Chapter 23 - Asheigh Unleashed

Suddenly, and without warning, like a 6 billion dollar space-station crashing on your lawn, Asheigh grabbed a magazine from the Shell literature section, yelled “Smash!!!!” and leapt on to the minions. Pimple-faced pump-attendants and burly check-out men were scattered as Asheigh’s fearsome tirade continued. Within moments, a scene of devastation filled the room: Shell employees lay in comatose states, draped over the counters and aisles like modern-art clocks draped over branches of trees in some famous modern art painting. Stanley/Hal sat in the corner, quivering with fear and sucking his thumb like a thumb-sucking person (and likely to develop buck-teeth if he kept it up for too long). Yvette and Elle lay unconscious on the floor by the door (having run too quickly towards the door for it to open in time). Laura sat calmly reading a book. Asheigh was breathing heavily and holding the remnants of her magazine dangerously, looking around for any new potential targets. A small piece of someone’s ripped shirt still dangled from her mouth.
The BK Kids toy was nowhere to be seen – probably already decomposed due to its cheap mass-produced-ness.

Outside, a tourist in the typical tourist Hawaiian shirt, sunglasses, hat, and jandals, with a camera around his neck, pulled up and walked towards the shell shop for assistance.
After a quick look inside, he fled back to his car, and drove away at top speed.

I slowly stood to my feet, stunned at what I had seen, and not wanting to make any sudden movements around Asheigh. Laura put down her book (How to Foil an Evil Fast-food Chain Owner in 5 easy steps) and came over to me.
“Well, Erstwhile, it seems like we have everything under control here – except perhaps for Asheigh, who I don’t think can be controlled – so I guess its time for you to go save your captured Ciola.”

“Not so fast,” came a voice, followed by a body, and that body belonged to… Merv/Eric!
“!” I exclaimed.
Merv/Eric was holding what looked strangely like a rubber ducky, but the way he was pointing it at us made it seem suspiciously like a rubber ducky. He squeezed it, and it squeaked.
“You won’t get away with this,” he warned, “You can’t just beat up petrol station attendants (not to mention my brother) like this and just walk out of here. Now you will feel the wrath of our super-secret weapon.”
The way he was waving the rubber ducky around was kind of strange, almost as if he thought it was the secret weapon. But that was just stupid.
He squeezed the rubber ducky one more time, and suddenly a huge fireball exploded from its plastic mouth, incinerating a whole stand of chocolate bars.
I was amazed.

What a waste of good chocolate.

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