Application: Sergeant Schlock, Schlock Mercenary (webcomic)

[ominous_hum]

Somewhere near the ceiling of the Sorting Room, there is a sound much like a baseball bat being passed through a coffee maker, and then a large gray-green mass materializes out of thin air and lands on the ground with a splatch. It sits there for a moment, inert, and then a pair of eyes emerge and pan around the room. The mass sprouts a pair of

Comments

[ugly_old_hat]

Having someone kill for you is nice, but wielding the weapon yourself is nicer. "Or you could just give me that gun," the Hat said amiably. "It looks like it could be a crucial weapon in the fight against evil clowns."

[ominous_hum]

Schlock comes sprinting out of the men's room at a surprisingly good clip for a blob. "I'm back! I'm back!"

Then he squints at the Hat, looks at his plasma cannon, and two more eyes pop out of the back of his head on stalks to stare at the Hat.

"MINE," Schlock announces, cradling the big honkin' gun possessively. "You want one? Fine. But you're not getting my personalized favorite plasgun."

Two more hands sprout from his sides. "Actually, hold that thought."

Hand number three reaches for Schlock's lower ... "lip" and pulls his mouth open wide. Hand number four reaches into his mouth and comes out with a much smaller gun. "This one is probably more your size. The Planet Mercenary catalog says it's ten times more powerful, and all you lose is the 'ominous hum'."

He hands the smaller gun to the Hat, and strokes his own gun like it was a kitten. "I guess I'm just a traditionalist."

[ugly_old_hat]

"We all know it's not the size of your gun, but how you point and shoot that matters anyway, right?" the Hat replied jauntily, accepting the gun. One of its straps caressed the butt. Of the gun, you sick people!

"You've got an awful lot of hands." As an entity that lacked visible arms, the Hat often found itself obsessed with other people's.

[ominous_hum]

Schlock drops his gun back in his mouth, and withdraws all his hands and two eyes back into the mass of his body. "My people don't generally use hands. I just spend most of my time in places designed for human beings, and places like that are designed around hands, so..." He sprouts two arms again.

He gives the Hat a look. "How do you manage it? I mean, I can change my form if I need to, but you're basically just a hat, right?"

[ugly_old_hat]

"I am far more than just a hat! I am a Sorting Hat!" the Hat replied proudly, and more than a bit indignantly. "Would you be willing to put me on your head if I suddenly transfigured myself into an elephant or...or a big blob of goo?"

[ominous_hum]

"Hey, I'm not goo!" Schlock yells. "And I'm new at this sorting stuff. Never actually had a house before, either."

He frowns. "You're not really going to turn into an elephant, are you? 'Cos I don't have such a good history with elephants," he continues, shuddering (and a shudder on an amorphous blob is ... rather impressive).

[ugly_old_hat]

Amicably, the Hat responded, "Didn't say that you were." Hey, Schlock was the one who had made that inference, although the Hat certainly had been thinking it. "And of course I'm not going to turn into an elephant. Trunks are too phallic for me."

Schlock's shudder reminded the Hat of jelly. Hmmm, so if Schlock were to imbibe alcohol, would he be a living, breathing jelly shot, aka Evil Clown Repellent? This could be very useful!

"You wouldn't happen to be a teetotaler, would you? If not, then I know just where to Sort you!"

[ominous_hum]

"Tee-totaler? What, and give up beer?" Schlock asks.

[ugly_old_hat]

"Excellent! Then I shall Sort you right away!"