I’m holding Mr. Happy Puppet Head, standing in our backyard.
I talk to the dead woman with huge prehensile vines growing out of her stomach. She tells me telepathically, “Now you just need to go to the farmer’s market and pick up some Kiwi Extract. Mix it up in a smoothie or something. Fix him right up.”
In the background some tornadoes ride by. The Vampire Lasers explode houses as they pass.
“It’s the Plague. There’s nothing we can do except wait. And hope.” I hold my unconscious, drooling friend tightly in my arms.
“Now listen to me. I had this friend that came down with this bad Plague and she got the Kiwi Extract and it cured her right up.”
“Cool. I’ll go to the store later.” I watch as one of the tornadoes comes really close to my house, but veers quickly away to blow up something else.
“Sure is wet out here today. Buggy, too” She swats at some Locusts with her vines.
“I’m pretty sure it’s the Prophecy,” I say.
“Which one? Eternal Night of the Giants? Magic Violin? Flame Granny?”
“I’m pretty sure it’s the Whale Wars Prophecy.”
She pauses and thinks. Looks around. “Oh, yeah. I can see that.”
A cloud of Locusts buzz past. More housees in the distance are blown up. The earth shakes. Mr. Happy Puppet Head erupts in coughs. He flops out of my hands and splashes into the knee-high water flooding the backyard.
He groans. “Oh, damn…” He coughs a little more, floating on his back. “I feel bad…” He stands up slowly. “What is going on? Do I have the Plague?” He vomits a family of frogs. “Tornado-riding vampires shooting lasers from their eyes… shit. Flood. Locusts...”
He looks thoughtfully around with sick, lidded eyes. “Second Coming of Ninja Senator?”
“Whale Wars,” the Dead Vine Woman says.
“Oh, yeah… I can see that.”
“Oh, you know what you guys should do?” She waves her tentacles around excitedly.
I look at her for a moment before realizing I need to guess what we need to do. “I don’t know… get some sleep?”
“No! You should get all your clothes together, like stuff you don’t want anymore, and sew it all together into a giant Hot Air Balloon!”
“I don’t really know how to sew,” I tell her. “And I don’t really have any clothes I don’t want anymore.”
“I can sew,” Mr. Happy Puppet Head whispers.
“Then you guys can just float over the world as it floods itself into destruction, wafting on a cool breeze, snacking on cookies and fruits.”
I try to find a way to politely decline when Mr. Happy Puppet Head says, “That sounds like a really good idea…”
He begins vomiting violently.