Jump to Navigation

The Chickening - Part 9

 
Veronica Volt's picture
Storylines:
Faction:
Submission type:
Players:



        Division

Veronica repeated the question. ‘Why are you here?’ she asked. The person at the desk said nothing for a few seconds. Outside the wind howled and the air had the spark of electricity as the storm gained power.

Finally, Veronica responded. ‘Working.’

‘Working?’ Veronica asked. ‘New experiments?’
‘Yes.’
Veronica pointed to the papers on the desk. ‘You have written much,’ she said.
‘I was busy.’
‘Busy doing what?’
‘Things.’
Veronica picked up a piece of the paper and examined it. She read the writing and frowned. She picked up another piece of paper and read it. Then another.

Something was wrong. Something was very wrong.

She examined another piece of paper:

    All werk and no tee makes a grumpee VV. All werk and no tee makes a grumpee VV. All werk and no tee makes a grumpee VV. All werk and no tee makes a grumpee VV.

        All werk and no tee makes
    a grumpee VV.

    All werk and no tee makes a grumpee VV. All werk and no tee makes a grumpee VV.


She examined another:

    All werk and no tee makes a grumpee VV.

        All werk and no tee makes a grumpee VV.
        All werk and no tee makes a grumpee VV.

    All werk and no tee makes a grumpee VV. All werk and no tee makes a grumpee VV. All werk and no tee makes a grumpee VV.

    All werk and no tee makes a grumpee VV. All werk and no tee makes a grumpee VV.


And another:

    All werk and no tee makes a grumpee VV. All werk and no tee makes a grumpee VV. All werk and no tee makes a grumpee VV. All werk and no tee makes a grumpee VV. All werk and no tee makes a grumpee VV.

        All werk + no tee = a grumpee VV

    All werk and: no tee makes a
    grumpee VV: All werk and no tee makes a grumpee VV.


Veronica picked up another piece of paper. A drawing, some sort of robot. What was that on the head? A light? And lower, what was that huge thing? Was it a- She dropped the pieces of paper back on the desk. This was wrong. This was all wrong.

‘What is this?’ she asked. ‘Why are you writing this?’
Veronica clinched the teeth. This was like what Mr Gravy had said. The clone was interfering. She hit the desk with a hand. ‘This is typical!’ she said with anger. ‘Typical you!’
‘What is happening?’ Veronica asked.
‘What is happening? What is happening?’ Veronica said, the anger rising like pressure in a boiler about to explode. ‘What is happening is you will not allow me to work! I cannot finish my work if you interfere all of the time.’ She stepped away from the desk toward herself.
‘Stay back!’ Veronica screamed. ‘You have anger.’
‘Anger? Really? Why not you then go away!’ She moved forward again.
‘Stay back!’ Veronica repeated moving backwards away from the lounge. ‘Or…’
‘Or what?’ she asked, grinning as she left the lounge and moved toward herself. ‘What will you do?’
’I will… will… do something?’
‘Do something? What is something? Paint the Hotel purple? Launch a Christmas Tree?’ Veronica mocked.
‘I will hit you with this throwing stick.’ she waved the stick in front of her.
Veronica stopped. She was now at the bottom of the stairs to the guest rooms. Where did she get that stick?
‘Drop the stick!’ Veronica said. ‘Drop the stick or somebody will become hurt’ but she refused to listen and continued to wave the stick in front of her as she slowly walked backwards up the stairs. Veronica moved toward her. Perhaps she could grab the stick.
‘Veronica, listen. I am not going to hurt you. Stay calm. I am going to take your stick, your experiment plans and push them in your throat.’
‘My plans? Your plans!’
‘My plans?’ that was not right, Veronica thought, there was a memory of writing on the paper. Are they my plans? Not her plans? Suddenly she remembered the stick as she saw it moving toward her. She grabbed it from her fingers and threw it away. Veronica laughed until the stick returned and hit her on the head. She lost balance, waved her arms to try and stop herself falling but gravity won. She tumbled down the stairs.

Everything was blurred, vision and thoughts. What did she do? She was on the floor, looking up. She blinked but could not see who it was who walked toward where she lay, footsteps loud on the hard floor, and began to drag her. She was pulled along a corridor. She saw blurred people on each side, wearing their evening outfits. She could not see clear the faces but she knew they watched her. She muttered some words as she was dragged, toward the kitchen. What she said and who perhaps listened she did not know. She was dragged into the kitchen, past the open door of oven number three. She tried to speak again but there was no reply, only the sound of the storeroom door as it slammed shut and the key turned to lock her inside.

Comments

Joe Spivey's picture

Oh my dog, there's two of them! *turns to the president* "Sir, it's the worst case scenario. What we always feared. The end of the world as we know it. We must launch the missiles!" The president pulled his hand from his diaper and looked up. "Goo?"

Stick with me kid and you'll be farting through silk.



Main menu 2

Blog | by Dr. Radut