Chapter 2: Two Weeks
Earlier
The world was spinning before Tim's eyes as he tried desperately not to
regurgitate the contents of his stomach.
"Awww...hangover. That's the last time I drink Listerine for the alcohol
content." He took the garbage out to the sidewalk, then staggered in back
in the direction of his house. Or at least he thought he was. For his
house, there was an awful lot of people in labcoats and biohazard suits.
His room wasn't THAT messy. Maybe if he got some of the iced coffee he got
yesterday would help.
He spotted a refrigerator on the other side of the room, walked over,
opened the door and took out the first thing he felt. It was a little
slightly green vial labeled "Variola Virus, Unidentified Strain".
"Must be a new soda." He took a drink and noticed that it didn't really
taste like any soda, but was too hung over to care. And all the scientists
did was give him weird looks. Some security.
********************************************************************
Five minutes earlier.
Stan awakened in freezing cold and complete darkness. He was also a bit
smaller than in his last body. And then, there was light. He saw a skinny,
pale, spiky blue haired teen with glazed over eyes and breath that probably
would have smelled like alcohol if Stan still had a nose. Then the kid
grabbed the container Stan was in and the next thing he saw was the insides
of his mouth. Normally the trip down the beginning of the digestive track
would have sickened him beyond expression, but germs were used to this sort
of thing. He found one of the two tubes leading from the mouth to the nose
and went up.
***********************************************************************
Two weeks later (again).
"Now let's see what I can do. Hey! Host! Do you know where a guy named
Johnny lives?"
"What? Why am I talking to myself? Man, I knew I shouldn't have drank that
Listerine, but it never made voices in my head talk to me before."
"But I'm a special voice."
"Why do you want me to find Johnny? I've been trying to stalk him myself
for a while but can never find him. What makes you think I will because you
told me to?"
"Can I at least tell you to watch out for that car?"
"Huh? AAAHHHHH!!!!" Tim fell to the pavement and only opened his eyes when
he was partially under a gray car. It stopped and he saw two black, steel
toed boots walk around and a familiar face look under the car.
"Are you okay? Sorry, I've been a little preoccupied lately."
"Hey! I know you!"
"You do?"
"Johnny C! I've been trying to find you for months! Can I have your
autograph?!"
"If you're the reincarnation of Jimmy, stay still. I have to run over you
again."
"No! I'm not Jimmy! I'm Tim! And I'm your biggest living fan besides all
the psychotic fangirls who want to do unspeakably horrible things to you!
And I haven't copied your killing styles! Yet."
"Normally I would run you over about 100 times and drain your blood until
you turn blue and die, then drop your rotting corpse on a pep rally, but I
don't have the time for that right now. Just get out of the road before
another driver does it for me." Nny got back in the car, which moved
further along the road before stopping at an intersection.
"Tim? Your stalking capabilities might come in handy. Go ahead and follow
him."
"YAAYYYY!!!!"
Tim ran to the intersection but the light turned green before he could get
to Nny's car. So he jumped onto a truck that was following him. Then onto a
car, and another one, and another one until he came to a minivan with a
five year olds' soccer team inside who watched in awe as Tim jumped from
one car to the next in a gross display of fan obsession gone horribly
wrong.
"Look! It's Spider Man!"
"No dummy! It's Superman!"
"Nuh uh!! It's Wonder Woman!"
"Yeah! Go Wonder Woman!" Tim finally latched onto the back bumper of Nny's
car. Nny didn't notice, as he thought it might be the remains of a
cheerleader he ran over last week. Why must guts be so hard to get out of
tire treads? The soccer team turned left and Nny took a sharp right turn
that sent Tim flying into a pile of luggage.
"Quick! Get up! Find him!" Stan was audibly frustrated at having missed
another chance at getting rid of his mortal enemy because his underlings
couldn't work fast enough. But then again a drunken teen with a hacking
cough couldn't be expected to do much. Or so they thought.
Earlier
The world was spinning before Tim's eyes as he tried desperately not to
regurgitate the contents of his stomach.
"Awww...hangover. That's the last time I drink Listerine for the alcohol
content." He took the garbage out to the sidewalk, then staggered in back
in the direction of his house. Or at least he thought he was. For his
house, there was an awful lot of people in labcoats and biohazard suits.
His room wasn't THAT messy. Maybe if he got some of the iced coffee he got
yesterday would help.
He spotted a refrigerator on the other side of the room, walked over,
opened the door and took out the first thing he felt. It was a little
slightly green vial labeled "Variola Virus, Unidentified Strain".
"Must be a new soda." He took a drink and noticed that it didn't really
taste like any soda, but was too hung over to care. And all the scientists
did was give him weird looks. Some security.
********************************************************************
Five minutes earlier.
Stan awakened in freezing cold and complete darkness. He was also a bit
smaller than in his last body. And then, there was light. He saw a skinny,
pale, spiky blue haired teen with glazed over eyes and breath that probably
would have smelled like alcohol if Stan still had a nose. Then the kid
grabbed the container Stan was in and the next thing he saw was the insides
of his mouth. Normally the trip down the beginning of the digestive track
would have sickened him beyond expression, but germs were used to this sort
of thing. He found one of the two tubes leading from the mouth to the nose
and went up.
***********************************************************************
Two weeks later (again).
"Now let's see what I can do. Hey! Host! Do you know where a guy named
Johnny lives?"
"What? Why am I talking to myself? Man, I knew I shouldn't have drank that
Listerine, but it never made voices in my head talk to me before."
"But I'm a special voice."
"Why do you want me to find Johnny? I've been trying to stalk him myself
for a while but can never find him. What makes you think I will because you
told me to?"
"Can I at least tell you to watch out for that car?"
"Huh? AAAHHHHH!!!!" Tim fell to the pavement and only opened his eyes when
he was partially under a gray car. It stopped and he saw two black, steel
toed boots walk around and a familiar face look under the car.
"Are you okay? Sorry, I've been a little preoccupied lately."
"Hey! I know you!"
"You do?"
"Johnny C! I've been trying to find you for months! Can I have your
autograph?!"
"If you're the reincarnation of Jimmy, stay still. I have to run over you
again."
"No! I'm not Jimmy! I'm Tim! And I'm your biggest living fan besides all
the psychotic fangirls who want to do unspeakably horrible things to you!
And I haven't copied your killing styles! Yet."
"Normally I would run you over about 100 times and drain your blood until
you turn blue and die, then drop your rotting corpse on a pep rally, but I
don't have the time for that right now. Just get out of the road before
another driver does it for me." Nny got back in the car, which moved
further along the road before stopping at an intersection.
"Tim? Your stalking capabilities might come in handy. Go ahead and follow
him."
"YAAYYYY!!!!"
Tim ran to the intersection but the light turned green before he could get
to Nny's car. So he jumped onto a truck that was following him. Then onto a
car, and another one, and another one until he came to a minivan with a
five year olds' soccer team inside who watched in awe as Tim jumped from
one car to the next in a gross display of fan obsession gone horribly
wrong.
"Look! It's Spider Man!"
"No dummy! It's Superman!"
"Nuh uh!! It's Wonder Woman!"
"Yeah! Go Wonder Woman!" Tim finally latched onto the back bumper of Nny's
car. Nny didn't notice, as he thought it might be the remains of a
cheerleader he ran over last week. Why must guts be so hard to get out of
tire treads? The soccer team turned left and Nny took a sharp right turn
that sent Tim flying into a pile of luggage.
"Quick! Get up! Find him!" Stan was audibly frustrated at having missed
another chance at getting rid of his mortal enemy because his underlings
couldn't work fast enough. But then again a drunken teen with a hacking
cough couldn't be expected to do much. Or so they thought.
