serious Monster stared at him.
“O-M-God,” she gasped, “Your face! It’s… it’s…”
“A taco. Yes.”
“What… I mean… how…” A Serious Monster was at a loss for words.
“The Narrator. That’s how.” He wrenched open a manhole cover and began to descend. “If you want to know more, follow me.”
A Serious Monster paused for a second. Do I really want to follow a man with a taco for a face down into the sewers?
He popped his head back up. “Are you coming?” He blurbled, cheesily.
“Of course.” She responded, and followed him down the manhole.
That is what she said.
Agents Huckabeast and Cakeordeath hurried Dr. Principal Enchman down the corridor as Capu Flapu and Sergeant Duncan trailed close behind.
“I don’t understand what’s happening! What’s the security breach?” Dr. Principal Enchman asked, panicking.
“Calm down, you turd. It’s nothing. Probably just the Russians.” Agent Cakeordeath replied.
“The Russians? I thought they were our allies!”
“Guh. We really don’t have time for a civics lesson right now. Ok, take the next right.”
The convoy turned and headed down another hallway, this one even more drab than the tunnel they first went down.
“Will you at least tell me where we are?” Principal Enchman whined
“What does it look like? Escape tunnels, obvs.” Agent Cakeordeath shook her head in disgust.
They turned another corner. Standing at the end of the hall was a giant bearded man pointing a large-caliber machine gun at them. They skidded to a halt. The man spoke, his voice heavily accented.
“Greetings Agents Cakeordeath and Huckabeast. It has been, how you say? Far too long.” He smiled, revealing a row of gold teeth.
“Chris Trash! I should’ve known you were behind this!” Agent Huckabeast spat, beginning to advance.
“No no no. Not so fast, Mr. Huckabeast. I have gun. And I can shoot you and your pretty girlfriend. Now take out all of your weapons and pass them to me, pretty please.”
The Agents complied, kicking them across the cement floor.
“What do you want from us?” Cakeordeath demanded.
“It is very simple. You have in your possession a microchip. The 12AX76V6 This is verrry powerful chip. And I want it.”
Agent Cakeordeath turned to Agent Huckabeast.
“But that can be used to power the MacGuffin Device! We can’t give it to him!” She whispered.
Chris Trash interrupted. “Hey now, my friends. No whisper whisper. You know how they say, ‘Secrets, Secrets are no fun. Secrets, Secrets get people SHOT!’” He fired his gun into the air. The echo was deafening.
“Now, here is deal,” he continued. “Agent Cakeordeath, you will go into mainframe and retrieve microchip. Everyone else, you will stay here with me. We will have a fun parties, yes? Good.”
Agent Cakeordeath looked at Agent Huckabeast, who nodded. She turned to Chris Trash.
“I’ll get you your chip, you son of a bitch. But then you let everyone go, kapish?”
“Of course. Of course. I am not bad guy, my friend. But to make sure there is no funny business, you have one hour. After that I am starting to kill these people, yes?”
Cakeordeath gave him a stare so cold it would freeze ice and then turned and ran back where they came from.
Sargeant Duncan piped up, “I say, old sport. Did you say we would be having a party? I could go for a game of Rounders.”
Chris Trash let out a huge belly laugh. “Rounder? I am hardly knowing her!”
Just Desserts arrived at BabyFriday’s house and ran up to the front door. He went to ring the bell but noticed the door was ajar. He pushed it open a bit more, yelling through the crack.
“Thisismynightmare? Are you here? It’s Just Desserts!” He called.
There was no response. He called again.
“Anyone? Hello?”
Growing concerned, he pushed the door open all the way and stepped into the house. The foyer was in complete disarray. The couch cushions were thrown about the room, the curtains were torn off of the wall, and the dog skeleton lay in pieces on the floor. There was a large black puddle on the carpet. Just Desserts bent down and smelled it. Oil. He was too late.


  1. The twists and turns are too much for me! Another great chapter. I'm loving it.

  2. I ain't trust that Chris Trash character! He up to no good!

  3. Oh great mustache willikers! Whatever will happen next? My money is on the re-formation of Skeledog, and its ensuing vengeance and destruction.

  4. Oh, LB, you got me down good. I totes shake my head in disgust JUST AS YOU WROTE!

  5. In my defense, that did happen to be what she was saying.
    another great installment