Raining Cats and... Um, Well, Just Raining Dogs, Actually. Well, Parts of a Dog...
The Never Ending Quest - Episode 19081
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The unfortunate mailman (remember him?) was last seen rapidly fleeing the
scene of impending carnage outside Betty's house, frightened into
unreasoning terror by Fred, Astra, Astra's fierce dagger-wielding attack on
his Honda Civic, and a generalized feeling that he had at some point taken
a left turn and abandoned reality as he knew it far behind. It was, in
fact, Fred and Astra to whom this last calamity had occured, but Henry the
mailman -- for such was his designation -- was scarcely to know that. At any rate, Henry had continued his panicked flight for quite some time, only running out of adrenaline when he reached (have you guessed it?) a small park in the center of town. He thereupon collapsed onto a bench and shut his eyes in a desperate attempt to collect his thoughts, or possibly to deny the existence of knights-in-shining-armor in sleepy Socorro, New Mexico. He kept said eyes closed for quite some time, which was just as well for him, as it spared him the sight of said knight-in-shining-armor retracing his own headlong path into the park, cowering briefly behind a rock, and eventually going off in someone's aging green Buick. Having finally succeeded in calming himself with some deep-breathing exercises, Henry at last opened his eyes and rose from the bench, once again at peace with the world and convinced that not only was there some reasonable explanation for everything that had befallen him today (possibly involving the local mental hospital and escaped lunatics therefrom), but that his Honda might be recoverable, after all, if only he were to wait until the lunatics had left to reclaim it. Then he tripped over the eyeball. It looked up at him accusingly, the anguished, liquid brown of a much-abused puppy-dog. Which was, of course, very close to the truth, not that Henry could have known this, either. There was another POP! -- Henry had dismissed the first as a car backfiring or something equally mundane, though there was no possibility of retreating into such comforting denials now -- and a matching eye materialized in midair and splatted wetly against his foot. More POPs followed, divulging more disembodied doggie parts in a disgusting rain centering directing above Henry's balding head. Henry passed out somewhere between the left forepaw and the tail, which, all things considered, was probably quite a mercy.
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ragan (in a really weird mood...)
3/4/2002 12:52:32 AM
Extending Enabled
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