City of IF

[Chinaren]

Chapter 1. Awakening.

Simon moaned slightly as the sunlight filtered through dusty blinds and penetrated his eyelids.

Eight pints of beer had flowed through his body during the course of the evening before, and had worked its usual magic upon his perception. It had only taken four or five rejections before he had found a suitably desperate female to enjoy his charms, and he had spent the later half of the night, well, early morning really, in a dingy hotel room performing wanton acts of alcohol induced carnal depravity.

Eventually they had both departed, doing up various articles of clothing, and staggered away from the encounter which Simon was sure, or would be when he was coherent enough to think, would just be another notch on the bedpost.

He had fumbled with the lock of his apartment door, which seemed to have become rather elusive since he left, and fell inside knocking over the phone table with a crash. Dropping his jacket on the floor he stumbled into his bedroom and dropped forward onto his bed.

The dark had closed in and sent him strange dreams…

Now the dawn of a new day called, and his much abused body knocked loudly on the door of his mind with a list of complaints.

“Urg” Like a Gurposlug from the planet Smee emerging from its second phase cocoon, Simon moved. Slowly and uncertainly he drew up the covers to shield out the unwelcome day but another urge barged its way passed the abuse list, still waiting outside Mind central, and hammered loudly for attention.

“Ogodf!ck” croaked Simon fighting back nausea. For a second it was touch and go, but the smell of a week old pizza from the bedside table conspired with the aftermath of The Night Before, and up came the call to ‘Ralph’.

Projectile vomiting is never fun, doubly not fun when you are badly hung-over and hence it was only after making it to the toilet, an unpleasant trail marking his path, that Simon became aware that something was wrong. Well, besides the fact that he had nearly vomited his lungs out.

Brain was still just lying in bed and mumbling about how today was a Sunday and it didn’t have to work yet, so it was a while before Simon could concentrate. Unfortunately he concentrated on the contents of the toilet, which induced another bout of contributing to its contents.

Finally the retching subsided and Simon wiped his mouth, whilst reaching for a towel, scratching his vital anatomy and flushing the unpleasantness away.

Wait.

Mouth, towel, scratching, flushing. One, two, three…

“Aaarrggg! Ag, huuu, blurrrrrrggg” The shock sent him back to the porcelain telephone again.

As soon as he was able Simon staggered upright and looked in the mirror. He took in his reflection with blurry, bloodshot eyes.

It showed a young man, made older by years of abuse. White hairy belly starting to wobble, hair thinning, the once passably good looking youth now morphing into a middle aged office worker.

Oh. And the extra pair of arms.

“AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!”

Running around in circles waving his old and new appendages like a half-spider on acid he slipped on some interesting coloured vomit and fell flat on his back onto the floor.

This was not turning out to be a good day. He crawled up to the mirror again and performed some math. As bad as he felt, and as crap as he was at arithmetic, he could definitely say that he had one pair of limbs too many.

He sat down on the floor again with a squelch. What the hell? He waved his hands about experimentally. They all responded.

“What the f!ck is going on?” was his first thought. Maybe call in sick to work? Was his second…

>>>>>>>>

Okay, done. What should Simon do now?

Suggestions!

Story suggested by Smee.

<<<<<<<<<

[Shady Stoat]

*grins* Good idea, good implementation. Good choice of section for the story. Woo! :D

*hands out the cookies with suspicious looking raisins in them*

A couple of speed-write mistakes, I think. You said Simon had four pairs of arms, when I think you meant four arms.

You also said "What the f!ck should is going on!"... I think the 'should' shouldn't, if you get my meaning ;)


As for what to do... I think he should immediately get wasted again. After all, if it was the beer, then maybe more of it will reverse the effects?

If that doesn't work, try and trace this girl you shacked up with last night. Just stick a couple of arms inside your coat if you need to go out. You'll look a bit weird, but hell, you could probably go out with 4 arms in Britain and people would just assume you knew what you were doing, and mind their own business ;)

If you can't trace her (or indeed remember her at all!), then try some hypnotherapy. That should be good for a larf! *grin*

[Chinaren]

Thanks Stoat, fixed. I usually do more checking, but as you say, speed writing...

Good suggestions. Where is Smee's comment? It was his idea. I should have had a poll up and three more chapters done by now. :shock:

[Smee]

Excellent :D

Most entertaining for the closing minutes of my lunchbreak.

After checking he can't stick to walls too (you never know :shock: ) I think he should follow Stoat's plan of trying to find the girl from last night and also stock up on deodorant :D

Happy Writing :)

P.S Sorry I was so slow - I am back at work now. :)

[ethereal_fauna]

Amusing. Why track down the notch in the bedpost? Doubtful she knows (or remembers) anything. Phone your best friend and get him over...surely two minds can figure out a problem quicker than one...and you didn't grow an extra mind.

Or you could try the emergency room. Sit for hours and then see some weary intern that will promptly become wide awake at your unusual condition.

[LordoftheNight]

tracking down the girl seems like a good plan - it's possible she was an alien, and planted the arms in him like some form of daemonic spawn

which will later erupt from inside him, tearing him in two to form a new being

[Chinaren]

Okay polls up people. Vote quickly, this is a speed StoryGame!

[LordoftheNight]

voted for the girl

[ethereal_fauna]

Call a friend. That'll be his first impulse...to contact that guy from uni that helped him remove the fishbowl from his head. He'll surely know how to get rid of extra arms too.

[Chinaren]

2. Telephone.

‘I mean, why arms?’ he thought? Why not, well, something else. A sudden thought occurred to him and he peered down the front of his pants for a moment. Nope, just the normal down there.

Perhaps I am becoming spider-man? he thought and then cast his mind back over the last few days to try and recall if he had been bitten by any radioactive spiders. He drew a blank, but considering the banality of his life he wasn’t surprised. Still, feeling slightly foolish he grasped the wall and made climbing motions whilst trying to imagine scaling tall buildings. Nothing. Not a centimeter of scaling. A shame really, that really hot chick lived on the 5th floor, and he could have peered in through her bathroom window.

Sliding down the wall to sitting position he realized he was still wearing the clothes he went out in the night before, and they were creased, stank of smoke and were splattered with vomit. His new appendages had burst through the shirt sleeves ruining his best ‘going out’ shirt too, just incase he thought he didn’t have enough hassles.

He dragged off his clothes and threw them into the corner onto the pile of laundry where dead garments lurked, ever hopeful of the near-mythical ‘wash’.

Naked, he stumbled about and cleaned up his little accident. Arms or no arms, the place would stink if he didn’t and it wasn’t too clean to start with. Simon, being a single male, used the ‘out of sight’ method of cleaning, which mainly involved pushing things where he couldn’t see them. This meant he had to go around with his eyes closed at times, but it worked for him.

He had to admit, having an extra pair of arms made the work easier. Assuming the government didn’t drag him away for experimentation there could be some plus sides to this, he thought as he scrubbed away at the carpet. Faster typing maybe, now he could eat snacks whilst reading a book, which was something that always bugged him, and well, no more wrist ache for him when he failed to find a female to occupy his lonely nights.

He sniggered, his head spinning, partly due to not having eaten breakfast and partly because the fumes of the cleaning fluid were kind of strong. Maybe he could become some sort of super hero? ‘Arm Man!’ He has four arms! No, no. It didn’t have much of a ring to it. Anyway, Simon wasn’t the type to go around helping people for the sake of it. He could barely help himself.

The cleaning finally finished, he dragged on some jeans and dug into his shirt collection to try and find something that would cope with his new limbs. He finally settled on a sleeveless vest he had bought when, in a fit of madness, he had joined a gym. The vest had been worn once, predictably.

He went into his small kitchen and, like man from the beginning of pre-history, began his search for food. The fridge held a pizza that he had forgotten to eat last week, and was now scared to touch. A carton of milk, amazingly still fresh and some vegetables that his mother had brought round last time she visited, in the ever vain hope Simon would suddenly eat something that had to be prepared, as opposed to just thrown into the microwave for 2 minutes.

The hunt turned to the cupboards and finally he skillfully brought down a loaf of bread, which he butchered and stuffed into the toaster. Again, during the buttering process Simon marveled at the usefulness of having four arms. How had he ever managed with just two? He wondered.

The essentials taken care of Simon sat down and thought about his next move. Luckily it was the weekend, and he didn’t have to go to work for another two days, Monday being some sort of holiday, he forgot which one. The hospital? Maybe the newspapers? Could he make any money out of this?

Simon clutched his head with all four hands and tried to force his booze sodden brain into action. Maybe Michael could help! He was a geeky person, always into Sci-fi and all that stuff. He would even be awake at this ungodly hour probably, not being much of a one for late night jaunts into beer-land.

He crawled over to the phone, which he found on the floor under his jacket, and dialed Mike. After four rings the voicemail cut in. Michael had left a hopefully amusing message, which wasn’t. Simon waited patiently for the tone, holding the phone a little way away from his ear in response to a request from his hurting brain.

“Michael, it’s Simon. Look, something really weird has happened to me. Call me back urgently when you get this message. And get a bloody cell phone! It’s the 21st century you know!”

Simon slammed the phone down and slumped to the floor. Now what? How had this happened? Something he had eaten maybe? He reviewed his recent diet, which consisted of too much beer and too little solids. Nope, nothing unusual there. Not healthy maybe, but nothing that should cause overnight limb sproutage.

What about that tart last night? He frowned as he tried to remember the fragmented details of the previous night’s activities. He didn’t even remember her name. Sandy? Sandra. Something beginning with S he was sure, because they had made a joke, which had seemed hilarious at the time, about both their names beginning with the same letter.

He sat still for a while trying to think and drawing a blank. Damn Michael! Where was he?

The phone rang, making him jump. He grabbed it and held it to his ear. “Michael! About time…”

“We will be coming for you. Stay where you are. WIGs are on the way.” The voice was a smooth one, man or woman he couldn’t tell. Almost as if computer generated.

“Er, yes?” The line went dead. Well, that was interesting.

The phone rand again, making him jump again. He lifted the receiver slowly to his ear. “Hello?”

“Simon, what’s going on?” came the scratchy voice at the other end.

“Michael, thank f!ck! You have got to get over here now! Some really weird shit has been happening to me”

“You didn’t try some of those funny sweets again did you?”

“No way!” Simon paused a second in doubt as he quickly reviewed the night before. “No, no I am pretty sure I didn’t.” A vague memory of the S girl holding something in her hand flashed by, then was gone. “Look, just get over here now okay! Quick!”

There was a sigh from the other end. “Okay, wait there, but if you have got your head stuck in the fish bowl again...” The line went dead.

Simon hung up the phone just as a loud knock came from the door. Not feeling like answering someone trying to sell vacuum cleaners he crawled round to the side window and peered out cautiously.

Two large men in plain clothes stood on his doorstep. They screamed POLICE at him. He sank back down carefully as the knock came again.

“Oh f!ck.” he groaned to himself. “Now what shall I do?”

>>>>>>>>>>

Righteee then. Suggestions please!!!

<<<<<<<<<<

[ethereal_fauna]

Keep quiet and don't answer the door. Least not til you've had time to talk with Mike. If they try to get in you'll have to hide. Under the bed or in the closet is impossible, since you've just cleaned :-o

You'll have to hide some place they'll never look. Try curling up in the nearly-empty fridge. It'll be cramped, sure, and a bit chilly. But you should be able to manage...

[Smee]

*grins*

I think he needs to get some sort of big overcoat on, and shoes, and appear like he was just going out. At least it will cover his extra apendages.

Although to me it sounds suspiciously like they know something about it anyway, so maybe that's pointless.

It's a shame the spiderman thing didn't work, he could escape out the window. Powerless and dumb as he is I don't think he has any alternative.

Happy speedwriting :)

P.S On second thoughts, maybe he could hide under the pile of clothes awaiting the mythical. :)

[ethereal_fauna]

Would be much warmer than hiding in the fridge.

[Shady Stoat]

Good chapter :cool:

Having to dig deep for the Creativium today, so all I can suggest is a back exit, back window, alternative escape route to the front door, maybe. If he can get out of there before the police throw butterfly nets around him, then he should.

Then? Well, he'd probably make a mint if he ran off and joined a circus. Juggling, trapeze, freak show, sweeping up the elephant poop, you name it! :D

[Chinaren]

Okay, that's long enough. Polling!

Get em in whilst it's hot.

[Crymzon]

Awww man .... sorry I'm just waiting for my vision to clear, I haven't laughed like that in ages.

Well done China dude ... totally voted an everything ... he should definately go out the back ... those police could think he's dangerous ... well he's not armless afterall .... ;)

[Smee]

*Winces at cheesy pun, and then realises most of the story is cheesy puns and pats Crymzon.* :D

[Crymzon]

oooh attention ... *purs like a cat ... a savage bone chewing. flesh rending cat but a cat.* :D

[LordoftheNight]

went to hide

[Chinaren]

3. Women.

The knock came again, and Simon crawled away from the window like some enormous deformed caterpillar. ‘What the bloody hell do they want?’ he mumbled to himself, trying to keep away from the windows. Luckily his sloth in cleaning came in handy for once. The curtains were almost permanently closed, and the windows hadn’t been cleaned since he moved in, creating a protective layer of dirt.

Simon heard the letterbox lift up, and a strong voice came through. “Simon? This is the authorities. We would like a short chat please.”

‘Not bloody likely’ muttered Simon, squirming into the kitchen, away from the front door. He tried to remember if he had done anything illegal lately, well, illegal enough to warrant two large serious looking fellows coming and banging on his front door anyway. There weren’t any funny sweets or powders in the house, the porn mags he had brought back from that trip to Amsterdam weren’t unusually perverted and he hadn’t downloaded anything overly strong lately. ‘Clean as a whistle. Well, except for having four freeking arms!’

The banging resumed once more, in a fashion that suggested it wasn’t going to go away anytime soon. Simon looked around for somewhere to hide. His small apartment wasn’t really designed for hiding, barely being big enough to accommodate the furniture.

The hammering on the door stopped, to be replaced by what sounded suspiciously like someone fiddling with the lock. “Bloody pigs!” thought Simon ferociously. They were picking the f!cking lock!! He looked around desperately as he heard the door swing open.

*

Large Man 1 looked around at the living room and wrinkled his nose. Jeesh! Some people lived like pigs! He peered behind the couch in-case anyone was hiding there, and jerked back quickly. If anyone was behind there they deserved to evade detection, probably would have caught leprosy or something in all that.

The sound of Large Man number 2 came from the hallway. “Anything?” he asked.

The other man shook his head. “Someone has thrown up all over the place recently, but no one. You look behind the sofa?”

Large man 1 was about to nod, then suddenly changed his mind. “You look. I will check in the kitchen.” He strode over to the cooking area whilst Large Man 1 gagged behind him.

“Ye gods! Doesn’t he ever clean??”

Large Man 1 smiled to himself and looked around the small space that passed for a kitchen in modern housing. He automatically started to open the fridge, when he remembered the sofa and stopped. No telling what horrors were in there.

The two clunked about, pulling drawers out and generally trying to make a mess, more for the sake of it than anything, but their spirit just wasn’t in it. No matter what they did, it paled next to the neglect of an expert.

Finally they gave up and left the way they came in, closing the door behind them.

Silence. Five minutes passed and then the fridge door burst open and Simon fell out onto the floor, like a new born chicken. He shivered and tried to un-cramp himself. The dead pizza had landed on his head and started a new civilization in his hair. He brushed it away madly, not caring where it landed.

He looked at his watch, though it took him a couple of goes as he got confused as to which wrist it was on. Mike would take ages getting here. Simon wanted to get out of the house a little and try and clear his head.

He sorted through his clothes and picked out a long black coat. It was bulky enough that it should hide his extra arms. He tried it on and checked himself out in the mirror, being careful to stay away from the windows. It would do.

Glad he lived on the ground floor; Simon collected his phone, keys and wallet and peered out of the back window. His apartment faced another block over a stretch of what was probably supposed to be garden, but was now an unofficial dump for the local residents. No one appeared to be looking, so he slid the window open and climbed out, falling untidily into a coke-can bush on the other side.

Lurking in a manner that would be certain to get a call to the police was not the way to go, so he tried to straighten up and walk normally, at the same time trying to hunch over and not be seen. This resulted in a strange gait that resembled some sort of Quasimodo figure.

Climbing over the nearby wall, he slunk up the road to the nearest shops, keeping an eye out for any police-like figures. Nothing. He walked over to the local newsagent and entered carefully. Strolling up and down the small aisle he picked out some snacks and a lads magazine with some young strumpet laying over a flash looking car.

He walked up to the desk as casually as he could, glad that the usual girl wasn’t there. She was kind of cute, and one day he swore he was going to ask her out, it was just he wasn’t good at that unless he had plenty of liquid courage first. He slapped the magazine and snacks down and tried rummaging through his pockets to get some cash whilst keeping his new arms hidden. The old lady behind the counter looked at him suspiciously.

“Ere!” she said, spying the lumps under his coat. “What you got under that coat then?”

Simon went red. “Nothing! Nothing at all!”

“You been nicking stuff ‘ave you?” the old woman’s tone veered up into ‘screech’ territory.

“No! No honest!” he stuttered.

“Let’s see then!” the old woman leaned forward and tried to pull his coat open.

Simon leapt away. “Let go you old goat!” he yelled.

“Malcolm!” the woman yelled, presumably to someone in the back somewhere. “Some thieving tramp with pizza in his hair is trying to rob us! Call the coppers!”

Simon backed away. “I didn’t steal anything!”

“I am making a citizens arrest I am!” said the woman, advancing around the counter.

Simon bolted, running out of the shop door and knocking a young woman in green over as he did so. “Sorry!” he called back as he ran down the street, the old hag’s shriek following him down the road.

He jumped over a low fence and doubled back a bit, finally ducking down into a back alley populated by garbage-cans. He slid down behind one and tried not to breathe, whilst at the same time gasping for air.

“F!ck! Stupid cow!” he panted to himself over the beating of his heart. “Hasn’t she seen anyone with four arms before?”

There was a noise at the end of the alley. Simon risked a peek around a box stuffed with old newspapers that smelled of cat wee. The young lady dressed in green was at the entrance way. She seemed to be looking around. Simon ducked back as she turned towards him.

There was a pause and then footsteps. She was coming up the alley!! Simon pressed himself back into the wall and looked around. The other end of the alleyway was a high fence, he may just about be able to scramble over, but it was touch and go!

“I know you are there” came the woman’s voice. “Come out now!”

Simon resisted the urge to pee himself and looked around desperately. What should he do?


>>>>>>>

So, advice for our pizza covered friend? Run, try and push past? Talk? Hide? Suggestions!

<<<<<<<<

[Shady Stoat]

Good going, Chinaface! :cool:

Let's see... the woman in the shop isn't someone he knows, and she doesn't know him, right?

So, I'd say he should meet her, all four arms wiggling and making scary zombie-type faces. If that doesn't scare her off, a four-armed embrace might - especially from a guy who is generally dishevelled and tramplike - not to mention the pizza in his hair ;)

Then he should find himself somewhere to clean up. Anywhere with a public bathroom, for example. Get the pizza out of his hair and people might not notice the extra arms :shock: ;) By that time, he might be able to go back to his place and meet his best friend :)

[Smee]

Good chapter.

It appears she's interested for some reason - having followed a stranger that just happened to bump into her. I think it may be worth attempting to talk to her.

Having said that he has been pretty useless so far, so he should leg it, get back to his apartment and stay there until his mate turns up.

Happy Writing. :)

[ethereal_fauna]

She's probably some charity-case type, wanting to help out a poor homeless pizza-encrusted vagabond. Might not be a bad idea to try the shock treatment like Stoat suggested. If she lives through that, then you just might have an ally of sorts.

Ply her with some hard-luck story.

[Crymzon]

Actually she's probably some secret security agent that's been following him on the premise of helping him. I think he should just give up and go out an speak to er. :)

[Thracia Alba]

Awesome story, Chinaren! I agree that Simon should try to use his newly sprouted limbs to scare the girl away, as that could always result in a little hilarity, whichever way it goes. Either that, or he could try to create a distraction and lose her.

[LordoftheNight]

F5 shady and fauna

[Chinaren]

Welcome to my speed story Thracia!

Okay, quick poll is up! Get em in before I write another chapter.

Btw, the plan is that this story will be about 5 chapters long, so it will speed finish as well! Perhaps setting a new IF record in the process!

That's the plan anyway, and I know what you lot do to plans.

[Chinaren]

4. Dog Shit.

‘Oh god! Now what?’ he thought to himself. She probably wanted to sue him for the price of a new coat, or mental distress or whatever people sued for these days, which seemed to be pretty much anything.

“I know you are there” came the voice, “I can see your shoes.”

Time for desperate measures. Making a decision Simon unbuttoned his coat, leapt to his feet and jumped infront of the young woman waving all four arms about madly. “Blurarararag!” he cried, in what he hoped was a suitably horrifying tone.

The girl looked at him steadily and crossed her arms.

Again. “Blaaaaarggg!”

She raised an eyebrow.

“Blah?”

“You do know you have pizza in your hair don’t you?” she said steadily, as Simon’s gyrations subsided.

“I’ve got four arms! Aren’t you scared?” Screamed Simon in a renewed bout of waving, just in case she had missed it the first time. “Look, I’m a monster! Blarg.”

“You are flying low as well” she pointed at Simon’s crotch.

“Bugger!” Simon quickly grasped the area in question. Then, in a more frantic tone: “Look, I am sorry I knocked you over okay? It will be no good suing me, I have no money! My mortgage sucks most of my cash and I owe a sh1tload on my credit card, I am practically bankrupt.”

“We know all that.” She said, stepping forward and reached into a pocket.

The alleyway suddenly seemed to darken. “We?”

There was a movement behind the woman in green, and another figure stepped into the alleyway. Simon stared. “Twins are you?”

The second woman, dressed in identical green clothes moved up and stood next to the first one. Simon rubbed his eyes to make sure he wasn’t seeing double. He was, but it wasn’t his eyes at fault.

The first woman held a small tube-like device. “Just co-operate and it will be fine.” A thin needle flicked out of the end of tube. Simon noted she didn't say you will be fine.

Simon backed away. “You’ve got to be kidding!”

The twins stepped forward just as Simon’s desperation peaked. In an unprecedented act of decision, he lunged forward and grabbed the woman’s hands in his, jerking them to one side and plunging the needle into her look-alike. Without waiting for a reaction, he barged past the first one, knocking her down for the second time within 5 minutes, stepped in some dog crap, nearly slipped, righted himself and sped out of the alleyway into the road, narrowly missing being run down by a Fed-Ex van on the way.

Glancing back very briefly he saw the second woman collapse on the floor before the swerving Fed-Ex vehicle obscured his view. “Ha!” he said in triumph, running off the road and onto some waste ground, “that’ll teach them!”

He didn’t slow up, but ran through a field up to his house the back way, only pausing for breath as he peered over the low wall around his apartment block. All seemed quiet.

Climbing over the low stone wall emblazoned with graffiti beseeching him to ‘Free Mandella’ in pink spray-paint, he trotted up to his home. Keeping to the shadows, well as much as was possible at midday anyway, he approached his house. No suspicious vans were near, except for one plumbing one which belonged to Mr. Radcliffe two doors down, so he felt secure enough as he approached his front door.

“Where have you been?”

Simon nearly crapped himself as a figure stepped out from around the corner.

“I have been waiting here ages!” said Michael, ignoring Simon’s gargle of distress. “What the hell have you been doing? You look like you have been rolling around in a dump!” He sniffed. “Smell like it too. Do you know you have pizza in your hair?”

Simon grabbed Mike’s arm. “So everyone is keen to tell me. Thank god you’re here; you would not believe what I have been through this morning!” He glanced around. “Quick, come in before someone notices us!” He fumbled with the door, discovered the police hadn’t locked it, cursed under his breath, and then dragged Michael inside.

Michael walked into the living room, looking about with the same disgust most people had when they first ventured into Simon’s home. “Don’t you ever clean?”

“Look! I have four f!cking arms!!!” shouted Simon, shedding his coat and waving the appendages around wildly.

Michael said nothing, but his eyes went wide and he slumped down onto the couch, which squelched. Last night’s curry remains.

“Wha…” he started.

“I woke up with them this morning! Then the bloody police came banging on the door and some old biddy in the shop accused me of shoplifting then some evil twins in green tried to stab me!” Simon ran out of breath and slumped down into a chair. “And I trod in dog shit.” He added, wrinkling his nose. “The world hates me.”

“But how? I mean what? I mean why?” Mike recovered a little and stood up, his pants dripping Vindaloo. He came over and examined the limbs. “They are really real!”

“Tell me about it.” Said Simon dejectedly.

“Erm, you have another problem too” said Michael, looking up.

“No! Come on! I can only take so much!”

“These police, two big men in dark coats were they?”

Simon looked up in horror. Michael was looking through the murk of the window into the street.

“They are coming back.” He said unnecessarily.

Simon leapt out of his chair and raced to the back window, leaving a trail of dog doo on the carpet.

He started to open the window again when he looked out and saw two figures in green approaching from the rear.

He groaned. Surrounded! Now what?

>>>>>>>>

Once again, Simon faces peril! Suggestions needed! Should it be the strange women, or the big burly men? Maybe hiding? How about Michael, could he help?

Rack your brains, but do it quickly! There’s not much time…

<<<<<<<<<

[Shady Stoat]

Great stuff - and he hasn't even managed to get the pizza out of his hair yet! :D

OK, what to do?

Well, everyone knows men are babies about injections, so I reckon he'll go with the officials. I mean, he's surrounded, short of hiding in the fridge again, or falling to his knees praying, he's going to have to choose one side or the other eventually. He's not doing any good on his own.

Or he could pretend to hold his best friend hostage. It might stop the officials, if not the green-twins. He could maybe make a getaway out the front that way - but where would he run to?

Or maybe he could send his best friend out to try and gather information? After all, they're not after him. He could negotiate with both sides, try and find out what's going on, find a decent-sized puddle to wash the curry stains off his trousers... whatever he wanted really. (The likelihood is that he'll just run off though. Best friends doesn't often have to extend to helping someone cope with 2 extra arms and a small army of people out after you!)

That's all I got :D

[ethereal_fauna]

Don't think hiding will work this time. After a pathetic plea where he begs Mike to do something, I imagine he'll settle on a desperate plan. Have Mike take him hostage. He's the victim here, not some mercenary :cool: and these people appear to be after him. Doesn't seem they want him dead, else killing him would have been simple enough already.

Make your getaway and head to Mike's girlfriend's mother's house...the one with all those talking birds. You can lay low there until you figure out what to do.

[Chinaren]

Forgot to say... Polls up!!

[LordoftheNight]

voted

[Chinaren]

Right, it was a four way tie. So I will try and do them all.

:shock:

[LordoftheNight]

lol

[Shady Stoat]

chinaren wrote: Right, it was a four way tie. So I will try and do them all.

:shock:

I am SO looking forward to the next chapter! :lol:

[Chinaren]

Well, it's not that good I am afraid. I seem to be low on humor today.

Never mind. Here it is...

[Chinaren]

5. Awakening.

“It’s them! Look, look! The mad women in green!” he pointed out of the window, an action which attracted the attention of the twins. They started walking towards him.

At the same time there was a loud knocking on the door. “Simon! Open up! We know you are in there.”

Michael swung his head left and right, scattering mouldy pizza about, hoping that some magical doorway would suddenly appear and whisk him away from this madness. His wild eyes settled on Michael.

“Don’t come any further!” he shouted to the door. “I have a hostage! And a… a… gun, no a knife!” He ran to the kitchen and pulled out the bread knife, which was possibly the only piece of kitchen equipment he had ever used.

There was a low muttering from the front door. Simon took the time to glance out of the back window. The twins were nowhere to be seen. Michael had backed away meanwhile, his eyes wide.

“Michael” hissed Simon, waving his hands about, and incidentally the knife. “Play along!”

“You’ve gone mad!” said Michael, eyes on the blade.

“Don’t do anything that will cause us to make you regret it later” came a voice from the front door.

Simon paused a moment to disentangle the sentence and then rushed over to Mike, who shied away. “Please don’t kill me!” he said, cowering.

“Okay, okay! You be the hostage taker!” Simon shoved the knife into Mikes’ unwilling hand.

“Don’t come any closer!” he again. “He said he will cut me good if you try and come in!”

There was another moment of silence. “I thought it was you holding the hostage?”

Simon ignored the question, best plough on now, plenty of rope left and all that. “He’s a madman! I tells you he’s crazy mad! Better back off or I will be diced and sliced no question!”

There was a sound at the window. Simon chose to ignore it for the moment. One thing at a time. “Back off! Argh argh! Now look! He’s cut me! Cut me bad! I am bleeding all over!”

The back window opened and a green clad arm felt around inside for a handhold. At the same time the front door rattled and shook. “We think you are bluffing Michael. Better let us in!”

“Close the window!” hissed Simon to Mike, pushing him over to the green arm, nearly getting is his own ear cut off as he did so.

There was a crash as the front door smashed inwards, propelled by a large boot. The two large stern looking men stepped in and filled the living room up. Michael ran into the kitchen, slipped on pizza and knocked himself cold on the side of the oven, which had never been used.

Simon backed away.

The men looked at Simon, then looked at each other. One put a hand inside his coat. Simon winced as he brought out a… badge.

“We are agents of Alienland Security. We would like you to come and answer some questions.” The way he said this made it fairly clear that saying: ‘I would rather not right now, I am a little busy today’ would not be an acceptable response.

“I have done nothing!” Simon asserted, vaguely truthfully.

“Where did you get those arms?” Said Man number 1.

“Do you know you had pizza…”

“Yes of course I bloody know I have pizza in my hair!” Simon shouted. “And I didn’t get them anywhere! They just arrived in the night!”

The men looked at each other again. “I think…” man 1 started.

What he thought would never be known, as both of them suddenly slumped to the floor. One of them landed face first in the remains of the Vindaloo Simon noted with a certain satisfaction.

Behind the men where the two Green clad women. Simon, on some subconscious level, noted that they were both quite cute really. Just a shame they weren’t seeing him at his best.

“Now then,” said one. “Stand still, we will sort this out…”

She stopped speaking as Simon made a dash for the rear window. He stopped. Outside was another woman, identical to the first two. She looked at him and raised her eyebrows. Simon turned with a puzzled look on his face. “What?” The first woman raised her tube and shot him.

“Bitch.” Simon managed to say. Then fell forward onto the floor.

*

He awoke.

“Are you feeling more like yourself now?” asked a voice.

He sat up and felt his form. Four arms, yes. Five legs, yes. Skin a healthy green, yes. He blinked some of his eyes and then turned to look around.

“You are back on the Mother-ship Agent S1-m0n. The mission has been deemed a failure. The humans have been classified as ‘below par’. Too paranoid and close minded.” The surgeon held a small earth cow, which she bit in two and chewed as she regarded him steadily with several of her eyes.

“What happened?”

“Some substance you consumed disrupted your temporary human shape and brain pattern, affecting your overlaid memory. For a while there you actually thought you were human!”

S1 shuddered. “It was horrible Surgeon. They are so weak and feeble! Just two arms!” He waved his frodes about to demonstrate his anguish.

“Never mind. It is all over now. We have marked the planet as unsuitable for entry into the Empire. Maybe in a few thousand years. Fancy a cow? They are really rather tasty!” She held up another animal.

“Many thanks.” S1 took the proffered bovine and took a bite as he stood up. “So where are we off to now?”

“Dimension number 14. A small planet the locals call ‘US’. They seem to be a little more open minded there at least…”

The two aliens walked out of the chamber chatting amiably. The lights turned off behind them as the gigantic mother-ship powered its interdimensional engines and disappeared from sight.


End.

[Shady Stoat]

:clap: Beautiful ending!

And I don't know what you're talking about! I laughed! :P

[Smee]

Excellent :D

A fantastic pulling together in a week.

:lol:

[LordoftheNight]

groan

very good cren