UNCLE PLASMA: 4 — HOT BEEF

Tonight's Episode

UNCLE PLASMA: Part 3 — The Ride

These two guys are big. “Who the crap are you!” The large wide one says. The taller skinnier man behind him leers with violating eyes. He’s holding a long metal flashlight.

The wide guy has slicked back hair, squinty eyes and a five 0’clock shadow. He wears a black leather waist length slicker and a white v-neck t-shirt. He has on pleated black dress slacks and boots that seem out of place with the rest of his attire.

The tall, nervous wiry one has on a dark blue tracksuit with white piping and a mangy baseball cap. His sneakers are so crisp and white they practically glow in the dark. His frightened face strains to look scary.

“I could ask you the same question”. Pete says. “I know you’re not cops, you wouldn’t be using this cheap tracker.”

“Where’d you get that?!” The big one asks.

“Where do you think I got it?” Pete responds.

“That was in the bag!” The wiry man shouts.

“Shut up Jerry!” The fat guy says. The two dufuses whisper loudly back and forth, arguing about not saying too much.

“Shhhh!” Pete says. He holds up his hands and look over his shoulders pretending to hear something.

The other two start looking around, fearfully. The big guy orders Skinny Jerry. “Take your flashlight and go see if there’s anybody here.”

“What if this guy’s a cop and there’s a million cops here?” Jerry asks.

“Just go!” The wide guy says, and then returns his focus to Pete.

“Are you? Are you a cop or what?” He asks him.

“Or what?” Pete says.

The big guy bends over into Pete’s face. “Look, I’m not gonna play around with you. I want to know where you got that tracker, and what do you know about the bag?”

“Listen, I got this thing about people getting up in my personal space, it really bothers me, I get anxious, I think it’s a spectrum thing or something.” Uncle Plasma says as he lowers his sandwich to his lap.

As the guy inches even closer in, Pete plasmafies his sandwich. It sizzles and crackles, the cheese and mayo melting altogether, permeating the meat.

Right up into Pete’s face, the guy says with a stern staccato voice. “What do you know?”

Uncle Plasma jams the sandwich into the guys face and he screams. He goes down to his knees, holding his face in his hands. As he pulls his hands away from his blinded face, it’s bright red, with cheese and mayo and cheap vending machine beef affixed.

Pete starts up from the chair for the door. Just then, Jerry uses the flashlight with both hands to choke Pete from behind. They struggle at first, then Pete grabs Jerry’s wrist and heats them enough scare the heck out of him and he releases. The flashlight falls to the floor. “What the crap did you do!?” Jerry exclaims. Jerry is frightened, he backs away.

Pete grabs the flashlight and bonks Jerry’s head, only enough to stun him and keep him still. “Don’t move.” Pete says. Uncle Plasma points the flashlight at Jerry, and it lights up, as if on its own, the little halogen light gets so hot it combusts and smokes as it extinguishes.

Plasma informs Jerry. “The next time I see you, you’re going to tell me everything.”

Pete turns and runs to the door, The wide guy is still nursing his eyes and face and wincing in pain. Out the door Pete faces the alley, with the buildings on the left, and the fence and river on his right, in front of him is a maroon sedan, apparently belonging to the two clownish thugs. He determines the best thing he can do is to wait someplace up high for them to exit the building.

He plasmafies and hovers up to the buildings on the left, where he can watch from behind a parapet.

Pete says to himself disappointedly, “Now I have to figure out a way to follow these clowns.”

670 Words

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31 brand-new stories written and podcasted in 31 days.