Author’s note: What happened to Between
a Grizzly and Her Cub? I didn’t quit that miniseries. However, I took a break from it. It will return next week.
I invite you, if you don’t know what I mean by any of this, to scroll backwards through this blog and read that miniseries from the
beginning.
A miniseries centered around murder, Russian
hookers, and crooked cops didn’t strike me as holiday friendly. I present, this
week, a shift from the serious stuff to something easy and lighthearted.
I shall, next Thursday, post a short, Thanksgiving
themed story.
Today, I offer the following, Kittens
with MechWarriors. What else? Enjoy.
—And yes, “MechWarrior” is trademarked, but
screw it. I didn’t charge anyone anything to read this thing.
His parents had
named him Doctor Destruction, so he knew from an early age that he would become
either a super villain bent on world domination or a foot doctor.
Medical school
proved expensive and exhausting, and halfway through his second year, Doctor D,
bored by the school's lack of explosions and booby-traps, quit to start his path to evil.
He felt certain
that he could easily conquer the world with a strong enough army. He wouldn’t
need many soldiers. He often won chess games with fewer than five pieces at the
start of the match.
He posted an ad on
Craigslist, asked for henchmen (henchpersons, in today’s politically correct
society) with at least two years experience. Only two people responded.
The first person
to respond wanted a medical plan that would cover his clubfoot. The second
person (a former college roommate who called at three in the
morning) wanted to cry about how much “I love you, man. I'm so, so sorry about that Jell-o incident back in '96.”
Doctor D,
disgusted, decided to find another source of soldiers for his evil army. He
eventually noticed an ad for such an army in his Fingerhut catalogue. He placed
his order and waited several days for his army to arrive.
He heard, one
morning soon thereafter, a knock on his front door. He opened the door to greet the UPS worker
on the other side. Doctor D’s hands shook with excitement while he signed for
his package, which he afterwards dragged inside his home.
The brown box
seemed too small to contain an army of professional killers, but dynamite often
arrived in small packages. He gleefully tore open the box and discovered—
A box full of
adorable kittens.
He blinked several
times and afterwards called Fingerhut to demand an explanation. The operator
patiently explained that Doctor D entered the wrong code when he ordered his
soldiers, and thus he accidentally ordered a box of kittens.
Doctor D despaired
. . . until the solution to his problems surfaced in his mind. He set to work
in his garage and, within a week, created a fleet of kitten-operated
MechWarriors.
Armed with these
giant, steel, two-legged vehicles, the kittens could stomp through the White
House walls and take hostage the president of the United States.
Brilliant! He
celebrated his certain success with maniacal laughter, as fit his style.
He sealed a kitten
into each of the seven MechWarriors, taught them how to operate the metal
beasts, opened his garage door, played some dramatic music off his iPod (Fleetwood Mac), and
led his army to—
He stopped short,
realized that his kittens didn’t follow him. They instead chased balls of yarn
across the garage.
Doctor D slapped
his forehead.
He, over the next
few weeks, trained his kittens in the art of war. He upgraded their Mechs with
missile launchers and laser-guided chainsaw spitters (which he purchased with
Kool-aid points and heartfelt IOUs).
The kittens,
despite their intense training, despite all of Doctor D’s direction, continued
to play with yarn, chase mice, and perform little to no world-conquering.
Doctor D drove the
kittens to the movie theater, where he forced them watch one
action movie after another.
The kittens took
no interest in Bruce Willis's snappy one-liners. They instead stomped across the theater to chase the
red dots of their laser-guided chainsaw spitters.
Doctor D,
disappointed, dropped the kittens off at home before he went to the farmer’s
market to purchase some produce.
Kyle worked at the
farmer’s market, and he always listened to Doctor D’s describe the ways in
which he would rule the world once his rise to power arrived.
D would, after he
took over, start a national healthcare system, pull American troops out of the
Middle East, and (here’s the truly evil part) encourage kids to eat
healthier and exercise.
Kyle interrupted
Doctor D’s maniacal laughter to ask, “Do you know a way I can grow watermelons
with apple seeds?”
D blinked. “I
don’t see how you could.”
Kyle cast a sad
gaze across his produce stand within the farmer’s market. “It’s just that . . .
I would like to have watermelons, but I can’t seem to grow any.”
D rubbed his chin.
“Have you planted your apple seeds in a watermelon patch?”
Kyle nodded. “That
didn’t work. I still grew apples.”
“Have you tried
painting the apples to look like watermelons?”
Kyle shrugged the way a tire deflates. “That didn’t work, either.”
D paced. “I hate
to say it, but I think you have apples, and no matter what you do with them,
they’ll remain apples.” He halted, slapped his forehead.
“And kittens will remain kittens. I’m such an idiot.”
“Are we still
discussing my problems?” Kyle asked,
quite concerned that they weren't.
D completed his
purchases and raced home to the kittens that arrived in his life, not the
soldiers that hadn't.
You can catch my novels, such as Daughters of Darkwana, on Kindle.
I publish my blogs as follows:
A look at entertainment industries via feminist and queer theory, as well as other political filters on Tuesdays at Entertainmentmicroscope.blogspot.com
An inside look at my novel series, its creation, and the e-publishing process on Wednesdays at Darkwana.blogspot.com
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