LORD BOSS
Chapter 9: The Munchkins of Flamberdoodles
A bright white light flashes and I flail my arms out wildly, clawing and trying in vain to grasp onto something that will stop me from falling. I land on the floor with a thud. The floor is made of stone, so it hurts my back.
"Ow…" I mumble as I sit up. Dervish doesn't even notice; the stupid little retard he is. He's just gazing around in horror and fear and perplexity. I look around too, and see what he was staring at in such terror.
It was a list.
Lord Boss's familiars
Vein
Artery
Blood
Vessel
Heads
Shoulders
Knees
Toes
Liver
Funny
Bone
Femur
Spine
Skull
Tibia
Eyeball
Tooth
Gum
Tongue
Belly
Button
Organ
Heart
White
Blood 2
Cells
Eye
Like
Cow
Liver 2
Diaphragm
"What the hell is this blasphemy?" I manage to gasp. I stared at the large bulletin board that had the list pinned to it, wondering why anyone could do such a horrible thing.
"So it's true," Dervish muses. He spies me looking at him quizzically, and explains, "There was a legend that Lord Boss found random demons in the Demonata and slapped an organ name or body part onto them as a name and made the demon his familiar. Now I see that the legend is in fact genuine."
"You Disciples are weird," I comment.
"I didn't even tell you about Disciples," Dervish frowns.
"Yeah, well this is a parody. I know these things!" I snap back. We glare at each other vehemently until the door is kicked down and hurtles across the room towards Dervish and smashes him to a wall. He howls and yowls in anguish and pain, his eyes bulging wildly with passionate agony, and his face goes white with fear and torment. His shrieks are loud and wild, shrill and piercing, as sharp as a cat's glinting claw. Finally he shuts the hell up and dismissively pushes the door off of himself.
"Right. Now that I've done being melodramatic, I shall gaze in anger at this utter idiot who pushed this stupid door at me in the first place," he announces. He gazed at Lord Boss (who had kicked the door at him) in boiling anger, his eyes glittering with vengeance.
Lord Boss looks nervous, his own cranberry-raisin eyes awash with confusion and distress.
"I shalt not succumb to thou Disciple's glower of rage," quoth he, for some apparent reason resorting to Middle English.
"What the hell art thou speaking about?" I demand, and my eyebrows furrow in sheer bemusement. Why am I speaking like this?
"I have no more point in life! I shalt unleash my faithful servants upon you! Attack, my mighty minions!" Lord Boss declares, and he cackles in malice and evil. Dervish and I exchange terrified glances, knowing this is the end; there is no more hope left for us against the stupidly named yet merciless familiars of Lord Boss…
But something more terrible happened.
Lord Boss disappeared in a puff of ghostly, wispy fog, misty plumes twisting and grasping at invisible poles, and a loud, riotous screech pealed, and a bunch of spontaneous munchkins flooded through hidden doors and trapdoors to ambush us. Dervish and I wailed in angst and sorrow.
The munchkins descended on us, eyes bright with evil delight…
Will Dervish and Grubbs Grady survive the ruthless plague of tittering, caterwauling munchkins? Find out next time, in Chapter 10: Actual Urban Terror.
Author's Note: OK. Sorry I was unable to maintain my promise, but my school is merciless when it comes to end-of-term tests and assignments. My determination to not fail horribly in Science and Geography prevented me from writing this chapter in mid-December. But, on a much happier note, I didn't fail Science and Geography.