Withering Flats, Episode Two, part 4

(Episode Two, part 4)

Hello again from the ever interesting world of Withering Flats! We are continuing our installments of Episode Two and tonight we pick up right when nasty Nick Nak had sweet Janee Trubloo tied up in copper wires and was about to plug her into the electrical socket when the doorbell rang. Nik answered onoy to find himself confronted by a host of Super Heroes. Let’s find out what happened next...

He swung the door open, politely saying, “What can I do for ...” then suddenly was struck dumb in seeing right there in front of him, Superman, Batman, Iron Man, the Wolverine, Harry Potter and a Cheerleader!

“Gulp,” Nick nervously swallowed and, in his most innocent voice, asked, “Well, hello there. Whatever brings you all to ...um, visit this evening?” hoping that it was some kind of mistaken address situation.

“Trick or Treat!” they chorused, as they all raised their arms up to show the bags that they carried.

‘Huh? What’s that again?” responded Nick, in some trepidatious confusion.

“Trick or Treat!” and they all offered up their bags a bit more insistently.

Nick stood in motionless befuddlement a moment longer as the gears of his thought processes disengaged, remeshed in a realigned differential configuration, ground, chuttered and clattered a bit and finally produced enough mechanically organic electrical energy up the convoluted wiring of his evil mind, to finally light the ultra-violet bulb in his idea attic, shedding dark illumination on the realization that it was Halloween and these were kids out begging for loot. (“My kind of deal,” his subconscious entity acknowledged, and then followed with, “No wonder they all look so much shorter than I imagined them to be.”)

“Oh,” his conscious mind finally vocalized, then, “Oh! Okay, you sneaky little brats, I know your game,” once more reverting to character, rocking on his heels and putting his hands in his jacket pockets, “Well, you’re out of luck here, because I don’t...” then he stopped as his hands fondled the box in his pocket. His thoughts went through their manipulations again, his brows knit down then purled back up again, and he said, “Wait a minute ... here,” pulling the box out, “there’s one for each of you,” and as he held the box in one hand he pulled out individually wrapped foil packets from it with the other and dropped one in each proffered bag.

“There you go, kids, now beat it, I’m a busy man!” and waved them away “Thanks, mister!” they chorused one last time, as some of them looked into their bags, trying to discern exactly what it was that he had given them.

Then Superman spoke up and added, “That’s a great old fashioned costume you’re wearing,” referring to Nick’s slicked back jet black hair and pencil thin handlebar moustache, his long black coat, black string tie against the severely starched white shirt (worn to please his mother), the black trousers falling down around his high healed shiny black boots. “But what is that supposed to be,” pointing between Nick’s legs at the protruding toilet plunger still tightly held there.

“Um,” Nick looked down into the red rubber circle of the plunger’s business end as it seemed to be staring back up at him.

“Um...” he repeated, looking back up at the gathered group, once again in confused stasis. (Mental gears grind, etc.)

“Oh!” he announced, in sudden inspiration, focusing on the Harry Potter costumed child. He stuffed the half empty box back into his coat pocket, grabbed the plunger and brandished it above his head in a menacing way.

“This is my Magic Wand and I’ll use it to turn you all into sewer rats if you don’t scram!” he threatened menacingly.

The gathered children looked at him, then all broke into laughter exclaiming, “Ha-ha-ha!”

“You’re too funny, mister!”

“Cool!”

“That’s a good one!”

“Ha! Thanks again!” and they scurried off to the next house as quickly as their costumed legs would carry them.

Nick slammed the door in self-congratulatory triumph at having overcome this challenging setback, turned and strode back to where Janee was napping peacefully against the wall. He plucked out the rag with his left hand, the right hand still holding the once again forgotten plunger, and stuffed it in his back pocket. Janee stirred a bit, smacked her lips twice, smiled in her continued repose and began snoring in vibrant, open-mouthed earnest.

“I’ll make you sign the deed over,” Nick confidently announced to her, waving the plunger for emphasis, “and tell me that you’ll marry me!” he threw in for good measure, not really caring if she married him or not (or if she even heard him), but enamored with the idea of making her tell him, against her will, that she would. He put down the plunger next to Janee, went and grabbed the spool of copper wire that he had stashed behind the door, then continued trussing the solidly sleeping form of her upper body until she was quite well cocooned.

Stepping back to survey his handiwork, he rubbed his hands together in glee and said, “Now my sweet, you’ll see what happens when you refuse my reasonable offers!”

(end of part 4)

Well! Will Nick make good on his threat to plug Janee in? Will she wake up before he does? Will she wake up when he does? Is there some way to stop this evil scheme? Do we have to wait until tomorrow?

Yes, that’s all for tonight, and we will indeed pick up again tomorrow as the further adventures of those wonderful folks from Withering Flats return!

Written by Michael Steven Platt 5-13-09