Left beaten, bloodied and bruised in a ditch somewhere, @MadMikeMarsbergen lost the Pot 1 Finals of SmackDown: The Second Coming to @torontojim (who later ended up winning the Grand Finals, too). Now he's back to get some revenge on all you competit...
Harriet Clumsky sat in the waiting room of the Venusian Medical Research Centre biting her nails. Her long brown hair fell down in front of her pretty freckled face like a curtain, and behind it her brown eyes darted around the empty room nervously. Just getting here had been a nightmare. She hated meeting new people and going to new places. In fact she would have happily stayed in her privacy dome and never ventured into the bubble city if that was possible.
Harriet tapped her foot to the beat of the instrumental version of Parliament's "Give Up the Funk" as it played quietly in the background. It was, in fact, her favourite song... 'Not that anybody cared.' She frowned at herself and bit her lip until she tasted blood. Those were two of her worst habits... thinking negative thoughts, and then punishing herself for thinking that way. It was an endless cycle, a catch 22, and it was why she had forced herself to volunteer for the first human test of Angstomol.
According to the package she had received last week, Angstomol could be exactly what she needed. A new drug that promised to rid its user of anxiety, shyness and allow people like Harriet to live a normal life. Best of all there were no side effects, unlike the other prescriptions her online shrink had pushed down her throat.
With a hiss, the circular door to the waiting room irised opened and she watched from the corner of her eye as a small elderly woman shuffled in pushing a hover grocery cart. Harriet's grandmother used to push an identical cart and the thought made her smile.
The tiny woman locked eyes with Harriet and smiled back at her before moving to a seat on the other side of the room. The cart was filled with all kinds of things, none of which were groceries. There were old nuclear batteries, sonic probes, and what looked like part of a vacuum cleaner. On the very top of the pile was a white duvet that looked incredibly soft and luxurious. As Harriet watched the duvet moved and from underneath poked a pink nose followed by two huge green eyes and pointy little ears. The kitten gave a small meow and as if on cue two more little balls of fur appeared. Surprised, Harriet looked up at the old woman who smiled once again and winked at her conspiratorially.
Suddenly the door opened again and a tall young man in a black and red jumpsuit, rocket boots and a space helmet strutted into the room carrying a huge boom box. Nickleback's "Rockstar" blared from the huge speakers hurting Harriet's' ears. The kittens yowled and dove under the duvet and Harriet sunk lower in her chair peering at the invader from behind the safety of her hair.
The old lady was unphased. "Turn down that noise young man!" She commanded in a voice much stronger than Harriet would have expected.
The man stopped dramatically, lifted his mirrored goggles and raised a questioning eyebrow.
