... Muffy, standing in the corner, all by herself. She was sobbing heavily. Precious had tried to console her, but Muffy sent her away. Muffy had to be alone during these post-Octopussy moments to reflect on her lost companion.
She couldn't believe what had happened. Just when Bugs Pond (our hero!) was on the verge of bringing Octopussy back to a healthy existence, that idiot waiter blew him to smithereens. Muffy knew that Bugs would NEVER forget that particular episode. Was he upset because he lost his friend Octopussy? Nooooo ... of course not. Super-heros don't mourn lost friends. Temporary friendships are just a by-product of the job for those who have the Double-Oh designation as world's Super-Heros. So, why would that episode be forever etched in his memory? Simple. Because his shot at a long desired Academy Award nomination had been blown to Hades. His adoring public would have to wait yet another year to see him up there on the stand, accepting his award. He had already made out his speech. Several years ago, in fact. All he'd have to do is change some of the names, and he was ready for glory, adoring fans, and commercial contracts.
Muffy knew that she'd never be able to handle this traumatic experience by herself. That ditzy Precious couldn't help any, either. And, she couldn't bear the thought of being held closely by Bugs, now that he had no eyebrows or eyelashes. No, Muffy would need the help of an experienced psychiatrist.
Her thoughts drifted back to the orphanage, and that nice psychiatrist they had on staff. Each week, he would counsel each of the youngsters, probing them for their current feelings. It wasn't until many years later that Muffy learned the true clinical definition of "one-on-one sessions", "feelings", and "probing interviews".
Rusty Irons, the baseball bat carrying golf enthusiast, was still in the kitchen. He was lovingly caressing his baseball bat, which was now blackened by the flash of fire that filled the room at the time of the explosion. He could barely read the "Canadian Baseball League" emblem. A tear formed in his eye, dramatically caught for just a second or two by the camera as it panned over the scene.
The waiter who had caused this ugly scene was standing there in the center of the kitchen, wondering how he was going to clean all this mess up before his boss came back from his nooner with that new waitress. He couldn't figure out why his boss had hired her. She didn't even know how to make those cute little animals out of cloth napkins.
Erroll (aka: PEST Control) and his twin sister Meryl had climbed up on the kitchen counter and were reminiscing about life in the Hamster Hut(tm) while they nibbled on left overs from customers' plates that were waiting in the sink to be washed. Of course, since Meryl hadn't experienced the radiation mishap that gave Erroll his speech capability, she couldn't talk like a human. So, they squeaked to each other and made other hamster-like noises. Erroll couldn't remember the last time he had done that. Once you go speech, you never go back, as the saying goes. Or, something like that.
Erroll reached out and smacked Iggy, the Iguana, up the side of the head when Iggy tried to snag a choice morsel from one of the plates with his tounge [sic]. "Mine!", screamed Erroll. Iggy slithered off to other areas of the kitchen. There was plenty to snack on. Let Erroll have that one.
Iggy tried to be very careful not to ingest any of the calamari pieces that were splattered all over the kitchen. He fondly remembered the times when he and Octopussy had shared meals during their employment at PEST. Iggy couldn't bear the thought of sharing Octopussy AS a meal.
Into this bizarre scene burst another of our key players. SOMEBODY needs to investigate what happened here. For the record, you know. To have a record of the event, just in case somewhere down the road somebody files charges. Yes, you guessed it. Our resident motorcycle cop turned actor showed up. Apparently he was pretty upset that he received no recognition whatsoever from the local press for all the psychic work he had done to save the Black Corporation building from that earthquake and B-17 near miss. He was in a bad mood. That happened a lot. |
