The Most Popular Book in the Whole World (xlormp) wrote,
The Most Popular Book in the Whole World

Chapter Twelve, "Okay, I Don't Know What the Heck is Up With Hector"

The Most Second Book in the Whole Series

Chapter 12, "Okay, I Don't Know What the Heck is Up With Hector"

I drove back home, ready to completely forget about Hector and Christopher and their uselessness. I thought maybe I would bake a cake, because that's something people did when they wanted to forget their sorrow, right? A cake. Yes. A spite cake. Laced with hatred and anger and bitchiness, and probably topped with a cherry.


And chocolate drizzle, because, mmmmmmmmmm. Oh, and it would have the words "FRIG + XLORMP = 4EVER" on it in pink icing, and then I would take my fork of loathing and jab it all up in that business so that you couldn't even read it anymore, and then, I would bask in the delicious, delicious glow of pre-mushed cake.

It sounded like the perfect plan.

So when I got home to find Hector, metallic sheen and everything, fishing on the front lawn with Lou? I felt sad for him because he wouldn't get any of my cake.

And also because I was about to punch him in the balls. I began marching purposefully toward the stupid-head.

"Evening, Periwinkle Pony Seamstress!" Lou waved amiably from his lawn chair. Larry and Limbo were racing back and forth across his shoulders, bickering over a peanut, from the looks of it.

"It's the afternoon, Lou, but that's cool. I just need to punch Hector in the balls."

Hector stood up, making crazy mechanical clanking noises as he did so. He held up a hand.

"Please, Frig, I request you refrain from punching. Have a nice day."

His patronizing platitudes would do no good. I reared back, fist at the ready, and struck hard and true.


"DAMN IT, HECTOR!" I howled enragedly and with bitchiness, grasping at my poor, injured hand.

"Run program: Apologize," Hector's worthless jowls managed to seep out. "I'm sorry. Reason: My groin area has been replaced with metal and circuitry."

I crossed my arms across my chest, attempting to look tough, but really, I was jamming my hand into the crease of my elbow in an attempt to stop the throbbing.

"Let me by, Hector," I enunciated word by word. "I have to bake a cake and not share it with you."

"Hector 2.0 cannot process that information."

"Oh, piffle, I seem to have lost my pants!" Lou's dismayed wail echoed across the lawn.

"Activate pants retrieval systems," Hector roboticized. "Pants retrieval systems activated."

With much clanking around, Hector did manage to get Lou his pants back. He even pressed them, stitched up a hole in the left leg, and put them on (on Lou, not on himself). Then he handed Lou a breath mint, which Lou regarded with concern until it got stolen by Limbo, and the fighting began again between monkey and bird.

This was all too much for me.

"Hector, what's going on?" I shouted loudly.

"Hector 2.0 is ill equipped to answer that question."

"Why are you talking like that?" I pondered shockingly.

"Hector 2.0 is ill equipped to answer that question."

"Is it those hoodlums? Are you on drugs?" I gasped, realization hitting me like a ton of really heavy things. "Have you become a Scientologist?"

"Hector 2.0 is ill equipped to answer that question. Running shut-down systems now." Hector's shoulders slumped, and he stopped moving. I prodded him a few times to see what would happen, but I dared not punch him in the balls again.

Lou bounced flouncily over to us, and began prodding Hector as well. He giggled. "This is fun!" he tittered.

I stood up and sighed. "Well, I have no idea what's going on," I admitted revealingly. "Want to bake a cake with me, Lou?"

Lou struck a striking pose, fists on their respective hips, hair wafting sweetly in the breeze. "Only if I can use the nose hair clippers," he insisted heroically.

I patted him gently. "Of course."

There are more chapters for your Internet consumption pleasure.

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