CHAPTER 2: Face-Raping Bats!
“Well, Erin, let me see this cell phone of yours,” I said. She reached into her purse (purse? Did she have a purse when she walked in? How could she have kept that hidden?) and pulled out your typical-style phone. High-end, no doubt, but just the same as any other: Black, smaller than a deck of cards, and vaguely sinister-looking. She laid it on the desk, and glanced up at me.
“I know it sounds stupid, but I’m almost afraid to touch it.” Looking quickly at the phone, not wanting to get lost in her eyes a second time, I noticed it had a few deep scratches in the back, where the battery gets recharged.
“What’s this?”
“Well, after about a week of these strange calls, I lost my nerve, and sort of… snapped. I threw the phone at the wall. It didn’t stop the calls, though.”
I picked up the phone, opened it, & began dialing a string of digits. “Well, let’s see if we can figure out where these calls are coming from.”
“I tried ‘Star 69’, but it didn’t seem to work.”
Letting another innuendo slip by, I said, “Well, that’s because you use the Government, Inc.’s services. You know as well as I do that ever since the National This-Is-For-Your-Own-Good-Just-Trust-Us Act of 2006 passed, no information request will ever provide accurate information, just add your name to the ever-growing list of people who want to Know Too Much.”
Looking around nervously, she said, “I had to take a chance.”
“Don’t worry about it. These days, the list includes about 98% of the population. Government, Inc. uses Quantum Information Storage, but they haven’t gotten around to figuring out how to make a Quantum Processor yet. So it’s like finding a speck of dust in the middle of the galaxy.”
A small smile flickered at the corner of her mouth. I noticed that her lips, full and red like the promise of a pomegranate just before the bitterness sets in, had a small, almost miniscule scar running from the top edge of the left cupids bow diagonally to the bottom lip, like she was delicately brutalized at some great distance in her past, or had fallen out of a willow tree as a child. It was the smallest and most perfect of flaws on a flawless face, the unnatural error of symmetry calling attention to her impeccable beauty. “So how is it, Mr. LMNO, that you plan to get around Government Inc.’s little plan?”
“Ah, it all depends on your connections, dollface. I know a couple of Scrids down at MegaTeleComTech, and they owe me a favor.”
“They use Scrids?” Her forehead folded upon itself slightly, and I realized that was the look of someone who’s not used to being puzzled, when the muscles have all but forgotten the feeling of a frown.
“Well, with the millions of signals coming down the wires & flying through the air every second, who else but genetically-modified, hyper-intelligent Giant Land Squids are they going to use?” The phone on the other end of the line was ringing, so I held up one finger, not wanting to be any ruder than I had to be to Erin. After all, if she was going to be paying me, she was my employer. The line picked up.
“Hey, Randy? ...Yeah, it’s LMNO… I know, I know, not since September… Mmm Hmmm… How’ the brood? …Great, great… Look, Randy, I have to call in that favor… No, that didn’t count, because I wasn’t the one who got the wires crossed… Yeah, well, tell it to the wall… Ok, fine. 25%, and a sack of mollusks. Listen, Randy, what I need from you is to keep a tracer on this phone, number 333-2342, and to track all incoming calls…. Yeah? Great. If you can do this for me, we’re even…. Right… Ok. I’ll call you again when I need the number.”
I hung up, and looked at Erin, still struggling with the glass of scotch. Pouring another for myself, I said, “Well, that’s that. All we have to do now is wait for another call.”
Suddenly the phone rang. I snatched it up, and a sickly whine burst from the receiver.
“KkkkkkkkkssssssssBellandBookandFlamesssssssskkkkkkkFeartheComingOf
AeaiiiinSooooffffhhhUsurperoftheClowntroddenggggggggggggggggggg…”The line went dead.
“That was pretty freaky,” I said. I turned to look at Erin. She had contracted somehow, drawing herself into herself, her eyes wide with fear. She grabbed my glass, and drained it, her face never changing expression.
“It’s ok. I’m calling Randy now.” I dialed up the Scrid, and waited as the connection was made. “Randy? Yeah, it’s me again. I need to know— WHAT? How is that possible? …No, I don’t think you’re lying, that’s genetically impossible, that’s why it’s so much fun playing poker with you… Could you triple-check that? …I see.” I hung up.
“What? What?” Erin was literally on the edge of her seat, chest heaving with anticipation, temporarily driving all other thoughts out of my head. Coming back to myself, I put the phone carefully on my desk.
“He said the call was coming from inside the phone itself,” I said, as I drew my gun.
I don’t like guns. I mean, when I have to use them. Sure, target practice is fine, and it gives you a certain “manliness” quotient, holding the powerful and explosive Doom Cock like some hero from TV, but when it really comes down to needing to use a gun, everything becomes uncomfortable.
Case in point: Right now, the nine millimeter in my hand felt all too heavy, and the smell of cordite and oil filled my nostrils. I held Death in my hand, I wielded Violence. And right now, it was pointed at a small piece of plastic on my desk.
Erin started, “Wait. How can the call have originated inside the phone—“ when the phone rang again. But it didn’t so much ring, as shriek. Digital feedback, mixed with good old fashioned Screaming of the Damned, from what I could tell, filled the office. The scratches down the back of the cell phone widened and split, following some sort of pre-described demarcations, splitting the top half down the middle, and spreading out either side, while what looked like legs began sprouting from the lower half.
“sssskkkkskkskkkkkkYourASoulWillSufferAgonyssskkkksttttshshshhhhhTearYourSkinUntilPainBecomesYourOnlyFriend...
akehhekkksskkkkskkkkksssYouWillKnowNoFriendButThePainOfYouSoulandTheEmptinessOfYouLifeskjjehhddded…”“Oh, My God,” Erin cried. “It’s EMO!”
Wings burst through the back of the phones, and buzzed furiously. Launching itself
The editors of “LMNO-PI” would like to interrupt at this point and note that the “face-raping bat” scene has been deleted, seeing as how the Author of this petty drama is currently both sleep-deprived and hungover, and wrote, what we here all agree, was a pretty bad and tasteless scene. Needless to say, this chapter is filled with weak adjectives, and horrible similes, such as “plummeted through the air like a Pearl Harbor bomber”, and the like. The Editors would like to apologize to the readers, and to assure you that this passage should contain Horrific and Wildly Exciting descriptions of LMNO’s ferocious and chaotic gunfight with the Strangely Demonic Face-Raping Bat Cell Phone. We apologize for the interruption.
…The last bullet hit home, and hit true. The phone exploded into shards of plastic and bits of newly-formed flesh, and what seemed to be fluttering bits of paper. The newly found silence was almost stifling compared to the screams and gunshots. I slid the gun back into its holster, and grabbed one of the slips of paper out of the air. It was completely covered with Ones and Zeroes.
“Damn. I’m not enough of a geek to read machine code raw.”
“What. The fuck. Was that!?”
“I’ll explain it to you in the car. Right now, we have to get out of here.”
“I put that up to my EAR!”
“I know. It likes that sort of thing. But we have to go. I need this translated.”
“Where are we going?”
“I need this read, fast. So we’re going to a bar.”
“WHAT? Are you serious? We just got attacked by that… that… thing—“
“Face-Raping bat.”
“—Whatever, and you’re thinking about getting drunk? Not to mention, where are you going to find a place open right now?”
“Easy. It’s the only bar open at this hour of the morning. The Open Bar.” *** *** *** *** ***
Chapter 1
Chapter 3
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