Monday, November 14, 2005

Henry and the Warehouse - Take 2

My name is Henry the Adequate, and I am a superhero.

"Looks like this place was cleaned out in a hurry." June digs into a jumble of packing crates and boxes. "The robotics guy had some pretty heavy machinery delivered here, according to the invoices. Surely they can't have removed it all in only a few hours..."

I survey the abandoned warehouse with my ultra-xray vision. "Hmmm. Strange stress fractures in various parts of the structure, and..." BANG. CRASH. "Ow!... I'm ok.... Ugh..." I struggle to my feet, throwing crates in all directions, stand swaying gently in the complete lack of breeze, and squint with much deliberateness at the area, trying to focus my mega-xray vision for another pass. Maybe I should not have tested quite so much of that potential evidence.

There are also signs of warping in the ceiling, as though some kind of hyperdimensional portal had been opened there. Although that could also be me, since at this moment most of the world appears to be warped, and shimmers before me like one of those shimmering things in the desert.

"Ah, ha!" June is holding up some metallic bits as though they are somehow significant.

Suddenly I realize that something is wrong. Seriously wrong. Desperately wrong. This may mean the end of all good things. Armageddon approaches. Our doom is at hand. "June, we've got to get out of here!" My voice carries the blind terror that is screaming through my brain at this moment. It wails with all the super-pent-up frustration and despair of my epic battle against the forces of darkness. How could I allow it to come to this? I have been so blind. Also, slightly drunk.

"Why? What..." June displays a shocked lack of comprehension, as she spins about in a hopeless attempt to see what concerns me so. I do wish she would stop spinning like that.

Then my worst fears are realized, as several life-sized puppet creatures drop from shimmering black nothingnesses in the ceiling, and charge like demented thunderbirds straight for our position.

"Don't worry Henry!" June shouts bravely. A massive jet of flame errupts from her backpack and she is flung with tremendous force in an upward direction. Apparently she now has some rockets in her rocket-pack. She bounces off the ceiling, veers sharply to the left, and crashes into the far wall. Perhaps some kind of guidance mechanism might have been a good idea.

Meanwhile I am busy violently pummeling the puppets' fists with my face, while at the same time attempting to bring my flamethrower to bear. Since they appear to be wooden I have high hopes for this manoeuvre. Although the getting my face beat on part of the plan appears to be going very well indeed, it does seem to be interferring with my turning the puppets into smouldering piles of ash, which was supposed to be the whole crux of the thing.

June is still bouncing off walls, ceiling, floor, and everything in between. I am still being beaten to a bloody pulp. And this is still not very funny. In a sad and desperate attempt to increase the levity I turn to run, step on a banana peel, and slide half way accross the floor before ending up face-first in a conveniently placed pile of mud. This is not funny either, but does at least interrupt for a moment the violent pounding I have been receiving. But only for a moment. The beating resumes.

June roars by overhead and slams into the wall once more, however in a moment of extreme good fortune the flames from her rocket pack manage to burn through the strings that control two of the puppets. The third is suddenly pulled back through the transdimensional portal, and we are alone. After only a few more minutes June's rocket splutters and dies, its fuel cells exhausted.

We drag ourselves, one of the puppets, and a pile of scrap back to my place. "So," June winces with the pain of speech, "was that better?"

"It was slightly funny, I suppose." I can only see through one eye, and my head is ringing like a mormon who just won't go away.

"Want to try again?"

"Hell no."

2 Comments:

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Depression sets in. Think I'm going to go kill off Henry again.

12:28 pm  
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