STRANGErs In The Night

Chapter 13: In The Ruins of Garfeld Eats

tw body horror? mebbe animal abuse too? also sorry I didn't update yesterday, I forgot to s schedule this.

A cloud of dust enveloped the city block. In the grey pre-dawn light, Don Garfeldo wheezed as he pulled himself out of the rubble of his beloved orange speakeasy. Hauling himself to his feet, the cat saw a hug figure sillhouetted througgh the haze. tromping heavily through the rubbl was the 10 ft tall power-armoured form of Papa Ben himself: Ben Shapiro, the Queen's Justice.

The cat watched in rage as Shapiro turned and gave orders, not in the rumbling bass you would expect of one of that size, but in the robotic tones ppl of the 21zt century would expect of him. "I don't see the furby or the cat around anywhere. If that f word-ing furby gets away, we'll have to go through this hassle all over again." (here he gestured to the ruble and the few bodies in it.) "and this costs way too much money.

"Of cousmre, my liege." says a reedy, slightly slimy voice, and a pasty alien looking dude steps through the haze. He is wearing a dark brown cloak over a blue jumpsuit thing, and his lengthy head tails are wound around his shoulders as tradition dictates. "do you wish for me to... dispose of the dead?"

The Justice turns haughtily. "do what you want, bib. I'm not the type of tall person who f word-ing gives tasks all the time. [aside] hell, I'm only tall because of my armoue. [end aside]"

"Very well, your Justice-ship. but I do beg of you, when we are on missions, please call refer to me as either Martyr Bib, Martyr of the Manosphere, or at the very least my full name, Bib Licalgenderroles."

Ben truned, his eyes hard as steel. "I will call you whatever I want, you little p-word. I am your boss, and in a capitalist society like the one we live in, that means I own your life. Also I could totally ask my sister to kill you and she'd probably do it. You got rhat, Bib?"

"Of course, justice.", whined Bib Licalgenderroles sullenly.

Witnesseing this petty infighting, Don Garfeldo stopped hiding and began to grow. Strands of saliva dribbled from a hundred gaping, toothy maws, as the mobster sloughed of his skin and becMi a bloated mass of orange flesh with a innumerable insectile eyes, borne forth on 15 sharp, bug-like legs. atop this aberration remained the head of the cat, still with its fedora and bowtie, a lit cigar hanging. from the edge of a mouth crammed with needl-like teeth. Surging forward like a wave of murderous flesh, the cat hurled itself at the Queen's hulking protector.

As he did, however, Garfeldo found himself caufht in the vice-like grip of the bionic man. Sneering, Shapiro spat on the mafioso's face, then chucked him throug a wall. Lying dazed in a pile of rubble, the Don heaved upward, shedding his horrific bloat and revealing anotjer standard Garfield body umderneath. The orange cat glowered like it was a Monday and stalked back towards papa ben. The petty (which in this cas means lesser) tyrant turned as he heard footsteps, and bend down to talk to Garfeldo. The cat hissed.

Ben Shapiro laughed darkly (evilly). "Young man", he said, "Gotta hand it to ya. Guess you don't scare easy do ya? Are you brave or stupid, son? doesn't matter which one. 'Cause it seems youve sold your soul- to a furby long as the night.

He kneeled on the ground and put one gauntleted hand (the size of a trashbin lid) on the cat's shoulder.

"Listen. I'll cut you a deal. lead us to Thursday. Help us kill him. Do that Nd I'll lilet you live, and what's more, ill let you operate your... "businesses" unrestricted. How does that sound?"

Garfeldo glares silently, but something in his eyes is hesitate. That offer would be a Game Changerr.

The Queen's Justice, noticing this indecision, laughs again- a disingenuone, corporate laugh like that of Jeff bezos. "When I was a young man like you, son I held a furby too. Held it In my naked hands, when I was a young man. Now you know how it feels- furbies are as slick as eels. (He left you to die, Garfeldo. At the end of the day, all he carde about was saving his own skin). "

"Like i said before, furbies are as slick as eels- Furby, quicker than the asp, always slipping from your grasp. Take it from a man no longer young, if you wanna hold a furby, son. Hang a chain around its throat (made of many carat gold) shackle it from ear to ear [a/n remember the furbs in the movie use their ears as hands] with sterling silver eár-rings. Bind it with a golden band, take it from an old man."

Here Garfeldo gave a quizzical look, Nd the Lord protector unsealed his great left gauntlet to show a golden band on his finger. Ben continued bitterly:

"Young man, I was young once too- Sang a song of love like you. Son, I too was left behind. Furbies come and furbies go, they get you high and get you low. One day theyre hot 🥵 the next they're cold... furbies are so seasonL. Furbies leave again and again- take it from an old man."

Shapiro pilled himself together with a deep sigh and straightened up.

"I'll tell you what young man. Since i feel so bad for thee, and since I'm going to... count to three, and put you out of your misery... One! Do one last thing, one last thing befor I send you Two! To the great beyond, where no furby can hear you begging Three! Do this job for me. Make me proud. Make the pundit young again. Work! For aN old maaannnn."

The pundit clapped the mobster o. the shoulder with his bare hand, then turned, reattaching the power fist with great hissing and clunking. "Think aBout it", he said, "and I'll remember you." Then he dropped a bag of shining silver credits into the cat's paws and left with Bib Licalgenderroles trailing behind, mutterring about a summons from the Queen.

Then they were gone, and it was only an ancient orange cat, standing alone in the ruins of his life's work, staring down one of the biggest decisions he would wver have to make.

[fade to black]