Robin's Pet Monster
Posted: Sat Apr 09, 2005 9:47 pm
So, when I first saw Robin - well I didn’t give him much credit. He might be 18, and pretty big, but he looks like 16 and carries himself like 15. Of course using the recognition signal of a stuffed, plush zebra didn’t help things much.
Neither did his sandals or his tape wrapped glasses.
But hey, this is why I’m in this line of work - protect those who can’t protect themselves. Besides, Mr. Fluffers seemed to like him - and his cats.
You can always trust a cat.
The Shih-Tzu tried to jump on Mr. Fluffers though, and Fluffers was up on my shoulder faster than you could blink.
I’m not sure exactly what he thought of me, but usually people look at me like that after I’ve saved their lives - not before.
When he produced that old .410 from the duffel bag, I just about had a coronary. He did nothing to prove the weapon wasn’t loaded, or to keep the barrel point away from killable or breakable things.
I relieved him of the weapon, and after a preliminary inspection, I decided that this gun was more likely to kill Robin than save his life and I told him so.
It pretty much crushed him to hear that . . . but it was true. I wouldn’t be much of a good guy if I let him kill himself with an unsafe gun.
Normally I work alone, but something told me tonight an extra gun would be necessary, so I took Robin to the local shooting range and we spent a couple hours pouring rounds through a UMC and a Para-Ord .45. Being the big kid he was he handled the recoil pretty well, and after a few clips, he really got into it.
He’s no marksman, yet, but I wasn’t worried about him putting the rounds into me or Mr. Fluffers by mistake.
Then we went to his place to scout things out a bit. I had to work at blending in as a “normal” seeing as his mom was around.
I could give a few fat momma jokes at this point, but seeing as I taught Robin how to shoot I’ll lay off.
His little brother is an unpleasant whelp too. I wanted to smack him the moment I saw him. The few minutes I was exposed to him made me want to shoot him.
Anyway, it was pretty obvious that there was something in there. I wasn’t about to open it up during the daylight, but you could see the places the door had been dented and it looked like something got dragged in there. Mr Fluffers took one look at the shed and high tailed it back to my car.
The druggie couch in the bushes was a pretty nasty sight too. Robin and I loaded it into the back of my car and drove it to a gravel pit where we cremated it.
We waited until after dark. Robin’s mother took the kid went out to bingo or something . . . I didn’t really care as long as we had dark and some time to operate.
Okay, now’s the point I got Robin to break the law. I installed a silencer on the UMC and handed it to him. We were in a residential area and the silencer would help avoid attention. It would also cut down on the chance of a stray bullet penetrating someone’s wall. I also made sure Robin knew when to shoot and when not to. I added a tactical light so he could identify his targets a bit better.
I think this is when he started to have some doubts. I don’t think he expected we’d be doing a commando raid on the shed after dark.
Me, I took my Piece and my Blade. Both are nice and quiet. My Saiga is more powerful - but I didn’t want the roar of a shotgun drawing attention to us.
As we crept up on the shed, I could hear something rattling and slithering around. I got Robin to slide next to the door while I stood to the front and off to the side. At my signal, Robin opened the door and I took aim at what was inside.
A cat . . . one of Robin’s cats was sitting there in the shed looking at me with a “Well - did you want something?” look on its face.
Now Robin gets all embarrassed at this point and starts stammering, trying to convince me there was something there. I cut him off. I wouldn’t have come if I didn’t believe there was something. Obviously, it was out so now was the chance to set up some traps for it.
Robin and I stepped into the shed. It was a pretty decent size and while there were a lot of garden tools and stuff in it, there was still some room to move around.
About then we heard a noise from the house. Robin and I turned around and we could see Mr. Fluffers and Robin’s cat shagging on his mother’s bed. . .
I don’t know which one of us realized it first that the cat that was in the house was also the same one that was in the shed with us . . . but it didn’t matter, it still had the drop on us.
I heard Robin yelp as it smacked him and he flew out of the shed. I’d just barely turned back to it when a tentacle pulled my leg out from under me and dragged me all the way into the shed.
The light in the shed disappeared as the door slammed closed. I took a swing at the tentacle around my legs and connected.
The noise I heard could have been speech of some kind - nothing I recognize though - but the thing was obviously intelligent.
And very, very strong.
It threw me against the back wall and I saw stars.
A moment later, it had me by the throat. I was trying to pry it’s tentacles off of me and getting know where when the shed door slid open and I finally got a good look at the thing.
It was me . . .
It was exactly me, right down to the clothing.
And it was killing me.
I couldn’t even yell to Robin to say which one of us was real.
But, that didn’t matter because he figured it out on his own. I don’t know how he knew Good Ron from Evil Ron but he got it on the first try.
Robin bellowed “Get off of him!!” and gestured at Evil Ron. The next thing I knew Evil Ron had been knocked over backwards into the corner of the shed on top of the lawn mower.
Robin had never even touched him!
Next thing I knew Robin was between me and Evil Ron. Evil Ron had changed into a thing like a worm, but about 2 feet thick and 8 feet long. He had 4 very long tentacles and a mouth full of 4-inch long fangs.
Robin was in full fury by now. He was shouting at the thing to stay back. As he did, he gestured again and a line of flames appeared on the floor of the shed, encircling the creature and trapping it in the corner.
It howled at us, something that again sounded a lot like language and tried to rush through the flames at us. As it got close the flames shot up to the roof of the shed and the creature fell back, in obvious pain.
I couldn’t do much at this point, I’d dropped my Piece. So I contended myself with getting to my feet and cheering Robin on.
Not that he needed much encouragement. At this point, he reached into the flames that he’d created and pulled out a ball of fire.
How this didn’t scorch him I don’t know, but he threw the fireball at the thing and made it scream.
I could see by the look on Robin’s face that he was exorcising something deep inside of himself with this, so I stood back and let him run the show.
Besides, by the time, I found my Blade and my Piece, the thing was already on its last legs.
Unfortunately, so were the walls and roof of the shed.
Even worse, that’s when I noticed the can of gasoline next to the lawnmower.
I grabbed Robin and threw him out of the shed. I jumped after him just as the gas can caught.
So much for not getting noticed by the neighbours.
Fortunately, Robin and I had enough time to concoct a cover story (the druggies who hide in the bush probably were smoking up in the shed because we got rid of their couch) and enough time for me and a very satisfied looking Mr. Fluffers to get out of sight.
I’m not circling back tonight, but I’ll check in with Robin in the morning. I’m sure he’ll post his view on what happened tonight. Maybe he can tell us where he got the ability to throw fire around from.
I just hope this clears up the weirdness around the place . . . at least until Robin’s cat has Mr. Fluffers’ kittens.
You can never trust a cat.
Neither did his sandals or his tape wrapped glasses.
But hey, this is why I’m in this line of work - protect those who can’t protect themselves. Besides, Mr. Fluffers seemed to like him - and his cats.
You can always trust a cat.
The Shih-Tzu tried to jump on Mr. Fluffers though, and Fluffers was up on my shoulder faster than you could blink.
I’m not sure exactly what he thought of me, but usually people look at me like that after I’ve saved their lives - not before.
When he produced that old .410 from the duffel bag, I just about had a coronary. He did nothing to prove the weapon wasn’t loaded, or to keep the barrel point away from killable or breakable things.
I relieved him of the weapon, and after a preliminary inspection, I decided that this gun was more likely to kill Robin than save his life and I told him so.
It pretty much crushed him to hear that . . . but it was true. I wouldn’t be much of a good guy if I let him kill himself with an unsafe gun.
Normally I work alone, but something told me tonight an extra gun would be necessary, so I took Robin to the local shooting range and we spent a couple hours pouring rounds through a UMC and a Para-Ord .45. Being the big kid he was he handled the recoil pretty well, and after a few clips, he really got into it.
He’s no marksman, yet, but I wasn’t worried about him putting the rounds into me or Mr. Fluffers by mistake.
Then we went to his place to scout things out a bit. I had to work at blending in as a “normal” seeing as his mom was around.
I could give a few fat momma jokes at this point, but seeing as I taught Robin how to shoot I’ll lay off.
His little brother is an unpleasant whelp too. I wanted to smack him the moment I saw him. The few minutes I was exposed to him made me want to shoot him.
Anyway, it was pretty obvious that there was something in there. I wasn’t about to open it up during the daylight, but you could see the places the door had been dented and it looked like something got dragged in there. Mr Fluffers took one look at the shed and high tailed it back to my car.
The druggie couch in the bushes was a pretty nasty sight too. Robin and I loaded it into the back of my car and drove it to a gravel pit where we cremated it.
We waited until after dark. Robin’s mother took the kid went out to bingo or something . . . I didn’t really care as long as we had dark and some time to operate.
Okay, now’s the point I got Robin to break the law. I installed a silencer on the UMC and handed it to him. We were in a residential area and the silencer would help avoid attention. It would also cut down on the chance of a stray bullet penetrating someone’s wall. I also made sure Robin knew when to shoot and when not to. I added a tactical light so he could identify his targets a bit better.
I think this is when he started to have some doubts. I don’t think he expected we’d be doing a commando raid on the shed after dark.
Me, I took my Piece and my Blade. Both are nice and quiet. My Saiga is more powerful - but I didn’t want the roar of a shotgun drawing attention to us.
As we crept up on the shed, I could hear something rattling and slithering around. I got Robin to slide next to the door while I stood to the front and off to the side. At my signal, Robin opened the door and I took aim at what was inside.
A cat . . . one of Robin’s cats was sitting there in the shed looking at me with a “Well - did you want something?” look on its face.
Now Robin gets all embarrassed at this point and starts stammering, trying to convince me there was something there. I cut him off. I wouldn’t have come if I didn’t believe there was something. Obviously, it was out so now was the chance to set up some traps for it.
Robin and I stepped into the shed. It was a pretty decent size and while there were a lot of garden tools and stuff in it, there was still some room to move around.
About then we heard a noise from the house. Robin and I turned around and we could see Mr. Fluffers and Robin’s cat shagging on his mother’s bed. . .
I don’t know which one of us realized it first that the cat that was in the house was also the same one that was in the shed with us . . . but it didn’t matter, it still had the drop on us.
I heard Robin yelp as it smacked him and he flew out of the shed. I’d just barely turned back to it when a tentacle pulled my leg out from under me and dragged me all the way into the shed.
The light in the shed disappeared as the door slammed closed. I took a swing at the tentacle around my legs and connected.
The noise I heard could have been speech of some kind - nothing I recognize though - but the thing was obviously intelligent.
And very, very strong.
It threw me against the back wall and I saw stars.
A moment later, it had me by the throat. I was trying to pry it’s tentacles off of me and getting know where when the shed door slid open and I finally got a good look at the thing.
It was me . . .
It was exactly me, right down to the clothing.
And it was killing me.
I couldn’t even yell to Robin to say which one of us was real.
But, that didn’t matter because he figured it out on his own. I don’t know how he knew Good Ron from Evil Ron but he got it on the first try.
Robin bellowed “Get off of him!!” and gestured at Evil Ron. The next thing I knew Evil Ron had been knocked over backwards into the corner of the shed on top of the lawn mower.
Robin had never even touched him!
Next thing I knew Robin was between me and Evil Ron. Evil Ron had changed into a thing like a worm, but about 2 feet thick and 8 feet long. He had 4 very long tentacles and a mouth full of 4-inch long fangs.
Robin was in full fury by now. He was shouting at the thing to stay back. As he did, he gestured again and a line of flames appeared on the floor of the shed, encircling the creature and trapping it in the corner.
It howled at us, something that again sounded a lot like language and tried to rush through the flames at us. As it got close the flames shot up to the roof of the shed and the creature fell back, in obvious pain.
I couldn’t do much at this point, I’d dropped my Piece. So I contended myself with getting to my feet and cheering Robin on.
Not that he needed much encouragement. At this point, he reached into the flames that he’d created and pulled out a ball of fire.
How this didn’t scorch him I don’t know, but he threw the fireball at the thing and made it scream.
I could see by the look on Robin’s face that he was exorcising something deep inside of himself with this, so I stood back and let him run the show.
Besides, by the time, I found my Blade and my Piece, the thing was already on its last legs.
Unfortunately, so were the walls and roof of the shed.
Even worse, that’s when I noticed the can of gasoline next to the lawnmower.
I grabbed Robin and threw him out of the shed. I jumped after him just as the gas can caught.
So much for not getting noticed by the neighbours.
Fortunately, Robin and I had enough time to concoct a cover story (the druggies who hide in the bush probably were smoking up in the shed because we got rid of their couch) and enough time for me and a very satisfied looking Mr. Fluffers to get out of sight.
I’m not circling back tonight, but I’ll check in with Robin in the morning. I’m sure he’ll post his view on what happened tonight. Maybe he can tell us where he got the ability to throw fire around from.
I just hope this clears up the weirdness around the place . . . at least until Robin’s cat has Mr. Fluffers’ kittens.
You can never trust a cat.
