Gums of Our Lives: Episode 11

Deep underground, beneath the headquarters of The Agency, Chris Trash was trying to entertain his hostages.

“Hey, now, buckaroos. Don’t you be being all sad with the sour pusses. Agent Cakeordeath will be returning very soon with my chip, and you all can be on your merry ways.”

Agent Huckabeast spat on the ground.

“She’ll never give you the chip, Trash. No matter what you do to us.”

Chris Trash laughed.

“My friend, I am hoping for your sake that you are being wrong. If she is not back in twenty minutes, you are all going to be dead people.”

From the back of the group there was a collective shuffling as Duncan cleared his throat.

“Oh, dear. That won’t do, old sport. You see, I rather enjoy living, and would be ever so put out if I were to no longer be doing so,” he stammered.

Dr. Principal Enchman began to nod furiously in agreement and Capu Flapu began to rock from side to side in distress. Chris Trash fired his gun into the air, silencing them.

“My friends, it is no use worrying about how will be of the killing of who. This is nonsense talk, is what this is. Let us have distraction, yes? Who likes ‘Would you rather?’?”

There was no response.

“Very good. I will begin,” he continued. “You have sandwich. Best sandwich in world. But, if you eat it, you will be punched in mouth, very hard. Would you rather eat sandwich first? Or get punched first?”

The group remained silent.

“Come on, my friends. This is easy one.”

Still silent.

Chris Trash answered himself. “Well, I would get punched first because it is better to experience brief pain if you know reward is coming. I could not enjoy sandwich if I knew punch to face was coming right after. Good. Yes?”

He walked over to Dr. Principal Enchman and stuck his gun in his face. “Good answer, yes?” He demanded. Dr. Principal Enchman quickly nodded his head in agreement.

“Good.”

Chris Trash lowered the gun. “We play another. Would you rather be in portable toilet and have it tip over onto you, or put your penis in a mystery butt?”

He circled the group slowly, stopping at Duncan.

“Well, Mr. Duncan? Toilet dump or mystery butt?”

Duncan gathered himself.

“It’s Sergeant Duncan. And to answer that question would not be gentlemanly.”

Chris Trash laughed.

“You misunderstand, my friend. I am not asking. I am telling. You answer: Toilet Dump or Mystery Butt?”

Duncan resolutely shook his head, his lips firmly pressed together. Chris Trash cocked his gun.

“One last chance. Toilet Dump or Mystery Butt?”

Duncan remained still.

Huckabeast jumped up, pleading. “For God’s sake man, answer the question!”

Chris Trash now had the gun pointed firmly in Duncan’s face.

“Toilet Dump or Mystery Butt? TOILET DUMP OR MYSTERY BUTT?”

Duncan began to hum God Save the Queen.

Chris Trash began to squeeze the trigger.

“STOP!” The voice rang out from the other end of the hallway. Standing there was Cakeordeath, holding a metallic briefcase.

“Put the gun down, Trash. I have the microchip.”

Chris Trash turned to face her.

“Slide it to me.”

She did. He opened it, never moving his gun from Duncan. After inspecting its contents closely he snapped the case shut and rose to his feet.

“It appears you have fulfilled your part of the deal. And now, I will fulfill mine.”

With that, he disappeared in a puff of smoke.

Cakeordeath ran over to Huckabeast and embraced him.

“I’m sorry it took so long. You have no idea what I went through to get that chip.”

Huckabeast turned away, coldly.

“How could you do it?” He demanded.

“What do you mean?” She asked, confused. “I did it for you. I couldn’t stand to lose you.”

He whirled around to face her. “So you sold out your country? Your job?”

“But… But Huckabeast…”

“Uh, Guys?” Dr. Principal Enchman tried to interject.

“Not now, Principal Enchman.” Huckabeast said, turning back to Cakeordeath. “Do you realize what’s going to happen now that Chris Trash can build the MacGuffin Device? Goodbye, us. Goodbye, world!”

“Seriously, you guys…” Dr. Principal Enchman tried to interrupt again.

“Seriously, you, Dr. Principal Enchman. Now is not the time,” Huckabeast reprimanded. He started to resume speaking to Cakeordeath, but Dr. Principal Enchman spun him around.

“No. It is the time. Look.” He pointed to the ground. Agents Huckabeast and Cakeordeath followed his finger to a black box left on the ground. There was a digital display on the top. It read 00:00:45. And it was counting down.

****************************************

The car carrying The Kelburrows, BabyFriday and Teacherman turned onto Bangs St. without any further incidents, be they motorcycle-related or otherwise. They were startled, however, to see a squadron of police cars parked in front of the Teacherfriday residence. They pulled into the driveway and exited the vehicle as an officer quickly ran out of the house.

“Are you the owner of this domicile, ma’am?” The officer asked The Kelburrows.

BabyFriday stepped forward. “I am. What’s going on here? Who are you?”

“My name is officer Superglue. I’m going to need you to stay by the car.”

BabyFriday got all up in her face. “Not until you tell me what’s going on. Why are there cop cars here? “

“Please, ma’am. You need to relax. There’s been a break-in of some kind.”

“A break-in? Are Thisismynightmare and Briadru4 ok?” The Kelburrows interjected.

“I don’t know who you’re talking about.” Officer Superglue responded.

“My sister and our super exclusive best friend. They were staying here while I was at the hospital. You mean they aren’t here?” BabyFriday began to get hysterical, restrained only by The Kelburrows’ vice-like grip.

“I wouldn’t panic just yet. It’s possible they just stepped out for a minute, then got scared when they saw the wreckage inside,” Officer Superglue attempted to calm.

“They would never leave the house unguarded! Something’s happened to them!”

BabyFriday broke free of The Kelburrows’ iron-like arms and ran towards the front door. At that moment, another officer exited the house holding a bucket. They collided, spilling the contents on the ground. They were bones. Dog bones.

“Skeledog! Noooooooooooooooo!” BabyFriday screamed to the heavens like that William Shatner “Kahn!” gif.

The Kelburrows ran over and pulled BabyFriday, kicking and screaming, from the front door. Officer Superglue went to help, but stopped when she noticed that Teacherman was still standing by the car, staring at the house, a dazed look on his face.

“Are you alright, sir?” She asked.

He snapped to attention. “Oh, yeah. Sorry. I have amnesia.”

“Now?”

“Not now, no. I mean, I do. Or I did. No. I still do. From before. I have amnesia from before.”

“Oh. Like Memento?”

“I don’t know what that is.”

“It’s a movie. It’s really good. You should see it.”

“Maybe I already have? I don’t remember.”

“Oh, right. Amnesia. So how’s that going?”

“So far so good, I guess. I remember waking up in a hospital with a bandage on my head. And that wailing lady said she was my wife. I remember bits. Like, from before. With her. I’m pretty sure she’s telling the truth. And even if she isn’t, she’s smokin’ hot. So there’s that.”

Officer Superglue nodded in agreement. “That she is.”

They stood there watching her writhe in The Kelburrows’ herculean grasp for a minute before Officer Superglue snapped out of it.

“Right. Well. Fake wife or no, you guys should probably stay at a hotel tonight. Here’s my card. Give me a call when she’s feeling up to it and we’ll get a statement from you guys.”

Teacherman took the card and put it in his pocket.

Down the street a man in a trench coat sat in a maroon Cadillac, watching the scene unfold in front of him through a pair of binoculars. He finished his Mr. Pibb and crushed the can with one hand.

“Soon,” he said to himself, quietly. “Soon.”