I don't think I can quite fit bubbles into the Inspectral story at this point, not least because my brain is insisting that Bubbles is a name rather than a feature. So we get a brief detour.
Bubbles "I have named her Bubbles," said Death. His voice, as emotionless as a third marriage for a black widow, echoed slightly and Pestilence looked around, then looked annoyed. "How do you that?" he said. They were sat in a one-bedroom flat in Chittaranjan with Death at a small wooden table at the foot of the bed and War, Famine and Pestilence sat on the bed. The mattress was so thin that the wooden, unsprung base was almost painful. Above Death, mounted on a metal bracket screwed into the pale-orange wall, was an old CRT television with a DVR box perched on its top. There was no way anything would ever echo in this cramped little room. "Technique," said Death, getting both echo and reverb this time. Famine shivered. "I felt the vibrations from that, bro," he said. "Good vibes, yeah, but still. Totally teapot." "She's a duck," said War, his broad, tanned face screwing up in mild disgust. His hair, still blonde, cascaded off his head like a waterfall. "Why have you got a duck?" "I've called her Bubbles," said Death. His skull tilted and his sightless eye sockets seemed to be staring off into the distance. "Yes, you said that," said War. His annoyance was generating deep resonances with his voice in his muscled chest, and Famine shivered again. "Why does Death have a duck?" "So he can call her Bubbles, bro," said Famine, and ducked so that War's hand swept through where the back of his head would have been with just a swooshing sound. "She's an emotional support duck," said Death. "I was reading about it in one of those American magazines." "But--" started War, his voice now conveying his upset so resonantly that Famine was gently bouncing up and down on the bed. "Watch," said Death, and the room around them faded out until only the outlines of the walls and window showed. Below them was a dusty pavement, and across the road was a rectangular park of green lawns surrounded by trees. People sat around in groups in the park, modestly dressed, and walked in pairs or singly. The sun blazed out of a cloudless sky, and for a moment all four of the Incarnates felt warmer. "Bubbles," said Death, and the duck quacked once and flew through the outline of the window, across the road, and landed in the park near a group of three young women who were sitting and talking. Two of them continued to chatter, while one saw the duck and stiffened, pulling her body slightly away from it. "It's only a duck," said one of the others, seeing her reaction. "They eat bread." "I'd eat duck if it weren't so expensive," said the other. "Is it owned, can you see?" "They're not scary," said the first again. "You should pet it." "Yes tame it! Then we can take it home and eat it!" Both women looked expectantly at the third, who tentatively reached out a hand. The duck quacked quietly, and Death raised his nerf gun, sighted using a laser sight, and fired. The nerf bullet flew surprisingly far and fast for something made of foam, and bounced gently off the woman's forehead so that she toppled over backwards. "What's the point of the duck?" asked War again. "Emotional support," said Death. "Did you see how engaged she was before she died?" "Terrified, sis," said Famine. "You should try something less scary. Spiders are good."
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I don't think I can quite fit bubbles into the Inspectral story at this point, not least because my brain is insisting that Bubbles is a name rather than a feature. So we get a brief detour.
Bubbles
"I have named her Bubbles," said Death. His voice, as emotionless as a third marriage for a black widow, echoed slightly and Pestilence looked around, then looked annoyed.
"How do you that?" he said. They were sat in a one-bedroom flat in Chittaranjan with Death at a small wooden table at the foot of the bed and War, Famine and Pestilence sat on the bed. The mattress was so thin that the wooden, unsprung base was almost painful. Above Death, mounted on a metal bracket screwed into the pale-orange wall, was an old CRT television with a DVR box perched on its top. There was no way anything would ever echo in this cramped little room.
"Technique," said Death, getting both echo and reverb this time. Famine shivered.
"I felt the vibrations from that, bro," he said. "Good vibes, yeah, but still. Totally teapot."
"She's a duck," said War, his broad, tanned face screwing up in mild disgust. His hair, still blonde, cascaded off his head like a waterfall. "Why have you got a duck?"
"I've called her Bubbles," said Death. His skull tilted and his sightless eye sockets seemed to be staring off into the distance.
"Yes, you said that," said War. His annoyance was generating deep resonances with his voice in his muscled chest, and Famine shivered again. "Why does Death have a duck?"
"So he can call her Bubbles, bro," said Famine, and ducked so that War's hand swept through where the back of his head would have been with just a swooshing sound.
"She's an emotional support duck," said Death. "I was reading about it in one of those American magazines."
"But--" started War, his voice now conveying his upset so resonantly that Famine was gently bouncing up and down on the bed.
"Watch," said Death, and the room around them faded out until only the outlines of the walls and window showed. Below them was a dusty pavement, and across the road was a rectangular park of green lawns surrounded by trees. People sat around in groups in the park, modestly dressed, and walked in pairs or singly. The sun blazed out of a cloudless sky, and for a moment all four of the Incarnates felt warmer.
"Bubbles," said Death, and the duck quacked once and flew through the outline of the window, across the road, and landed in the park near a group of three young women who were sitting and talking. Two of them continued to chatter, while one saw the duck and stiffened, pulling her body slightly away from it.
"It's only a duck," said one of the others, seeing her reaction. "They eat bread."
"I'd eat duck if it weren't so expensive," said the other. "Is it owned, can you see?"
"They're not scary," said the first again. "You should pet it."
"Yes tame it! Then we can take it home and eat it!"
Both women looked expectantly at the third, who tentatively reached out a hand. The duck quacked quietly, and Death raised his nerf gun, sighted using a laser sight, and fired. The nerf bullet flew surprisingly far and fast for something made of foam, and bounced gently off the woman's forehead so that she toppled over backwards.
"What's the point of the duck?" asked War again.
"Emotional support," said Death. "Did you see how engaged she was before she died?"
"Terrified, sis," said Famine. "You should try something less scary. Spiders are good."
Greg - ah, dang it, I thought that semi-invisible thing they had going on had a bubble-like effect going on. But I am not disappointed by this result.
Because these guys are still my favorite, and never fail to entertain.
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