*As we come to the finale of our odd little tale...*
“We sure blew this one, didn’t we?”
Stan gazed out the window, down at the streets where pure Hell had broken loose. Anyone with any sense had locked themselves indoors, since the whole city was now infested with babbles of every shape and size, all with unbridled, unstoppable insanity. Off in the distance, Stan could still see the smoke from where the Piece of Mind Clinic was still engulfed in flames, which it had been since yesterday. No doubt the babbles were still roasting stolen hot dogs, garbage and house pets on sticks while dancing around the smoldering ruins.
“Stan, it’s your turn.” Tabby pointed at his spot next to the Scrabble board, where she and Skritch were sitting on the floor. Fortunately, the babbles had not broken into the apartment yet—maybe because they knew that Stan, Tabby and Skritch were their unwitting liberators, and had agreed to leave them alone. Or they were just having too much fun elsewhere.
Stan sighed. “I always wanted to change the world. Now I frackin' destroyed it.”
Skritch chewed on a Scrabble piece before spitting it out. “Relax, man. It may take a few months to blow over, but they’ll probably move on and then all you humans can come outside again.” He paused. “Unless the babbles get to a nuclear reactor. Or eat everybody. Or find a way to extract babbles from everyone, causing all human brains to disintegrate and turn you all into drooling veggies.”
Attic, no longer masked by the hat, rolled her eyes. “Great, stuck playing board games like it’s only a rainy day rather than the Apocalypse. I want to go make havoc! Everyone is blaming the clinic for all this madness anyway. I say that lets us off the hook to do whatever we want!”
“SWAT teams or the national guard might get called in,” Tabby retorted. “I’d rather not be outside when they start shooting up the town.”
“It’s our fault they all got out,” Stan said.
“Okay, so my plan wasn’t so hot,” Skritch admitted. “But I came from your brain, after all. Do we have any pizza poppers?” He got up and scurried over to the fridge, crawled up the side like a gecko and rummaged through the freezer.
Stan hung his head. “You know, with Skritch outside my brain, my mind’ll start fracturing. What’ll you do if I go mental?”
“Don’t freak, Stan,” Tabby said. “The clinic might’ve been lying about that ‘mind-decay’ stuff to make sure people came back for re-assimilation. And Skritch’s right, this all has to blow over eventually. Until then, Skritch can sneak around outside and get us food and stuff, we’ll see how long the electricity and water last, and we can just…hang out, I guess.”
“Hang out?” Stan raised his head to look at her, and he gulped. “Uh, Tabby…since I might go mental or die pretty soon…”
“No, Stan, I will not date you,” Tabby said.
“Come on! This might be my last chance!”
“You’d rather die a virgin, believe me,” Attic chuckled. “She’s not that good.”
“I will ram you against the wall until my head cracks open and I can pull you out myself!” Tabby hissed.
Stan shook his head. “Figures. Only by unleashing a race of manifestations of people’s most psychotic brain-spawn on the world, I finally got some guys to hang with.”
Tabby smirked. “Wanna know what else ‘figures’? Now that babbles are running everywhere, you and me are the ‘normal’ ones by comparison. Me with four eyes, and you with an ink-bug doppelganger. That’s the norm now.”
Stan grinned. “I think I’m cool with that.”