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antics-pedantic · 1 month ago

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MUTANT MEDIA CLUB: GHOST OF A KITCHEN

*Lounge Lizard created by Osa Naomi

Volcanicook, as the name suggested, was a mutant human with a miniature volcano on her head, accompanied by a length of hair and brown skin. She was much beloved on the streets of New York City for her “Magma Munchies” food truck, a source of decently priced and tasty food for all those in the area, but especially to those in different circles of the entertainment industry.

She drove out to a spot where business was booming enough that she could usually tell law enforcement to buzz off. But alas, the crowd she was expecting did not in fact appear, and she was sent on the run. It was Vcook’s best guess that perhaps a rival truck had already made its way through, so she opted to use her truck’s CB radio set to contact anyone else out there who might have had similar trouble.

“Yee-up.” came the voice of a long-haul trucker by the name of Rudy-95, who often provided his patronage to the food trucks and thought of them as allies to himself and other hardworking cargo carriers. “Papa Howie’s Cajun Cart’s had no luck. Neither’s the Wallcrawler Family Chocklit Shoppe (On Wheels), and them other fellers around town’s been mighty troubled! I reckon it’s some kinduva goldurn curse, as is customary during eerie times such as these, Volcanicook!”

“It can’t be a curse!” said Vcook. “I bet it’s some newfangled restaurant. There’s always something with a brand-new joint that gets people wild about it.”

“But that there just ain’t possible.” said Rudy-95, chiming back in. He had detached the delivery trailer from the back of his semi-truck, and had been searching around the city. “Ah ain’t even seen no sign of a new place, or new places plural. Howzzit that a place with no presence can reel in so much attention?”

In the beginning, there was a total dweeb. His name was Clark Raut, and as far as he could remember he was destined to rage. His ideal was to become a critic and thoughtfully analyze media. But as time went on and he was forced to offer reviews on mainstream pop culture, his driving principle was whittled down to a more primal directive of trying to make people realize their favorite things were not underdog productions, in the loudest, most spiteful ways he could achieve.

That finally caught up with him recently: The rabid, right-wing fan army of some primordial influencer lead a campaign against much of North America for dominance. A campaign that included arguing live on their respective shows—Clark’s “Speakeasy Station” talk & variety show, and the fiend’s livestream. And subsequently, a bunch of fanatics showing up at Clark’s studio to beat the living man-shit out of him. Now, normally because of his mutation, Clark’s flesh melted into a green protoplasm. Or ectoplasm. Some kind of a ‘plasm. Usually after a while he would reattach himself to his skeleton and resume having a human shape. Except he couldn’t this time.

“AAAAUUUGGH!!”

He’d changed permanently. Now he was just a featureless green humanoid with pupil-free white eyes, no longer able to return to even an illusory humanity. And he realized this as he traversed the sewers, avoiding the countless medieval LARP feudal societies that lived in the tunnels, until he finally returned to the shared secret housing in the Triumph Studios lot. Housing that had been built up in the 1930s, and maintained since then for crews and talent to lay low. The talk show host grabbed an extra pair of glasses and a clean set of clothes. But something still didn’t feel right about all this.

“Heya poindexter! Where the hell have you been?”

He whipped his head around. There was Lounge Lizard, one of his acquaintances in this Mutant Media Club alliance. LL was clad in a moss green suit with red tie and a once-white shirt that had been worn down by the years, glasses of their own, a head of lengthy dark hair, and a large crocodile tail. She was also a mutant, though that was debated at first since her changes were the result of a magic curse.

“Dying at the hands of dirtbags.”

“Tsk tsk! Gosh, you’re really getting soft in your old age. You shoulda just let those knuckleheads have it!”

“… Have what?”

“I dunno, Clark!”

Just then, the talk show host scowled, and hunched over in his posture.

“No… that’s not me anymore… I’m CLOG now!”

But despite his attempts to reinvent himself on an inward level, Lounge Lizard just let off a great big guffaw, and went on their way with the same wide-stance swagger they always had.

“Seeya later Clark! Scrapsap and I are gonna need help stealing hubcaps. You’d better be there!”

But Clog just seethed. That was when the rusty robot his father invented (around the same time Clog was born) arrived, extendable arms, legs, and BBQ grill core. Scrapsap got along well with LL, was a friend to Vcook (and it helped that she was dating LL). Scrapsap’s connections to Clog however, would vary.

“Hey CLERK!”

“I’m… I’m Clog. I got mutated even more after I almost died.”

“Ohh shit! I heard about that.” said Scrapsap with a nod. “You still good to steal hubcaps later, Clog?”

Clog thought about it for a moment, before ultimately nodding. Scrapsap gave the slime man a pat on the back, before shuffling along towards a piano, where he proceeded to play the best piano solo imaginable. But only as long as he was singing.

“For we haaaaaave, the multitudes of all tiiiiiime, yooooouuu and IIIIIII…”

Unfortunately, Scrapsap sang songs very badly. LL didn’t care, it was just funny watching everyone else agonize over it, so they were right there beside him doing a little dance. And Clog was gathering his toolbox for the hubcap theft.

Years ago…

Under the tutelage of a chef at an upscale restaurant, Volcanicook was learning gourmet cooking. But the owner of the place—Soyer Toutain, ruled over the kitchen staff and the folk on the dining floor with a cruel streak. To Vcook in particular, if she offered food to hungry strangers outside the backdoor, he would force her to cook it first, to exactly the quality of the head chef—without the help of anyone mentoring her. Toutain seemed to know that this would make the taste wretched and drive off those desperate vagrants.

But even when she worked within the rules, Toutain still found ways to torment her. When she had managed to perfect her gourmet cooking, Toutain would demand she learn to increase the volume of her output, claiming that she had to be able to serve the entire seating capacity if everyone else suffered heart attack or stroke.

And harshest of all, as Vcook found it within herself to stand up to him for all those other things, Toutain would call back Vcook’s failed orders so they could berate her personally. And being young, she thought it was a matter of endurance. But all people have a breaking point, and Volcanicook’s involved an eruption that put Toutain out of business. And possibly injured some of her co-workers.

It was then that one of her co-workers, the sous chef—in their forgiveness, gave Volcanicook the keys to a vehicle. A food truck. Promising that one day they would return in a truck of their own, or a stall, maybe even a modest café. For the love of cooking had to push forward. And the best way Volcanicook could make it up to her co-workers was to lead her own enterprise.

And thus, she did. In time making friends within that community. Finding new openings for her old comrades, meager as they could often be. But where there was success, they shared it. But now, there was nothing to share. Not unless Vcook did something!

There was nothing to indicate the building was any kind of restaurant. No signage or other advertising, it pretty much resembled the sort of place marked as “FOR LEASE” with a real estate firm. Could have passed for an office space. But the address Vcook found for multiple restaurants operating out of the same area—the same building. She put on a trenchcoat and a lava-proofed, wide-brimmed fedora before entering. Couldn’t let these people recognize her.

Or they would have recognized her if anyone was actually there. There was maybe one guy at a large opening with an inner side countertop. Paper bags with stickers slapped on for each of them. One read “DUN-DUN-DUMPLINGS!” and had a halloween font, another sticker indicated a batch of burgers were officially licensed by some kind of sport racecar association. Now it was time to see the quality of their cooking, and if it matched up to the clever names people tried to give the restaurants.

What Vcook saw next was absolutely mortifying. There were a few cramped kitchens. Each equipped for different kinds of food prep depending on the style of cuisine, but they were filthy. Finished batches sat out in the open, crudely made and handed off for delivery as quickly as possible rather than to meet some standard of quality.

Vcook made her way towards the head office in the hopes of getting some answers. But when she arrived, the desk was manned by some kind of grinning puppet.

“…”

“WELL, WHADDYA WAITING FOR?”

The mutant flinched. She couldn’t tell if the puppet was alive, being controlled from elsewhere, or what. Just that hearing it talk was highly unsettling. She went forward by a couple more steps, but kept her distance from.

“NOBODY BOTHERS TO LOOK IN THE KITCHEN, LET ALONE TO COME BACK HERE. WHAT’S YOUR DEAL?”

“This place. You sell food here?” said Vcook. The Puppet just chattered its teeth a bit. Vcook could have sworn she saw it move slightly, as if adjusting its posture.

“ALL KINDS.”

Vcook wasn’t sure how far she could get in terms of answers. She wanted to ask why anyone would conduct a business like this. But after the silence, The Puppet just kept talking:

“IT’S PRETTY BRILLIANT. I OPERATE OUT OF HERE. I CAN CORNER MULTIPLE MARKETS. HIRE STAFF AT A MINIMUM. THE HEALTH INSPECTORS WOULD NEVER THINK TO LOOK IN HERE.”

“It’s NOT. That’s disgusting!”

The Puppet did not respond for a time.

“… YOU’RE NOT YOU WHEN YOU’RE HUNGRY.”

The puppet started to move. Jerky motions, as it traveled across the top of the desk, gathering an unreasonably clean paper bag with some wretched contents inside. Rather than letting the puppet overlord bring the food to her, Vcook stepped out and slammed the door shut. At which point, the utensils and equipment within each cramped little kitchen space began to rock violently. As the mutant walked by each kitchen, she should see screaming spirits crying out for release, before being forced into piloting ghoulish bodies, grown cheaply from within vats of green glowing fluid and minced people meat. They all got to cooking as rapidly as they could—sloppily, as they created bio-weapons incorrectly marked for human consumption.

And now they were gonna feed this slop to Vcook!

The mutant started to run. An errant volley of slop was flung in her direction with a wobbly spoon. Stale tortilla chips were drenched in a wretched excuse for salsa before being tossed at her. There were dumplings being launched from medium-sized catapults, steamed till scalding and painfully dry once airborne. There were rancid cheesesteak submarine sandwiches being swung at her like caveman clubs. All while the spirits trapped here wailed in agony.

*KRRRASSSH!!*

Vcook didn’t have to smash through the front glass doors at all, but bashing something with a steel chair was the first relieving thing she did all day, as she fled from that nightmare factory.

Scrapsap, Lounge Lizard, and Clog weren’t far off, currently working their way through a parking garage for the best possible hubcaps to steal. Clog would identify popular makes and models of cars, Scrapsap would pry the caps, and then Lounge Lizard would hide the caps in the sewers—after making sure no one followed them down there, nor any pre-existing dwellers appearing. The medieval LARPing Sewer Doers faction sometimes swung their swords in the gang’s direction.

“C’mooooon already!” said LL, waving up to Clog and Scrapsap. “Make with the dishes, fellas! My buyer’s not gonna wait all day.”

“Give us a sec, we’re keying someone’s Edison truck.”

Scrapsap had some car keys duct taped to his fingers, as he raked them along the driver and passenger doors of a vehicle with a polygonal shape. But instead of a vintage video game intention behind the design, it ended up just being a safety hazard since the vehicle had virtually no crumple factor. And the windows didn’t shatter easily, trapping its occupants inside during a fire or if the car fell into a body of water and started sinking, what with all the heavy metal that went into the frame.

“Hey wait a sec, isn’t that Vcook?” said Clog, spotting the cook running down the street with pure terror etched onto her features. LL perked up, and scrambled over to see what was wrong, with Scraps and Clog not far behind. A shaking Vcook relayed recent events to her friends.

“—That place was an affront to all cuisine!” howled Vcook. “It needs to be DESTROYED! But it’s full of the spirits of the eternal damned. They’re being made to… to power everything. And they animate these horrible ghouls that don’t even wear hairnets!”

Lounge Lizard looked back at Clog and Scrapsap. They were trying to figure out if the part about the hairnets was a good thing or a bad thing, to which Clog and Scrapsap conferred with eachother in silent gesturing, before Lounge Lizard waved them off and figured out the gist of what Volcanicook was saying.

“There there… You’re safe now. It’s over!” said LL. “I think.”

“No, no I’m not. No one is! Not while that festering hellhole is still active!” exclaimed Vcook. “Clog, are you still a little psychic?”

“What, like enough to dispel ghosts?” said Clog. “I can try, I guess.”

“And I ain’t no snitch, but maybe there’s a health inspector around.” said Scrapsap. “Just don’t tell anybody I went to ‘em for help.”

“And where you go, I go.” said Lounge Lizard.

“That’s what you always do.” pointed out Clog.

“Call that consistency, slime boy! Nyuck nyuck!”

Vcook couldn’t help but chuckle at LL’s attempts at levity. The plan was forming.

In this near-future where mutants ran around in droves and weird science was afoot, law enforcement alone was no longer enough. Now, a new breed of marshal was needed to bring order to the chaos. Unfortunately, one such example came in the form of the United States Department of Agriculture being allowed to prepare heavily-armed super-soldiers for the now vaunted role of health inspector. And none were as vigorous about the job as once Judge Piotr Bread. A man deeply devoted to clean food prep spaces and thorough dental care, who put on his colander-helmet, white jacket, and golden cow’s head shoulder pad on every morning to dispense hygienic justice. Such as he did just now, overzealously nearly murdering someone with a lead pipe for selling sodas mixed with candy and other unspecified additions.

“Judge—Judge, please!” cried the offender in question. “The syrup—the completely legal non-medicinal MAPLE syrup wasn’t part of the regular recipe, it’s a mistake!”

“No mistake, scumbag!” bellowed Judge Bread “That soda already had exorbitant amounts of sugar, and you thought dropping in a hard candy would lower it? Do you even have a license to push that Canadian tree sap crap?! That’s TWENTY years in the slammer, bucko!”

Judge Bread slapped on a pair of cuffs, and tossed the guy into the back of an armored food truck for depositing at a maximum-security facility. Just as Judge Bread was about to write a ticket for a mutant that was leaving a slime trail on the sidewalk, Scrapsap was approaching the man suddenly.

“Hey hey, Judge Bread! You uh. You remember me? We played video games together once.”

But Judge Bread recollected no such thing! He hadn’t played with this robot in ages. Clog might have jogged his memory after talking for a bit, but the gooey critic had no intention of socializing with Judge Bread again. Scrapsap had a gun pointed at him for his abrupt approach.

“And I can taste the rust on you from all the way over here. I could SENTENCE you for that.”

“Buh-but—” stammered Scrapsap, before a lightbulb activated inside his head, behind his eyes. “You’ll be letting all those filthy freaks over at the new ghost kitchen run free.”

The firearm was lowered.

“Tell me more.”

“Oh yeah sure. There are all sorts of… health code violations! They got undead douchebags cooking the food without hairnets, they’re hidden in a building where you can’t immediately see any of that either. Rotten as they come, Judge!”

Judge Bread scowled. He’d never heard of a worse place than this so-called ‘ghost kitchen,’ the burning desire to tear it down and prevent others from starting up was taking root in his soul. Taking the address from Scrapsap, Judge Bread returned to his USDA-provided chopper motorcycle with its massive tires and long handlebars, racing to the ghost kitchen building and smashing in the front doors. He jumped off the bike, drawing his sidearm, and unloading a dozen shots into the poor sap working the pick-up counter before they even knew what was going on.

“BOOT SPORK!”

And for good measure he stabbed some delivery drivers that walked in after the introductory carnage, getting them repeatedly between the ribs, by using his trusty boot-holstered survival spork. Scrapsap wasn’t far behind, waving Clog over. And Clog in turn was pressing his fingers to his temples, trying to using what little psionic power he had to try and shoo any tormented spirits they found towards the afterlife.

Because as Judge Bread would find out, the ghouls in his path would not stay down permanently unless the spirits forced to work in this building were able to move along.

“Hurry up, Clog! He’s trying to kill eleventy-gajillion guys!” said Scrapsap, as he slapped at Clog.

“I’m trying, this is giving me a horrible migraine!”

Every time Clog helped a handful of spirits pass on, he needed a moment to recover. Lounge Lizard tagged in, spinning around so her 48.44 kilogram crocodile tail would collide with a group of line cook ghouls, buying the rest of the group some time to catch their breath.

“Jeez, Clog!” said LL, shaking their head. “It’s like you’ve never faced down the legions of the damned.”

“I’m not built for exorcisms!” exclaimed Clog.

“Pathetic… now handle these peons, I’ve used too much of my energy.”

“Wh—”

Clog tried to focus on the oncoming enemy with both mind and his fists. Scrapsap was laughing while being dragged off by a swarm of the fiends.

“Bring it on, chumps!” howled Scrapsap. “I’m made of METAL and I don’t DIE easily! You guys may as well swim in hot dog water!”

But once Scrapsap realized they were trying to use the core of his frame as a BBQ grill again, he started screaming for help. One of the ghouls was bringing over a mess of listeria-ridden ground meats, and moldy bread they were going to heat up by converting his head into a toaster oven. Just then, Judge Bread burst into the room, ghouls latched onto his body, trying to hang on and dogpile the brute as he drew his sidearm—

“CAYENNE PARTY!”

And then, an automated voice from Judge Bread’s gun repeated the words”

“CAYENNE PARTY.”

An incendiary round shot off into Scrapsap’s open center. Although this was probably bad for his computer components, his BBQ grill physiology meant he could endure the flames for a while, as he started charbroiling ghouls with spewing flame jets. They fought their way back to Clog and Lounge Lizard, as the four stood back-to-back, trying to fend off the hordes. Lounge Lizard having pulled a shotgun, and Clog with his homemade ray gun.

They would soon be overwhelmed if the decisive blow was not yet landed…

Vcook had snuck in past the fighting in the kitchen area. Trying to make her way to the rooftop to enact her part of the plan. On the way up, she wasted a perfectly good machete by embedding it into the head of a ghoul, and then firing a large magma chunk from her cranial mutation. On another enemy, she would squirt two bottles of oil, followed by her tossing a lit zippo lighter in their direction. Using bottles of pepper on bandoliers she’d worn into the building as smoke bombs.

Now she was down to her last weapon. A spatula hidden underneath her forearm, that could be extended using a mechanism affixed to her wrist. She meant to wear two, but could only find one before the big showdown with the puppet ringleader.

“Milk, milk…”

Volcanicook whipped her head around, glancing from one side to another at the sound of that childish tone, uttering an odd choice of nursery rhyme.

“… Lemonade…”

Nothing. There was a rumbling from Vcook’s cranium, as smoke billowed out of her volcano-head nervously.

“Round the corner… fudge is made…”

Around a corner up ahead, someone or something was there. The shadow of a brute, apparent. Until the figure in question emerged, revealing they were actually a short fellow, covered from head-to-toe in puffy winterwear, sporting a backpack for “OOPER Delivery.” Guided here by the tormented spirits under the puppet ringleader’s control.

“Am your Ooper… You’re not going to the roof without a bite.”

Volcanicook turned to try and run, but the Ooper delivery guy used a hose attached to a canister from the delivery backpack to spray nacho cheese over the floor, causing Vcook to slip and fall. Ooper drivers and other delivery folk were loyal to whoever was paying them the most. The mutated cook hurried to pull out her phone and put in an order of her own. But not before the delivery guy pulled out a re-usable straw. Large and sturdy enough for boba tea or slushies and milkshakes, certainly. But it also had potential as a blowdart gun. One loaded with an after-dinner mint, made in bulk by a confectionary factory. And mixed in with deadly neurotoxins.

Vcook kept her mouth shut, but she had nothing to cover her cranial volcano opening. The optimistic interpretation was that she could generate enough lava before she absorbed any of the neurotoxin. But her physiology, like many mutants, was not always so absolute in its conveniences. And the rest of the world was equally weird, so she had to operate on the assumption she couldn’t be frivolous about these things.

The blowdart straw fired with a *PTHWOOT!*

And just after that, a ringtone from the Ooper Delivery Guy’s phone. He checked his new order while Vcook tried to generate lava to offset the dose of neurotoxin, as the perfectly aimed shot deposited the mint within her cranial volcano mutation. She focused as much as she could, feeling the poisonous projectile burning away. Trace amounts got through though, and she still ended up having a blackout.

The Ooper Delivery Guy grabbed Vcook by the back of her apron, and started dragging her upstairs.

Scrapsap was terrified. They were preheating his insides to cook whatever rancid slop they were going to serve once the others were captured. Judge Bread had been decapitated, and they were Frankensteining his head onto a small body made of a potato-ginger root hybrid as part of some twisted experiment.

“No! That meat looks all wet and mushy!” cried Scrapsap. “Looks like Ardbeez and their soggy ass sandwiches!”

“That’s because it IS Ardbeez, you dolt!” cackled a skeletal ghoul “They outsource some of their orders to us… AND SOME OF OUR ODORS!”

*BLAM!*

A shotgun went off, and the ghoul’s vital organs were reduced to meaty bits. Lounge Lizard (as carried by the struggling Clog) was taking aim while the gooey critic concentrated on mobility. As much as he could achieve, at least: he felt like his spine was going to break any second now. On top of that he was using what little psionic power he had to exorcise more tormented souls.

“Why did we have to enter the room like that!?” exclaimed Clog.

“Clog, old chum. Buddy-pal o’ mine.” said LL, helping Scrapsap up. “Ask me no questions, and I’ll tell you no lies.”

“You ALWAYS lie to me!”

“Uh. Cheetah spots, Clog. Cheetah spots.”

The three grabbed Judge Bread and tried to follow Volcanicook. The path was littered with leftover ghouls, Clog desperately using his limited psionic abilities to dispel and help the trapped spirits here move on. They made their way up to the rooftop, where they saw the Ooper Delivery Guy dragging Volcanicook. The puppet ringleader of this horrible place was trying to scramble into a helicopter. High-power executives and rich bosses just loved buying helicopters so they could get around town.

“Let her go!” hissed Lounge Lizard, loading the shotgun in hand. “Or else we’ll—”

But just as LL was about to make a threat, the Ooper Guy held up his phone to indicate he was now fulfilling a new order. Volcanicook’s order of antidote, and to be dragged to the rooftop. And being that the Ooper guy wasn’t finished with the mission from the owner of the ghost kitchen, she was brought along to kill two birds with one stone. The Ooper Guy proceeded to leave—squeezing past a horde of ghouls, while the group reunited.

“Now what?” said Scrapsap. “We’re about to get swarmed and the puppet bastard is getting away.”

LL proceeded to rest the barrel of her shotgun on Clog’s shoulder. Despite Clog’s protests, LL managed to hit the fuselage of the helicopter. They were aiming for the pilot, but didn’t calculate the shot whatsoever. Driven by his newfound frustration, Clog began to crackle to life with jolts of static. His forehead lines that appeared during strain began to wobble like waveform lines as his limited psionics sent out a burst that exorcised the last of the tormented souls trapped in this building. But the last remaining ghouls were still shambling along to the tune of the puppet boss’s orders.

“Go.”

Volcanicook stood up. Now it was her turn to finish this once and for all.

“Babe, you’re not thinking of—” gasped Lounge Lizard.

“Oh, but I AM.” said Vcook, as her eyes started to glow. And her cranial volcano mutation started to bubble. Clog just shrugged, and jumped off the roof, landing on the street below with a *SPLAT!* before gradually reforming, and inching away as quickly as he could. Lounge Lizard was scuttling along the side of the building, trying not to slip and fall before they got closer to the ground. Scrapsap jumped over to the helicopter that was spinning out of control. When the craft finally crashed, he was inside the building across the street.

At last. Volcanicook could finally erupt!

The lava flowed freely, trickling down across Vcook’s form, as she could endure her own power. Chunks of magma served as artillery, launching with prodigious force into any ghoul that tried to halt her destruction. Just as when Toutain spat on her dreams once, not so long ago. The floors below were totaled, from rentable office space and false condos, to the ground level kitchens, the puppet ringleader’s office, and the pick-up window upfront. Broken down by passionate wrath until she was back to ground level, waltzing out of there in a daze.

The sound of the food truck door slamming shut was music to Volcanicook’s ears. She waved her friends goodbye, as Clog headed for his building on the Triumph Studios lot where his show was filmed, Lounge Lizard was commuting to the comedy club, and Scrapsap did miscellaneous crew work around the place, shooting spitballs at people just to tick them off. Life was finally back to normal, as Vcook went back to her usual routes.

Or she would have, if not for the long arms in pencil-thin suit sleeves trying to strangle her: The Puppet Ringleader had survived and broken into her vehicle.

“DON’T SUP FROM THE PUP’S CUP!”

The Puppet’s ambush caused Vcook to swerve the truck out of control. Barely weaving through oncoming city traffic as she attempted to find some safe harbor where she could slam the breaks. No such luck: that left it to one last trick.

*KA-SHING!*

She was still wearing the hidden spatula. The mechanism protruded the kitchen implement forward, as Vcook used it to decapitate The Puppet Ringleader. After a session of screaming prolonged by the fact Vcook couldn’t find good parking, she eventually parked and gave her vocal chords a chance to relax. The nightmare was over.

For now.

Scrapsap was practicing with a deck of cards. A harrowed Volcanicook had returned to the secret underground housing within the Triumph Studios lot, currently watching television with Lounge Lizard. Clog was wheeling out a cart full of broken devices that he couldn’t salvage. That is, until Scrapsap accidentally tossed the entire deck at the slime man, followed by his being tripped up by Lounge Lizard’s tail. The commotion was so startling, Volcanicook accidentally launched a chunk of magma that Clog landed on with a yelp.

The green slime that made up his ‘flesh’ now melted into a pile of protoplasm, leaving a skeleton behind. Everyone just looked at each other for a moment, before continuing what they were doing. Clog putting his glasses back on, and extending a slime-feeler to grab his ankle and drag the skeleton with himself to the bathroom to reattach himself, and put his physical form back together.

THE END…?

“It #$%&in’ BETTER be!” exclaimed Vcook and LL in unison, slapping away the question mark on that prior line of the story.

Elsewhere, a group of interns training to become Health Inspectors piled into a classroom to the sounds of a marching band. On the desk, the altered Judge Bread was raising a Food & Drug Administration flag on a small metal pole, signaling his students to salute with him as the three initials came into view, and a bugle sounded off.

“At EASE, future HYGIENE DEFENDERS.”

Until his bosses could get him a new body similar to that of his old one, Judge Bread was being assigned to other duties. He proceeded to take up a heavy-duty handgun, marching towards the firing range. His students followed, arming themselves with similar such accoutrements, as the bugler played them in.

“Ready. Aim…”

Everyone was sweating a little. But Judge Bread was as cool as a cucumber. Even as the recoil on his sidearm knocked him flying back and through an indoor window into one of the offices of the Health Inspectors’ Academy. His students all looked at each other, before receiving one final order in the distance:

“Back to it, MAGGOTS!”

SO LONG FOR NOW.

#web fiction #antics-pedantic #mutant media club

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fiftytwotwentythree · 1 year ago

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Wellness Wednesday:

Better, Warmer, Closer

Last week I reported I was sick, and today... I would say I am still not 100% - I say, I am 85%.

I still need the use of cough drops, still blowing my nose multiple times a day, and still have sinus pressure.

But, none of that has prevented me from forging on.

I up'd the ante in my workout routine by increasing the sets/reps and adding squats back into the rotation.

Now, with my previous workouts I was getting my sweat on - but - with this new regiment I am sweating buckets - I am sweating from pores that I didn't even know were active.

Increasing the sets/reps and adding squats have also reintroduced the classic muscle burn - something I haven't felt since January.

I was also leery of adding squats back into the mix as they were often paired with knee pain, but I took the risk of adding squats back since I've lost over 80 pounds - so far - with the reduced weight, I have no current indications of knee pain.

Hoping I can keep trucking and feel fully recouped of illness by the weekend.

36th CHECK-IN:

Current Goals:

Lose 52 lbs

Completed as of 4/12/2023

New Goal: Maintain or Continue on The Weight Loss Path

Avoid "Junk Food"

Minimize Take-Out / Fast Food Consumption

Short Term:

Vegetarian-ish Diet: Completed

End Date: 4/09/2023 - 46 Days Total

Stats from August:

Food:

Oranges: 34

Salads: 25

Leftover Meals: 19

Bags of Popcorn: 13

Cans of Soup: 1

Take Out: 0

Candy/Sweets: 0

Workout:

Jumping Jacks: 6,200

Push-Ups: 3,100

Glute Bridges: 3,100

Assisted Push-Ups: 3,100

Reverse Leg Lifts: 1,550

Leg Kickbacks: 1,550

Sit-Ups: 1,600

Plank (mins): 75 mins

Squats: 0

Weight Loss:

Weightloss This Month: -3.8 lbs

Average Weightloss per Week: -0.95 lbs

Total Weightloss: -84.6 lbs

Entertainment:

Movies Watched: 12

Favorite from the Month:

Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles: Mutant Mayhem

Hours of Television Watched: ~39 hours (Riverdale, Crime Scene Kitchen, Ink Master, Only Murders in the Building, How To with John Wilson)

Books:

Books Completed This Month: 0

Book Title(s) Completed This Month: -n/a-

Book Total for the Year: 2

Comics:

Comics Completed: 4

Trades Completed: 17

Comic/Trade Titles Completed:

Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles: The Last Ronin - The Lost Years #1

Avengers Masterworks Vol. 1

Jughead: The Hunger Vol. 1

Vampironica Vol. 1

Jughead: The Hunger Vol. 2

Jughead: The Hunger Vol. 3

Jughead: The Hunger vs. Vampironica

Vampironica: New Blood

Blossoms 666

Pop's Chocklit Shoppe of Horrors #1

X-Men: Days of Future Past (Uncanny X-Men (1963-2011))

BRZRKR Vol. 2

Deadpool by Skottie Young Vol. 1: Mercin' Hard For The Money (Deadpool (2018-2019))

Nextwave: Agents of H.A.T.E.: The Complete Collection: Agents of H.A.T.E. Ultimate Collection

Chilling Adventures Presents Weirder Mysteries (Chilling Adventures in Sorcery)

Camp Pickens (Archie Horror Presents)

Chew Vol. 2: International Flavor

X-Men: Mutant Genesis (X-Men (1991-2001))

The Unbeatable Squirrel Girl Vol. 3: Squirrel, You Really Got Me Now (The Unbeatable Squirrel Girl (2015-2019)

Superman '78 (2021)

Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles: The IDW Collection Vol. 2

Favorite Comic/Trade Read:

Nextwave: Agents of H.A.T.E.

Magazine(s):

Magazine(s) Completed: 0

Meal Tracker:

THURSDAY

Lunch:

Large Ground Beef Burrito

- Sour Cream

- Herdez's Red & Verde Street Sauces

- Shredded Mild Cheddar Cheese

(2) Glasses of Chocolate Milk

Snack:

(4oz) Bag of Sahale Snacks Pomegranate Vanilla Flavored Cashews Glazed Mix

(4oz) Bag of Sahale Snacks Pomegranate Flavored Pistachios Glazed Mix

Supper:

(2) Squares of Broccoli Surprise

- Rice

- Ground Beef

- Broccoli

- Cream of Potato

- Cream of Celery

- Mild Cheddar Cheese

(1) Glass of Chocolate

FRIDAY

Lunch:

(1) Square of Leftover Broccoli Surprise

(3) Scoops of Potato Salad

(1) Glass of Chocolate Milk

Snack:

(9.75oz) Bag of Smartfood's White Cheddar Popcorn

Supper:

(1) Square of Leftover Broccoli Surprise

(1) Glass of Chocolate Milk

(2) Small Oranges

SATURDAY

Lunch:

(1) Square of Leftover Broccoli Surprise

(1) Glass of Chocolate Milk

Snack:

(2) Small Oranges

Bag of Orville Redenbacher Ultimate Butter Popcorn

(1) Glass of Chocolate Milk

Supper:

(2) Johnsonville Chili Cheese Smoked Sausages

(4) Scoops of Potato Salad

(1) Glass of Chocolate Milk

SUNDAY

Snack:

(14oz) Bag of Wonderful's Shelled Salt & Pepper Pistachios

Bag of Orville Redenbacher Ultimate Butter Popcorn

(1) Glass of Chocolate Milk

Supper:

Chef Salad

(1) Small Orange

MONDAY

Lunch:

Santa Fe Style Salad

(1) Glass of Chocolate Milk

Snack:

Bag of Orville Redenbacher Ultimate Butter Popcorn

Supper:

Bowl of Cesaer Salad with Croutons

(2) Small Oranges

(1) Glass of Chocolate Milk

(1) Smoked Pork Rib

TUESDAY

Lunch:

Bowl of Leftover Cesaer Salad with Croutons

Snack:

(2) Small Oranges

Supper:

Bowl of Mexican Style Street Corn Salad

(1) Glass of Chocolate Milk

WEDNESDAY

Lunch:

Half-Rack of Leftover Smoked BBQ Ribs

(5) Scoops of Potato Salad

(1) Glass of Chocolate Milk

Snack:

Bago of BBQ Corn Nuts

(1) Glass of Chocolate Milk

Supper:

(2) Johnsonville Chili Cheese Smoked Sausages

(5) Scoops of Potato Salad

(1) Glass of Chocolate Milk

Workouts:

THURSDAY

(200) Jumping Jacks [4 sets of 50]

(100) Glute Bridges [4 sets of 25]

(100) Push-Ups [10 sets of 10]

(100) Assisted Push-Ups [2 sets of 50]

(50) Reverse Leg Lifts [5 sets of 10]

(50) Leg Kickbacks [5 sets of 10]

(100) Sit-Ups [5 Sets of 20]

FRIDAY

(400) Jumping Jacks [8 sets of 50]

(100) Squats [5 sets of 20]

(100) Glute Bridges [4 sets of 25]

(100) Push-Ups [10 sets of 10]

(10) Reverse Leg Lifts [10 sets of 10]

(10) Leg Kickbacks [10 sets of 10]

(100) Sit-Ups [5 Sets of 20]

(5 min) Planks [5 Sets of 1 min]

SATURDAY

(400) Jumping Jacks [8 sets of 50]

(100) Squats [5 sets of 20]

(100) Glute Bridges [4 sets of 25]

(100) Push-Ups [10 sets of 10]

(100) Reverse Leg Lifts [10 sets of 10]

(100) Leg Kickbacks [10 sets of 10]

(100) Sit-Ups [5 Sets of 20]

(5 min) Planks [5 Sets of 1 min]

SUNDAY

(400) Jumping Jacks [8 sets of 50]

(100) Squats [5 sets of 20]

(100) Glute Bridges [4 sets of 25]

(100) Push-Ups [10 sets of 10]

(100) Reverse Leg Lifts [10 sets of 10]

(100) Leg Kickbacks [10 sets of 10]

(100) Sit-Ups [5 Sets of 20]

(5 min) Planks [5 Sets of 1 min]

MONDAY

(400) Jumping Jacks [8 sets of 50]

(100) Squats [5 sets of 20]

(100) Glute Bridges [4 sets of 25]

(100) Push-Ups [10 sets of 10]

(100) Reverse Leg Lifts [10 sets of 10]

(100) Leg Kickbacks [10 sets of 10]

(100) Sit-Ups [5 Sets of 20]

(5 min) Planks [5 Sets of 1 min]

TUESDAY

(400) Jumping Jacks [8 sets of 50]

(100) Squats [5 sets of 20]

(100) Glute Bridges [4 sets of 25]

(100) Push-Ups [10 sets of 10]

(100) Reverse Leg Lifts [10 sets of 10]

(100) Leg Kickbacks [10 sets of 10]

(100) Sit-Ups [5 Sets of 20]

(5 min) Planks [5 Sets of 1 min]

WEDNESDAY

(400) Jumping Jacks [8 sets of 50]

(100) Squats [5 sets of 20]

(100) Glute Bridges[4 sets of 25]

(100) Push-Ups [10 sets of 10]

(100) Reverse Leg Lifts [10 sets of 10]

(100) Leg Kickbacks [10 sets of 10]

(100) Sit-Ups [5 Sets of 20]

(5 min) Planks [5 Sets of 1 min]

WEIGHT TRACKER:

Starting Weight (Noon, 1/01/2023): XXX.X lbs

Weight at Last Check-In, 8/30/2023: -3.4 lbs

Weight As of Noon, 9/06/2023: 0.0 lbs

Total Weight Loss: -84.6 lbs

Closing Thoughts:

The Good:

Been getting workouts done during regular hours which has been improving my sleep - or - the previous lack thereof.

Appetite has increased since my recent illness, and yet my weight has maintained from last week.

Put a massive dent into my student loans before interest start accruing back. Hope to have them fully paid off before the end of the year.

The Bad:

Still stuffy. Waiting on my head to clear.

The Ugly:

Nothing worst than my head-cold this week - so, not too bad.

#52 in 23

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