|The Story||The Authors|
Suddenly, a horrible record rip tears through the air. Mr. Tickles' eyes glow
red as the ground begins to buckle and tear. Unthinkable terrors began
spilling out of the ground, adding their growls, yells, and screams to the
tearing and rending of the earth.
The two catsuited figures are quickly overwhelmed and reduced to a pile of quivering, bloody heap of flesh. The creatures do not stop with them. They rear as one howling, screaming mass and turn on the cameramen...
|"Cut!!", screams the director, until he realizes his untimely mistake.|
Meanwhile, Oskgar Templeton, propieter and front desk clerk of the Please Don't
Fall Inn of Smucker's Gorge, Arizona, eyed the boy on the other side of the
counter suspiciously. Something about the boy just didn't seem quite right. A
huge tabby meowed forlornly in its carrier beside him.
"You gotta name, kid?"
"I'm Timmy. This here's my cat. He's Mr. Tickles."
"Nice to meet ya, Timmy. What can I do for ya?"
"You 'llow pets, don't you?" the sandy haired kid asked with a beaming grin.
"Yep. That's what the sign out front says."
"Goodie, I got my cat with me. Can I get a room?"
Another runaway Oskgar decided, already planning his call to the state patrol. "Sure thing kid, but just exactly how do you intend to pay for it?"
"Merican Press" he replied, wielding the green card like a paper airplane he was about to set loose at the innkeeper's forehead.
Stole his parent's credit card too.
"You don't mind I just have a look at that do you? Gotta check it out like, you know? Can't be too careful days like these now, can you?"
"Okay" said Timmy happily surrendering his credit card.
|Timmy set the pet carrier silently on the counter and quietly unlatched the door. The cat leapt out of it's plastic box and landed on Oskgar's back. Mr. Tickles caught the hotel proprieter in a half-nelson and with his claws at the man's throat, the cat advised him to hang up the phone and register the boy at the hotel without any further delay. Oskgar, startled at being threatened by the cat, did as he was told. Timmy smiled and signed the register with a large X.|
|Oh, Timmy thought as he patted his suitcase, if only the cat knew what horrible fate was in store for him later on.|
|Those Pitt Bulls can be pretty tuff customers, but I still think Timmy can take care of himself. After all they can't climb a tree or run as fast as Timmy can, besides it's what I have in this suitcase that will make the difference.|
little legs with big teeth
|made him a little topheavy. Sometimes, especially while running to second base, he would topple over. At the last game, it took the shortstop and the second baseman AND the centerfielder to get him upright again.|
pickachu and mewtwo sitting on a tree
first comes love --
they move into a hovel --
and leave their mindless postings on the tan-dem novel...
|la la la la!|
|She sang as she drove down the highway.(She had forgotten the words)|
"Very good there Mr. Templeton," breathed Mr Tickles into Oskgar's ruddy ear.
One long sharp claw poised threateningly over Oskgar's pulsing jugular, "now
just slide the key to the boy. Easy...easy. Good. Now you will go back into
your office shut the door and sit there. Do not pass Go. Do not collect $200.
Wait for me. I'll be back. I have something for you to do"
"Ye..yes sir, Mr Tickles.", stammered Oskgar.
|As Oskgar stood there behind the closed door of his office he deliberated on whether he should tip off the boy as to Mr. Tickles impending intentions. He sighed to himself in his weak, been kicked in the teeth too many times way and quietly sat down in his uncomfortable chair behind his meticulously manicured desk and thought to himself; I have to replace this chair of mine. At that moment a knock came on the door and a sweaty browed Oskgar timidly responded with a deafeningly weak;"uh... co...co...come in.|
|In walked a large man in a steel grey suit carrying a large breifcase. It thumped, sounding as if it was empty, as it was placed not too gently on his desk. "Mr. Tickles sent me to work out a little business deal with you". The ever-timid Oskgar scrunched down in his chair and imagined himself in Idaho. He wasn't sure why Idaho was the first place to come to his mind. It's only redeeming quality was it was a thousand miles from this office and this square-jawed, spiky haired, thinly veiled goon. He imagined himself in Boise, Idaho Falls, or Poccatello. He would sit behind the tinted window of a Burger King, wear dark glasses, occasionally pick at his Whopper Value Meal, and bask in the confidence of knowing he was far distanced from the situation he was now in.|