…I just wanted to use “ptarmigan” in something
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The Doclopedia #1,806
Why I Did It…: Let The Mad Scientist In
Courtesy of Gerry Chriest
Do I regret it? What the hell do you think? Look around! There in the back yard? That’s a goddamn Kaiju footprint where my putting green used to be! My living room? Gutted, but you can still see the chemical burns and stains from…hell, I don’t even know what made those stains.
You do NOT want to go into the basement, which, by the way, I did not have before she showed up. It’s full of mutant spiders and moss that moves around and there may be human body parts. I’m having the whole basement filled with concrete on Tuesday. I’m not sure what I’ll do about the attic. Parts of that lab, WHERE SHE MADE A LIVING MAN OUT OF DEAD BODY PARTS, is still there. I don’t know, maybe I’ll just have the house torn down, sell the land, assuming it isn’t a toxic waste dump, and move.
Why did I let her in the house to begin with? Because she was a dog! I go to get my morning paper and there’s this sweet looking female basset hound sitting there looking at me with big sad eyes. Now, I like dogs, so I bring her inside to see if I can find out who she belongs to. No collar or tags. So I figure I’ll take her to the vet the next day and get her scanned for a chip.
Now, that first day, she was a really good dog. Wandered around the house, let me know when she needed to go out, slept a lot, didn’t bark, real affectionate, hell, she was damned near perfect. She curled up on the sofa just before I went off to bed and, I thought, slept there all night. Man, was I ever wrong.
So, next day, off to the vet and she’s got no chip. I figure I’ll keep her until somebody responds to the posters I put up. I start calling her Waddles and I take her to PetPlace and buy a collar, leash, food, the works. Then we head home and I see a big truck unloading crates of stuff onto my yard.
I tell them they must have the wrong house and they show me the paperwork. The address is mine, but the the person who ordered all this suff was a Dr. S. Barker, who had paid from an established account. Well, I go inside to call their boss and then the dog starts barking at the hall closet. I go to check it and next thing I know, I’m pushed inside it and the door locks. I beat the door and yell, but nothing. For the next two hours, I hear stuff being dragged around and some lady telling a bunch of somebodies where to put things.
After two ours, I hear the door unlock and I cautiously step out and my living room is a goddamn mad scientist lab. There are like, 12 robots of various sizes doing things and the dog…THE DOG…is wearing some sort of get up that gives her four mechanical arms like that Mr. Octopus super villain in the comics. Then she grabs me by the waist and holds me about 6 feet off the floor and starts telling me how she’s sorry for disrupting my life, but she needs a place to do her work until the heat dies down and my house at the end of a country road is perfect.
Then she slaps a collar on my neck and says if I try to tell anyone what’s going on (which I later did) I’ll get shocked unconscious (which I did). She says she’ll be there about 6 months and when she leaves, I’ll get a big bag of cash. Until then. I get the kitchen, dining room, my bedroom and the back bathroom. I’m also supposed to go to work and stuff just like always.
And that’s how it was for 6 months. I’d come home every day to some new strange and often dangerous shit. I mean, I could sleep at night, because she had soundproofed my bedroom, but then, in the morning I’d hear the buzzing or growls from some creature and chemical smells. It was a nightmare.
Then, six months to the day later, I get home from work and the collar just disintegrates into little pieces. I go inside the house and almost all of her stuff is gone. On the kitchen table is a note saying…
Time for me to leave. Sorry about the mess. I left $120,000 in a bag on your bed. Thanks for everything.
PS: Don’t go in the basement. Ever.
And that’s what happened to my house. Now help me pack up. I want to be out of here if that kaiju comes back.
The Doclopedia #1,807
Why I Did It…: Caught The Car On Fire
Courtesy of Catherine Ford
Okay, Mom & Dad, I know this looks bad…well, okay, it is bad, but I can explain.
See, Kerry and Joanne and Pam and I were just going to drive over to the New Town Shopping Center in Rodney’s car. What? Of course I asked his permission to borrow it. Jeez, Mom, he’s my big brother. Anyway, he told us sometimes it runs rough, but to just let it warm up for a few minutes and it will be okay.
Well, we drive to the mall and do stuff and then watch that new Beach Party movie and then we ate and then we got in the car to go home. But I sort of got distracted and I didn’t let the car warm up and when we were halfway home, it died. I tried twice to start it, but it kept dying.
But then I remembered Dad and Uncle Hank getting an old car going by pouring a little gas into that thing on the engine. So we got the gas can out of the back and I took off the big air thing like I say Dad do and I poured some gas in the little holes and told Pam to try starting it and she tried and it almost started and so I started pouring more gas in and then it started and I jumped and spilled a bunch of gas all over and then it caught on fire and I dropped the can and we all ran back screaming.
There was fire all over the engine and stuff. We were crying and trying to get some water out of the ditch when Deputy Olin showed up and put it out, then put in a call to tell you what happened.
I am SO sorry. Rodney is going to just hate me and all the kids are going to laugh at me. I am such a dope.