Massive
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I know how I'm going to die, said Slow Motion. On a nice morning. The Wind will send its Warriors and then I will die ...
Doesn't that bother you? asked Perfect Tommy. Knowing how you're going to die?
It is better than not knowing, said Slow Motion. With you the mystery is always there. With me, the true mystery lies in not my death but what lies beyond death.
They were sitting in the cafeteria enjoying lunch.
Spooky, said Perfect Tommy.
And in what manner do you use that word? asked Slow Motion.
Just spooky, it must be spooky to know how you're going to die.
Oh, said Slow Motion, I thought you meant I myself am spooky as a person.
No, not at all, said Tommy. Hanoi Xan, now that's spooky.
Yes, I must agree.
Tell me, what was it like to have him in your Dental Office? Knowing he could kill you at any moment for the slightest infraction?
There was this feeling around me, as if all human compassion had left the room. All that was left was ... them ... their selfishness.
Selfishness, said Tommy. That's all.
No, that's not all, said Slow Motion, then there's this ... He pulled out a little plastic baggie that had a single hair in it.
Is that? asked Tommy.
You bet, said Slow Motion. A hair follicle, I pulled it while he was screaming like a little baby. Pure distraction. Now Team Banzai has his DNA.
Massive, said Perfect Tommy.
Massive?
Just came up with a new _expression, out of the blue. Hope you don't mind.
Oh, I see.
_______
You did good, said Buckaroo. The baggie was resting on his desk and he could barely take his eyes off it. You got closer to Xan than any of my men ever could. With his DNA all kinds of possibilities are open to us.
There came a knock on the door. Mrs. Johnson was there.
Telephone call, Buckaroo. Very important.
Let me take this call. And thank you.
Sure thing, Buckaroo. Slow Motion left the office. He and Mrs. Johnson were face to face.
How are you? she asked.
Fine, he answered. I never got to properly thank you for all the time you spent in silence with me on the roof.
Oh, don't mention it.
I'd like to make it up to you by cooking you and your husband a meal.
What? Some Indian dish?
No, chicken parmesan, it's the only thing I know how to cook. A man should know how to cook at least one meal to impress a woman.
Are you trying to impress me? she smiled.
No, I don't think the first impression I made will ever be wiped away in your mind. I'm just trying to thank you. Also, a gift will be arriving. Be careful, it won't stop yapping if you ever grow to love it correctly.
Oh, no! I cannot take an animal.
No animal, he said, it's a plant, you're everyday average common-variety potted plant.
Which won't stop yapping.
That's right, like I said ...
If I grow to love it correctly. But I don't believe it will ever come to that. Just pay close attention to it. They yell at each other over great distances. It will warn you if danger is afoot.
How will it do this?
I told it to do this, it is your protector. Until it's death.
_______
Mrs. Johnson walked into her living room and shook her head at her husband, FlyBoy, who was fast asleep on the couch. She knew better than to switch off the television, it would only wake him up. He'd had a long day at work. Normally, she would wake him up, walk him into the bedroom, but something told her to leave him there. Then the cat ran past her and she yelped. Then she saw the plant.
She chuckled. My protector. A shiver of anxiety ran up her spine. Then there was a knock on the ceiling.
Am I hearing things? Am I so tired I'm imagining things? She walked up to the window and looked out. There was a ladder out there leaning up against her house.
She turned to her husband and was about to cry invasion when she suddenly feared for his life. Sleepy and upset he would be in no mood to handle an attacker.
She went into the kitchen and grabbed a knife. She went back into the bedroom and picked up the house plant. Slowly she made her way up the stairs. Someone was going through the bedroom drawers.
Honey? came the voice from downstairs. What time is it??
The movements in the bedroom stopped.
Sweetie? Honey-pie?
All she could do was stand there frozen with the knife in one hand and the potted plant in the other. Her husband was coming up the stairs. Baby? Are you home? She gripped the plant even tighter in her arms. The pot broke with a loud popping sound and soil and plant rained down upon her feet. The strange sound was enough to get the burglar going. He retreated back through the window and back down the ladder.
Honey? Is that you? FlyBoy ran up the stairs and saw his wife standing there, soil and greenery at her feet, knife in hand. What's going on?
Intruder! Get back!
Intruder? he said. I'll get my gun!
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After everything was said and done and the police had left and nothing was found to be missing, Mrs. Johnson set about to clean up the house in order to calm her nerves. She had all but forgotten about the plant which by now had been trampled by police officer and Institute Personnel alike. Oh, poor thing, she said. The she remembered Slow Motion's words ...
It will warn you if danger is afoot.
How will it do this?
I told it to do this, it is your protector. Until it's death.
Massive, she said. Just plain massive. Damn that Perfect Tommy, always coming up with unforgettable phrases.
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