minute to travel ten yards. They bunched up behind him like a
caterpillar stuck in molasses. Don Wong looked at his watch. It was
already a few minutes past eight o’clock.
“Damn it man, this is serious!” Gareth grumbled.
“Hold your horses, Chicken Little,” the man replied, “The sky
ain’t about to fall just yet.”
When he finally opened the front door, the flock rushed into the
small living room and turned on the television. It was an ancient
model and took an excruciatingly long time to warm up and finally
display an image. They all sat eagerly on the floor, close to the set like
children on Saturday morning. Affixed to the TV was a plastic fish
symbol with “Jesus” written inside it.
“Evenin’ honey,” the man’s wife said, “Brought some friends
home, I see. Any of you care for some mashed-potato pie?”
“This is serious business, woman!” yelled Gareth.
“I’m sorry. Fried chicken?”
“I think they probably could use a little whiskey,” the shopkeeper
said. “City folk are so durn testy.” He went to the kitchen and
retrieved a bottle, but no amount of alcohol could adequately insulate
them from what they were about to see.
“Hey!” Milo yelled, noticing Bob on the T.V. “That’s the secretary
from the VTV building! We met him when we stole the chip!”
“Stole the—
you
?” blurted Gareth.
“And that’s Deaf Lemon Hopkins!” cried Victoria.
“And that’s supposed to be Jesus Christ? And the Buddha? I
don’t believe it,” exclaimed Don Wong.
“Hey!” Shiva shrieked, “That’s the big lunk that tried to keep us
out of the laboratory!”
“
Barth
!” screamed Gareth.
“Hey!” the shopkeeper yelled, “Could y’all please stop screamin’
so much? I’m gettin’ a little headache over here.”
“Wait. Let me get this straight,” Gareth said, standing up,
“Johanness Barth is meant to represent the human race in a
competition of morals?”
“That big ugly feller?” The shopkeeper replied, pouring tumblers
of Jack Daniel’s. “He’s gettin’ his turn now. But I wouldn’t worry. He
runs a big telervision station. Smart cookie, I reckon.”
“We are all fucking doomed,” Gareth announced.
“Well, in that case,” said Victoria, giving in to temptation, “I
will
have some of that fried chicken and a big slice of mashed-potato pie!”
H O L Y S H I T !
214
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