Other Fan Fiction / Romance Fan Fiction / Original Stories Fan Fiction ❯ The Adventures of Thad Gunter ❯ The Setup ( Chapter 11 )

THE CONTINUING ADVENTURES OF THAD GUNTER!!!

 

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Chapter 11: The Setup

 

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“Well, you know, Zacharus is all right but I really prefer Macintyre.”

 

“Oh well, yeah, how can you beat Macintyre? Man, when I first read “The Final Step,” it blew my mind.”

 

“I had the same reaction to “Glint.”

 

“Yeah, MC is a cool guy. Wish he would've written more. What do you think of Catlett?”

 

“Don't even get me started.”

 

“What?”

 

“Definitely the weakest of the group.”

 

“Are you serious? Catlett is my favorite! He's like my hero or something.”

 

Bob the Renn-Tech security guard passed the tray of Oreosâ„¢ over to the Fred the other Renn-Tech security guard. Fred took three cookies from the plastic retainer before passing the carton back to Bob.

 

“I kind of got out of the fandom, even before it all went downhill. You ask me about Tears or Ross, I couldn't tell you anything about them.”

 

“Both are pretty good. You should look `em up now. You can still find some of their stuff around the internet.”

 

“I just don't know if it would be the same now.” Bob punctuated that statement by drinking heartily of his glass of milk, washing the Oreo remnants down his gullet.

 

Bob and Fred sat in quiet meditation for all of a moment before their shared deliberation was shattered by a flurry of loud noise down the hall. It startled the two forty year old men with the mind of twelve years old out of their current mind-set and into one of strictly business.

 

Bob whispered, “Oh shit, what was that?”

 

Fred sat up from his chair and looked over at the security monitors. “I don't know, man. I don't see anything.”

 

“Maybe we should investigate? You know, see if something was stolen or broken or, you know, something?”

 

Fred yawned and sat back down, “Man, do we have to? Won't it all work itself out or something?”

 

Another rattling noise filled the empty office building, which was then followed by the distinctive sound of glass breaking.

 

Bob slid on his hat, grabbed up a flashlight, and quickly downed the rest of his glass of milk before heading for the nearest hallway.

 

“Well, man, aren't you coming?”

“Shit, I'm tired, dude.”

 

“Come on, man, what if something escaped from Sector Twelve again? I don't want to go down there alone.”

 

Fred sighed heavily before reaching for his own hat, “All right, but if one of those little late-night working fucksters eat our cookies, I'm going to have a fucking shit fit. They're the Halloween edition. Orange cream filling, man!”

 

“Fair enough.”

 

Several minutes later…

 

“Aw gee, look at that.”

 

After navigating the labyrinthine hallways of the Renn-Tech building, Bob noticed the door to one of the many secret rooms of the building just happened to be ajar. They further decided that this was indeed what they were looking for when a thin line of shattered glass and trickling blood led to a near-by window.

 

“Fred, you think we should investigate?”

 

“Well, we are all already here. Got our flash lights and everything. So why not?”

 

The two glanced at each other and, both speaking as quickly as possible, uttered the same statement.

“You go first.”

 

Bob was the first to respond.

 

“Damn it!”

 

“I said it first! You! You poke your head in to the scary room first!”

 

“Fine. But, if my head gets bitten off by some ungodly thing, just remember, you don't get my stereo.”

 

“You don't have a stereo.”

 

“You know what, Fred? Fuck you. Seriously.”

 

As Bob pushed the door open just a few more inches and then stuck his head into the room, glancing around, Fred backed away, fully prepared to run away at the slightest sound of attack. He never wanted a stereo anyway.

 

When a minute passed and Bob's head remained attached to Bob's body, he called back to his follow security guard.

 

“No monsters, but something does appear afoot.”

 

“You mean, something's amiss?”

 

“No, afoot. I said, afoot.”

 

“Don't they mean the same thing?”

 

“I'm pretty sure they don't.”

 

“Okay, so is something amiss or is it afoot?”

 

“Get your ass in here, Fred.”

 

“Aw drag…”

 

Bob grabbed a hold of Fred's wrist and pulled him into the room. He felt around on the wall until finding the light switch. After flicking it on, a glass case in the center of the room was illuminated. Just the glass case was, as what was inside had been forcefully removed.

 

Fred, convinced there were few monsters about, spoke up,

 

“Aw gee, look at that. Someone stole something.”

 

Bob read the plague on the box out loud. “Para-Deity Communiqué Apparatus.”

 

“Somebody stole a para-deity communiqué apparatus?”

 

“It sure looks that way.”

 

“What's a para-dental communiqué apparatus?”

 

“Not sure.”

 

At that point, both security guards became aware of a potent odor in the room. Their eyes followed the green wavy stink lines down to the bottom of the container case, where someone had dropped a turd of not inconsiderable size.

 

Bob continued, “And they shit on the floor.”

 

“Oh wow. Look at that.”

 

“You think we should report this?”

 

“Yeah probably… In the morning.”

 

“Good idea,” Bob continued to talk as they headed out the room and back down the hall.

 

“Anyway, the point I'm making is, Catlett's writing has always struck me as kind of shallow.”

 

“Oh Bob, you're so pretentious.”

 

---

 

Once again, Dr. Isaac Thaddeus “Thad” “Dude” “Mammy” Edgar Allen Howard Philips Sam Leroy Gunter III, Jr. found himself staring down the Renn-Tech building. Just like the last time he found himself here, an impenetrable dread filled every single facet of his being. However, instead of being there on a quest to rescue his beloved Helen Maria Rudwalnagirctekahs from the devious James Eaalhi, Thad was instead there to receive orders from Mr. Eaalhi. The only thing Thad was dreading more then walking into that wretched building was the things Eaalhi would make him do.

 

And all for what? As Thad stared down the towering smog vomiting smoke stacks of the Renn-Tech building, he wondered. Was rescuing Helen so important, it meant selling out completely and associating with James Eaalhi, an individual so insidious that he could quite possibly be the devil? By the ten minutes it took the Author to write that sentence, Thad realized the answer. Of course it was. Anything was worth doing, for Helen.

 

Gulping deeply, he stepped forward.

 

---

 

Stuttering and stammering, the elevator door begrudgingly opened. Thad, thoroughly shook by the rough elevator ride down, took a minute to realign his back. Groping around blindly at his spine, eventually he pushed on something that made something snap back into place. He sighed pleasantly.

 

Thad then remember just where he was. After navigating through the writer's floor and an improbably placed graveyard, Thad found the elevator, a rusty, ancient cast iron beast which looked like it had been conceived in Dante's Hell and had been in use since the turn of the industrial revolution. Despite his natural flee-or-fight instincts telling him to flee like crazy, Thad stepped forward and moved the operation switch down to the thirteenth floor, as instructed on the smiley face post-it note he received the previous day. It made perfect sense to Thad that Eaalhi would choose to place his main office on the thirteenth floor, of all places. The black casted creature roared to life and descended underground, towards God only knows what.

 

In the moment it took to pop his back, Thad had managed to forget he was deep within the shit-filled bowels of Renn-Tech. He was surprised the elevator didn't literally come to life, grow teeth, and masticate him right there. He quickly exited the elevator and decided not to look back.

 

Despite expecting to be face with the mile high plumes of fire, tortured screams, and the smells of brimstone and toasty damned souls, Thad instead was faced with a simple flat concrete floor and a long hallway of bolted doors. Some how, this was all the more unnerving, in a wholly anticlimactic way. There weren't even any torture implements to be seen. Those must be kept on the twelfth floor.

 

He headed forward, his loafers clicking against the floor, filling the silent hallway. He continued onward and the sound of his own feet became even more omnipresent. Thad glanced over both shoulders, just making sure nothing was following him. That's right, he looked back. Damn. Another promise all ready broken.

 

He looked up at the ceiling, at the black lamps that dangled on naked cords and the scourged black beams that presumably held the rest of the building up. He read the names of each door he pasts, gleaming such titles as “Jizz Mopping Department,” “Virgin Sacrifice Offices,” “Terror Management,” and “Supply Closet.” Eventually after walking for what seemed like at least fifteen minutes, Thad came to his goal.

 

“Company Head Office: Current Resident: James Eaalhi.”

 

Somehow, achieving this goal somehow didn't ebb his dread any.

 

Thad's leg shook. His heart beat. Despite facing down Eaalhi at least twice before, Thad wasn't any less intimidated by the man, the thing, whatever the hell he was. Thad knew that the only reason he wasn't furiously crapping and pissing his pants at this point was because he took the step not to eat anything that day. Wise move.

 

Gulping for what must have been at least the twelfth time that day, he went ahead and pushed the door open slightly. He glanced inside, expecting again to see something terrible, like a rack of full body skin suits or a collection of jarred, pickled of uteruses, or a complete Tom Arnold video library, or something horrible like that.

 

Instead, he saw Eaalhi seated at his desk, talking to a crazed-eyed but otherwise normal looking man in a suit. There was nothing obviously sinister about the room. Just framed degrees and pictures on the walls and a few bookshelves. He even had one of those little magnetic swinging ball things on his desk.

 

Eaalhi looked up at Thad, staring at him from behind those reflective glasses. James smiled and spoke gingerly, only a subtle amount of his typical evil sneaking into his voice.

 

“Thad, one minute please.”

 

“Oh, okay. But, uh, excuse me? Do you know where the restroom is?”

 

“Seventh room on the right.”

 

“Thanks.”

 

Thad destuck his head out of the door and paused. He looked back and forth down the hall, shivering slightly. Did he mean up or down the hall?

 

----

 

“Anyway, you where saying?”

 

The crazed eyed suited man, one Bristol Gneiss, continued with his speech.

 

“As I was saying, Mr. Eaalhi, I was looking at the Renn-Tech fall release schedule the other day and notice we were missing a major fall release. I mean, “Hard Core Honies 37” and “Exploding Teen Vixens 4” are both coming out but we don't have the kind of feature length, genuinely written pornographic entertainment that our loyal customers have expected to see each fall. The fans need to see an adult entertainment blockbuster underneath the tree, Christmas morning. I mean, if you'll excuse the pun, we're lacking the tent pole needed for the holiday season.”

 

“Yes, yes, true. Do you have an idea, Bristol?”

 

“You bet your ass I have an idea! Sir. I have the trailer all ready envisioned in my mind.”

 

“Please, expound.” Eaalhi leaned back in his chair.

 

Bristol Gneiss sprung forward from his chair and went about acting out the story in full pantomime.

 

“Okay, we open on a shot of the sun coming over the earth. Fade to black. A narrator speaks. “In a world, where anything is possible…” Flash cut to some dude ramming a chick from behind. Back to black. “Where dreams can become reality.” Flash cut to a money shot on some babe in glasses. “One man…” Below the waist shot of our male star. “Will be force to stand up for…” Images of an erection. “The woman he loves.” Music builds, images of explosions, hardcore action, explosions, hardcore action, breasts!, ass!, breasts!, ass!, cock!, hardcore action, explosions, hardcore action in an explosion!”

 

Gneiss slammed his hands down on the desk.

 

“The screen goes black again. The narrator speaks again. “Starring, John McHugecock! Cindy Smexx, and THE TRIPOD, as himself! From the director of “Meat Magnum,” “The Legend of Porkenstein,” and “Attack of the Cock-a-zoids!” Comes a new startling vision of hardcore penetration!” An ominous cord plays as the title fades in. “Death Truncheon!” The title explodes then we get one quick shot of a smacked ass. “Cumming Christmas, 2008. A Renn-Tech release.”

 

Eaalhi caressed his chin thoughtfully. Gneiss, chest heaving, coked in sweat, returned to his seat.

 

“So… What do you think?”

 

The president smiled coyly. “I think I smell a hit!”

 

Bristol Gneiss jumped up, raising his fist in triumph. “Yes! I knew you'd love it!”

 

Eaalhi reached into his desk and removed two thick stacks of hundred dollar bills. He passed the money across the desk to Bristol.

 

“Here's two thousand dollars. I expect production to start by tonight and want some footage by this Friday. We have to work hard if we want to make that release date.”

 

Gathering up the money, Gneiss headed for the door. “I've all ready got the Tripod's people on the phone and told the fluffers to warm their mouths up earlier today. I won't let you down, Mr. Eaalhi.”

 

“What about the script?”

Gneiss pointed to his cranium, “It's all up here, boss.”

 

“Perfect. One more thing, Bristol.”

 

He turned away from the door and back to his employer. “Yeah?”

“Don't spend all the money on smack and underage Asian hookers and then make the movie with what's left of your kids' trust funds, okay?”

 

Gneiss chuckled deviously, “You've got my word, boss.” He said before exiting the room.

 

----

 

After going up and down both halls in either direction, Thad did stumble upon the bathroom. It was hard to overlook, as it was stuck right between the Urgent Ass Surgery Room and The Gift and Coffee Shop.

 

Despite purposely not drinking anything all morning, Thad's bladder felt as if it was the dyke about to burst and there wasn't any little Dutch boys around. Thad supposed it was a fear piss, where the body transforms one's terror directly into urine. He got those from time to time.

 

Rushing immediately to the urinal, Thad was lucky he got his fly down in time before he released a raging waterfall of snow-melting lemonade onto the smooth, white surface. Sighing deeply and richly, a wave of relief passed over him in much the same way his furious tinkle now passed over the frosty urinal cake.

 

He was so caught up in this fierce pissing, that Thad didn't even notice when another person entered the bathroom. He would've been easy to miss anyway, due to his slouching posture. Thad didn't notice the presence at all until the smell hit him. It was an instantly recognizable odor. Being in a bathroom, Thad naturally assumed that someone was just in the process of using the stall next to him. Gross, but natural and not unusual. It was only when Thad realized that the stall was empty that he began to wonder what was up.

 

Glancing over at the urinal next to him, Thad saw the kind of thing he been anticipating all morning. Spraying urine without direction all over the urinal and surrounding area was a jumbled ball of twisted limbs, twitching extremities, and protruding knobs of bone. The thing raised his oversized head and looked directly into Thad's soul with his half-open, lifeless eyes. The creature smiled weakly.

 

Ashley Jenkins, or Ass as he was commonly known, tried to speak to Thad. Tried being the key word. The ballpoint pen that Ass had stabbed through his tongue ten minutes ago, in hopes that it would make the deep hurting that filled his body go away, made speaking clearly, or at all, pretty difficult.

 

Thad looked from his eyes to the reddish brown dried crystals of blood that dangled from Ass' plump lower lip. His tongue thrashed back and forth while the vertically sticking pen made it impossible for Ass to return his tongue back to the comfort of his month. As he turned to faced Thad and sprayed the dividing wall between the urinals with a thick mustard yellow substance, Ass tried to talk.

 

Under normal circumstances, Ass was difficult to understand. However, with his tongue currently being skewered like a Greek restaurants lunch special, Ass could barely talk at all. His attempt to say hello to Thad only resulted in him spitting cherry cream thick blood-saliva in Thad's face.

 

Thad moaned in distressed, “Agh, saints preserve us!” He backed away from the urinal, his fly still down and his equipment still flapping in the air, dripping a few remaining beads of urine onto the floor and his pants legs. He wiped his face hoping to keep what could very well have been HIV infected blood as far away from his mouth as possible.

 

After opening his eyes, Thad was faced with the unpleasant visage of Ass Jenkins walking towards him, pants still down, arms out, apparently prepared to receive a hug. It was at this point that Thad noticed the thin stiletto style needles stabbed through the upper layers of his hand and arm skins. Even if Thad gave this poor, pathetic creature the benefit of the doubt, accepting his hug would mean being stabbed all over his body by the protruding spines.

 

Not that Thad really needed a good reason to flee. He usually ran away from things just for fun. But he was confident he had legitimate cause to turn tail and skedaddle. Screaming like a little girl, he faced the bathroom exit and launched himself ahead, his feet moving faster then the rest of him.

 

Ignorant of the deep, natural revulsion he caused in Thad, Ass waddled after the person he decided right then and there at that exact moment would be his bestest friend forever, for life. He would not stop until he got his hug.

 

---

 

“What do you mean they're out of medium sized suspenders?” James Eaalhi sighed, displeased. While the poor intern chatter into the phone into his boss' ear, in some hope that his meager excuses would spare his life, James removed a small spiral notebook from his desk draw. Gripping a near-by pen, he added two new names to the list inside. “Anonymous Intern 1382” and “Evil Gentlemen's Big and Small,” the list being “People/Businesses/Ideologies to Liquidate (And by Liquidate, I Mean Turn Into a Meat Milkshake.)”

 

Before Eaalhi used his vast telepathic powers to make the intern's head explode, ala “Scanners,” a screaming Thad Gunter stumbled into his office.

 

“Jesus God, what is it?” The panicked man screamed.

 

James peered over his desk and glanced at the hallway.

 

“What are you talking about, Thaddeus?”

 

Extending his index finger and pointing accusingly down the hall, Thad exclaimed, “It looks like a monster from “Basket Case IV!””

 

Eaalhi rose from his desk, “Did something escape from Sector Twelve again?” He walked to the door while Thad went to cower in the corner.

 

Covering his eyes and curled up in the fetal position, like an easily startled pre-teen girl watching “Poltergeist” for the first time, Thad was disheartened once more when, instead of high-pitch squeals of terror floating into the room from the hallway, he only heard heartless laughter.

 

“Oh, Thad, you silly duck.”

 

Parting his fingers only ever so slightly, Thad witnessed Eaalhi patting the mutated little thing on the head and laughing at its antics the way one would with a mischievous puppy dog. He pulled the creature's pants back up and fastened them. He glanced at Ass' face and disapprovingly shook his head at the pen impaled through his tongue.

 

“Oh, Ashley, what have you gotten yourself into now?”

 

He grabbed the pen's base and gave it a good tug, pulling the writing device directly and bluntly out. Now freed of its obstacle, Ass' muscle began to twitch and swish around uncontrollably, spraying blood wildly and graphically from the 2-inch wide opening.

 

Removing a silk handkerchief from his pocket, James Eaalhi causally cleaned the splattered plasma from the poor, pathetic boy's face. Standing up again, James gave Ass a gentle push on the back of his head, setting the malformed thing on its path.

 

“Go up to Level Seven and get that fixed, would you?”

Chuckling slightly, Eaalhi returned to his office. “Thad, you must have the composition of a Catholic school girl. Not the horny kind either”

 

Standing up, cautiously, he spoke, “What was that thing exactly?”

 

“That “thing,” and I don't appreciate the negative term Thaddeus, was my nephew, Ashley. He was born with an unfortunate series of painful deformities and has a habit of self-mutilation. It's rather cute, actually. He just wanted to say hello to you.”

 

“Gee, Eaalhi, you almost expressed affection for another living thing there. You might want to check yourself.”

 

Chuckling, he responded, “I'm not completely heartless, Mr. Gunter. I even had a human heart once, you know. And you're lucky I need you, or else I would have imploded you right here and now for the back-sass.”

 

Eaalhi glanced down at Thad waist, grinning slightly.

 

“Wow Thad, have you ever consider a career in adult entertainment?”

 

It was only then that Thad realized he had never zipped his fly back up after fleeing the bathroom and that all ten inches of his bits and pieces were breathing freely, inexplicably now at half-mast.

 

Blushing a shade of crimson so red that it couldn't actually be classified as a shade by science, Thad quickly tucked himself back into place and zipped up. He cleared his throat, greatly embarrassed.

 

“So, anyway, what was it that you wanted me to do?”

 

“Oh, yes, please, follow this way.”

 

Eaalhi walked towards a door to his left that Thad (and the Author apparently) had failed to notice before. After undoing the series of elaborate locks and chains, Eaalhi slide the flap aside and stepped into a dark room. Cautiously, Thad followed after him, certain that a terrible something or other lay in wait within.

 

Navigating through the layered shadows, Thad whacked his shin on some sort of object. He groaned slightly in annoyance before wandering over and smacking his other shin on some other sort of object. Grunting again, both shins thoroughly nicked, Thad decided to just stand still and wait for further instructions.

 

At which point, both shins were whipped with what felt like a hand-picked switch of some sort.

 

“Owwie-owwie-ow!”

 

He heard Eaalhi snicker.

 

“You son of a bitch! I know that one was you!”

 

Composing himself for a moment, Eaalhi spoke again, “Sorry. I devoured a rare Bangle tiger kitten whole this morning. Excuse me if I'm in a good mood.”

 

His vision adapting to the sudden blackness now, Thad shot the vague outline of a human being next to him a side-ways glance. He wasn't sure if Eaalhi was kidding or telling the truth. And, personally, he didn't really want to now.

 

He could make out James sitting down in one of a series of folding cushioned seats. Glancing around, he could also discern a continuing series of such rows filling most of the room. Ah, a movie theater. He pushed the neighboring seat down and motion to Thad.

 

“Have a seat, please. I watch the dailies of our films here.”

 

This information caused Thad to search the fabrics of his seat and the adjoining units for incriminating stains of an unpleasant nature.

 

“I assure you, Isaac, I keep business and pleasure separated.”

 

“That doesn't mean anything to me.”

 

Eaalhi sighed, “All the chronic masturbators sit up front. You're safe back here.”

 

Feeling mildly safer, Thad place his tuckus on his assigned seating device.

 

Holding a small remote in hand, Eaalhi pressed a series of buttons and the screen came to life, illuminating the room to a degree.

 

Rotating on-screen was a 3-D CGI model of what appeared to be a specialized helmet. A series of cables, diodes, straps, and other such do-dads winded up and attached themselves to the head protection unit.

 

“This is a top secret project I had been working on for some time now, The Para-Deity Communiqué Apparatus.”

 

“Para-Deity Communiqué Apparatus? You want to talk to God?”

 

Eaalhi turned to Thad and smiled his normal expression of mild, devious bemusement. “Something like that. Anyhoo, the other night, someone sneaked in and stole this device from Sector Five.”

 

“Someone actually managed to penetrate the inner folds of Renn-Tech? Wouldn't the Porno-Bots get them?”

 

“Sadly, due to budget cutbacks, we had to limit the use of our Porno-Bots.”

 

“Gee, thanks for clearing up that plot hole for everyone.”

 

“No, we had to rely on human guards to protect our equipment, thus the theft. Don't worry, the guards were moved to a new building. And by “moved to a new building,” I mean disemboweled and fed to rats.”

 

“So I guess you want me to get this Plasma-Deity Talking-To Thingy-ma-Jig back?”

 

“I chose you specifically for this goal because we're confident a friend of yours is responsible for the theft. You see, the bandit defecated at the scene of the crime.”

 

“I know a lot of people who would do that. You sure it wasn't one of your guys?”

 

“Quite certain. We had our DNA team analyze the by-product. We determined a few things. First off, the culprit needs way more fiber in his diet. Secondly, his identity.”

 

Clicking a button again, a new image appeared on-screen. This one was a mug-shot of someone all too familiar to Thad.

 

The balding mass of torrid orange-red hair, large flakes of dandruff speckled throughout. The blood-shot, craven, Charlie Manson style gaze. The puffy cheeks, cracked jaw line, yellow/green rotting teeth. The coke-blood caked around the noise and dove blood similarly caked around the lips. The shirtless-ness. The white-and-red-hearts boxers. The vertically challenged height. There was no mistaking it.

 

“Oh shit.”

 

“Yes, exactly right, Thad. Dalek Jalapeño Silloc stole the Apparatus.”

 

“DJ Silloc. Why would he want your magical bicycle helmet?”

 

“I was hoping you would know that. Either way, the Apparatus must be returned and in as timely a fashion as possible.”

 

“Why do you need to talk to God so much?”

 

“There's no time for specifics.”

 

“All right, whatever, be all mysterious. Who do you think you are? Cancer Man?”

 

Clicking the projector off and sending the room delving back into darkness once again, Eaalhi glared at Thad, light from some unknown source reflecting deviously off his mirrored glasses.

 

“I don't smoke.” He said before heading back towards the exit. Thad followed behind, hoping against hope that his poor bruised…

 

“Ouchies!”

 

Eaalhi chuckled again.

 

“Goddamn you!”

 

---

 

Eaalhi slide a piece of paper across his desk.

 

“Last we saw of Silloc, he was running a fencing operation out of Centralia, Pennsylvania.”

 

“Centralia, Pennsylvania? The abandoned town with the eternally burning underground coal fire that will eventually consume the entire town?”

 

“No. The other Centralia, Pennsylvania. There's two. One with an eternally burning underground coal fire that will eventually consume the entire town and one that, uh, doesn't have that.”

 

Studying the paper, “Oh.” He wondered out loud, “What exactly do you want me to do to DJ? I'm not killing him.”

 

“We don't expect you too, Thad. No, we simply want you to retrieve the Para-Deity Communiqué Apparatus by whatever means you feel most comfortable with. You are friends with DJ. Use that trust to sneak away with some of his loot.”

 

“Betraying my friend? I don't want to sink to your level, Eaalhi.”

 

“Oh, well, in that case, we do have other assignments that need doing. Like watching the dailies for one of our most recent productions, “Hot Scat Action 18,” starring, oh what was her again? Oh yes, Rudwalnagirctekahs?”

 

Thad shivered at the thought, “You're not serious. I mean, isn't scat porn illegal anyway?”

 

Eaalhi placed his elbows on his desk, cupped his fist together, and lean forward, smiling wickedly at Thad in a way that suggested the answer to his question.

 

Sighing heavily once again, Thad closed his eyes, hoping to wipe the horrible images of what they were making his sweet Helen do from his mind and the bitter taste of defeat from his mouth. It didn't work.

 

“So, how am I supposed to get to Centralia?”

 

Leaning back again, James lifted a remote again and clicked. “Easily. Teleportation.”

 

“Teleportation?”

“Yes. You've experienced it before. Remember Thad?”

 

“Is it safe? Last time I was teleported, I nearly ended up as lunch for an exploding Land Shark.”

 

“I assure you, Land Sharks are sparse in Centralia, especially the exploding verity.”

 

“So, is there a teleportation room or something?”

 

“It'll come to us. Soon.”

 

There was an awkward silence. Thad cleared his throat. James Eaalhi fiddled with his remote some more. Thad scratch himself covertly. Eaalhi played with the little magnetic ball device on his desk. Both watch the clock. Then Thad scratched himself again. Finally…

 

The wall directly next to the door exploded outward in a furiously loud explosion. Thad curled up into a ball and Eaalhi simply looked onward, somewhat confused. Debris sailed over his desk and bounced harmlessly off the opposite wall. After the dust cleared, hovering a foot above the floor was another familiar sight to Thad. A height of over eight feet, block head, burning red eyes, backpack glowing with a strange blue light, dildo shaped arms. Yep, a Porno-Bot if there ever was one.

 

“Jesus Shit! I thought you said there weren't any more left!”

 

Eaalhi barely heard Thad's screams of objection, “Goddamn it, Stanley! The door was right there! It is so hard to use the fucking door? Jesus.”

 

The Porno-Bot bowed its head in shamed and hummed apologetically.

 

“Do you know how much its going to coast us to repair that wall? It's coming out of your paycheck, Stanley. And don't give me that sob story about your wife and kids, okay? Think of them next time before you go barreling through people's walls.”

 

Still cowering under his chair, Thad stuck his head out and glanced at the large machine.

 

“Anyway Stanley, teleport this one to the designated area, immediately.”

 

Standing up, pushing his chair aside, Thad brushed the soot from his suit and asked Eaalhi once again. “You promise there won't be any Land Sharks?”

 

“Promise.”

 

“I still don't believe you.”

 

Stanley, the repentant Porno-Bot, buzzed to life once again. He pointed his dildo arm at Thad and his backpack glowed an even more brilliant color of blue. The erotic panting of morally loose women filled the air.

 

Thad held up his arms, yelling,

 

“Wait you didn't…!”

He was cut off by Stanley's mechanized yelling.

 

“ACTIVATE PORNO WAVES!”

 

Before he could finish that thought, blue light emerge from the tip of the dildo and blinded Thad with its intensity. For an instant, he felt his atoms being torn apart and sling-shot across the continent. And then he was gone.

 

Where Thad once stood, now only remained a smoldering piece of carpet.

 

Eaalhi's nostrils came alive at the stench. He examined the spot on the floor before turning to the Porno-Bot again.

“That's coming out of your paycheck too.”

 

Stanley could do nothing but sigh robotically.

 

---

 

After rematerializing, the first thing Thad saw was… A concrete floor rushing up towards him.

 

“SHIT!” Smack. There went his shins again.

 

Unsticking his 1940s movie serial hero facial features from the cold floor, Thad looked up and observe his new surrounding. To his left were some chairs, directly in front of him was a sign that read “Silloc Fencing (That Means We Sell Stolen Stuff) - Centralia Office.” And to his right, was a desk. Seated there was a teenage secretary, reading a Teen People, adjusting her horn-rimmed glasses, and snapping some gum. Her expression seemed to show no amazement at the man who just appeared out of thin air.

 

Nasally she spoke, “Can I help you?”

 

Standing up and dusting off his suit once again, Thad walked to the girl and spoke clearly, “Uh, yes, I need to see Mr. Silloc.”

 

“He's with a client now. Wait please.”

 

“But, it's urgent…”

Smacking his knuckles with the rolled-up magazine, the secretary spoke more sternly this time.

 

“WAIT! PLEASE! THANK YOU!”

 

Obviously shunned, Thad went over and took a seat. Tapping his fingers on his pants legs, he thought over his situation. Christ, what had DJ gotten him self into now? And why was Thad getting dragged into it? Or was that the other way around? All of this over a girl. Honestly, the things we do for love.

 

---

 

Looking into the Manipulator's screen once again, James Eaalhi watched Thad, on the other side of the country, sitting in the plain office, waiting as patiently as possible, twirling his fingers around each other in an effort to the pass the time.

 

Frigidly, he stared. The good mood he experienced earlier was gone now. His pleasant disposition was sorrowed when, after sitting down at the Manipulator, he realized just how much Thad had managed to fuck up his brilliant plan. Eaalhi was certain that DJ Silloc would never have gotten involved in things if it wasn't for Thad. Things were going to be simple. All he had to do was make sure Thad saw the appropriate images, became what he is today, and go on a wacky adventure that would set off the correct chain of events needed to… Well, either way, it was of no concern now. With him working at Renn-Tech, Eaalhi had Gunter under his thumb. And what do we do with things that are under our thumbs?

 

Gripping the Manipulator remote and motioning the desired action, Eaalhi spoke coldly, harshly, and without any of his usually put-on human compassion.

 

“You crush them.”

 

TO BE CONTINUED!!!