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That's right, Jankle tries to kill Egon. Or at least that's what you
believe is happening, for of a sudden Egon begins flailing in your kitchen-
cum-radio station. His arms are moving independently of his legs and his
torso is gyrating in a most awful manner while his head seems to bob
unnaturally, the cord of the radio headphones tangling tighter and tighter
round his throat.
You feel this is wrong, that if Jankle were truly trying to kill Egon he would use a pistol, or a knife, or even the off-white spatula that has been sitting on your kitchen counter for eight-and-a-half days, the one with a slightly melted handle and a gray encrusted ooze on its left corner which came (you think) from that wild night when Wendy decided to sleep over. The flailing refuses to end and you think you can hear Egon trying to say something, or is that just the sound of spittle spewing from clenched lips? Your school scores in listening were not much better than those in smelling, you recall at that moment. You also remember your preparatory chemistry teacher, the one whose lectures dwelt on kryptonite and whose tests allowed for philosophical comparisons of chemical compounds. Your last memory of that teacher was his puffy, bleating face as he was being escorted from the preparatory by law enforcement officials, a man accused of indecent behavior with a female student. Law enforcement. You wonder, somewhat disconnectedly, whether you should call the police. The flailing continues unabated and Egon's cheeks have turned a shade of violet that would make Willy Wonka proud. But then you see the bread crumbs and you freeze. Next to the frequency transmitter, conveniently placed near the refrigerator, you see that there is a small mound of bread crumbs. Here. In your home. Are these the same breadcrumbs that had posited themselves in Paul's house? And if so, how did they come to be here? Did Egon facilitate their travel here? Did Jankle? Or was it those damned fishheads?!? Is it a conspiracy? If Egon dies then you may never know. Jankle is a quite type, he always has been, and fishheads are notoriously difficult to make talk. You rush at Egon and Jankle... damn that smell!... and yanking off the headphones you scream into the open microphone: "Crumbs be DAMNED!!!" And then, with all that adrenaline coursing uncomfortably in your system, you faint.
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7/20/2006 10:45:03 PM
24951142 episodes viewed since 9/30/2002 1:22:06 PM.