dear glob what is that thing
Alright...let me level with y'all here. I have no idea what crack has just sprung forth from my brain. I regret...everything.
Part of a trade with essbeejay based on the writing exercises we both did, in which I picked one from her list for her to do and she picked one from my list for me to do. The deal was to have 'em up by the end of December...and technically it's still the end of December! So HA!
Over 1000 words of crack, based on listening to Run Daddy Run by Miranda Lambert ft. Pistol Annies on repeat for about an hour and letting my sleep-deprived brain wander off and get lost. I am very sorry.
(Warnings: not actually involving the song at all as it turns out, a grown man dressed as a French maid, ogling, licking, death threats, and merciless removing of dust from shelves via a feather duster.)
The phone rang, and the Girls let it ring while they watched their cartoons. Professor Utonium dried his hands from doing the dishes.
“Hello? Utonium residence.”
“Soooo, Professor, what are you weaaaaring?”
The voice slithered out of the receiver and sent a shiver down both the Professor’s and the Girls’ backs, and he slammed the phone into its cradle, cheeks red. The phone rang again instantly, and kept on ringing until Bubbles zipped over and unplugged it from the wall.
“Ruuuuuude,” the television pouted, and a red-skinned devil with bunny ears stuck his overly trembling lip out at his audience. “I just want to play a gaaaaame, Girls. Is that so wrong?”
“Your games never mean anything good,” Blossom said stoutly, remote in hand. “Leave us alone.” She clicked off the TV. Father and daughters exchanged a look, when there was a grinding sound, like the house was groaning. An evil chuckle laced its way through the air, and the beams of the house started compressing, the white paint turning pink and…squishy.
“Out! Out! Out!” Blossom cried, and as one her and her sisters scooped up their father and crashed through the front door, which was starting to grow teeth. On the front lawn, they watched their house writhe and squirm.
“Eeeew!” Bubbles wrinkled her nose.
“What’s the point of turning our house into a giant…grub…thing?” Buttercup complained.
“Oh, my lab,” the Professor fretted, but another sinister laugh cut off further conversation as the monster, formerly their house, ripped itself out of the ground, growling.
“Do I have your attention yet, Girls?” Him simpered, swimming through the air above the monster and still wearing the bunny ears from the cartoon. “Are you listening now?”
“Put our house back!” Blossom commanded, then yelped as the new monster swiped at them with a rectangular paw that might’ve once been part of the basement.
“I will, don’t worry,” Him giggled. “But you have to play the game first.”
“If we play your crummy game, will you leave us alone? It’s a Saturday,” Buttercup growled.
“Of course,” Him smiled, showing all of his teeth. “But you have to play by my rules. No cheating!”
“You’re the cheater!” Bubbles protested, nearly dropping the Professor in her outrage.
“What are the rules?” Blossom asked, guiding the Professor down to the sidewalk and taking up the point in the Girls’ arrow shielding him.
“The Professor has to be the one to play,” Him smiled, “and he can’t get any outside help, not even from you girls.”
“Why me?” Professor Utonium called, half in exasperation and half curious.
“You’ll see,” Him chuckled. “Oh, and Girls, if you do cheat and help the Professor, he’s gonna end up lunch for your old house. Do we have a deal?”
“One more rule,” Blossom frowned. “No putting him through something he’s sure to lose!”
“Oh, I wouldn’t dream of it,” Him said, laying a claw delicately over his heart. “What fun would come from that?”
With a swallow and a shaking set of knees, Professor Utonium circumvented his daughters.
“Let’s get this over with, Him,” he called.
“Eeeeeexcellent,” Him simpered, and in a flash of pink clouds the house-monster was collared and picketed to the ground, and the Professor was wearing…um…
“You never said that’d be part of the deal!” Blossom yelled as Buttercup and Bubbles succumbed to giggles.
“My game, my rules!” Him smiled, coiling himself around the Professor’s too-short skirt. “Doesn’t he look simply precious?” His forked tongue lashed out of his mouth and against the Professor’s chin. To his credit, Professor Utonium merely sighed and hitched up his garters, feather duster in hand.
“The first part of my game!” Him announced, disentangling himself from around the Professor and floating into the air. “I need to go to the grocery store!”
“The grocery store?” Blossom frowned, and with a click of claws that’s exactly where they found themselves, in an impossibly long grocery aisle with a fire-red buggy at the ready. Over the speakers played the latest pop music. The Professor flinched.
“I need these items, if you please,” Him said, conjuring a list from nowhere and handing it to the Professor. He adjusted his lacy cap and set his hands on the handle of the cart. Quick as lightning (and perhaps with a flash of it, for effect), shackles popped up around the Professor’s wrists.
“How am I supposed to get groceries with my hands tied?” he cried indignantly.
“Oh,” Him purred, eyes gleaming, “I’m sure you’ll figure it out.”
Professor Utonium stared at him for a full minute, his mouth contorting and cheeks flushing darker red, until he straightened his back and set off down the aisle. Him and the Girls floated after him.
“I thought we agreed not to put him through anything he couldn’t do!” Buttercup complained.
“Who says he caaaan’t?” Him giggled. As if on cue the Professor steered his cart close to the shelf and with an outstretched leg knocked a bag of flour into the cart. “Isn’t he flexible?”
It was harder to say which was more disturbing to watch, the Professor’s freakish leg dexterity or Him’s obvious delight every time a flash of lace panties peeked out from beneath the maid skirt, but if the Girls had to pick they admitted that Him probably won that; every flick of his tongue against his lips was like a slimy whip-crack. Bubbles actually started crying, her head on Blossom’s shoulder.
“Why is he so evil?” she sobbed.
The list was eventually completed and the Professor’s wrists unshackled. The Professor’s face seemed to be in a permanent state of flush, particularly when Him whistled as he walked by with the full cart, but the smile he shot his Girls was triumphant.
“Next!” Him said as the cart rolled right off the sudden jagged edge of the aisle and into the fire below, and clicked his claws again. The grocery aisle faded into Town Hall, looking stately as ever, complete with a perplexed Mayor and Miss Bellum.
“This place is just filthy,” Him sighed. “It could use a good…dusting.”
Determinedly not looking at Miss Bellum or the Mayor, the Professor got to work on dusting the entire office. The Girls, floating by their town’s leaders, just shook their heads when the Mayor asked what was the matter.
“Him turned our house into a monster and now he’s making the Professor do his chores,” Bubbles whimpered.
“How dastardly!” the Mayor cried. “I’d call you Girls to get on the case, but-well-are you sure there’s nothing you can do?”
“He’s gotta put the house back right first,” Buttercup muttered.
“Well, so long as he’s not doing anything too evil, I guess there’s nothing much we can do,” the Mayor shrugged. “Don’t miss the bookshelf there, toots, it needs a very good dusting.”
“Mayor!” Miss Bellum frowned.
The office was eventually dusted, even the Mayor himself, and Him smiled his most sinister smile yet.
“Last part of the game,” he said, clicking his claws. They found themselves on top of Mojo’s observatory, the strong winds gusting about and causing the Professor to imitate a famous starlet in an effort to keep his skirt down. “Take a walk off the edge, Professor.”
“Do what?” Professor Utonium screeched.
“That wasn’t part of the deal!” Blossom cried.
“You can’t make him do that!” Buttercup yelled.
“That’s cheating!” Bubbles shouted.
“No, no, no, Girls, it’s not unfair or cheating,” Him simpered. “Let me finish, after all. Take a walk off the edge…or sign a contract.”
“What sort of contract?” the Professor asked suspiciously.
“Oh, nothing tooooo strenuous,” Him giggled, and with a wave of his claw materialized a long curly-cued contract, which the Professor took and squinted at.
“Blossom?” he said eventually, handing it off. “Could you read this for me?”
Blossom took it in an instant and had it read in a few seconds. She gasped.
“He wants to-to rent you out in doing stuff like this every month!” Blossom said, holding the contract away from her like a dead thing.
“That’s so gross!” Bubbles wailed.
“You’ve got a problem, Him, and I’ve got the mind and the fists to knock it out of you!” Buttercup scowled, leaping for her enemy. Him hop-skipped back, shaking his claw from side to side.
“Ah-ah-ah, Girls,” he smirked. “Hit me and you never get your beloved house back…or your precious Professor.” In a flash of red and pink he closed his claw around the Professor’s exposed neck, wrapping himself around the Professor again. “Just sign the contract, Professor, and everything will go back to normal.”
Him magicked up a blood-red quill and waved it in front of the Professor’s face with his free claw, tracing the lines of his face and tickling under his nose. The Professor reached out with shaking hands and took the quill, then paused, thinking, his hand trembling and sweat dripping down the back of his neck and down his forehead. The Girls trembled, afraid to move.
There was a ding, and a sharp snick as a panel slid open on the roof. Mojo stuck his head out.
“Just what do you think you are doing on my roof?” he screeched. “Him! I have told, threatened, and otherwise warned you about coming near my laboratory and place of residence! Leave at once, before I telephone the police! If you do not think I will push the buttons on my telephone in the exact sequence that will send Townsville’s wretched police force on their way here in an effort to be rid of you, you have another thing coming! Release the Professor at once and begone!”
“Aw, but Mojoooo,” Him whimpered, sliding away from the Professor nonetheless, “I’m just having a bit of fuuuuuun-”
“No! No fun! This is not a place where fun is to be had, nor for tomfoolery to commence, nor horseplay to be engaged in!” There was another sharp click, and a rather large ray gun made its appearance over Mojo’s shoulder. “Leave! Vamoose! I am warning you!”
Him’s expression soured, then contorted. Mojo fired a warning bolt of some kind of laser into the roof at Him’s feet, and Him threw his claws up.
“Alright, alright! So pushy,” he sniffed. He looked over his shoulder at the Professor, now being surrounded by his Girls again. “We’ll meet again, Professor Utonium, Powerpuff Girls. You can count on that.”
“Put our house back!” Blossom yelled as Him half-vanished, and he tsked.
“Oh, fine,” he shrugged. “Spoilsports.” He clapped his claws together.
“And the outfit!” Bubbles shrieked.
“Sorry, no can do about thaaaaat!”
With a puff of smoke and a manic laugh Him disappeared, and Mojo glared at the Girls and Professor.
“While you are on my roof and appear to be dressed for the occasion,” Him grumped, a smile twitching at the corners of his otherwise stern mouth, “could you vacuum my carpets?”
The triple-fisted punch in the face was all the answer Mojo got.
Part of a trade with essbeejay based on the writing exercises we both did, in which I picked one from her list for her to do and she picked one from my list for me to do. The deal was to have 'em up by the end of December...and technically it's still the end of December! So HA!
Over 1000 words of crack, based on listening to Run Daddy Run by Miranda Lambert ft. Pistol Annies on repeat for about an hour and letting my sleep-deprived brain wander off and get lost. I am very sorry.
(Warnings: not actually involving the song at all as it turns out, a grown man dressed as a French maid, ogling, licking, death threats, and merciless removing of dust from shelves via a feather duster.)
The phone rang, and the Girls let it ring while they watched their cartoons. Professor Utonium dried his hands from doing the dishes.
“Hello? Utonium residence.”
“Soooo, Professor, what are you weaaaaring?”
The voice slithered out of the receiver and sent a shiver down both the Professor’s and the Girls’ backs, and he slammed the phone into its cradle, cheeks red. The phone rang again instantly, and kept on ringing until Bubbles zipped over and unplugged it from the wall.
“Ruuuuuude,” the television pouted, and a red-skinned devil with bunny ears stuck his overly trembling lip out at his audience. “I just want to play a gaaaaame, Girls. Is that so wrong?”
“Your games never mean anything good,” Blossom said stoutly, remote in hand. “Leave us alone.” She clicked off the TV. Father and daughters exchanged a look, when there was a grinding sound, like the house was groaning. An evil chuckle laced its way through the air, and the beams of the house started compressing, the white paint turning pink and…squishy.
“Out! Out! Out!” Blossom cried, and as one her and her sisters scooped up their father and crashed through the front door, which was starting to grow teeth. On the front lawn, they watched their house writhe and squirm.
“Eeeew!” Bubbles wrinkled her nose.
“What’s the point of turning our house into a giant…grub…thing?” Buttercup complained.
“Oh, my lab,” the Professor fretted, but another sinister laugh cut off further conversation as the monster, formerly their house, ripped itself out of the ground, growling.
“Do I have your attention yet, Girls?” Him simpered, swimming through the air above the monster and still wearing the bunny ears from the cartoon. “Are you listening now?”
“Put our house back!” Blossom commanded, then yelped as the new monster swiped at them with a rectangular paw that might’ve once been part of the basement.
“I will, don’t worry,” Him giggled. “But you have to play the game first.”
“If we play your crummy game, will you leave us alone? It’s a Saturday,” Buttercup growled.
“Of course,” Him smiled, showing all of his teeth. “But you have to play by my rules. No cheating!”
“You’re the cheater!” Bubbles protested, nearly dropping the Professor in her outrage.
“What are the rules?” Blossom asked, guiding the Professor down to the sidewalk and taking up the point in the Girls’ arrow shielding him.
“The Professor has to be the one to play,” Him smiled, “and he can’t get any outside help, not even from you girls.”
“Why me?” Professor Utonium called, half in exasperation and half curious.
“You’ll see,” Him chuckled. “Oh, and Girls, if you do cheat and help the Professor, he’s gonna end up lunch for your old house. Do we have a deal?”
“One more rule,” Blossom frowned. “No putting him through something he’s sure to lose!”
“Oh, I wouldn’t dream of it,” Him said, laying a claw delicately over his heart. “What fun would come from that?”
With a swallow and a shaking set of knees, Professor Utonium circumvented his daughters.
“Let’s get this over with, Him,” he called.
“Eeeeeexcellent,” Him simpered, and in a flash of pink clouds the house-monster was collared and picketed to the ground, and the Professor was wearing…um…
“You never said that’d be part of the deal!” Blossom yelled as Buttercup and Bubbles succumbed to giggles.
“My game, my rules!” Him smiled, coiling himself around the Professor’s too-short skirt. “Doesn’t he look simply precious?” His forked tongue lashed out of his mouth and against the Professor’s chin. To his credit, Professor Utonium merely sighed and hitched up his garters, feather duster in hand.
“The first part of my game!” Him announced, disentangling himself from around the Professor and floating into the air. “I need to go to the grocery store!”
“The grocery store?” Blossom frowned, and with a click of claws that’s exactly where they found themselves, in an impossibly long grocery aisle with a fire-red buggy at the ready. Over the speakers played the latest pop music. The Professor flinched.
“I need these items, if you please,” Him said, conjuring a list from nowhere and handing it to the Professor. He adjusted his lacy cap and set his hands on the handle of the cart. Quick as lightning (and perhaps with a flash of it, for effect), shackles popped up around the Professor’s wrists.
“How am I supposed to get groceries with my hands tied?” he cried indignantly.
“Oh,” Him purred, eyes gleaming, “I’m sure you’ll figure it out.”
Professor Utonium stared at him for a full minute, his mouth contorting and cheeks flushing darker red, until he straightened his back and set off down the aisle. Him and the Girls floated after him.
“I thought we agreed not to put him through anything he couldn’t do!” Buttercup complained.
“Who says he caaaan’t?” Him giggled. As if on cue the Professor steered his cart close to the shelf and with an outstretched leg knocked a bag of flour into the cart. “Isn’t he flexible?”
It was harder to say which was more disturbing to watch, the Professor’s freakish leg dexterity or Him’s obvious delight every time a flash of lace panties peeked out from beneath the maid skirt, but if the Girls had to pick they admitted that Him probably won that; every flick of his tongue against his lips was like a slimy whip-crack. Bubbles actually started crying, her head on Blossom’s shoulder.
“Why is he so evil?” she sobbed.
The list was eventually completed and the Professor’s wrists unshackled. The Professor’s face seemed to be in a permanent state of flush, particularly when Him whistled as he walked by with the full cart, but the smile he shot his Girls was triumphant.
“Next!” Him said as the cart rolled right off the sudden jagged edge of the aisle and into the fire below, and clicked his claws again. The grocery aisle faded into Town Hall, looking stately as ever, complete with a perplexed Mayor and Miss Bellum.
“This place is just filthy,” Him sighed. “It could use a good…dusting.”
Determinedly not looking at Miss Bellum or the Mayor, the Professor got to work on dusting the entire office. The Girls, floating by their town’s leaders, just shook their heads when the Mayor asked what was the matter.
“Him turned our house into a monster and now he’s making the Professor do his chores,” Bubbles whimpered.
“How dastardly!” the Mayor cried. “I’d call you Girls to get on the case, but-well-are you sure there’s nothing you can do?”
“He’s gotta put the house back right first,” Buttercup muttered.
“Well, so long as he’s not doing anything too evil, I guess there’s nothing much we can do,” the Mayor shrugged. “Don’t miss the bookshelf there, toots, it needs a very good dusting.”
“Mayor!” Miss Bellum frowned.
The office was eventually dusted, even the Mayor himself, and Him smiled his most sinister smile yet.
“Last part of the game,” he said, clicking his claws. They found themselves on top of Mojo’s observatory, the strong winds gusting about and causing the Professor to imitate a famous starlet in an effort to keep his skirt down. “Take a walk off the edge, Professor.”
“Do what?” Professor Utonium screeched.
“That wasn’t part of the deal!” Blossom cried.
“You can’t make him do that!” Buttercup yelled.
“That’s cheating!” Bubbles shouted.
“No, no, no, Girls, it’s not unfair or cheating,” Him simpered. “Let me finish, after all. Take a walk off the edge…or sign a contract.”
“What sort of contract?” the Professor asked suspiciously.
“Oh, nothing tooooo strenuous,” Him giggled, and with a wave of his claw materialized a long curly-cued contract, which the Professor took and squinted at.
“Blossom?” he said eventually, handing it off. “Could you read this for me?”
Blossom took it in an instant and had it read in a few seconds. She gasped.
“He wants to-to rent you out in doing stuff like this every month!” Blossom said, holding the contract away from her like a dead thing.
“That’s so gross!” Bubbles wailed.
“You’ve got a problem, Him, and I’ve got the mind and the fists to knock it out of you!” Buttercup scowled, leaping for her enemy. Him hop-skipped back, shaking his claw from side to side.
“Ah-ah-ah, Girls,” he smirked. “Hit me and you never get your beloved house back…or your precious Professor.” In a flash of red and pink he closed his claw around the Professor’s exposed neck, wrapping himself around the Professor again. “Just sign the contract, Professor, and everything will go back to normal.”
Him magicked up a blood-red quill and waved it in front of the Professor’s face with his free claw, tracing the lines of his face and tickling under his nose. The Professor reached out with shaking hands and took the quill, then paused, thinking, his hand trembling and sweat dripping down the back of his neck and down his forehead. The Girls trembled, afraid to move.
There was a ding, and a sharp snick as a panel slid open on the roof. Mojo stuck his head out.
“Just what do you think you are doing on my roof?” he screeched. “Him! I have told, threatened, and otherwise warned you about coming near my laboratory and place of residence! Leave at once, before I telephone the police! If you do not think I will push the buttons on my telephone in the exact sequence that will send Townsville’s wretched police force on their way here in an effort to be rid of you, you have another thing coming! Release the Professor at once and begone!”
“Aw, but Mojoooo,” Him whimpered, sliding away from the Professor nonetheless, “I’m just having a bit of fuuuuuun-”
“No! No fun! This is not a place where fun is to be had, nor for tomfoolery to commence, nor horseplay to be engaged in!” There was another sharp click, and a rather large ray gun made its appearance over Mojo’s shoulder. “Leave! Vamoose! I am warning you!”
Him’s expression soured, then contorted. Mojo fired a warning bolt of some kind of laser into the roof at Him’s feet, and Him threw his claws up.
“Alright, alright! So pushy,” he sniffed. He looked over his shoulder at the Professor, now being surrounded by his Girls again. “We’ll meet again, Professor Utonium, Powerpuff Girls. You can count on that.”
“Put our house back!” Blossom yelled as Him half-vanished, and he tsked.
“Oh, fine,” he shrugged. “Spoilsports.” He clapped his claws together.
“And the outfit!” Bubbles shrieked.
“Sorry, no can do about thaaaaat!”
With a puff of smoke and a manic laugh Him disappeared, and Mojo glared at the Girls and Professor.
“While you are on my roof and appear to be dressed for the occasion,” Him grumped, a smile twitching at the corners of his otherwise stern mouth, “could you vacuum my carpets?”
The triple-fisted punch in the face was all the answer Mojo got.