Gators – Chapter Eight
Mr Giggles strolled confidently down the busy street, a crumpled piece of paper held tight in his sweaty palm. He had laboriously read and re-read the instructions on the sheet, and was on the way to first supply stop - the local Home & Hardware store. He leapt grandly into the store and began filling a trolley with all the necessary items. He checked off the list as he shopped, muttering under his breath.
"Salad bowls... check... hammer... check... old vacuum cleaner... wait, what?" He glanced around until his eyes rested on a pimply young assistance. "You! Got any vacuum cleaners?"
"Ah... aisle three, s-sir!" the boy stammered.
"No no no. I need an *old* vacuum cleaner. Get me one from the staff room or something."
"Sir, I-I'm not sure I can do that, sir..."
Mr Giggles was losing his patience. He pulled out his identification card from the OSS (Um do those even exist hahaha) and flashed it menacingly at the boy. "I order you to fetch me an old vacuum cleaner." The boy scurried off and returned very quickly with the needed materials. Mr Giggles flipped $10 into his palm and strode away with the trolley.
"Masking tape... check... buckets... check... rope... blasting caps... check... batteries... check... wire... check... switch... check."
He sighed contentedly but couldn't help but notice a nagging feeling in the back of his head. Was he missing something? He read his list once more, checking it against the items in his trolley. A nosy passerby wandering past looked inside the trolley and laughed.
"Excuse me?" asked Mr Giggles indignantly.
"Dude, you tryin' to make a bomb? You forgot the uranium, dude."
"Eureka!" cried Mr Giggles. He hugged the man and raced towards the checkout. There was his next move planned out for him! He had to find some Uranium.
Once the items were paid for, Mr Giggles struggled out of the store under the weight of four fully loaded environmental bags. He hurried off down the street until he came across a familiar alleyway. He'd been spending some time there with some homeless friends while he spied on Gary and David. The thought of them sent a wave of nausea through his stomach. This plan could not come to fruition soon enough. One of his homeless friends sent him a friendly wave as he clutched a milk carton to his chest with his other hand.
"Hey Bob, whatcha got there?" Mr Giggles asked, gesturing to the carton. Bob glanced around furtively and motioned for Mr Giggles to lean in close.
"It's just a little something I whipped up," he whispered with a spark in his eye. "Want to try it?"
Mr Giggles took the carton and raised it to his lips. "Sure, what's in it?"
"Oh nothing much, just uranium hexafluoride."
"WOAH!" Mr Giggled leapt backwards, nearly spilling the carton's contents. "What the duck, Bob, are you trying to kill me or something?"
"Woah, no! I never told you to drink it, did I?" Bob replied, flabbergasted.
When his breath had returned to normal, Mr Giggles remembered that uranium was precisely what he had been hoping to find here.
"Say, Bob. You looking to sell that stuff?" he offered smoothly.
"Depends what you're willing to pay."
"I'll give you a thousand dollars."
Bob laughed merrily. "I don't want money! What do I need with money! I've got everything I need here with my cosy little box and my cuddly little bear, Cuddles." He reached behind him and pulled out a sweet-faced bear with many lovingly repaired patches and facial features and some worn looking clothes.
"It sure looks like Cuddles could do with a new outfit!" said Mr Giggles kindly.
Bob considered the offer carefully. "Look here. I'll do you a deal. I know what you're trying to make, and I know the perfect place to do it. Go to Build-a-Bear. You'll see what I mean when you get there. Do what you need to do and bring me back a turquoise cardigan, a white frilly bonnet and some fishnet stockings in size 3 for Cuddles."
Mr Giggles accepted the deal and shook Bob's hand. "Thank you for the information, and the uranium hexagon."
"You mean hexa-"
"Shut up." He took the carton from Bob's dirty arms and headed off to Build-a-Bear.
The Build-a-Bear store's bell chimed as Mr. Giggles waddled in carting his four bags and carton of uranium. The joint was crowded with little people. Typical, thought Mr. Giggles. It just had to be busy on the day he wanted to build a uranium bomb. His eyes found a nice big working bench, perfect for constructing his weapon of doom and destruction. It was swarming with little people. We stumbled over and waved them all off flashing his OSS identification around like a bird flapping it's wings. The little people ran away fast, desperately trying to escape the madman's presence. But just when Mr. Giggles was about to start work, he realised one little person was standing next to him tugging at his trouser leg.
"I was here first," whined the little person.
"Nah, I was here first. See! I have ID," said Mr. Giggles displaying his card.
The little person put on his pure hatred expression and kicked Mr. Giggles hard in the leg. He toppled to the ground moaning in pain.
Once he had recovered, he sprung back up remembering the important task he had at hand here. Mr. Giggles fished the instructions from out of his pocket and read through the first step. He needed to transfer the uranium hexagon or whatever, from gas to liquid. So he pulled out his bike pump which he just happened to have handy, and applied pressure to the substance making it running liquid. He filled one of his ten buckets with one quarter of uranium and tied a six foot long rope to the handle of the bucket. He swung the rope around his neck as quickly as he could almost strangling himself in the process and began to let the clock tick. He only had to stand in the same position for forty five minutes. How hard could it be?
Mr. Giggles was sweating beyond belief. And to think that he would have to repeat this same step nine more times was painful. He wasn't Superman for crying out loud.
Hours later he had reached his seventh cycle and the little people were beginning to leave with their brand new teddy bears.
"Are you a scarecrow?" asked a little person.
"No," huffed Mr. Giggles.
"Well, you look like a scarecrow." The kid stood there for a minute longer. "Are you sure you're not a scarecrow?"
Mr Giggles was going insane. He kept telling himself that it was almost finished and once it's done it'll all be completely worth it. And once this is all over, he thought, I promise myself that I will become a scarecrow. Because I bet that brainless kid all I'm worth that I could do a pretty damn good job at it. Mr. Giggles figured he'd have nothing better to do anyway. And he wouldn't be able to watch the NOC which Grandma Giggles anymore. He didn't think that she would act too kindly once she found out that he had blown up her only grandson.
More hours passed and Mr. Giggles was good to go. After he had taken a nap. He feel asleep in the cage where they keep all the bear stuffing and it was rather comfy. Mr. Giggles dreamt of his blown up son and the stupid blown up bakery. It was the happiest dream he had ever dreamt, but once he woke up in the bear stuffing cage, he had completely forgotten it and had returned to his working bench.
The place was completely deserted of little people and staff and very little light was shining into the room. But it would have to do.
To be continued! Written by aurorstorm and zeillusionofthenight