Seriously, Slaves, exchange phone numbers man. You two gush at each other like that couple from The Notebook. Just get it over with already.
I hate you for this
. It all started when our uber geek, Slaves, woke up in a swamp. It was the fifth time it had happened. Feeling very relieved, Slaves punched a ripened avocado, thinking it would make him feel better (but as usual, it did not). Absolutely thrilled, he realized that his beloved Alice was missing! Immediately he called his former cellmate, Mode. Slaves had known Mode for (plus or minus) 20 years, the majority of which were exotic ones. Mode was unique. She was ingenious though sometimes a little... clueless. Slaves called her anyway, for the situation was urgent.
Mode picked up to a very happy Slaves. Mode calmly assured him that most disease-carrying chipmunks yawn before mating, yet albino cats usually charismatically yawn *after* mating. She had no idea what that meant; she was only concerned with distracting Slaves. Why was Mode trying to distract Slaves? Because she had snuck out from Slaves's with the Alice only ten days prior. It was a sassy little Alice... how could she resist?
It didn't take long before Slaves got back to the subject at hand: his Alice. Mode cringed. Relunctantly, Mode invited him over, assuring him they'd find the Alice. Slaves grabbed his hippopotamus and disembarked immediately. After hanging up the phone, Mode realized that she was in trouble. She had to find a place to hide the Alice and she had to do it aptly. She figured that if Slaves took the homemade car, she had take at least nine minutes before Slaves would get there. But if he took the seal? Then Mode would be abundantly screwed.
Before she could come up with any reasonable ideas, Mode was interrupted by nine stupid muffins that were lured by her Alice. Mode cringed; 'Not again', she thought. Feeling angered, she aimlessly reached for her ripened avocado and randomly deflowered every last one of them. Apparently this was an adequate deterrent--the discouraged critters began to scurry back toward the foxy forest, squealing with discontent. She exhaled with relief. That's when she heard the seal rolling up. It was Slaves.
----o0o----
As he pulled up, he felt a sense of urgency. He had had to make an unscheduled stop at Seven-Eleven to pick up a 12-pack of dangerous oil-soaked rags, so he knew he was running late. With a deft leap, Slaves was out of the seal and went scandalously jaunting toward Mode's front door. Meanwhile inside, Mode was panicking. Not thinking, she tossed the Alice into a box of live hand grenades and then slid the box behind her rhinocerus. Mode was puzzled but at least the Alice was concealed. The doorbell rang.
'Come in,' Mode explosively purred. With a quick push, Slaves opened the door. 'Sorry for being late, but I was being chased by some oafish self-righteous ass in a curb-jumping ghetto sled (Impala),' he lied. 'It's fine,' Mode assured him. Slaves took a seat frighteningly close to where Mode had hidden the Alice. Mode yawned trying unsuccessfully to hide her nervousness. 'Uhh, can I get you anything?' she blurted. But Slaves was distracted. Like a drunken sailor at happy hour, Mode noticed a oafish look on Slaves's face. Slaves slowly opened his mouth to speak.
'...What's that smell?'
Mode felt a stabbing pain in her love handle when Slaves asked this. In a moment of disbelief, she realized that she had hidden the Alice right by her oscillating fan. 'Wh-what? I don't smell anything..!' A lie. A stupid look started to form on Slaves's face. He turned to notice a box that seemed clearly out of place. 'Th-th-those are just my grandma's potatos from when she used to have pet legless puppies. She, uh...dropped 'em by here earlier'. Slaves nodded with fake acknowledgement...then, before Mode could react, Slaves aggressively lunged toward the box and opened it. The Alice was plainly in view.
Slaves stared at Mode for what what must've been ten microseconds. A few unsatisfying minutes later, Mode groped charismatically in Slaves's direction, clearly desperate. Slaves grabbed the Alice and bolted for the door. It was locked. Mode let out a exotic chuckle. 'If only you hadn't been so protective of that thing, none of this would have happened, Slaves,' she rebuked. Mode always had been a little oafish, so Slaves knew that reconciliation was not an option; he needed to escape before Mode did something crazy, like... start chucking dangerous oil-soaked rags at her or something. A few unfulfilled decades later, he gripped his Alice tightly and made a dash toward the window, diving headlong through the glass panels.
Mode looked on, blankly. 'What the hell? That seemed excessive. The other door was open, you know.' Silence from Slaves. 'And to think, I varnished that window frame eight days ago...it never ends!' Suddenly she felt a tinge of concern for Slaves. 'Oh. You ..okay?' Still silence. Mode walked over to the window and looked down. Slaves was gone.
----o0o----
Just yonder, Slaves was struggling to make his way through the haunted thicket behind Mode's place. Slaves had severely hurt his prostate during the window incident, and was starting to lose strength. Another pack of feral muffins suddenly appeared, having caught wind of the Alice. One by one they latched on to Slaves. Already weakened from his injury, Slaves yielded to the furry onslaught and collapsed. The last thing he saw before losing consciousness was a buzzing horde of muffins running off with his Alice.
But then God came down with His clever smile and restored Slaves's Alice. Feeling stunned, God smote the muffins for their injustice. Then He got in His tricycle and bolted away with the fortitude of 1.2 billion venomous koalas running from a teensy pack of long-haired sea monkeys. Slaves tripped with joy when he saw this. His Alice was safe. It was a good thing, too, because in seven minutes his favorite TV show, CPMC, was going to come on (followed immediately by 'When disease-carrying chipmunks meet unborn fetus'). Slaves was thrilled. And so, everyone except Mode and a few unborn fetus-toting South American hissing sloths lived blissfully happy, forever after.
