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Chapter 2

The Story The Authors

"I'm almost there." the dwarf muttered to himself, feeling sick from the pain emanating from his injured groin and spiriling up into his belly. He got to her just as she leaned forward. It was all Mr. Tickles could do to push her. Hard! She hit her head on the car door jam and slumped unconscious to the ground, her fingers still entwined at her throat near the button. Mike couldn't believe his good fortune, and pulled the door shut as Bertram hit the gas, and they squealed away. In the rear-view mirror, Bertram noticed what appeared to be an orange cat on his hind legs, leaning over Meredith's body suspiciously, but decided it would be best to keep that to himself. His gaze shifted to his boss in the back seat, who had pulled out an enormous bong from who-knows-where, and was taking hits so large, that when he exhaled, Bertram could barely see out the windshield. The shrapnel was feeling pretty mellow now, really not saying a whole helluva lot. Mike couldn't get his mind off his boss, no matter how stoned he got. "When did she get so damn sexy?!", he muttered quietly to himself. none

"Meredith been the finest piece o' ass this side o' Tuscalusah all along, you jus' been too preoccypied to notice, white boy," replied the shrapnel, now as stoned as a greedy agave worm. Philip Welsh

Bertram rolled down the windows to let out the cloud of smoke that was interfering with his vision. When the air cleared, he noticed a flashing red light in the rear view mirror. "Damn!" he said gritting his teeth. He contemplated making a break for it but decided he could just play it cool and maybe the cop wouldn't notice all his outstanding warrants. Bertram pulled the big black car over to the curb. He watched the policeman approach in the mirror. Officer Pencilthinmoustache shined his flashlight into the car and on Bertram's face. The cop didn't recognize the chauffer thanks to all that plastic surgery. Then the cop shined his light in the back seat and saw Mike hitting on a bong. "It's okay," Mike giggled. "I only smoke this to keep my talking shrapnel from seducing my boss." "Step out of the car,sir." said Officer Pencilthinmoustache. Mike obeyed but tripped while trying to get out of the car and fell to the ground, bloodying his nose. "Police brutality!" shouted the shrapnel. "Police brutality!" cuddles

"Oh you’ll have to do better than that," chuckled Officer Pencilthinmoustache, "I’ve got a video camera in my car recording every stop I make, the sound isn’t bad either" Bertram struggled to his feet as the last cloud of smoke billowed out of the big black Chevy Caprice. What was he going to do now? Ignacious

What Officer Pencilthinmoustache didn't know about the piece of shrapnel was that it could trace its ancestry back to a long and distinguished line of samurai swords wielded by Ninji kung-fu masters. That, combined with the shrapnel's predilection for 1970s kung fu and blaxploitation films like Enter the Dragonand Shaft, had resulted in an encyclopediac knowledge of street fighting and martial arts. All the shrapnel had to do was transverse the millimeter separating it form the base of Mike's spinal cord and it could take over, much like the rudimentary second brains at the bases of dinosaurs' spines. Philip Welsh

But for all it's vast knowlege martial arts and eastern philosophy, the shrapnel in Mike's groin could not explain how the Lincoln Towncar had suddenly morphed into a Chevy Caprice. "Wasn't this a Lincoln Towncar when I pulled you over?" asked Officer Pencilthinmoustache. "How the hell did you do that?" the cop demanded. "I had nothing to do with it, man." Mike said. The shrapnel decided that it would be good time to take over Mike's body while the cop was distracted. With all it's might it jumped a millimeter to the left broadcasting a pain such as Mike had never known before. He collapsed to the ground wailing in agony. Bertram decided that it would be a good time to beat a hasty retreat while Officer Pencilthinmoustache was further distracted. The shrapnel was successful. It was now lodged at the base of Mike's spinal cord and it easily took over Mike's weakminded body. Mike jumped to his feet with a shrill "Hiya!" cuddles

The Story	The Authors
"I'm almost there." the dwarf muttered to himself, feeling sick from the pain emanating from his injured groin and spiriling up into his belly. He got to her just as she leaned forward. It was all Mr. Tickles could do to push her. Hard! She hit her head on the car door jam and slumped unconscious to the ground, her fingers still entwined at her throat near the button. Mike couldn't believe his good fortune, and pulled the door shut as Bertram hit the gas, and they squealed away. In the rear-view mirror, Bertram noticed what appeared to be an orange cat on his hind legs, leaning over Meredith's body suspiciously, but decided it would be best to keep that to himself. His gaze shifted to his boss in the back seat, who had pulled out an enormous bong from who-knows-where, and was taking hits so large, that when he exhaled, Bertram could barely see out the windshield. The shrapnel was feeling pretty mellow now, really not saying a whole helluva lot. Mike couldn't get his mind off his boss, no matter how stoned he got. "When did she get so damn sexy?!", he muttered quietly to himself.	none
"Meredith been the finest piece o' ass this side o' Tuscalusah all along, you jus' been too preoccypied to notice, white boy," replied the shrapnel, now as stoned as a greedy agave worm.	Philip Welsh
Bertram rolled down the windows to let out the cloud of smoke that was interfering with his vision. When the air cleared, he noticed a flashing red light in the rear view mirror. "Damn!" he said gritting his teeth. He contemplated making a break for it but decided he could just play it cool and maybe the cop wouldn't notice all his outstanding warrants. Bertram pulled the big black car over to the curb. He watched the policeman approach in the mirror. Officer Pencilthinmoustache shined his flashlight into the car and on Bertram's face. The cop didn't recognize the chauffer thanks to all that plastic surgery. Then the cop shined his light in the back seat and saw Mike hitting on a bong. "It's okay," Mike giggled. "I only smoke this to keep my talking shrapnel from seducing my boss." "Step out of the car,sir." said Officer Pencilthinmoustache. Mike obeyed but tripped while trying to get out of the car and fell to the ground, bloodying his nose. "Police brutality!" shouted the shrapnel. "Police brutality!"	cuddles
"Oh you’ll have to do better than that," chuckled Officer Pencilthinmoustache, "I’ve got a video camera in my car recording every stop I make, the sound isn’t bad either" Bertram struggled to his feet as the last cloud of smoke billowed out of the big black Chevy Caprice. What was he going to do now?	Ignacious
What Officer Pencilthinmoustache didn't know about the piece of shrapnel was that it could trace its ancestry back to a long and distinguished line of samurai swords wielded by Ninji kung-fu masters. That, combined with the shrapnel's predilection for 1970s kung fu and blaxploitation films like Enter the Dragonand Shaft, had resulted in an encyclopediac knowledge of street fighting and martial arts. All the shrapnel had to do was transverse the millimeter separating it form the base of Mike's spinal cord and it could take over, much like the rudimentary second brains at the bases of dinosaurs' spines.	Philip Welsh
But for all it's vast knowlege martial arts and eastern philosophy, the shrapnel in Mike's groin could not explain how the Lincoln Towncar had suddenly morphed into a Chevy Caprice. "Wasn't this a Lincoln Towncar when I pulled you over?" asked Officer Pencilthinmoustache. "How the hell did you do that?" the cop demanded. "I had nothing to do with it, man." Mike said. The shrapnel decided that it would be good time to take over Mike's body while the cop was distracted. With all it's might it jumped a millimeter to the left broadcasting a pain such as Mike had never known before. He collapsed to the ground wailing in agony. Bertram decided that it would be a good time to beat a hasty retreat while Officer Pencilthinmoustache was further distracted. The shrapnel was successful. It was now lodged at the base of Mike's spinal cord and it easily took over Mike's weakminded body. Mike jumped to his feet with a shrill "Hiya!"	cuddles

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