By Dan Cheek, Rob Bresser, and Rob Sandman
17 October 2007
© Dan Cheek 2007
The four Puppets, Bob, Lost Cause, Doctor Sanity, and Goblin were all sitting on the couch, each half-awake and transfixed by some mindless program. Bob let out a sigh and slowly looked over at the other Puppets.
“I’m bored,” he said to no one in particular. “We should do something.”
Lost Cause looked back over at Bob and responded, rather drolly, “Sam threatened us with the blender if we move from this couch.”
“And judging by the way his eye was twitching when he said it,” Doctor Sanity added, “I think he might have meant it.”
“This sucks,” Lost Cause announced. “We should report Sam for cruel and unusual punishment. Bastard.”
“We could do that,” Bob agreed, “However, he would then probably report us. And once the authorities found out about Doctor Sanity’s remote-controlled-flying-chainsaw accident, I’m guessing they would be less than happy.”
Doctor Sanity’s expression turned to one of shock and horror. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he said in a sharp tone, “That experiment went flawlessly.”
“Even the part where it flew into the Mime Convention across town,” Lost Cause asked.
“That was the point of the whole experiment,” Doctor Sanity said, exasperated. “And it went brilliantly. I should have won a medal or military contract or something.”
“Right,” Bob chided, “I can see it now. ‘We hereby present this medal of valor to Doctor Sanity for his grand achievement whereby he, via a remote-controlled-flying-chainsaw, dismembered over thirty professional Mimes in front of an entire class of visiting sixth graders.”
“You’re making it sound worse than it actually was,” Doctor Sanity retorted. “I’d remind you that four of the vile idiot performers survived.”
“Only because the chainsaw ran out of gas,” Lost Cause corrected.
“All I’m saying,” Bob said diplomatically, “Is that it’s things like that that anger Sam to the point of threatening to chop us up in the blender. I mean, did you think a remote-controlled-flying-chainsaw would not get us in trouble?”
“Bha,” Doctor Sanity scoffed, “So quick to vilify my inventions! As the saying goes, ‘Remote-controlled-flying-chainsaws don’t kill people, I kill people.”
Goblin began chuckling softly to himself. Bob looked over at him and then back over at Doc Sanity. “I don’t see how that statement helps your argument. And I’m certain that’s not how the saying goes…”
Bob was interrupted by a knock at the door. All of the Puppets froze for a second. Finally, Lost Cause spoke up. “Should we get that,” he asked.
Another series of knocks shot through the room. “Fine,” Bob said as he hopped off the couch. “But if I get sent to the blender for this, I’m going to have Goblin eat your face.”
Bob hopped over to the door and jumped up and unlocked it. Upon landing back on the floor, he hollered out, “Come in!”
The door flew open. Standing in the doorway was Spooky, the mentally unstable derelict who had recently befriended Lost Cause. [editors note: For more on Spooky, please check out the Enter Spooky story.] Standing there with him were two very odd looking individuals, each wearing a simple black suit and tie and black, thick rimmed glasses.
“Fuck,” Bob said as he walked away slowly, leaving the trio standing there in the open doorway. “LC, it’s for you. Unfortunately.”
Lost Cause came shuffling over. “Hey, Spooky, what’s up, man?”
Spooky, the scruffy, hairy, hippie-looking man let out a puff of smoke, which was odd because he wasn’t smoking. He coughed a little and looked down at the little Puppet. “Well man,” he said in his raspy voice, which had been ravaged by years of heavy smoking and drinking, “I wanted to introduce you to some new buds of mine.” He turned to introduce his companions. “This is Reverend Bresser,” he said pointing to at the smaller of the two. “And this is Reverend Sandman,” he explained, pointing to the larger guy.
“Cool,” Lost Cause said cheerfully. “C’mon in guys, we’ll make sandwiches.”
As the trio entered the room, Reverend Bresser stumbled over his feet. He brushed the near fall off hoping no one saw. He then reached into his coat, pulled out a plain metal flask, and proceeded to chug the contents. “You want some?” he asks the large man to his side.
“What is it?” Reverend Sandman asks, suspiciously.
“Fuck if I know, hurts like a bitch though.”
“Sure,” Sandman stated, rather blandly. He took the flask from the other reverend and with one swift motion gulped a swig, tossed the flask back to his friend and screamed a very unholy scream.
As Reverend Sandman approached the couch Goblin began to growl. Two opposing rows of razor sharp teeth were gleaming in the light. “What the fuck ever, I’ll sit over here.” Rev. Sandman plopped in an arm chair and flipped goblin the finger. To which Goblin replied with an abrupt scream of rage. The ferocious, rabid sock puppet flew off the couch and lunged directly for Mr. Sandman’s carotid artery.
Mid leap, a thought flashed through Goblin’s head. Some sort of memory. He was trying to decipher its meaning as he was careening toward what would be a spectacular bloodbath. L.C. interrupted Goblin’s train of thought as he yelled from the kitchen, “If you don’t kill my guests I’ll get you a bunny.” Goblin dropped, mid flight, to the floor. He really did want a bunny. Goblin scampered back to the couch content in thinking about all the different things he could do with a bunny. Reverend Bresser now approached the couch. Goblin would not be insulted twice, nor would he be moved. A deep, ominous growl emanated from deep within whatever hellish gut the demented sock had.
“Relax little buddy,” the fearless reverend gleefully offered as he sat down between Bob and Goblin. “Here, have some of this, it’ll take the edge off.” The clueless Mr. Bresser began to poor the flask contents into his hand and offered it to Goblin, who accepted the offer. The sock’s body went limp, as he slipped into a deep alcohol induced sleep. The reverend then finished what was left in his hand.
“Yep, it’s some pretty good shit. Huh, buddy?” Goblin could not respond, he just lay there belly up as the man scratched under his chin.
“What the fuck is wrong with you?” Sandman asked
“Don’t criticize me, Reverend Sandman!” Bresser replied sharply. “I have a medical condition.”
“I’m pretty sure soberphobia is not a real medical diagnosis.”
“Sure it is; the intense over-whelming fear of sobriety.”
“Yes, I’m sure your life is a living hell.”
“Nah, it’s not so bad. Not like when I came down with that combination of Anthrax, The Black Plague, Bird Flu, and leprosy.”
“Really,” Dr. Sanity interjected. “Can I culture you?”
“Oh, God!” Rev. Sandman shouted. “It was a fucking cold!”
“No, I almost died. But sorry, I took my home remedy, I’m all good now.”
“Your home remedy was vodka!”
“Yeah, alcohol kills anything! Fit as a fiddle.”
Doctor Sanity leans in closer. “Hmm. That’s a great idea. I’ll have to try that next time Sam gets sick. I think I still have some rubbing alcohol left over.”
“Whoa there guy. There’s a science here. You need to know what you’re dealing with. Germs react differently to different types of alcohol.” Mr. Bresser began to explain. Doc pushed Bob out of the way and listened intently to the lecture being delivered. Bob looked over at the odd looking man sitting in the arm chair who flashed him a big, goofy grin.
“So, uh, what are, um, what are your names?” Bob asked cautiously.
“Rob,” Rev. Sandman replied.
“Which one of you is Rob?”
“I see. And what about your name?”
“So…. You’re BOTH named Rob?”
“Let’s not make this complicated. Ok, Slick?”
“Riiiight. Well, I’m Bob. The one being lectured by your friend is Dr. Sanity. The one your friend killed is Goblin. And you met Lost Cause at the door.”
“Who wants a drink?” LC shouted into the room.
Reverend Rob Bresser halted his sermon to Doc, “I’ll take a round. What are you making?”
“What would you like?”
“Whatever, as long as it’s strong. I have to drive home.”
“Something strong, huh? Hm.. Oh, I know,” Lost Cause’s voice trailed off as he headed back to the kitchen.
“So, uh,” Bob continued. “How do you guys know spooky?”
“WHO!?!” Rev Rob Sandman shouted.
“The big smelly guy you two came here with.”
“Oh, him. Rob tea-bagged him in an ally back in town. He offered to buy us a drink and dumb ass over there said yes.”
Mr. Bresser didn’t skip stride in the lecture about alcohol to Doc. Only one finger was presented as a response.
“Do you guys usually accept drinks from strange, smelly people?”
“Well, Reverend Bresser does.”
“You see, he’s got this little…I guess you would call it a sort of tick. He likes to accept drinks from strange, smelly people and then he takes them out in the back alley and tea-bags them. I’m actually quite surprised; we usually bail out after he does it but for some reason he took a liking to this one.”
“I see” said Bob as he casually shifted further away on the couch from Rev. Bresser. “Would you mind if excuse myself for a minute.”
“Not at all my little friend” said the good Reverend Sandman.
Bob hopped off the couch and into the other room. The Reverend then turned his attention back to his companion who was in the middle of serenading Dr. Sanity.
“…and so you see that’s how I battled a bout with Malaria on our good will mission to Africa.”
Dr. Sanity just sat there with his mouth wide open in amazement. For the first time ever he felt like he had finally met someone who he could relate to and share his ideas with.
The Rev. Sandman shook his head in disbelief before finally deciding to interject into the conversation. “Now you know damn well that we didn’t go on a good will mission to Africa, in fact why don’t you tell him where we really were.”
Turning his attention to Dr. Sanity, “We were in East Harlem at an aids clinic and he ended up with a bad case of herpes from a crack whore. That’s the closest to Africa we’ve ever been.”
Rev. Bresser turned his head and a sly grin slowly escaped from the sides of his mouth. “And if I recall someone knowingly received a blow job from a transvestite, although he claims that he didn’t know until afterwards.”
Dr. Sanity sat there in shear amazement. All thoughts had suddenly escaped his attention and he didn’t know what to make of the situation. At that point the two reverends began to argue with each other.
Meanwhile, back in the kitchen, as Lost Cause was attempting to put together the sandwiches and drinks with Spooky he heard the commotion coming from the living room and decided to see what was going on.
“Spooky, stay here and finish making the sandwiches and drinks for me while I go see what’s gong on out there” said Lost Cause as he exited the room. As Lost Cause made his way out of the room, Spooky started to look around the kitchen, checking out the contents of all the cabinets.
Suddenly something out the window caught his eye as he spoke out loud, “Is that David Hasselhoff?” He quickly ran over to the window, opened it and yelled out “David…over here!” Unfortunately he leaned a little too far out and fell out of the window, landing in the yard outside.
Meanwhile, back inside the house, as the argument in the living room started to heat up even further the front door suddenly opened and Sam came walking in. It took him a second or two to soak before realizing there were some strange people sitting in his living room. “What the hell is going on here, who are these people and what are you guys doing” he yelled?
The two reverends didn’t even pay attention to Sam’s interjection into the conversation. Lost Cause quickly made his way over between the two and attempted to try and defuse the situation, unfortunately the two men did not see him and he was knocked over. Silence suddenly fell on the room and everything took a turn for the worse.
Goblin jolted awake as if a light switch were turned on and saw Lost Cause lying on the floor. Slowly a sly grimace appeared across his face, which could have been mistaken for a smile except for the low, deep growl that started to emit from deep inside of his seemingly bottomless throat. Bob came bouncing back into the room and looked around for a second before speaking “You boys are most certainly…”
“FUCK,” yelled the smaller of the two Reverends as Goblin leapt off the couch after him. He stumbled over his larger companion in an attempt to make his way for the door. Unfortunately he lost his balance and proceeded to slam face first into the wall.
Goblin quickly turned his attention to the other Rob, who at the same time managed to piss and shit himself before diving out the window in an attempt to get away. Unfortunately he didn’t get away clean and Goblin managed to take a rather large chunk out of his rear end as he fell to the ground.
The smaller Rob managed to get himself back on his feet, shake out the cobwebs and head for the door. As he was heading through the doorway, he turned to look at Sam and said “Well my brother, I was just…”
Sam cut him off, “Leaving,” as he slammed the door in his face. Out side you could hear the sickening thud of somebody hitting the floor, which was followed by growling and then lots of screams and scurrying. Goblin had followed the other reverend out the window and made his way around the house to take care of the other man.
Sam turned around and mumbled to himself “Fucking bible bangers, they never learn do they.”
He quickly scanned the room looking at each of the puppets as he asked “Okay, first off, I told you guys about not moving from the couch and second who’s responsible for allowing Laurel and Hardy in the house?”
Lost Cause quickly chimed in “Spooky brought them over.”
“LC, haven’t we talked about this before? Aren’t you too old for imaginary friends” Sam scowled.
“But…he’s not…he’s in the kitchen” Lost Cause stumbled over his words trying to explain to Sam.
Sam turned and headed for the kitchen and yelled back to the other puppets “I’ll deal with you guys after I go see LC’s friend.” As Sam hit the kitchen door he stopped in his track. “Oh my fucking God.”
Lost Cause happily made his way towards the kitchen and started to speak, “See I told you” but Sam quickly cut him off “What the fuck is all this food doing out on the counter? And what did I tell you about the leaving the damn windows open like that, what if someone sees you guys?” Sam made his way over to the window and slammed it shut.
Spooky heard the window and quickly stood up. As he stumbled to his feet and brushed himself off he squinted and hissed through his teeth “Damn it, it’s just Wynona Ryder. Oh well, I guess I’ll head back to the bar.”
Meanwhile, back inside, as Sam was heading up the stairs he looked back at the puppets. “Look, I’m having a really bad day and I just need to go to sleep for a while. Would you guys just please clean up this mess for me and behave yourselves for a few hours?” He headed up a few more steps before turning back again “And by the way…NO MORE FUCKING BIBLE BANGERS!”
Lost Cause tired to explain that it wasn’t them, it was Spooky who brought them over but Sam didn’t want to hear any part of it. He wanted to end the conversation as quickly as possible and finally said, “Look if you guys have to, order a pizza okay…if that’ll keep you satisfied then do it, but please don’t stuff the guy in the mailbox again, the post office and federal government tend to frown on that type of thing.”
Sam made his way up the stairs and out of site. A few seconds later a door slammed and the three puppets just looked at each other with a blank stare. At that moment, Goblin came flying back through the broken window, chuckling ever so slightly to himself. He proceeded to plant himself on the couch and hit the button on the remote for the TV. Bob was the first to finally speak up. “Well, I guess there’s no words to sum up this day except for…anybody want a pizza?”