GLEE CLUB in DOORWAYS

Our plan was to open the release mechanism in the floor. By doing so, zero gravity would take hold, enabling us to venture to the remnants of the supposed haunted house below. That was the main plan.

The back-up involved the Nazis that were patrolling in the floor above. They were making a Hell of a lot of noise, tipping over tables and chairs, probably looking for something or someone. There was a knot in the corroded ceiling above us that not only gave us a view of the occasional goose-stepping boot sole, but served as the perfect hole to release the hornets. After the hornets, we planned on injecting the hole with a 24^th century airborne virus. That was the back-up plan.

Liberal amounts of bear grease was spread on the tiny, stained glass window in front of us, which appeared to depict some kind of victory by some king none of us recognized. Probably from an alternate timeline, though it could’ve been one of the kings we just never bothered to pay attention to in history class. Ironically, none of us are historians. We should really look into hiring one to go out with us sometime. The light through the window kept blinking on and off. Could’ve been some hippie freak-out behind it or the fact that we were passing so quickly through time that days counted off like seconds.

This is only speculation, mind you.

The final option was the cyanide gun. Why we bothered to put cyanide in a gun is beyond me. Put anything, a cotton ball, a flower petal, it’ll kill you going 900 mph out of a barrel. Anyway, that was our final option. But, then again, that’s always the final option, isn’t it?

We opted for both the first and back-up plan after a short talk. By the time we’d released the virus upwards and tripped the mechanism below, the Nazis were no longer Nazis in the timeline and the house below us was no longer a house. Ancient samurais hit the floor with a thud as few stray hornets escaping into our area, swords clanging to the floor above us. And now, we are floating in space.

We just couldn’t stomach touching all that bear grease.




-SLL