Chapter 6
| The Story | The Authors |
|---|---|
| She was suddenly distracted by the sound of screeching tires out in the front of the house. She looked up to see a cop car parked hastily. The driver was getting out and running up towards the front door. | |
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Halfway around the globe, renown Armenian Phrenologist, Macer Yagnogian gently massaged the head of his client Grumminy Aswagian. "You will be experiencing a strong Greek desire for a certain sheep in the oncoming week, but you must not, I repeat must not wear a lamb skin prophylactic for this engagement. It will not protect you from the mad ewe's virus and will only serve to depress and infuriate the sheep," Macer stated. | |
| Mabel knew of such worldy things, but she didn't dwell on them too much. Men were an odd lot that she could never quite understand. | |
| Mabel watched as Janice approached the house. Janice thought to herself perhaps she could use the cop that was chasing her to save her friends. Instead of going in the front door of the house, she simply opened the door, and then ran around to the side of the house, just in time to have Officer Karl come screeching up to the house in his squad car. Janice was in luck, so far. | |
| Mabel enjoyed watching A&E and especially things like Unsolved Armenian Adrenaline Mysteries but found her attention focusing on the figure racing up the walk from the police car. It was a woman and not a uniformed police officer . Janice reached the door and in her haste snapped off the door handle with her right titanium hand. "Damn I’ve got to stop doing that," she mused as Mabel opened the door from the inside. "What you want? queried Mabel as she attempted to restrain Quiggley the monkey. "I, uh need your help, uh please let me in, I uh, …oh what interesting sculptures…. Yes my name is Janice and I’m with the Art Police and we’re in the neighbourhood checking for errant art" Janice had a amazingly quick and inventive mind. Janice had almost closed the door behind her when Officer Karl Borgnine burst into the room. "Jeez will ya look at the hunk’n dust bunnies, what kind of shit is this crap? breezed the porcine constable. Mabel grabbed her 12 gauge from behind the couch. | |
| Silence covered the room like a fresh snowfall broken only by an unapologetic burst of wind from Officer Borgnine's pants. He hadn't notice the shotgun. He was much too busy observing the onanistic antics of Quiggley atop a particularly hideous green plasticene sculpture that resembled the result of squeezing a thousand tubes of toothpaste onto a Medieval coffee table and then shellacing those results. Janice merely sighed. This had not been the sort of day she had planned on having, but she knew she had to do something. She wasn't about to let herself get blasted away now, and draw her final breath staring at a conceptual artwork consisting of two dead flies floating in a thirty gallon tank of blue formaldahyde entitled "Summer Siesta Series # 83. It just wouldn't do. Her Aesthetic sense just couldn't allow it. | |
| "Is this 8417 Broadway?" Janice beeped. Mabel stared at her blankly. Janice's morse code voice box was really getting on her nerves now and she made a mental note to have the damn thing removed as soon as Bitzy and Demetrius were rescued. Janice quickly found a pen and paper, wrote down her question and handed it to Mabel. Mabel read the note and said "No, that's a block over." The clock on the wall struck 12. "BEEP!" Janice cursed. She ran out of the house, past the lint sculpture, jumped into the stolen squad car and drove around the block. After making a few passes, Janice finally found the building she was looking for. She parked the black and white in front of a fire hydrant and ran into the building. | |
| Meanwhile Mable and Officer Karl Borgnine had locked eyes. It was the kind of electric moment that you only read about in really bad stories. "How long you been collecting lint?" swooned Borgnine. "It was my husband… he ah.. he collected it starting back in ’69 during the moon landing," sighed Mable, "he was kinda obsessed but he put food on the table." Officer Borgnine had never experienced anything like this except for magazines. At this moment in time all he wanted was to make love in a cloud of lint. Mabel felt the same way, her thoughts diffused by lint and hormones… she dropped her 12 guage as she moved towards Officer Borgnine. With an enormous concussion the weapon discharged itself mixing the smell of gunpowder with the enveloping cloud of fuzz…ending officer Bornines hopes and dreams but not his life. Janice barely heard the sound let alone Borgnine’s plaintive bellow. |
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