"DUDE!" Rick quietly muttered to Greg as he stepped up on the dais, "That 'Fabulous Furry Freak Brother' friend of yours AIN'T HUMAN!"
"What are you on about?" Sherry asked him.
"I caught wind of him- HE AIN'T HUMAN! At least, not totally. He IS something feral, something of our world. How long have you known him?"
"How the Hell do you know this?" Greg asked.
"My nose don't lie! He don't smell like a human... well he SORTA does... but there's something going on that ain't right!"
"He IS sitting next to the 'Jaguar Girl', you know," Sherry commented, "you sure you haven't gotten them crossed?"
"What I smell is a FERAL MALE PREDATOR! Definatly omnivorous... " he thought about it for a moment, "... the girls are on 'smoke and mirror' duty, right?"
Greg and Sherry looked over at the trio- Charles was nattering with Jett while Monica was aware of the band's attention towards herself.
"Uh, yea-" Greg spoke slowly, " at least that's what I was told."
"Down yer drinks and let's play some 'smoke and mirrors' of our own." Rick stated flatly.
Monica was indeed perplexed as to what was going in with the band- as were several other guests. There was some quick discussion between the band members a paced '1,2,3,4...' and a nice 1950's soft rock progression rolled out (with vibrato on the rhythm guitar and pushed treble on the lead) as a dreamy 4/4 slow tempo announced itself.
In her most seductive purr, Sherry announced "Ladies choice- go gettem, girls..."... while looking directly at Jett.
Jett picked up the clue and acted immediately.
"C'mear, you" she said in a husky voice as she stood up grabbed a startled Charles by the arm and dragged him out to the clearing that served as a dance floor. Behind her, Monica watched in stunned, open mouthed amazement... that soon devolved into an industrial strength pout.
2 beats major, 2 beats minor, 2 beats 5th, 2 beats 7th, repeat... then...
"Dea-ea-eam- dream dream dream, drea-ea-eam, dream dream dream
When I want you... in my arms, when I want you... and all your charms
whenever I want you all I have to do... is drea-ea-eam, dream dream dream..."
Sherry was crooning out a smokey rendition of the lead while Greg did a soft harmony.
Jett was also crooning the words- softly and teasingly into Charles' ear.
"This. can. not. be. real," Chuck thought to himself, "no way in Hell can I go from gunfire at a wedding to being seduced by a supermodel... I'm going to wake up and probably be late for shift. But DAMN! WHAT A DREAM!!! The song is perfectly appropriate."
He started relaxing. Dreams are safe, right?
"Uh... Al?" Glytch nervously intoned as he watched Monica power-striding towards Jett and Charles, "I, uh, think we have a potential catfight at ten o'clock."
"Yes... between a mortal and the Jaguar Girl at that. I hate to say this, but this is beyond our pay grade. Be ready to find cover."
"Not to worry" Brandy stated rather flatly, "I am on this flank, Bud has the other. We can handle this,"
Other members of the party notice the advance of the busty Latina and put some distance between themselves and 'ground zero'.
Monica stomped up to the dancing pair and grabbed Jett by the arm to pull her and Charles apart.
"I am cutting in" she snarled at Jett.
Charles was startled. He snarled at Monica. Shocked, Monica turned to see a long, furry snout, whiskers, ears folded back and golden eyes. A mouth full of sharp, feral teeth were displayed in a menacing manner. Dusky tan fur covered what was human flesh.
Monica screamed.
"DAMN!" Rick shouted through his microphone, "I TOLD you he's not HUMAN!!!"
Sgt Howard's wedding
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Sgt. Howard
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Re: Sgt Howard's wedding
Last edited by Sgt. Howard on Thu Jul 13, 2023 4:46 pm, edited 1 time in total.
Rule 17 of the Bombay Golf Course- "You shall play the ball where the monkey drops it,"
I speak fluent Limrick-
the Old Sgt.
I speak fluent Limrick-
the Old Sgt.
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Sgt. Howard
- Posts: 3332
- Joined: Tue Jul 31, 2012 11:54 pm
- Location: Malott, Washington
Re: Sgt Howard's wedding
(Here, Glytch and Al jumped in a bit)
Security started moving in on the scene.
Glytch reached into his bag and looked at Al. “Discombobulate?”
Al nodded. "Whenever you're ready. Wide beam." He then closed his eyes and opened his mouth.
“Oh, I don’t think a wide beam is needed here… ”
Glytch raised the bag to his shoulder and heaved. What slid out of it was very plainly too large to fit inside without magical assistance - it was about the size of two microwaves laid end-to-end, and significantly heavier. Glytch allowed it to slide out onto his shoulder, catching it with one arm and holding it like it was an huge boombox, yanking the bag off the front with his free hand.
As soon as the bag was clear, Glytch twisted two dials - one for focus, the other for power - and pressed the big red button on top.
The last time Glytch had used anything like this in the field was when he used the Puke Ray in the Battle of Pillsbury.
That was several years ago. Glytch had made several improvements to this idea since.
Security now had a tight perimeter around the trio.
"STAND CLEAR!!" Glytch bellowed.
They didn't need to be told twice. Glytch's reputation was well-known by the MIB. They retreated a respectable distance.
The lightshow was still present, though it had been recalibrated to target as wide a variety of species and eye-types as possible. It was also much brighter, courtesy of a small Vimana replacing the battery.
However, this was supplemented with a microwave beam that heated subcutaneous fat to cause significant pain but no real damage, a directional speaker panel Glytch affectionately called a Bass Cannon that combined thunderous bass with a screeching, nails-on-chalkboard note to resonate with semicircular canals.
“Wait, what?!” Al shot Glytch a look of horror. “How powerful is that thi-”
BVMVMVMVMVMVMVMP
SCREEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE
Colors didn’t so much dance as they aggressively flailed through the area, and everyone who were caught with their eyes open and who could hear (save the Golems) stumbled and were forced to kneel or find something to hold onto, and had to fight to keep their stomach contents… contained. Fortunately, they weren’t in the direct beam, so most were successful, and any who weren’t were able to keep it to a minimum.
However, Monica and Charles caught the full brunt. Jett was lucky - she was shielded by both Monica and her suddenly furry dancing partner.
Monica, to her credit, managed to only fall to one knee and gag, as her glamor failed and her true Jaguar Girl form was revealed.
Charles fared MUCH worse. He yelped, and his legs tried to propel him away from whatever was making his skin feel like it was boiling, but the havoc being played with his inner ears hit him with instant and intense vertigo, and he ended up crumpling where he stood as a violent fountain of partially-digested meat spewed forth from his maw.
Fortunately, Jett was able to hop away before getting covered in Charles’s vomit, and fell while still in the shadow of Monica, so she managed to keep her meal down. Several other guests befell the same fate - they were in the beam, but the main targets had taken the brunt of the blast, so they were not immediately and utterly incapacitated.
The Discombobulator was only active for a fraction of a second before it shut down from thermal overload, and Glytch, spared from its effects by his glasses and his wireless earbuds, quickly placed it on the table, just in case it caught fire. He looked up and saw Monica’s fur stand on end, and decided now was a good time to make an expeditious retreat, and VORPed somewhere extremely else to await an All-Clear from Brandi.
Charles remained on the ground, bile covering his face, shirt, and fur, his eyes rolling around chaotically as his brain struggled to recover from the multi sensory assault. His skin no longer felt on fire. Psychadelic, multicolored after-images of a furry, fanged, and furious Monica and a horrified Georgette swam before his eyes, and his ears slowly stopped ringing, and the urgent conversations of those around him slowly came into focus, as though he was emerging from underwater. Every time he moved his head, his stomach churned, but this sensation was also rapidly lessening.
His ears telling him what his eyes did not, Al reached under his arm and retrieved his old traveling companion. With a stride or two he stood by the furry interloper, not menacing, but also not getting between it and Monica.
"Care to explain yourself?" he asked loudly, hoping that Glytch hadn't managed to flash-fry anything the creature needed for cognition.
"He can't" came the voice of Nadette as she strode towards the Charley Foxtrot on the ground, "He doesn't understand it himself. He's been hiding this since an early age. What I think is in order is that he be properly identified."
" ... the fuck?!?" Charles gasped as he reverted to human, "... what ... what just..."
Greg was at the site as quickly as he could put down the guitar.
"Al, I clearly have no idea what he is, but I will still vouch for him." he turned his attention to the man on the ground, "Charles? Charles, stay with us here... we need a little clarification as soon as you are able."
His vison and mind restoring, Charles saw the crowd surrounding him. The security team, along with the large Englishman, were focused on him with weapons drawn and in 'at guard' hold. Horrified, he realized that he had shifted in front of witnesses.
He had no clue what to say. He just lay there, covered in puke and shaking in terror.
"STAND ASIDE!" came a bossy voice from a shortish, fair-skinned brunette. Looking directly at Charles, she covered her right eye and studied him with the left.
"Well... ain't YOU the shits!" she finally exclaimed, "... he's a COYOTE! A SHAPE SHIFTER! A Native American kinsman to ME!"
"WHAT?!?" Charles reacted, "WHAT THE HELL DID YOU JUST SAY?!?"
"Well- that explains much," Nadette commented, "... do you have Navaho blood in your family history?"
"Wait a minute," Charles responded, "How come you're not all freaking out about this? Granted, I was a security issue... but ... what did you just call me? Coyote? Shape shifter? THAT'S what I am? And why is that suddenly... acceptable?"
"Funny you should ask that..." the brunette replied before shifting into a nine-foot-tall female Pan.
Security started moving in on the scene.
Glytch reached into his bag and looked at Al. “Discombobulate?”
Al nodded. "Whenever you're ready. Wide beam." He then closed his eyes and opened his mouth.
“Oh, I don’t think a wide beam is needed here… ”
Glytch raised the bag to his shoulder and heaved. What slid out of it was very plainly too large to fit inside without magical assistance - it was about the size of two microwaves laid end-to-end, and significantly heavier. Glytch allowed it to slide out onto his shoulder, catching it with one arm and holding it like it was an huge boombox, yanking the bag off the front with his free hand.
As soon as the bag was clear, Glytch twisted two dials - one for focus, the other for power - and pressed the big red button on top.
The last time Glytch had used anything like this in the field was when he used the Puke Ray in the Battle of Pillsbury.
That was several years ago. Glytch had made several improvements to this idea since.
Security now had a tight perimeter around the trio.
"STAND CLEAR!!" Glytch bellowed.
They didn't need to be told twice. Glytch's reputation was well-known by the MIB. They retreated a respectable distance.
The lightshow was still present, though it had been recalibrated to target as wide a variety of species and eye-types as possible. It was also much brighter, courtesy of a small Vimana replacing the battery.
However, this was supplemented with a microwave beam that heated subcutaneous fat to cause significant pain but no real damage, a directional speaker panel Glytch affectionately called a Bass Cannon that combined thunderous bass with a screeching, nails-on-chalkboard note to resonate with semicircular canals.
“Wait, what?!” Al shot Glytch a look of horror. “How powerful is that thi-”
BVMVMVMVMVMVMVMP
SCREEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE
Colors didn’t so much dance as they aggressively flailed through the area, and everyone who were caught with their eyes open and who could hear (save the Golems) stumbled and were forced to kneel or find something to hold onto, and had to fight to keep their stomach contents… contained. Fortunately, they weren’t in the direct beam, so most were successful, and any who weren’t were able to keep it to a minimum.
However, Monica and Charles caught the full brunt. Jett was lucky - she was shielded by both Monica and her suddenly furry dancing partner.
Monica, to her credit, managed to only fall to one knee and gag, as her glamor failed and her true Jaguar Girl form was revealed.
Charles fared MUCH worse. He yelped, and his legs tried to propel him away from whatever was making his skin feel like it was boiling, but the havoc being played with his inner ears hit him with instant and intense vertigo, and he ended up crumpling where he stood as a violent fountain of partially-digested meat spewed forth from his maw.
Fortunately, Jett was able to hop away before getting covered in Charles’s vomit, and fell while still in the shadow of Monica, so she managed to keep her meal down. Several other guests befell the same fate - they were in the beam, but the main targets had taken the brunt of the blast, so they were not immediately and utterly incapacitated.
The Discombobulator was only active for a fraction of a second before it shut down from thermal overload, and Glytch, spared from its effects by his glasses and his wireless earbuds, quickly placed it on the table, just in case it caught fire. He looked up and saw Monica’s fur stand on end, and decided now was a good time to make an expeditious retreat, and VORPed somewhere extremely else to await an All-Clear from Brandi.
Charles remained on the ground, bile covering his face, shirt, and fur, his eyes rolling around chaotically as his brain struggled to recover from the multi sensory assault. His skin no longer felt on fire. Psychadelic, multicolored after-images of a furry, fanged, and furious Monica and a horrified Georgette swam before his eyes, and his ears slowly stopped ringing, and the urgent conversations of those around him slowly came into focus, as though he was emerging from underwater. Every time he moved his head, his stomach churned, but this sensation was also rapidly lessening.
His ears telling him what his eyes did not, Al reached under his arm and retrieved his old traveling companion. With a stride or two he stood by the furry interloper, not menacing, but also not getting between it and Monica.
"Care to explain yourself?" he asked loudly, hoping that Glytch hadn't managed to flash-fry anything the creature needed for cognition.
"He can't" came the voice of Nadette as she strode towards the Charley Foxtrot on the ground, "He doesn't understand it himself. He's been hiding this since an early age. What I think is in order is that he be properly identified."
" ... the fuck?!?" Charles gasped as he reverted to human, "... what ... what just..."
Greg was at the site as quickly as he could put down the guitar.
"Al, I clearly have no idea what he is, but I will still vouch for him." he turned his attention to the man on the ground, "Charles? Charles, stay with us here... we need a little clarification as soon as you are able."
His vison and mind restoring, Charles saw the crowd surrounding him. The security team, along with the large Englishman, were focused on him with weapons drawn and in 'at guard' hold. Horrified, he realized that he had shifted in front of witnesses.
He had no clue what to say. He just lay there, covered in puke and shaking in terror.
"STAND ASIDE!" came a bossy voice from a shortish, fair-skinned brunette. Looking directly at Charles, she covered her right eye and studied him with the left.
"Well... ain't YOU the shits!" she finally exclaimed, "... he's a COYOTE! A SHAPE SHIFTER! A Native American kinsman to ME!"
"WHAT?!?" Charles reacted, "WHAT THE HELL DID YOU JUST SAY?!?"
"Well- that explains much," Nadette commented, "... do you have Navaho blood in your family history?"
"Wait a minute," Charles responded, "How come you're not all freaking out about this? Granted, I was a security issue... but ... what did you just call me? Coyote? Shape shifter? THAT'S what I am? And why is that suddenly... acceptable?"
"Funny you should ask that..." the brunette replied before shifting into a nine-foot-tall female Pan.
Last edited by Sgt. Howard on Mon May 22, 2023 12:33 am, edited 2 times in total.
Rule 17 of the Bombay Golf Course- "You shall play the ball where the monkey drops it,"
I speak fluent Limrick-
the Old Sgt.
I speak fluent Limrick-
the Old Sgt.
-
Sgt. Howard
- Posts: 3332
- Joined: Tue Jul 31, 2012 11:54 pm
- Location: Malott, Washington
Re: Sgt Howard's wedding
"NUDGE!!! YOU NUMPTY!!! WHAT ARE YOU DOING?!?" Phix yelled at the creature towering over Charles.
Said creature immediately reduced to the rather mousy-looking brunette that was there before.
"Ah doubts thar's enny issue" Greg commented, "th' last 'security issue' is currently being checked into a rubber room."
"Even so," Phix continued, "she's quite noticeable, even from across the valley!" she turned back towards the brunette "...we shall speak of this... later.."
Nudge looked fairly cowed by this comment.
"Well now," Neil stepped up to Charles, "... are you telling us that you were unaware of your true nature?"
Charles studied Neil's face for a moment- "Greg- is this man your son?"
Greg and Neil looked at each other while giggles and snickers broke out through the party.
"Sumpin' lahk thayt," Greg replied, " we'll fill ya in after we gets you better ... acquainted... wi' the situation..."
Charles considered this, then looked around those surrounding him. The security people had re-holstered their weapons, the large Englishman had his lazily pointed at the ground, Monica was slowly losing fur while Georgette was looking at him with a curiosity plus concerned look... a look that the bulk of the party shared. There were two adorable redheads of short stature that were quietly jabbering in some exotic foreign language and a slender brunette who studied him with large, soul-searching eyes ('was she he one who said I was unaware of who I am?" Charles asked himself). and a short, rough looking bandmember, the one who played lead guitar, standing with arms crossed and a rather smug grin on his face.
"What have I stumbled into?" he finally asked.
"I don't know what you think you've stumbled into, meduck, but I might suggest a change of garments and a rinse might be in order - our compatriot's weapon seems to have been quite effective on you." Al said.
Holstering his Webley he offered Charles his left hand, assisting him in his efforts to stand. Thankfully, by now, most of the effects of the Discombobulator had worn off and Charles was able to stand without further disgorging the contents of his alimentary canal.
"Greg, would you have some garments you might be able to lend our friend here - and a spot to clean himself off? I might suggest that one or two of our dark-suited friends might be able to keep an eye on him while we....discuss ...the ramifications...of what just transpired. Opinion, old man?"
"Ah'm thinkin' y' maht have th' raht idea there, Al-" turning to Charles, he asked, "You think you kin walk? Let's get you presentable and then we can help you figure a few things out."
"Greg, I'm having a hard time with this- who are these people? And shit! Who or what are you?"
"I am actually jus' a common mortal Charles- but yes, you are 'mongst paranormals... 'parently, lahk y'self. Let's git you cleaned up."
"Just what we need- another trickster!" Nicodemus muttered in a disgruntled tone.
Charles caught this- "Is that bad?" he asked.
"It depends on what you do with it." Phix intoned, "not all tricksters are ... malignant... but they do have a reputation for trouble."
"Hey now, we're not all that bad we're just..." Nudge faltered under Phix's stern glare.
Said creature immediately reduced to the rather mousy-looking brunette that was there before.
"Ah doubts thar's enny issue" Greg commented, "th' last 'security issue' is currently being checked into a rubber room."
"Even so," Phix continued, "she's quite noticeable, even from across the valley!" she turned back towards the brunette "...we shall speak of this... later.."
Nudge looked fairly cowed by this comment.
"Well now," Neil stepped up to Charles, "... are you telling us that you were unaware of your true nature?"
Charles studied Neil's face for a moment- "Greg- is this man your son?"
Greg and Neil looked at each other while giggles and snickers broke out through the party.
"Sumpin' lahk thayt," Greg replied, " we'll fill ya in after we gets you better ... acquainted... wi' the situation..."
Charles considered this, then looked around those surrounding him. The security people had re-holstered their weapons, the large Englishman had his lazily pointed at the ground, Monica was slowly losing fur while Georgette was looking at him with a curiosity plus concerned look... a look that the bulk of the party shared. There were two adorable redheads of short stature that were quietly jabbering in some exotic foreign language and a slender brunette who studied him with large, soul-searching eyes ('was she he one who said I was unaware of who I am?" Charles asked himself). and a short, rough looking bandmember, the one who played lead guitar, standing with arms crossed and a rather smug grin on his face.
"What have I stumbled into?" he finally asked.
"I don't know what you think you've stumbled into, meduck, but I might suggest a change of garments and a rinse might be in order - our compatriot's weapon seems to have been quite effective on you." Al said.
Holstering his Webley he offered Charles his left hand, assisting him in his efforts to stand. Thankfully, by now, most of the effects of the Discombobulator had worn off and Charles was able to stand without further disgorging the contents of his alimentary canal.
"Greg, would you have some garments you might be able to lend our friend here - and a spot to clean himself off? I might suggest that one or two of our dark-suited friends might be able to keep an eye on him while we....discuss ...the ramifications...of what just transpired. Opinion, old man?"
"Ah'm thinkin' y' maht have th' raht idea there, Al-" turning to Charles, he asked, "You think you kin walk? Let's get you presentable and then we can help you figure a few things out."
"Greg, I'm having a hard time with this- who are these people? And shit! Who or what are you?"
"I am actually jus' a common mortal Charles- but yes, you are 'mongst paranormals... 'parently, lahk y'self. Let's git you cleaned up."
"Just what we need- another trickster!" Nicodemus muttered in a disgruntled tone.
Charles caught this- "Is that bad?" he asked.
"It depends on what you do with it." Phix intoned, "not all tricksters are ... malignant... but they do have a reputation for trouble."
"Hey now, we're not all that bad we're just..." Nudge faltered under Phix's stern glare.
Rule 17 of the Bombay Golf Course- "You shall play the ball where the monkey drops it,"
I speak fluent Limrick-
the Old Sgt.
I speak fluent Limrick-
the Old Sgt.
-
Sgt. Howard
- Posts: 3332
- Joined: Tue Jul 31, 2012 11:54 pm
- Location: Malott, Washington
Re: Sgt Howard's wedding
"Well- this is becoming an... eventful... affair... wouldn't you say?" Al asked Phix as Greg assisted Charles into the house.
"You really think so? A neighbor shoots the groom, the bride shoots the neighbor, police show up, the happy couple is announced when the groom comes back from a hospital, Paul Stookey storms off in a righteous huff, one of the guests gets YANKED 'out of the closet' by a mortal human female who is pretending to be predatory... " Phix mused, "... the only thing I find astounding is that Nudge had nothing to do with any of it."
Nudge gave Phix a sour look but said nothing.
"So... exactly... what... is he?" Jett asked cautiously.
"Coyote," Shell replied, ".. traditional Navaho trickster, adopted by many tribes. Nudge appeared to me as such when I was much younger."
Her gaze fell upon Nudge as she spoke, making Nudge a bit edgy.
"And... I... caused him to... show himself?" Jett ventured, "... what will happen now?"- she sounded very concerned.
"Now it ain't like that at all, so don't be that way," Rick Castor chimed in, "I just blew a little... encouragement... your way just to see what would happen- ain't really your fault. I KNEW he weren't human, Old Greg, he says he IS... now that bum owes me a twenty!" - he seemed very pleased with himself- Sherry, the band leader, seemed very shocked at this admission. Addressing Monica, she blurted out, "I honestly didn't know he threw a spell!!!"
"Satyr magic is a bit subtle fer Mages to notice," Rick went on, still pleased with himself, "... powerful, too."
"YOU IDIOT!" Monica exploded, "DO YOU HAVE ANY IDEA WHAT ALMOST HAPPENED?!?"
"Aw now, don't be that way little Girlie, ain't no harm..."
Al stepped aside. Jett did as well. Neil, Bernadette and several others did the same. Phix stood her ground with a bemused smile- she was not in the 'line of fire', as it were...
Monica went full feral.
"LITTLE GIRLIE?!?" the Jaguar Girl bellowed, "DID YOU JUST CALL ME 'LITTLE GIRLIE'?!?"
Sherry dove to the ground and covered her head with her arms. Several others (including the MIB security contingency) sought distance and/or cover.
"Oh shit-" Rick stated before he and Monica disappeared in a 'Poit'!
"You really think so? A neighbor shoots the groom, the bride shoots the neighbor, police show up, the happy couple is announced when the groom comes back from a hospital, Paul Stookey storms off in a righteous huff, one of the guests gets YANKED 'out of the closet' by a mortal human female who is pretending to be predatory... " Phix mused, "... the only thing I find astounding is that Nudge had nothing to do with any of it."
Nudge gave Phix a sour look but said nothing.
"So... exactly... what... is he?" Jett asked cautiously.
"Coyote," Shell replied, ".. traditional Navaho trickster, adopted by many tribes. Nudge appeared to me as such when I was much younger."
Her gaze fell upon Nudge as she spoke, making Nudge a bit edgy.
"And... I... caused him to... show himself?" Jett ventured, "... what will happen now?"- she sounded very concerned.
"Now it ain't like that at all, so don't be that way," Rick Castor chimed in, "I just blew a little... encouragement... your way just to see what would happen- ain't really your fault. I KNEW he weren't human, Old Greg, he says he IS... now that bum owes me a twenty!" - he seemed very pleased with himself- Sherry, the band leader, seemed very shocked at this admission. Addressing Monica, she blurted out, "I honestly didn't know he threw a spell!!!"
"Satyr magic is a bit subtle fer Mages to notice," Rick went on, still pleased with himself, "... powerful, too."
"YOU IDIOT!" Monica exploded, "DO YOU HAVE ANY IDEA WHAT ALMOST HAPPENED?!?"
"Aw now, don't be that way little Girlie, ain't no harm..."
Al stepped aside. Jett did as well. Neil, Bernadette and several others did the same. Phix stood her ground with a bemused smile- she was not in the 'line of fire', as it were...
Monica went full feral.
"LITTLE GIRLIE?!?" the Jaguar Girl bellowed, "DID YOU JUST CALL ME 'LITTLE GIRLIE'?!?"
Sherry dove to the ground and covered her head with her arms. Several others (including the MIB security contingency) sought distance and/or cover.
"Oh shit-" Rick stated before he and Monica disappeared in a 'Poit'!
Last edited by Sgt. Howard on Thu May 25, 2023 9:47 am, edited 1 time in total.
Rule 17 of the Bombay Golf Course- "You shall play the ball where the monkey drops it,"
I speak fluent Limrick-
the Old Sgt.
I speak fluent Limrick-
the Old Sgt.
-
Sgt. Howard
- Posts: 3332
- Joined: Tue Jul 31, 2012 11:54 pm
- Location: Malott, Washington
Re: Sgt Howard's wedding
"Didn't he just claim to 'not be stupid?" Dan asked Sherry.
"Did he now?" Al joined in, "The empirical evidence would indicate otherwise..."
Sherry looked up from the ground- "I guess we're safe now? Rick never understood the difference between arrogance and wisdom."
Georgette was standing, wide eyed and shaking with both hands over her mouth. She was looking at the spot where Monica 'poited' from. Tears were beginning to form in the corners of her eyes.
Noticing this Phix stepped in her direction- "Are you alright. Dear?"
In a weak voice, Jett tried to ask, "Will she... will she...?"
"Kill him? Not likely... teach him manners? Undoubtably. He used an enchantment to push you a little too far. Monica was originally angry with YOU, and the 'lover's quarrel' that would have ensued promised to be of epic proportions- with you at a loss to explain your actions. In all fairness, you WERE playing Mr. Hetzer a bit heavily to begin with- Monica's rage had a head start as a result."
Phix's words soaked into Jett's mind as she considered her actions- "I was a little... uhm..."
"...'Wanton' would be charitable...you and Monica need a bit of... 'quiet time'... together when she gets back. You might also consider an apology to Mr. Hetzer when he re-appears- 'distracting' him is one thing, 'playing him like a fiddle' is another matter entirely. He nearly attacked Monica, and you and I both know that would not have gone well for anybody." Looking around, she commented, "Well- I guess we will have to tune in an FM station if we want music- how unfortunate." Turning to Al she commented, "I hope their marriage goes better than this wedding- much more of this and Annie might be a widow before the wedding night..."
"Did he now?" Al joined in, "The empirical evidence would indicate otherwise..."
Sherry looked up from the ground- "I guess we're safe now? Rick never understood the difference between arrogance and wisdom."
Georgette was standing, wide eyed and shaking with both hands over her mouth. She was looking at the spot where Monica 'poited' from. Tears were beginning to form in the corners of her eyes.
Noticing this Phix stepped in her direction- "Are you alright. Dear?"
In a weak voice, Jett tried to ask, "Will she... will she...?"
"Kill him? Not likely... teach him manners? Undoubtably. He used an enchantment to push you a little too far. Monica was originally angry with YOU, and the 'lover's quarrel' that would have ensued promised to be of epic proportions- with you at a loss to explain your actions. In all fairness, you WERE playing Mr. Hetzer a bit heavily to begin with- Monica's rage had a head start as a result."
Phix's words soaked into Jett's mind as she considered her actions- "I was a little... uhm..."
"...'Wanton' would be charitable...you and Monica need a bit of... 'quiet time'... together when she gets back. You might also consider an apology to Mr. Hetzer when he re-appears- 'distracting' him is one thing, 'playing him like a fiddle' is another matter entirely. He nearly attacked Monica, and you and I both know that would not have gone well for anybody." Looking around, she commented, "Well- I guess we will have to tune in an FM station if we want music- how unfortunate." Turning to Al she commented, "I hope their marriage goes better than this wedding- much more of this and Annie might be a widow before the wedding night..."
Last edited by Sgt. Howard on Thu Jul 13, 2023 4:59 pm, edited 3 times in total.
Rule 17 of the Bombay Golf Course- "You shall play the ball where the monkey drops it,"
I speak fluent Limrick-
the Old Sgt.
I speak fluent Limrick-
the Old Sgt.
-
Sgt. Howard
- Posts: 3332
- Joined: Tue Jul 31, 2012 11:54 pm
- Location: Malott, Washington
Re: Sgt Howard's wedding
Glytch was instrumental here...
Brandi took her phone out for a moment, and shortly after, Glytch appeared next to her. “Did it catch on fire?” he whispered.
“Fortunately, no. The new coolant loop and aerogel insulation seems to have done the trick.”
“Nice.” Glytch glanced at the group and at the larger surrounding crowd that was keeping its distance. As soon as he touched the Discombobulator, the crowd flinched, but relaxed when they realized he was just putting it away. “Don’t worry, guys. Actually,” Glytch VORPed a tablet and stylus onto his hands, “if I could ask you all some questions about what you felt, your species, and how you are feeling now…”
“Why?” Said a somewhat grumpy-looking fellow, as the crowd’s attention shifted towards him.
Glytch changed tacks. “Well, I need to make sure you’re all ok and to help out if you need it.” He knew the Discombobulator was incapable of causing real damage or lasting illness… at least at the power and length of time it was capable of running… but he also knew he wasn’t going to get volunteers unless they thought there was something in it for them. “Now, let’s start with you, and if everyone can get into line… if anyone is looking particularly ill, let them get in front of you…”
The crowd eagerly shifted, organizing itself about as well as could be expected, and their attention was wholly on him now, hoping to get hints about their own condition based on what he was saying to those in front.
Sizing up the lineup, he noticed Monica and Charles were not present- and those two were at 'ground zero'.
Turning to Al, he asked about them.
"Charles is getting a shower and a full change of wardrobe- he took the full bore, from what I saw of the results. Monica went down, but the impact seemed minimal. She went feral, and that might have made a difference- as to where she is... well... she was insulted by the lead guitarist of Greg's ensemble... she poited with him in tow. Your guess is as good as mine, but I doubt it will be pleasant."
Glytch was stunned by this last bit- "... he insulted Monica? How so?"
"He talked down to her like she was some over-excited groupie." Phix piped in, " Called her 'little Girlie'. It'll be interesting to see..."
As if on cue, Monica poited in with Rick, leading him by one hand. She was serene and stately- he was full-blown gibbering idiot. Not a mark on him, nor a ruffle to his clothing, he was pasty-faced, staggering, blank eyed and mumbling incoherently. She parked him at a table and walked towards Jett. Taking Jett's hand, she led her a distance from the crowd. Not a word could be overheard, but the body language between the two spoke volumes- Monica was delivering a smooth, controlled scorch and Jett was completely contrite.
Glytch assessed the situation- "I... think I'll wait for a more... appropriate time... to interview Monica... " turning to Phix, he added, "...'little girlie'...? Really?"
"To her credit," Al rejoined, "... he's still breathing... well, hyperventilating is breathing, right?"
"I... suppose... maybe," Glytch winced while assessing the poor fellow, “That looks like the aftermath of the mental equivalent of staring at a welding arc. With her powerset… I’d just prefer evisceration.... far more merciful...”
Brandi took her phone out for a moment, and shortly after, Glytch appeared next to her. “Did it catch on fire?” he whispered.
“Fortunately, no. The new coolant loop and aerogel insulation seems to have done the trick.”
“Nice.” Glytch glanced at the group and at the larger surrounding crowd that was keeping its distance. As soon as he touched the Discombobulator, the crowd flinched, but relaxed when they realized he was just putting it away. “Don’t worry, guys. Actually,” Glytch VORPed a tablet and stylus onto his hands, “if I could ask you all some questions about what you felt, your species, and how you are feeling now…”
“Why?” Said a somewhat grumpy-looking fellow, as the crowd’s attention shifted towards him.
Glytch changed tacks. “Well, I need to make sure you’re all ok and to help out if you need it.” He knew the Discombobulator was incapable of causing real damage or lasting illness… at least at the power and length of time it was capable of running… but he also knew he wasn’t going to get volunteers unless they thought there was something in it for them. “Now, let’s start with you, and if everyone can get into line… if anyone is looking particularly ill, let them get in front of you…”
The crowd eagerly shifted, organizing itself about as well as could be expected, and their attention was wholly on him now, hoping to get hints about their own condition based on what he was saying to those in front.
Sizing up the lineup, he noticed Monica and Charles were not present- and those two were at 'ground zero'.
Turning to Al, he asked about them.
"Charles is getting a shower and a full change of wardrobe- he took the full bore, from what I saw of the results. Monica went down, but the impact seemed minimal. She went feral, and that might have made a difference- as to where she is... well... she was insulted by the lead guitarist of Greg's ensemble... she poited with him in tow. Your guess is as good as mine, but I doubt it will be pleasant."
Glytch was stunned by this last bit- "... he insulted Monica? How so?"
"He talked down to her like she was some over-excited groupie." Phix piped in, " Called her 'little Girlie'. It'll be interesting to see..."
As if on cue, Monica poited in with Rick, leading him by one hand. She was serene and stately- he was full-blown gibbering idiot. Not a mark on him, nor a ruffle to his clothing, he was pasty-faced, staggering, blank eyed and mumbling incoherently. She parked him at a table and walked towards Jett. Taking Jett's hand, she led her a distance from the crowd. Not a word could be overheard, but the body language between the two spoke volumes- Monica was delivering a smooth, controlled scorch and Jett was completely contrite.
Glytch assessed the situation- "I... think I'll wait for a more... appropriate time... to interview Monica... " turning to Phix, he added, "...'little girlie'...? Really?"
"To her credit," Al rejoined, "... he's still breathing... well, hyperventilating is breathing, right?"
"I... suppose... maybe," Glytch winced while assessing the poor fellow, “That looks like the aftermath of the mental equivalent of staring at a welding arc. With her powerset… I’d just prefer evisceration.... far more merciful...”
Last edited by Sgt. Howard on Tue Jul 11, 2023 9:01 pm, edited 2 times in total.
Rule 17 of the Bombay Golf Course- "You shall play the ball where the monkey drops it,"
I speak fluent Limrick-
the Old Sgt.
I speak fluent Limrick-
the Old Sgt.
-
Sgt. Howard
- Posts: 3332
- Joined: Tue Jul 31, 2012 11:54 pm
- Location: Malott, Washington
Re: Sgt Howard's wedding
Back in the house...
"Here's a pair of James' blue jeans," Greg offered, "THEY ought t' fit ye."
"I'm... I'm still trying to wrap my head around this-" Charles replied as he finished toweling off, "... what the HELL are you involved with here? I mean... "Oh, he's a Coyote!" ... and everybody is cool with that?"
"Well, we COULD 'freak out' over it, iffen that makes y' more comfortable... but thar ain't no sense t' thayt. Naw- yew jus' got 'outed' by circumstances... an' it happened in front of a crowd whut KNEW about yer kind."
"That fellow that looks like he could be your son- he IS related, right?"
Greg looked at Charles- "He's a mite older than he looks... about two millennia's worth. He's my Pa."
Charles looked back in shock.
"Your... Pa?... did you say? ... Does he not age?"
"Oh he ages alright- then he rejuvenates..."
"Same thing with your Mother?... wait a minute- you told me your Mother was a Tennessee Hillbilly- not some upper-class English Amazon,"
"Hol on thar- Ah am adopted, an' knew nuthin' 'bout mah bloodline 'till Ah met Neil a few years back. In fact, we met durin' th' 'Pillsbury' incident... and NO, Phix ain't mah Ma. Neil were at a College party, an' there was this Irish pretty that caught his eye back in November 1953- he never knew she got pregnant. Here's a shirt..."
Charles' eyes lit up with this information- "I've often heard someone call you a 'bastard', but I never figured it was literally TRUE!" he blurted out.
Both men got a good laugh from this.
"Here's a pair of James' blue jeans," Greg offered, "THEY ought t' fit ye."
"I'm... I'm still trying to wrap my head around this-" Charles replied as he finished toweling off, "... what the HELL are you involved with here? I mean... "Oh, he's a Coyote!" ... and everybody is cool with that?"
"Well, we COULD 'freak out' over it, iffen that makes y' more comfortable... but thar ain't no sense t' thayt. Naw- yew jus' got 'outed' by circumstances... an' it happened in front of a crowd whut KNEW about yer kind."
"That fellow that looks like he could be your son- he IS related, right?"
Greg looked at Charles- "He's a mite older than he looks... about two millennia's worth. He's my Pa."
Charles looked back in shock.
"Your... Pa?... did you say? ... Does he not age?"
"Oh he ages alright- then he rejuvenates..."
"Same thing with your Mother?... wait a minute- you told me your Mother was a Tennessee Hillbilly- not some upper-class English Amazon,"
"Hol on thar- Ah am adopted, an' knew nuthin' 'bout mah bloodline 'till Ah met Neil a few years back. In fact, we met durin' th' 'Pillsbury' incident... and NO, Phix ain't mah Ma. Neil were at a College party, an' there was this Irish pretty that caught his eye back in November 1953- he never knew she got pregnant. Here's a shirt..."
Charles' eyes lit up with this information- "I've often heard someone call you a 'bastard', but I never figured it was literally TRUE!" he blurted out.
Both men got a good laugh from this.
Rule 17 of the Bombay Golf Course- "You shall play the ball where the monkey drops it,"
I speak fluent Limrick-
the Old Sgt.
I speak fluent Limrick-
the Old Sgt.
-
Sgt. Howard
- Posts: 3332
- Joined: Tue Jul 31, 2012 11:54 pm
- Location: Malott, Washington
Re: Sgt Howard's wedding
As he tucked in the shirt, Charles asked, "Soooo... what's with Georgette? I mean, she all but jumped on my face... and in front of her Ladyfriend at that, unless I am mistaken,"
"Ah'm a bit s'prised on that m'se'f- she WUZ s'posed t'... distract... yew... but she hit on yew lahk a starvin' catfish on live bait! Damned iffen Ah unnerstand..."
"Sooo... that's not normal for her?"
"Aw hell- she's heavy-duty flirt, no doubt- but she were going 'over th' top' on yew. Mind ye- WE wuz s'posed to keep yew distracted as well- but... whut wuz she whisperin' in yer ear whilst yew wuz dancin'?"
"She was doing a smouldering rendition of the lyrics in a 'come thou hence and PLUNDER me' voice! I was half expecting deliberate bilateral wardrobe malfunction followed by some wild sexibitionism on the spot! Understand, I doubt I would have... resisted... much..." he said with a smirk.
"PFFF! Upstage me at mah own weddin'?"
"Well," he chuckled, "what are friends for?.... Ok... I gotta ask- what exactly am I getting into here? I mean, I find out I am a paranormal and apparently paranormals are not that rare... am I right? I... will I have to register with some clandestine organization? Get my hands and paws printed? That sort of thing?"
"No," all traces of a drawl evaporated," nothing like that. MIB is dedicated to keeping a firewall between the paranormal world and the human world... mostly because they fear humans... and with good reason. Think about it- humans can't fly... yet, we fly. We have been to the moon- no other creature can make that claim. The average human is a mediocre swimmer... yet we can circumnavigate the globe submerged. Compared to other predators, we are pathetically slow... and yet we can travel several times the speed of sound. There isn't a species on the planet that we cannot kill- and there are many we have totally eliminated, even in prehistoric times. Man is the ultimate predator. And by-and-large, there's a tendency to either regulate or eliminate anything that might upset the status quo. Individuals like myself, Annie, Al, Glytchmeister and Georgette pose no threat... but the blind, howling mob is truly terrifying to behold. During the dark ages, man found out he could kill dragons. It escalated from there..."
"Ah'm a bit s'prised on that m'se'f- she WUZ s'posed t'... distract... yew... but she hit on yew lahk a starvin' catfish on live bait! Damned iffen Ah unnerstand..."
"Sooo... that's not normal for her?"
"Aw hell- she's heavy-duty flirt, no doubt- but she were going 'over th' top' on yew. Mind ye- WE wuz s'posed to keep yew distracted as well- but... whut wuz she whisperin' in yer ear whilst yew wuz dancin'?"
"She was doing a smouldering rendition of the lyrics in a 'come thou hence and PLUNDER me' voice! I was half expecting deliberate bilateral wardrobe malfunction followed by some wild sexibitionism on the spot! Understand, I doubt I would have... resisted... much..." he said with a smirk.
"PFFF! Upstage me at mah own weddin'?"
"Well," he chuckled, "what are friends for?.... Ok... I gotta ask- what exactly am I getting into here? I mean, I find out I am a paranormal and apparently paranormals are not that rare... am I right? I... will I have to register with some clandestine organization? Get my hands and paws printed? That sort of thing?"
"No," all traces of a drawl evaporated," nothing like that. MIB is dedicated to keeping a firewall between the paranormal world and the human world... mostly because they fear humans... and with good reason. Think about it- humans can't fly... yet, we fly. We have been to the moon- no other creature can make that claim. The average human is a mediocre swimmer... yet we can circumnavigate the globe submerged. Compared to other predators, we are pathetically slow... and yet we can travel several times the speed of sound. There isn't a species on the planet that we cannot kill- and there are many we have totally eliminated, even in prehistoric times. Man is the ultimate predator. And by-and-large, there's a tendency to either regulate or eliminate anything that might upset the status quo. Individuals like myself, Annie, Al, Glytchmeister and Georgette pose no threat... but the blind, howling mob is truly terrifying to behold. During the dark ages, man found out he could kill dragons. It escalated from there..."
Rule 17 of the Bombay Golf Course- "You shall play the ball where the monkey drops it,"
I speak fluent Limrick-
the Old Sgt.
I speak fluent Limrick-
the Old Sgt.
-
Sgt. Howard
- Posts: 3332
- Joined: Tue Jul 31, 2012 11:54 pm
- Location: Malott, Washington
Re: Sgt Howard's wedding
"Hullo- here they come now," Al commented as Greg and Charles emerged from the front door.
"... Pop- what's he doing in MY jeans?" James demanded.
"Well, he don't fit in mine, an' his are in th' wash raht naow."
"Yea, well- don't go puking on them..."
Georgette and Monica looked up at the pair- Monica with determination and Georgette with trepidation. Nadette wandered over with Atsali in tow-
"You actually seem much more comfortable with yourself than when you first showed up here... why is that?"
"Well, I... I understand a bit about what I have been... hiding... all these years. More importantly, it seems I have found... others... who can...(here he struggled for words a bit) ... well... accept... what I am. It IS an odd sensation, but a welcome one... (here, he saw Georgette looking at him and fidgeting) ... excuse me a moment, there is something... er... someONE... I need to address here."
Pulling a cigar from it's tube, he bit the end off the stogie, wetted the other end and lit it. Puffing up a good coal, he stepped briskly over to the willowy supermodel and the stacked pixie and addressed them both- "... Right... can you two explain to me what you were doing?"
"We were instructed to keep you occupied," Monica explained, "... as it was assumed you were..."
"You were 'just following orders', eh?" he fired across the bow, "... ah, yes- THAT sort of thinking really WOW'D them at Nuremburg..."
The party fell silent as all eyes were on this confrontation.
"Charles," Phix soothed, "Georgette Sundahl got hit with an erotic enhancement spell at a critical moment- this caused here to have no control over herself."
Charles was checked by this- "Really? And who is the culprit here?"
Monica pointed at Rick. Rick saw her hand pointed at him and flinched while whimpering.
Charles took this all in- "I ... see... how long before he ... 'resets'?"
"Not really sure," Monica replied, "...we only got back about five minutes ago..."
"Did he do this to BOTH of you?" Charles now sounded like a prosecuting attorney.
"Uh, no... only with me," Georgette replied.
"Had he done this from the beginning of me showing up here?"
Now BOTH girls felt uneasy. Monica fidgeted while Georgette bit her lower lip.
"I will take that as a 'no'. It seems that BOTH of you enjoyed playing my own desires against me under the guise of ... 'keeping me distracted'... am I right?"
Phix was dumbfounded. Al stood transfixed. Glytch kept an eye out for strategic egress. Sherry was totally baffled. Annie was doing her best to hide her amusement, as were both of the boys. Greg watched with what seemed to be an air of indifference. Buck Alexander, meanwhile, had been observing this whole encounter with great interest.
Again, Charles observed uncomfortable body language. He took a leisurely puff from the stogie before he continued- "... I see... We have TWO NAUGHTY GIRLS HERE! VERY naughty!" he turned to Greg, "Mr. Howard-"
"Yes, Mr. Hetzer-" Greg called back in formal tone.
"This being your property, I make it your call- what shall be meted out here?"
Greg made a show of pondering the question before he addressed...
"Mr. Antonia- " ("Oh SHIT!" Neil muttered) " I believe thayt yew have ... experience... in these here matters- what say yew t' administerin'... corporal public humiliation... t' these two offending parties?"
Neil momentarily went cranial flatline as he digested this request- finally he spluttered out, "ARE ...YOU ... ASKING ME ... TO... TO... SPANK THEM?!?"
"Iffen yew would be so kind..." came the casual reply.
The silence was deafening.
"Well," Charles offered, "Perhaps YOU could hold them while I spank them!"
There was a collective gasp- Both Monica and Georgette blushed heavily, Monica in anger and Georgette in fear. Then, once more, riotous laughter echoed up and down the valley.
"... Pop- what's he doing in MY jeans?" James demanded.
"Well, he don't fit in mine, an' his are in th' wash raht naow."
"Yea, well- don't go puking on them..."
Georgette and Monica looked up at the pair- Monica with determination and Georgette with trepidation. Nadette wandered over with Atsali in tow-
"You actually seem much more comfortable with yourself than when you first showed up here... why is that?"
"Well, I... I understand a bit about what I have been... hiding... all these years. More importantly, it seems I have found... others... who can...(here he struggled for words a bit) ... well... accept... what I am. It IS an odd sensation, but a welcome one... (here, he saw Georgette looking at him and fidgeting) ... excuse me a moment, there is something... er... someONE... I need to address here."
Pulling a cigar from it's tube, he bit the end off the stogie, wetted the other end and lit it. Puffing up a good coal, he stepped briskly over to the willowy supermodel and the stacked pixie and addressed them both- "... Right... can you two explain to me what you were doing?"
"We were instructed to keep you occupied," Monica explained, "... as it was assumed you were..."
"You were 'just following orders', eh?" he fired across the bow, "... ah, yes- THAT sort of thinking really WOW'D them at Nuremburg..."
The party fell silent as all eyes were on this confrontation.
"Charles," Phix soothed, "Georgette Sundahl got hit with an erotic enhancement spell at a critical moment- this caused here to have no control over herself."
Charles was checked by this- "Really? And who is the culprit here?"
Monica pointed at Rick. Rick saw her hand pointed at him and flinched while whimpering.
Charles took this all in- "I ... see... how long before he ... 'resets'?"
"Not really sure," Monica replied, "...we only got back about five minutes ago..."
"Did he do this to BOTH of you?" Charles now sounded like a prosecuting attorney.
"Uh, no... only with me," Georgette replied.
"Had he done this from the beginning of me showing up here?"
Now BOTH girls felt uneasy. Monica fidgeted while Georgette bit her lower lip.
"I will take that as a 'no'. It seems that BOTH of you enjoyed playing my own desires against me under the guise of ... 'keeping me distracted'... am I right?"
Phix was dumbfounded. Al stood transfixed. Glytch kept an eye out for strategic egress. Sherry was totally baffled. Annie was doing her best to hide her amusement, as were both of the boys. Greg watched with what seemed to be an air of indifference. Buck Alexander, meanwhile, had been observing this whole encounter with great interest.
Again, Charles observed uncomfortable body language. He took a leisurely puff from the stogie before he continued- "... I see... We have TWO NAUGHTY GIRLS HERE! VERY naughty!" he turned to Greg, "Mr. Howard-"
"Yes, Mr. Hetzer-" Greg called back in formal tone.
"This being your property, I make it your call- what shall be meted out here?"
Greg made a show of pondering the question before he addressed...
"Mr. Antonia- " ("Oh SHIT!" Neil muttered) " I believe thayt yew have ... experience... in these here matters- what say yew t' administerin'... corporal public humiliation... t' these two offending parties?"
Neil momentarily went cranial flatline as he digested this request- finally he spluttered out, "ARE ...YOU ... ASKING ME ... TO... TO... SPANK THEM?!?"
"Iffen yew would be so kind..." came the casual reply.
The silence was deafening.
"Well," Charles offered, "Perhaps YOU could hold them while I spank them!"
There was a collective gasp- Both Monica and Georgette blushed heavily, Monica in anger and Georgette in fear. Then, once more, riotous laughter echoed up and down the valley.
Rule 17 of the Bombay Golf Course- "You shall play the ball where the monkey drops it,"
I speak fluent Limrick-
the Old Sgt.
I speak fluent Limrick-
the Old Sgt.