Status: Awesomely awesome.
Spiderdom and the Quest for the Sky Cat
in which dementia messes up the directions.
“I’m bored,” Dash announced to the unlikely allies as they flew over West Eastershire. “And are you honestly expecting me to sit for another four hours in this hellhole of a car?”
“Shut up,” Dr. Dementia replied. “I can’t remember where we’re supposed to be going.” He added, true to his name.
“East,” Dr. Gloom said shortly, watching as Bee snuggled comfortingly into Matt’s shoulder. Dash scowled.
“You two lovebirds up front might want to stop snuggling enough to realize that we’re going to crash into these birds,” Dash yelled.
“SHIT!” Dementia screeched and swerved suddenly. Everyone managed to stay in the flying car. That is, everyone except Dr. Gloom, who had been sent to the boot to make room for Bee. He was dangling out of the back, yelling obscenities at the top of his voice.
“Holy spiders,” Dom whispered. Lime sat up, finally waking up from her deep and troubled sleep.
“GIMME ALL YOUR FRAKKING CASH!” she screamed, her fists balled up and ready to strike. “Oh … hey, guys.”
Then she noticed Tom hanging out the side of the car.
“Oh.”
“SOMEBODY HELP ME!” Tom yelled, flailing his legs about. His fingers slipped; he was holding on by only his index finger. “Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit, shit, SHIT! I’m gonna die!”
“TOM!”
Someone squishy had just appeared on Dash’s lap. Dash cursed and leapt into Dom’s lap, where she sat for a good five seconds before realizing that Lime was fondling with Dom’s… ahem… nether regions and that he was grinning blissfully, forgetting all about Tom.
“Holy hell,” Dash mumbled, slapping Dom around the face. “Get your head out of the clouds,” she snapped.
Amie was spreading out her pasta-arms in order to reach Tom, who was now enveloped by her pasta-y goodness.
Tom flopped into Dash’s lap. “’Ello, love,” he said, and passed out.
Dash mumbled under her breath for the next hour or so.
*
“This is not going well,” Dr. Dementia yelled suddenly. “I’ve been driving in this direction for three hours now, and all we’ve done is go past Burger King and get some curly fries!”
“I like curly fries,” Dom pouted from the back seat.
“Yes, yes, we all know how much you like to hold them in your hair and tell us all you have an afro,” Dementia said dismissively, putting an arm around Bee’s shoulders as he spoke. “But I’m sure Dr. Gloom has been telling me to go in the wrong direction here.”
“I said, I said go east!” Dr. Gloom complained.
“Go east… lalalalalala,” Dom and Lime sung at exactly the same time.
“I want a curry now,” Dom said. Lime giggled.
“East!” Gloom continued. “East, east, east. E-A-S-T. East, east, e—”
“East?” Dementia said sharply. “EAST?”
“Yes, east,” Dr. Gloom replied warily.
“I thought you said WEEST!” Dementia screeched. He bravely swung the wheel and started driving in the complete opposite direction.
“Weest is NOT a direction, Dr. D,” Dom groaned.
“Yes it is, of course it is. North, south, east, weest! It’s primary school stuff, Dominic,”
“Firstly, I’d prefer it if you called me Dom,” Dom began, “and secondly, it isn’t pronounced weest. It’s pronounced west.”
Silence.
“BUSHWAH!” Dr. Dementia yelled, shocking them all. Lime scrambled over to Bee to whisper something in her ear.
“Your boyfriend has mental health problems,” she said quietly, before flopping down onto Dom’s lap again.
“That goes for at least four of the current population,” Bee replied, staring pointedly at Dom, who was singing quietly to himself, then to Tom who was stroking Amie’s hair, then to Amie herself, who was whispering, “it’s all a dream, all a dream” to herself repeatedly, and then finally to Dash, who was polishing her Swiss Army Knife on the back of Dr. Dementia’s head.
“OHMYHOLYCHEESEANDFISHANDORANGESANDCAKE!” Dr. Gloom yelled suddenly. “THERE”S A VOLCANO COMING UP!”
The tension in the Dementiamobile was immense.
Dom cleared his throat. “Is anyone else having an orgasm here?” he asked, his voice incredibly high.
“Nope, just you, spineless,” Dash muttered. “All she’s doing is brushing your hair.”
Lime twiddled her eyebrows. “Ah, but you can’t see what my other hand is doing, can you?”
That definitely shut everyone up.
“Shut up,” Dr. Dementia replied. “I can’t remember where we’re supposed to be going.” He added, true to his name.
“East,” Dr. Gloom said shortly, watching as Bee snuggled comfortingly into Matt’s shoulder. Dash scowled.
“You two lovebirds up front might want to stop snuggling enough to realize that we’re going to crash into these birds,” Dash yelled.
“SHIT!” Dementia screeched and swerved suddenly. Everyone managed to stay in the flying car. That is, everyone except Dr. Gloom, who had been sent to the boot to make room for Bee. He was dangling out of the back, yelling obscenities at the top of his voice.
“Holy spiders,” Dom whispered. Lime sat up, finally waking up from her deep and troubled sleep.
“GIMME ALL YOUR FRAKKING CASH!” she screamed, her fists balled up and ready to strike. “Oh … hey, guys.”
Then she noticed Tom hanging out the side of the car.
“Oh.”
“SOMEBODY HELP ME!” Tom yelled, flailing his legs about. His fingers slipped; he was holding on by only his index finger. “Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit, shit, SHIT! I’m gonna die!”
“TOM!”
Someone squishy had just appeared on Dash’s lap. Dash cursed and leapt into Dom’s lap, where she sat for a good five seconds before realizing that Lime was fondling with Dom’s… ahem… nether regions and that he was grinning blissfully, forgetting all about Tom.
“Holy hell,” Dash mumbled, slapping Dom around the face. “Get your head out of the clouds,” she snapped.
Amie was spreading out her pasta-arms in order to reach Tom, who was now enveloped by her pasta-y goodness.
Tom flopped into Dash’s lap. “’Ello, love,” he said, and passed out.
Dash mumbled under her breath for the next hour or so.
*
“This is not going well,” Dr. Dementia yelled suddenly. “I’ve been driving in this direction for three hours now, and all we’ve done is go past Burger King and get some curly fries!”
“I like curly fries,” Dom pouted from the back seat.
“Yes, yes, we all know how much you like to hold them in your hair and tell us all you have an afro,” Dementia said dismissively, putting an arm around Bee’s shoulders as he spoke. “But I’m sure Dr. Gloom has been telling me to go in the wrong direction here.”
“I said, I said go east!” Dr. Gloom complained.
“Go east… lalalalalala,” Dom and Lime sung at exactly the same time.
“I want a curry now,” Dom said. Lime giggled.
“East!” Gloom continued. “East, east, east. E-A-S-T. East, east, e—”
“East?” Dementia said sharply. “EAST?”
“Yes, east,” Dr. Gloom replied warily.
“I thought you said WEEST!” Dementia screeched. He bravely swung the wheel and started driving in the complete opposite direction.
“Weest is NOT a direction, Dr. D,” Dom groaned.
“Yes it is, of course it is. North, south, east, weest! It’s primary school stuff, Dominic,”
“Firstly, I’d prefer it if you called me Dom,” Dom began, “and secondly, it isn’t pronounced weest. It’s pronounced west.”
Silence.
“BUSHWAH!” Dr. Dementia yelled, shocking them all. Lime scrambled over to Bee to whisper something in her ear.
“Your boyfriend has mental health problems,” she said quietly, before flopping down onto Dom’s lap again.
“That goes for at least four of the current population,” Bee replied, staring pointedly at Dom, who was singing quietly to himself, then to Tom who was stroking Amie’s hair, then to Amie herself, who was whispering, “it’s all a dream, all a dream” to herself repeatedly, and then finally to Dash, who was polishing her Swiss Army Knife on the back of Dr. Dementia’s head.
“OHMYHOLYCHEESEANDFISHANDORANGESANDCAKE!” Dr. Gloom yelled suddenly. “THERE”S A VOLCANO COMING UP!”
The tension in the Dementiamobile was immense.
Dom cleared his throat. “Is anyone else having an orgasm here?” he asked, his voice incredibly high.
“Nope, just you, spineless,” Dash muttered. “All she’s doing is brushing your hair.”
Lime twiddled her eyebrows. “Ah, but you can’t see what my other hand is doing, can you?”
That definitely shut everyone up.
♠ ♠ ♠
Bushwah.