I know it's been a month since I've updated, but this is mostly due to the
fact that I've been unnaturally busy. I don't like being unnaturally busy.
No, I don't. I don't like being busy in general. Nope. But I did manage
to buy a copy of "The Mothman Prophecies" book by John A. Keel. I
recommend it to anyone who wants further, better insight to the legend of
Mothman. 'Tis good. Anyway, I thank you for waiting so long, and I thank
those of you who have reviewed.
Now, if anyone's still reading this thing, let's continue with the idiocy/insanity/horror/mucus that is "Agent Mothman."
DISCLAIMER: Guess what? I don't own anything other than the projectile foaming freak known as Sid "Jiggy Cyclops" Jones. NOW WHO SAW THAT ONE COMING????!!!! *hands you a trout for no apparent reason*
~
CHAPTER FOUR: "Wake Up, Number 15!"
Dib mostly spent Sunday pacing the hallways of his house. He went on-line frequently, checking up with other random Swollen Eyeball members. Only one of them reported seeing something suspicious, which happened to be the same red lights in the sky Dib had observed the previous night.
Dib logged off for about the fourth time that afternoon and glanced at the canister of burnt film on his desk. He should have known better than to think he could get a decent picture of this Mothman entity. It has been known to occur throughout paranormal history that usually whenever someone tried to take a picture of the supernatural, something malicious would happen to the camera or the film.
He sighed and shoved his chair away from his computer desk, standing up. He didn't know what to do. Dib only knew that he wanted to stop the explosion, or save fifteen people by warning them somehow. Yet he didn't know which people were supposed to die. He didn't really have an idea as to when the skool was supposed to explode, or even where the explosion was supposed to originate from.
Dib was confused. Again, his eyes felt compelled to gaze at the burned roll of film. Now he couldn't seem to keep them away; he just stared more intensely, more intensely, more intensely. The red burn marks on the film roll began melting it away even more than it had previously done. The whole thing, canister and all, seemed to become a liquid. A thick, red liquid. A liquid that looked suspiciously similar to blood. This mysterious blood began dripping down the sides of the computer desk. Dib suddenly was overcome with paranoia and fear in such degrees he'd never experienced before. His head began to pound - he wanted to look away but couldn't - and then he simply passed out.
~
Downstairs, Gaz sat in front of the television, drawing random pictures. She didn't really know what she had set out to draw, but she felt like doing so at the moment rather than playing "Vampire Piggy Hunter" yet again. Her picture gradually began to take shape. It was of a heavily tanned man dressed completely in black with a long, black trench coat as well. His head was comparable to a matchstick. Gaz had subconsciously drawn Indrid Cold. "Meh," she mumbled, crumpling the picture up and starting a new one.
~
Zim was more than content with his moose army. He strode over to the elevator and commanded that the computer take him to the base level. It did so. Upon entering the living room, Zim couldn't help but notice the absence of his robot slave.
"GIR? GIR, I hope you're not putting Marshmallow Peeps in the microwave again," said Zim, glancing about the rooms briefly. "GIR!"
No one answered.
"Computer, has anyone left the proximity of the base in the last day or so?"
"I believe your robot minion left yesterday with an alien from planet Lanulos who called himself Indrid Cold. DAMNIT!!! WHAT DO YOU MEAN, ANOTHER CONVENTION???!!!"
Zim chose to ignore the last bit. "An alien from the planet Lanulos? That's not located in the Milky Way Galaxy, is it?"
"No. No, it's not. Hey, look! A CRICKET!"
"Computer, cease your nonsensical statements. Where is Lanulos located?"
"Ganymede Galaxy. They don't carry Cherry Freezies in this place? WHAT KIND OF FACILITY IS THIS??? Calm down, will you? NEVER!!! But I'm worried about your mentality. Before you know it, you'll be eating children. YOU DON'T REALLY CARE, DO YOU??!! No, I guess I really don't."
Zim was slightly alarmed. He decided his computer system definitely needed an artificial intelligence upgrade, for somehow it seemed to have developed schizophrenia. Either that or it was holding a conversation with itself for lack of other things to do.
No longer interested in finding his psychotic robot, Zim grabbed a package of Fun Dip from the kitchen and descended once more back down into his labs.
~
Evening quickly arrived that Sunday. Somewhere on the other side of town, a pair of children were taking turns gouging each other's eyes out with a blunt scissors. In an otherwise dull office building, seven lawyers from Chicago were slapping each other with slices of watermelon. Amoebas accepted the chance to breed in someone's bath water, down the street in the apartment complex there. A toothless ice cream vendor busily relieved himself into the tub of Rocky Road.
~
Gaz still hadn't moved from her spot on the floor in front of the television set. She'd drawn several pictures, but all of them seemed to be based upon the same thing: the oddity who asked to use a phone the night before. She didn't like it, but it invaded her brain.
A hologram floated over to her, disrupting yet the fifth drawing of Indrid Cold. "Hello, Gaz," it said. Professor Membrane's image was seen, accompanied by his voice. "I hate to tell you this, but yet again I have to work late at the labs. Simmons couldn't find a way to rearrange my schedule. You'll have to order a pizza for dinner. So how's Dib?"
Gaz's already very narrow eyes narrowed even further. "I haven't seen him all day. I hope we find him dead somewhere."
"That's excellent," replied the holographic image of Professor Membrane. "Don't forget to feed the puppy."
"It died a long time ago, you know," answered Gaz. But Professor Membrane didn't answer and the hologram disappeared. To no one in particular, Gaz added, "It died, just like WE ALL WILL SOMEDAY." Glaring at nothing, she collected her drawings and disposed of them.
She picked up a phone to order a pizza. Unfortunately, she couldn't make any sense out of the sounds she heard before she even dialed - it was all nothing more than a series of beeps, hisses, and mechanical hums. "You annoy me," Gaz told the telephone in her hand, before ripping the whole thing out of the wall.
She walked over to the toaster, attempted to fix toast, and once again succeeded in setting the kitchen on fire. She did manage to walk away with two burnt slices of toast in her hands, at any rate. Gaz sat down on the living room couch and began playing her Game Slave 2, allowing the kitchen to go up in flames.
~
Sid "Jiggy Cyclops" Jones sat cowering on his own kitchen floor, smearing the foam that had shot out of every last orifice in his body. He didn't like his life. He was afraid to go on. He wanted to end it.
Reaching a shriveled, shaking, ancient hand over the countertop, he managed to grab, from his position on the crusty linoleum, a corn cob. Standing up slowly, he used both wrinkled hands to lift the corn cob high above his head.
"THIS IS FOR YOU, CLARENCE!" he shouted pointlessly, before swinging the corn cob down into his midriff swiftly, hoping to impale himself. Sid was sorely disappointed to discover that this particular ear of corn had been lodged through his stomach, but not through his backside. Very little blood was leaking out, so Sid resigned himself to walking around with a corn cob protruding from his midsection. What a suicide attempt that was.
Peeking out the windows, Sid couldn't help but notice that the flashing red lights had again returned to the spooky night sky.
~
Dib was having an odd dream, still crumpled on the floor where he'd passed out earlier. Something started speaking to him. The metallic voice, yet again. The words got louder with every repeating sentence. "Wake up, number 15. Wake up, number 15! WAKE UP, NUMBER 15!"
Dib jolted alive. Standing over him was a dark shadow that looked human, although there was something just.wrong about it. Zim's idiot of a sir unit was attached to this unreal man's leg, staring about blissfully. "I loves ya, Mister Cold," said GIR, smiling cutely up at this being.
Indrid grinned viciously down at Dib, who shut his eyes. The instant he did so, a vision starting playing through his head. It was a blur, mostly, but he could distinguish two glaring red eyes, the skool cafeteria, people running and screaming, and a white burst of flames coming from somewhere. He opened his eyes again, to find that Indrid had mysteriously disappeared, Zim's sir unit with him.
Just before he ventured downstairs to investigate the smoke he could now smell (which he assumed was Gaz's toaster work, again), a thought occurred to Dib. "Wake up, number 15," Indrid had said. Number 15. Dib was the fifteenth person that was supposed to die in this skool explosion.
~
Well, now. Wasn't that fun? Sorry it took forever for me to update. Review, won't you?
It's very late once more, and I am confused yet again. Yay.
Now, if anyone's still reading this thing, let's continue with the idiocy/insanity/horror/mucus that is "Agent Mothman."
DISCLAIMER: Guess what? I don't own anything other than the projectile foaming freak known as Sid "Jiggy Cyclops" Jones. NOW WHO SAW THAT ONE COMING????!!!! *hands you a trout for no apparent reason*
~
CHAPTER FOUR: "Wake Up, Number 15!"
Dib mostly spent Sunday pacing the hallways of his house. He went on-line frequently, checking up with other random Swollen Eyeball members. Only one of them reported seeing something suspicious, which happened to be the same red lights in the sky Dib had observed the previous night.
Dib logged off for about the fourth time that afternoon and glanced at the canister of burnt film on his desk. He should have known better than to think he could get a decent picture of this Mothman entity. It has been known to occur throughout paranormal history that usually whenever someone tried to take a picture of the supernatural, something malicious would happen to the camera or the film.
He sighed and shoved his chair away from his computer desk, standing up. He didn't know what to do. Dib only knew that he wanted to stop the explosion, or save fifteen people by warning them somehow. Yet he didn't know which people were supposed to die. He didn't really have an idea as to when the skool was supposed to explode, or even where the explosion was supposed to originate from.
Dib was confused. Again, his eyes felt compelled to gaze at the burned roll of film. Now he couldn't seem to keep them away; he just stared more intensely, more intensely, more intensely. The red burn marks on the film roll began melting it away even more than it had previously done. The whole thing, canister and all, seemed to become a liquid. A thick, red liquid. A liquid that looked suspiciously similar to blood. This mysterious blood began dripping down the sides of the computer desk. Dib suddenly was overcome with paranoia and fear in such degrees he'd never experienced before. His head began to pound - he wanted to look away but couldn't - and then he simply passed out.
~
Downstairs, Gaz sat in front of the television, drawing random pictures. She didn't really know what she had set out to draw, but she felt like doing so at the moment rather than playing "Vampire Piggy Hunter" yet again. Her picture gradually began to take shape. It was of a heavily tanned man dressed completely in black with a long, black trench coat as well. His head was comparable to a matchstick. Gaz had subconsciously drawn Indrid Cold. "Meh," she mumbled, crumpling the picture up and starting a new one.
~
Zim was more than content with his moose army. He strode over to the elevator and commanded that the computer take him to the base level. It did so. Upon entering the living room, Zim couldn't help but notice the absence of his robot slave.
"GIR? GIR, I hope you're not putting Marshmallow Peeps in the microwave again," said Zim, glancing about the rooms briefly. "GIR!"
No one answered.
"Computer, has anyone left the proximity of the base in the last day or so?"
"I believe your robot minion left yesterday with an alien from planet Lanulos who called himself Indrid Cold. DAMNIT!!! WHAT DO YOU MEAN, ANOTHER CONVENTION???!!!"
Zim chose to ignore the last bit. "An alien from the planet Lanulos? That's not located in the Milky Way Galaxy, is it?"
"No. No, it's not. Hey, look! A CRICKET!"
"Computer, cease your nonsensical statements. Where is Lanulos located?"
"Ganymede Galaxy. They don't carry Cherry Freezies in this place? WHAT KIND OF FACILITY IS THIS??? Calm down, will you? NEVER!!! But I'm worried about your mentality. Before you know it, you'll be eating children. YOU DON'T REALLY CARE, DO YOU??!! No, I guess I really don't."
Zim was slightly alarmed. He decided his computer system definitely needed an artificial intelligence upgrade, for somehow it seemed to have developed schizophrenia. Either that or it was holding a conversation with itself for lack of other things to do.
No longer interested in finding his psychotic robot, Zim grabbed a package of Fun Dip from the kitchen and descended once more back down into his labs.
~
Evening quickly arrived that Sunday. Somewhere on the other side of town, a pair of children were taking turns gouging each other's eyes out with a blunt scissors. In an otherwise dull office building, seven lawyers from Chicago were slapping each other with slices of watermelon. Amoebas accepted the chance to breed in someone's bath water, down the street in the apartment complex there. A toothless ice cream vendor busily relieved himself into the tub of Rocky Road.
~
Gaz still hadn't moved from her spot on the floor in front of the television set. She'd drawn several pictures, but all of them seemed to be based upon the same thing: the oddity who asked to use a phone the night before. She didn't like it, but it invaded her brain.
A hologram floated over to her, disrupting yet the fifth drawing of Indrid Cold. "Hello, Gaz," it said. Professor Membrane's image was seen, accompanied by his voice. "I hate to tell you this, but yet again I have to work late at the labs. Simmons couldn't find a way to rearrange my schedule. You'll have to order a pizza for dinner. So how's Dib?"
Gaz's already very narrow eyes narrowed even further. "I haven't seen him all day. I hope we find him dead somewhere."
"That's excellent," replied the holographic image of Professor Membrane. "Don't forget to feed the puppy."
"It died a long time ago, you know," answered Gaz. But Professor Membrane didn't answer and the hologram disappeared. To no one in particular, Gaz added, "It died, just like WE ALL WILL SOMEDAY." Glaring at nothing, she collected her drawings and disposed of them.
She picked up a phone to order a pizza. Unfortunately, she couldn't make any sense out of the sounds she heard before she even dialed - it was all nothing more than a series of beeps, hisses, and mechanical hums. "You annoy me," Gaz told the telephone in her hand, before ripping the whole thing out of the wall.
She walked over to the toaster, attempted to fix toast, and once again succeeded in setting the kitchen on fire. She did manage to walk away with two burnt slices of toast in her hands, at any rate. Gaz sat down on the living room couch and began playing her Game Slave 2, allowing the kitchen to go up in flames.
~
Sid "Jiggy Cyclops" Jones sat cowering on his own kitchen floor, smearing the foam that had shot out of every last orifice in his body. He didn't like his life. He was afraid to go on. He wanted to end it.
Reaching a shriveled, shaking, ancient hand over the countertop, he managed to grab, from his position on the crusty linoleum, a corn cob. Standing up slowly, he used both wrinkled hands to lift the corn cob high above his head.
"THIS IS FOR YOU, CLARENCE!" he shouted pointlessly, before swinging the corn cob down into his midriff swiftly, hoping to impale himself. Sid was sorely disappointed to discover that this particular ear of corn had been lodged through his stomach, but not through his backside. Very little blood was leaking out, so Sid resigned himself to walking around with a corn cob protruding from his midsection. What a suicide attempt that was.
Peeking out the windows, Sid couldn't help but notice that the flashing red lights had again returned to the spooky night sky.
~
Dib was having an odd dream, still crumpled on the floor where he'd passed out earlier. Something started speaking to him. The metallic voice, yet again. The words got louder with every repeating sentence. "Wake up, number 15. Wake up, number 15! WAKE UP, NUMBER 15!"
Dib jolted alive. Standing over him was a dark shadow that looked human, although there was something just.wrong about it. Zim's idiot of a sir unit was attached to this unreal man's leg, staring about blissfully. "I loves ya, Mister Cold," said GIR, smiling cutely up at this being.
Indrid grinned viciously down at Dib, who shut his eyes. The instant he did so, a vision starting playing through his head. It was a blur, mostly, but he could distinguish two glaring red eyes, the skool cafeteria, people running and screaming, and a white burst of flames coming from somewhere. He opened his eyes again, to find that Indrid had mysteriously disappeared, Zim's sir unit with him.
Just before he ventured downstairs to investigate the smoke he could now smell (which he assumed was Gaz's toaster work, again), a thought occurred to Dib. "Wake up, number 15," Indrid had said. Number 15. Dib was the fifteenth person that was supposed to die in this skool explosion.
~
Well, now. Wasn't that fun? Sorry it took forever for me to update. Review, won't you?
It's very late once more, and I am confused yet again. Yay.