Chapter Four
“Hey, Arlene, you want to play photography with me?”
“Sure, Ryan, how do you play?”
“Well, first you shut off the lights, and then we just kind of see what develops,” Ryan answered romantically.
“Sounds fun,” she said, walking over and turning off the lights.
Before anything could happen, Bubby smashed through the wall causing chunks of brick, concrete, and plaster to fly into the room. “You people are just plain sick!” he cried as he turned his face away. When he looked back, he couldn’t stand what he saw, “Yuck! That is disgusting!” Suddenly, he lost his lunch all over the floor. “Now I remember, it was baloney,” he said to himself.
“Excuse me. Who are you; and why are you in my apartment?” asked Ryan.
“That makes no difference. I don’t know much about what happened over the seven years I was gone but I do know this town has gotten pretty darn immoral. Now why don’t both of you just get modest and exit the premises?”
“Why?”
“Because you are sick and I’m trying to clean up this town.”
“This is my apartment and I can do anything I’d like to do as long as I’m inside of it,” argued Ryan.
“As much as I’d like to illustrate my point to you, I’m bound by a prior engagement to kill off a monster. Good day, I say unto the two of you. Or night; or whatever you sickos like to consider it to be.” He shuddered and left through the open wall.
Where are you, Franco? I know you’re hiding in this city somewhere. So if you’ll just come out, I’ll put you out of commission for a while, Bubby thought to himself, as if Franco could hear him.
Out of nowhere, there was a thundering of footsteps as people charged towards him. Bubby realized they were probably angry since he had quit playing the game of ‘red light, green light’ with them before it was over.
“Everyone stop! Franco Micromind is attacking the city and will destroy you all if you aren’t careful.”
What he had hoped would scare them off, inconveniently backfired. They went into a trance and began to walk at him as though they were zombies. “We live only to serve Franco Micromind. We live only to serve Franco Micromind. We live only to serve Franco Micromind. We live only…” the people chanted this over and over as they came closer and closer.
Bubby ran to the major intersection of the city. He had hoped to lose them by going down another street, but instead fear struck the deepest recesses of his soul as he saw angry zombie-like people coming from all directions.
Franco Micromind and his translating friend appeared on top of a building at the intersection. “J’ai ecoute la meteo a la tele. Il va pleuvoir demain matin, Bubby,” Franco shouted.
“You have met your match. I will kill you now, Bubby,” the translator explained to him. To the people he cried out, “Attack!”
There was only one thing Bubby could do to spare himself. It was quite cruel, but he had no choice. He had to drive people away from the impending danger. “Run for your lives! Here comes a giant, over-sized Barney. He claims to love you all.”
The words struck fear into the hearts of all the people. They turned and ran into their homes, locking themselves in.
Franco cursed unmentionable words and only spoke to Bubby after he had calmed down. “D’accord, on va a la Fnac le matin et on fait un pique-nique l’apres-midi.”
“Very clever, but that will not be enough to save you from your destruction,” the man interpreted.
“I can’t stand having to look up at you on the building; I’m getting such a crick in the neck. I will just have to come up to your level. Go, go gadget arms!” A perplexed look came over Franco’s face. “Pssst, I wish! But I can come up another way.” Thinking hard, Bubby appeared on the roof near Franco.
In an attempt to end the confrontation quickly, Franco stretched forth his fingers, and blasts of electricity shot out. Bubby leapt into the air to dodge the blasts but as he was going over Franco’s head, the second round of blasts hit him. He was hurtled over the side and proceeded to drop down the 37 stories to the ground.
“The sky grew dark in a sign of victory for Franco as he and his buddy had a hearty laugh. Then, in a flash of bright light, Bubby reappeared on the edge of the roof.
“Il va faire froid demain?” Franco said shocked.
“How did you do that?” the translator proclaimed, equally shocked.
“Ever heard of hoola-hoops?”
“Yes, but what does that have to do with you coming back?” said the translator before Franco could even ask.
“Absolutely nothing! Except for the death of our wonderful translating friend.” With that Bubby flung a hoola-hoop at the translator who caught it, only to be hurtled off the building from the momentum of it. “What you must remember is that thought is a very powerful weapon. I merely used my advanced ability of thought to return to the fight at hand. Not to mention also saving myself from a certain bloody, brain-splattering death.”
Franco, feeling the lack of ability to communicate with Bubby, pulled out a French–English dictionary and memorized its contents. “How very clever of you,” he remarked in stuttered English.
“What gives? You can only speak French remember?”
“I’m a monster, darn it! I can do any dang thing I please and you can’t freakin’ stop me, Bubby!”
“That’s awfully self-centered of you. I think you should find out how others feel before jumping into such actions.”