Fall of the Mole Empire: A True Story

Grocer Man

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Basically, this was a short story I wrote when I moved into a new house. The backyard was infested with moles, which were driven out in about 2 days by my dogs.

The basic idea is that it's the same story, but from the moles perspective.

Then I got the idea of my dogs facing an army of angry moles ala LOTR, and the whole thing pretty much turned into this.

~

Fall of the Mole Empire
Narrated by Sniffles the mole

THE STORY YOU ARE ABOUT TO READ IS TRUE.
THE TRUTH HAS BEEN ALTERED TO MAKE THE STORY SOUND COOLER.


Deeproot
Root XVII
As I write in my study, I can barely left my quill, as I am exhausted from the festival. Today, our great and glorious emporer, William the Snookinukums XXX, celebrated his 23rd year of rule over us. He promptly celebrated by opening a new series of mines, to be excavated tomarrow. Afterwards followed a great deal of frivolity, consumption of dainty foods, and much heavy drinking.

On a less important note, there have been reports of severe structural damage to the mines, many of which have collapsed. Advance scouts claim that the damage was caused by gigantic beasts. However, His Majesty assured us that nothing was wrong, and the mines would be excavated on schedule. The advance workers were sent to an insane asylem.

Deeproot
Root XVIII
(The following description is based on interviews of witnesses to the following events, as the Chronicler was not present at the time, allegedly due to a cold.)

Early in the morning, the grand Imperial city of Molymolyopolis was suddenly attacked, as a gigantic, ferocious beast dug through the surface! It was covered in blackest fur, with a white stripe running from his neck to his mouth, which contained horrible, gnashing jaws! The beast mercilessly devoured all within sight, crushed by his awesome jaws! Some unfortunate souls were thrown onto the surface, to be slowly killed by the unyielding brightness of the Bright Circle! The Royal Guard were swiftly dispatched, but had no chance against the monster!

Shortly afterward, the mines were again attacked by a similar monster, this one white with black veils over his eyes. Thousands of moles were killed in the sudden onsauloght! None could escape! The Jackal knew no mercy!

This sudden double attack has shaken the entire Empire. Against the solemn sagacity of his advisors to evacuate, and completely ignoring diplomacy, His Majesty authorized total war against the creatures. Within hours, the entire Mole army was poised for combat, armed to the teeth with every weapon known to molekind, with only odious spite for the creatures. To deal with the rays of the Bright Circle, our scientists swiftly set an UV Ray Shield on the planned battlefield.


Deeproot
Root XIX
As I write this, I am sitting beside his majesty, to document the battle from the stands. The monsters, (which I have dubbed Crescent and Jackal, respecitively) seemed perplexed by the presence of our army, cocking their hideously fuzzy heads. A messenger was sent to the monsters to negotiate. The negotiations were as follows:

“Hear me, giant beasts! In your atrocious attacks against molekind, you have brought the full wrath of William the Snookiwookums XXX and the entirety of the mole empire upon you! But let it not be said that we are not merciful! If you choose to surrender, you shall simply be painlessly killed and turned into pelts to adorn His Majesty’s throne room! Do not comply, and you shall be completely and totally annihilated!”

The beasts took a few moments of deliberation before eating the messenger. With a cry of “Imperious Rex!” the army charged into battle, ignorant of the peril! Infantry were scattered like duckpins by their ferocious barks! Artillery found their artillery lasers unable to even remotely sear the beasts adamantine fur! Not even the Air Force could stop them!

One of our more cogitating soldiers, suggested that we hollow the ground beneath them, causing the ground to collapse, which, in turn, causes the monsters to plummet into a bottomless pit from which there is no return!

However, this proved to be a futile gesture, as the hallowed out ground only sank half an inch. All the diggers were eaten.

After 50% of the army was destroyed, a rather vexed Majesty announced he would personally and furtively (the utterance of which swiftly became redundant) go to activate the top-secret weapon, Project Golem. The Royal Guard escorted him to the weapon, located in Lily Canyon.

Ten minutes after their departure, at the zenith of the conflict, a gigantic collososs made entirely of soil made its way onto the battlefield. Nearly 8 inches high, it was equal in height to the mighty Jackal! I was informed by a member of the Royal Guard that this was the top-secret weapon called the Golem, piloted by none other then His Majesty! He then proceeded to make a speech:

“Foolish beasts! You think you stand a chance against my divine right to rule? Bah! You will never understand the power I am entitled to! All exists to bow before me! The moles, you surface dwellers, even the Bright Circle! I am-“

The one called Jackal then smote the Golem, tapping it with it’s paw. The Golem promptly crumbled. His Majesty was crushed underneath the dirt.

What followed was mass hysteria as the soldiers and citizens dug for their lives as far as their claws could take them. Within three hours the once glorious city of Molymolyopolis was a ruin.


Deepground
Root I
Here in the Ressurected Mole Empire, we are readying a second attack on the monsters. After years in rebuilding and ensconce, we have finally developed an army of Golems powerful enough to destroy 3 of the beasts with ease (though completely ineffective against 4). We expect to return to the grand city of Molymolyopolis by tomarrow!

Insectivora Talpidae!
 

Grocer Man

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It's fun to be silly.

I'm looking for constructive critisism.
 
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Iceshadow

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I liked it, maybe you could have made up some more background for Molymolyopolis, and been more descriptive of the battles.
 

Grocer Man

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“So, what will you two be having to drink?” asked the waiter.

Mary the pirate looked up at the waiter with her one good eye. “Rum. Whiskey. Whatever you have that has alcohol in it.”

“Some tea for me, thank you,” said Minoru the ninja. “But bring a bottle anyway, she drinks enough for ten.”

The waiter nodded, and left to check on other customers in the bar. Mary and Minoru sat alone at their table. The other bar patrons, without meaning to, some later denying that they had done so at all, stared at them. The ninja called Minoru was a rather nondescript man who might’ve looked Asian if you turned your head and squinted, clad entirely in black. The pirate girl Mary kept her hair short under a bandana, her left eye obscured by an eyepatch.

Minoru, with his years of training, knew full well when he was being watched. “We seem to be the center of attention.” He fidgeted slightly, uncomfortable with his lack of disguise.

Mary shrugged. “Can’t say I blame them. I mean, they hear all sorts of stories about our ongoing feud, and then they see us walk into a bar together. But hey, I’m a pirate, you’re a ninja. We’ve got better things to do then settle a centuries-old grudge among our kin.”

Despite himself, Minoru chuckled. “And besides,” continued Mary, “I think we both know who would win.”

Both of them, at the same time and under their breath, said “Me.”

Somewhere in the world, lightning struck. Both waited for a moment to make sure they hadn’t misheard, then locked stern eyes. The waiter returned with their drinks, placing them on the table. Without breaking eye contact, Minoru silently took a shot glass from the waiter’s cart, and let Mary pour him a drink from the bottle. There was no point in settling the argument with an open brawl, as it would destroy the bar and surrounding countryside. So there was one alternative.

“So, you think you can do me better, eh?” said Mary as she downed her own glass. “I once sacked a major port with nothing but a wig, a parrot and a hangover.” She eyed Minoru warily for a bluff.

Minoru took his glass, downed it, and poured himself another. “I tracked a solitary fly across a small village. Blindfolded.”

Mary frowned, took another shot, and said, “I successfully got through the Bermuda Triangle during a major hurricane. My boat was destroyed, so I had to round up some sharks.”

Minoru downed another shot and said, “You know that trick you pirates can do by wielding cutlasses in your teeth?”

“Yeah?”

“I can do that with nunchuks.”

The entire bar watched with fascination. As the contest continued, a few patrons began discreetly passing around dollar bills.

“I defeated the dread pirate Scratchybeard by throwing my boat at him.”

“As part of my ninja initiation, I infiltrated a compound completely undetected. Due to test procedures, I was screaming the entire time.”

“I sunk a nuclear submarine.”

“I collapsed the walls of Jericho by hitting several weak points in the foundations. Time travel was involved.”

Mary downed her glass, and then rubbed her chin thoughtfully. Finally, she said, “You ever heard of a thing called Cthulu?”

“Yes?”

“I ate him.”

Just outside, there was a sudden scream, and then a gunshot.

Several men entered the establishment from all sides. They all wore cowboy hats and carried firearms. One in particular, who seemed to be the leader of the group, twirled his revolver. “Sorry to interrupt your evening,” he said, “but if you folks cooperate, this won’t take too long.”

The cowboys brought out some bags, and began going from table to table. The head cowboy pointed his gun at the ceiling and said, “Alright, ladies and gents, everyone dump their valuables into the bags. And make it fast, I’ve got an Indian girlfriend to get home to.”

The head cowboy watched his comrades work for a moment, then noticed that Mary and Minoru weren’t paying him the slightest attention. Annoyed, he walked over, squatted, and waved his revolver in their faces. “Hey, I didn’t know they had hard-of-hearing sections, give me your loot, you idiots!”

Mary and Minoru looked at the cowboy for about a second then locked eyes again. “Compromise?” suggested Minoru.

Mary paused for a moment, made a hearty laugh, and nodded her head grinning. “Compromise.”

With a lightning-like speed, Minoru grabbed the hot tea he ordered earlier and threw it in the cowboys’ eyes. As the cowboy screamed, Mary decked him in one punch. Minoru left his seat and quickly dispatched another cowboy with a calculated nerve strike, while Mary just kicked the table (and the head cowboy) at two others. By the time the cowboys had cocked their weapons, Mary had drawn an impressive looking cutlass, while Minoru had revealed a bo staff.

Whatever the outcome, someone was going to be paying extensive damages.
 

Grocer Man

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So, I've turned this thread into a place for my general works.

I'd like to use these characters in a larger story, but felt it was important to make sure they could hold up a short one.

Let me know what you think.
 

Ultimate Houde

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Read the Mole story.

You started off well, but somewhere in the middle you can tell that you were just trying to finish the story.

And the battles needed to be more descriptive than they were.

But an interesting story none the less.
 
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Grocer Man

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Read the Mole story.

You started off well, but somewhere in the middle you can tell that you were just trying to finish the story.

And the battles needed to be more descriptive than they were.

But an interesting story none the less.

Thank you.

To be fair, I originally wrote it for a school assignment. Hence the rush and couple of sophisticated words for vocab reasons.
 

Bass

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I've not read it, but I looked at the beginning. Loved the name of the emperor and loved the whole "This story is true. Only the truth has been changed so it's cooler." bit. :lol:

Will try to read it properly later.
 

Langsta

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Basically, this was a short story I wrote when I moved into a new house. The backyard was infested with moles, which were driven out in about 2 days by my dogs.

The basic idea is that it's the same story, but from the moles perspective.

Then I got the idea of my dogs facing an army of angry moles ala LOTR, and the whole thing pretty much turned into this.

:lol:That's a great way to come up with a story. You should have used that as an introduction/preface when you did the story for school....The story is great, by the way. It really puts you in the moles' "mindset" .... :lol:

Like that movie ANTZ.
 

Grocer Man

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It had been a busy day at the First National Bank. They had gotten countless phone calls from clients regarding their accounts, and had just finished a series of meetings with another bank. After a day like that, not many of them were as surprised about the robbery as one would think.

The explosion rocked the First National Bank. Four cannonballs of jagged metal came bursting through the main bank doors. The employees instinctively dove under their desks. For an instant, they thought that the building would collapse. Where the bank door had once been, there was a gaping hole surrounded by dust and debris. From the dustcloud emerged a four-armed, green giant. The creature walked with the gait of a gorilla, and his instectoid head glared menacingly at the cowering tellers. He roared defiantly, daring them to stop him somehow.

A maniacal cackle filled the room as a young, green-haired woman in a lab coat ran through the hole in the wall, wielding a large futuristic-looking gun. “That’s right, hide you insects! Soon, the world will know this is what they should expect from Doctor Larceny!”

The dust cloud parted dramatically as a miniature twister appeared next to the doctor. As the cloud proceeded to fly wildly throughout the bank, a slender man in a blue and yellow caped uniform stepped from the twister. “And her partner-in-crime…the Master of Maelstroms, the Tyrant of Tornados, the Shogun of the Storm, the Despot of Dust Devils, the Triumvirate of Twisters, the Great Zephyr!” With a wave of his hand, the dustcloud danced throughout the bank before finally settling outside. He grinned smugly as his cape billowed.

The giant pounded his chest with his four arms and roared. “And I,” said the insect giant in a voice as deep as the ocean, “a warrior prince from beyond the stars, your nightmares manifest, 9/11!”

After a moment, the one called Zephyr jumped high into the air and smacked the giant across the face. “Dude, not cool.”

The giant looked confused. He began speaking again, this time in a considerably higher and vaguely British voice. “What was the matter? Was the voice too much?”

“No, no, the voice was fine,” said Zephyr as he slowly floated back to the floor. “The name however, was just…ugh. Look, there’s a difference between being an evil supervillain and being an insensitive jerk. If I didn’t know you were new to this sort of thing, I’d be ashamed to know you.”

“I was under the impression that a supervillain name should be frightening,” said the giant defensively. “So I reasoned, ‘why not name myself after a recent disaster in Earth’s history?’”

“Because it’s just-“

“Silence, the both of you!” yelled Dr. Larceny. “I thought you had already decided on names!”

“Actually,” said the giant, looking introspective. “I came up with the name just prior to the heist and asked for your opinion. You were running over some technical relays at the time, I believe. You said, and I quote, ‘whatev.’”

“Wait a minute!” Zephyr advanced on Larceny, pointing a finger accusingly. “So you have no problem if he calls himself that?”

“Well-I-um…” A few foolish tellers had begun staring at the odd sight. Dr. Larceny responded by firing her blaster into the ceiling, and the tellers scattered again. “What are you looking at? You!” She ran to the main desk and pointed her blaster at the teller behind it. “IS THAT A SILENT ALARM?”

The teller, a spectacled woman in her late thirties, stammered out a negative. While Dr. Larceny continued to threaten and insult her, Zephyr slowly floated up to the giant’s head. Once he was sure that Larceny was completely focused on the teller, he began to whisper to the giant.

“See, it’s like this: when you’re picking out a name, you want something that the people will remember. True, fear is a factor, but in the end, you want something with style and pizzazz. Your name was…OK, we’ve already read you out enough for it.” He added quickly as he noticed the giant starting to cry. He used a quick burst of wind to dry his tears, and continued. “Now you can’t use your real name because of the whole secret identity thing and because it sounds like something a Swedish chef would say. But we can still come up with something cool. Take my name for example. You know it’s awesome because it starts with a Z. Now, you have four arms and…”

“I am strong and have great manual dexterity,” said the giant, apparently deep in thought.

“Right!” said Zephyr. “Now…we’re in a hurry, need to think of something cool fast-“

“I have it!” Standing up to his full height, the giant bellowed, “I am not referred to by that particular date! Your puny human ears misheard! I am known as…” (He paused for a moment to mutter to himself about classical mythology.) “Fourcules! Watch as I effortlessly use a portmanteau to pervert your history! And tremmmmmbllleeeee!”

Both Zephyr and Larceny began clapping, and the newly dubbed Fourcules took a moment to bow courteously. “Yes!” shouted Larceny, a mad gleam in her eye. “Now…Fourcules! Show the world what you can do by ripping the vault open!” She pointed to the vault door in the back of the bank lobby.

With a mighty roar, Fourcules bound across the room in less then a second. “Ha! Fourcules will use this door as an example! He will break him, he will show him no mercy, he will track down his family and show them his remains! Yes, for Fourcules has faced far worse then a mere…metal…door.” His bravado gone, Fourcules stared at the vault door for a moment. He rapped his fist on the door, a steel echo resounding throughout the lobby. Suddenly deflated, Fourcules walked back to a surprised Larceny dejectedly and bowed his head. “I am deeply sorry, Larceny. This door is beyond my abilities.”

“What.”

Fourcules came back to his full height and pointed at one of his arms. “Strength is a relative term. These arms are better suited for throwing things, not breaking down steel doors. If I had something to throw, like those mailboxes I used to break in,” he gestured at the jagged cannonballs that had broken through the entrance. One of them had a Post Office sign visible. “Then our victory would be assured. Alas, it would have to be something that could break through steel.”

At first, it looked as though Larceny was going to find a Pompeii to erupt on. Suddenly, she started breathing heavily and visibly calming down. “You know…I probably should have planned for this. So I’m going to say that this is my fault and let you off the bat. Just this once.” Sighing heavily, she turned away from the slightly perked up giant. “Zephyr?”

“Nope. No can do.” Said Zephyr quickly. He hovered over to the bank teller, who still looked like her world was crashing down around her. “Excuse me, maam, but aren’t most bank vaults sturdy enough to survive high powered winds? Like, say, a tornado?” The teller quickly shook her head yes, and opened her mouth as if to say something before Zephyr patted her head and turned dramatically. “Welp. There you have it. You want that door down, you’ll have to do it without my help. So I’ll just stand here and look pretty.” After making sure his cape was still billowing, he struck a pose and grinned.

Slapping her forehead, Larceny yelled in frustration. “Fine! I’ll just break the door down myself! And you can forget about the front page in the paper tomorrow!” Lifting up her gun, she walked over to the vault door and began shooting it with no visible effect.

Zephyr and Fourcules watched from a safe distance. “I was never aware of the intricities and power of bank vaults,” noted Fourcules.

“Oh those wretched bank vaults!” said Zephyr, shaking his fist. “Tormenting us with their difficult combinations and plotting to kill us in our sleep!”

Larceny, who had given up on the blaster and was now roaming through her utility belt, glared at the two. “Hey! I-and this bank vault-know where you live! So stuff it!”

Zephyr ignored her. “Hmm. Bank vault. Try saying that five times fast.”

“Alright. You first.”

“Bank vault bank vault vank bault-blah!” Zephyr blew a raspberry in frustration.

“Ha! I win!” Fourcules raised his many arms in the air in triumph.

“Oh! How the incredible Fourcules has beaten me again!” said Zephyr melodramatically while clutching his heart. “Truly, he is a criminal mastermind! Let’s make him leader!”

Fourcules laughed. “Oh, you flatterer. Your words are appreciated, but I doubt I could face up to the responsibility.”

“Oh sure!” yelled Larceny in irritation. “Let’s make him leader! Yes, I’m sure he’ll have many insights to the group, like naming ourselves 9/11 and the Katrinas!”

Fourcules’ expression was not unlike that of a child who has just learned his favorite Saturday morning cartoon was canceled because their kitten had been run over. “I thought we had moved past that.”

Zephyr glared at the young doctor. “Now look what you’ve done!”

Suddenly, a monstrous train burst through the bank walls. The resulting explosion of dust, wood and plaster was even larger then the one Larceny and co. had created while breaking in. Covered with spikes, guns and the words “Dues Ex Machina” spray pained across the side and somehow managing to run without any tracks, the train was a terrible sight to behold. Standing on top of the train was a skeletal robot clad in an army uniform. He shouted in a mechanical cockney accent, “Survivor of four robot wars, a disgruntled veteran armed to the teeth with inhuman weaponry, Colonel Circuit! Watch as I-“

“Claimed!” shouted Larceny. The colonel barely had time to curse those whippersnappers for beating him to the chase before Zephyr knocked him off the train with a burst of wind.

Recovered from his trauma, Fourcules ran over to the train. “This will do nicely!” With a gigantic heave, the giant lifted the train and held it like a battering ram. As Larceny and Zephyr dove for cover, Fourcules hurled the train through the bank vault door.

When the dust cleared, both the vault door and train had been reduced to pieces of shrapnel. The triumphant trio braved the field of jagged metal and entered the vault, with Doctor Larceny taking out a large burlap sack.

“Excellent work, Fourcules!” said Larceny as she opened the sack. With a quick spin, Zephyr kicked up a small tornado that opened all of the drawers lining the vault walls.

The wind-themed supervillain greedily searched the nearest drawer. His glee turned into confusion as he looked it over. Shaking it off, he looked in the next two drawers before turning to Larceny and saying, “There’s…nothing here.”

“What? Don’t tell me went through all this trouble for…” Larceny peeked in a different drawer. Indeed, there wasn’t a single bill. Upon further inspection, it was the same for the rest of the vault.

For a moment, the trio stared at the empty vault, none of them having anything to say. A tiny “ahem” broke the silence. The trio turned to see the lady middle aged teller at the vault entrance, her knees knocking. “I-I’ve been trying to t-tell you. We’ve gone bankrupt. All of our accounts have been transferred to another bank over on Mars. I’m sorry.” She added quickly as she sprinted and dove back to safety underneath her desk.

After a moment of silence, Fourcules spoke up. “I know this house out in the outskirts of town. We could go there with some spray cans and draw unflattering things on it.”

All three of the supervillains ran out of the vault and out of the bank, with Doctor Larceny yelling, “Go, go, go!”

The various tellers got out from their hiding places, muttering in irritation about their ruined suits and how they didn’t get paid enough for this. The robot called Colonel Circuit dragged himself to the main desk, rang the bell and asked, “So you’re saying I can’t open an account?”
 

Grocer Man

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This is not anything particularly original or mindblowing. I just wrote it to get back in the habit of writing.

Let me know what you think.

I kind of want to to do a sequel, if only to flesh out Larceny's character.
 

Grocer Man

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Few names in the music industry are more evocative then Guitarfist. Ever since his electrifying debut as a henchman to a mad roadie, the robotic rocker has climbed to the top of charts with his music, and captured the industry with his innovations in recording and his own record company.

When I met with Guitarfist for the interview and brought into his office, the first thing I noticed was just how huge everything was. The furniture dwarfs me by a good two feet, and the autographed, golden-framed pictures of Guitarfist with various musicians are big enough to use as a barn door. The nine-foot-tall robot turned musician had built the room custom to fit his massive frame.

Despite these extravagant surroundings, the robot hadn’t let them go to his head. As we sat together on the plush couch, he apologized for any discomfort from the size of the place and offered some pizza flown straight from New York. “My secretary keeps telling me to live more of the high life,” he says as the pizza is handed to me on his guitar hand. “Seeing as I am a robot and cannot eat, I am considering reevaluating my hiring practices.”

Guitarfist’s story started with a roadie by the name of Tsukiko T. Empo. Empo worked on the US Tour of prominent rock band Rock Fraggle, and it was not a happy journey. The scandals and infighting that eventually destroyed the group took a heavy toll on Empo. Eventually, the roadie had enough and snapped.

Using the materials needed for special effects at concerts, Empo put together an array of music themed weaponry. But her greatest creation was what could only be called a rock-and-roll robot. Standing at roughly nine feet tall with laser eyes, built-in fog machine, and electric guitars for hands, the literally metal creation was christened “Guitarfist.”

The two quickly set to work at becoming the first rock and roll based supervillain pair. After completely destroying the Rock Fraggle stage during their debut, the two traveled across the country, wrecking concerts and robbing music stores. Within weeks the pair had rocketed to the top of the most wanted list.

While the duo were best known for their destructive music, they also had a surprisingly strong mother-son realationship. Several eyewitnesses saw Empo lightly chiding Guitarfist with comments such as “don’t hit that wall too hard, you’ll break your acoustics,” “daww, did my widdle pugnus get a boo-boo,” or “no, you cannot have a puppy, you need to learn responsibility first.” Several more eyewitnesses recounted the two giving each other hugs in the middle of major acts of mass destruction. One policeman, while conducting a raid on one of their hideouts, found Empo reading Guitarfist a bedtime story.

“I always felt it was logical to see her as my mother,” said Guitarfist. “She built me, raised me, taught me about everything I love. Nothing’s more motherly then that.”



The duo reached their peak when they stormed the Grammy Awards. Holding the entire show hostage, Empo demanded one billion dollars, all the grammys for the year, and Neil Patrick Harris on live television. “NPH was her idea,” said Guitarfist. “She was a fan.”

Fortunetly, the hostage situation came to a grinding halt by the unlikeliest of heroes: a technical difficulty. “Mom wanted this crime to be perfect,” says Guitarfist. “Before we burst in the foor, we set up a series of amps that would amplify the power of Mom’s music-based weapons. Mom played a power chord to prove she wasn’t fooling around, and it blew out the amps and destroyed all of her equipment in the backblast. We surrendered right then and there: Mom always told me to do that in case something went wrong.”

After nearly a year on the run, mother and robot were arrested and sent to trial. Empo was sentenced to thirty years in prison. But Guitarfist was another matter. Rock Fraggle’s lawyer appeared at the trial, and stated that since the robot was built from materials owned by the band, he was the legal property of Rock Fraggle. In the end, the lawyer won out and Guitarfist was given back to Rock Fraggle.

Guitarfist spent the rest of the tour as a glorified prop, standing in the background of the stage and providing special effects during performances. “This was unquestionably the worst period in my life,” said the robot. “I met a lot of good friends with the other roadies, but the band was simply unbearable and I had to stand still for hours on end during a rock concert, only moving when they told me to. Headbanging had never been more painful.”

Eventually, the tour ended prematurely with the band’s legendary drug scandal and breakup. Not having any other ideas and disillusioned with concerts, Guitarfist returned to crime.

He attacked a convenience store, only to learn that during his tour with Rock Fraggle, he had gained quite the fanbase. “The cashier and the customers all gazed at me, smiled, and waved lit lighters in the air. I decided to forget the robbery and go home. It was unspeakably awkward.”

By this point, Guitarfist had hit rock bottom. He had barely any money, and a former supervillain had massive obstacles to getting employed. Those troubles doubled when he was accused of copyright infringement.

“You see, Mom built this extra feature into me as a birthday present…whenever I hit someone with my guitar hands, a clip from a popular rock song plays. Like say, anything by Queen or Journey. For obvious reasons, they wanted that removed. I didn’t want any technicians poking around in my body, so I volunteered to fix it myself.”

Guitarfist spent the next few weeks making self-modifications when he discovered something that would change his life. By visualizing a tune in his head, he could play that tune with his built in speakers. With his robotic brain, there was little he could not think of, and he was soon making songs and music all his own.

Guitarfist began self-publishing his own records under the name “Kit Fisto.” His first single, “Reap The Whirlwind,” reached the top of the charts in a mere four days and stayed there for two months. Shortly afterwards, King Records approached Guitarfist and asked him to sign a contract. Upon realizing that this would require him to perform in concert, Guitarfist declined. “I was worried what Mom might think of me joining the system that she so hated, and I did not want a repeat of the Rock Fraggle incident.”

Guitarfist continued self-publishing singles, working as a reclusive artist. Guitarfist later learned that Larry Ozark, one of his roadie friends, had started a band of his own. Using his built-in recorder, Guitarfist help him publish a few records, and gave creative input into their songs. Soon after, Guitarfist was recording for six fledgeling bands, all of which benefited from his musical expertise.

Realizing that he had a potential business venture on his hands, Guitarfist formed his own record company by the name of MadHalla. To keep his focus on running the company, the robot began building an improved version of his musical systems, which would allow the bands under his contract to use his state-of-the-art recording and synthesizers without him actually having to be there.

Using the money from the patents, Guitarfist quickly made MadHalla a titan in the industry. This whole time, Guitarfist had managed to keep himself out of the public eye by using aliases. This all changed a year later, when Larry Ozark’s band The Outriders won a Grammy award for their newest single. Since the entire band had been in a car accident and were recovering, Guitarfist accepted the award on their behalf. The former hostage-taker, returning as a legitimate payer in the music industry, shocked the world.

“I got a lot of hate mail from the NARAS,” said Guitarfist, referring to the institute that conducts the Grammys. “I even got some from my mom…she didn’t like me ‘selling out.’” He looks out the window somberly. “But I got NPH’s autograph,” mused Guitarfist. “That was nice.”

Today, Guitarfist runs his company legitimately, and is considering going back into the business directly. “I’ve been meeting with my mom. The first few get-togethers…weren’t that great. But we’ve started talking more, and she’s really proud of me, and we’ve been thinking about making a record together. If nothing else, it will reach the top of the charts by audacity alone.”

“There’s been a bunch of rough spots…but overall? This has been a great ride, and I’m looking forward to my stairway to heaven. I think I’ve earned it.”
 

Grocer Man

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I'm going to try writing short stories once a week now, just to stay in practice.

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The morning sun greets me as a great orb of light peeks over the trees. I close my eyes and bask in its rays, feeling the heat across my gray fur.

But enough luxury. Conquest waits for no dog, and certainly not the dreaded Muffin.

The first order of business is to ensure my domain is secure. I make my morning rounds across the yard to mark my territory, careful to keep my nose to the wind to watch for any intruders. A squirrel is bold enough to leave his tree and climb down the ground, but I chase him back up from whence he came with all the fury I can muster. Yet the squirrely heathens laugh at me from their arbor fortress. Soon I learn how to use matches, and we will see who laughs then.

I then cautiously make my way to one of the yard’s edges. The Lightning Leyline continues to be an obstacle to my goals of neighborhood domination. I am concocting as way to counter it, but for now, it shall be respected.

I approach a small patch where grass does not grow. One of my humans seeded the patch recently, so this will likely change. Until then, I sniff the patch to ensure no possum scum ventured here while I slept.

A single whiff and I learn more about this patch then most will ever see. My sense of smell is but one of the many blessings of being a dog. For safety, I sniff a few more times while walking along the circumference of the patch. Good. The possums have learned their lesson. They won’t be trespassing on my land anytime soon. I make my mark, and then leave for breakfast.

My morning meal is the same as always: bland, but sufficient. The bagged food tastes of the paper and cardboard it was packaged in. But it provides the proper nutrients for my work, and for that I cannot complain. My human smiles at me and discreetly passes me bacon while his mother isn’t watching. I smile back.

I accompany my boy to the bus stop. I cannot go far, as the Lightning Leyline’s threat is ever present. My human knows this, and stands a few feet back from the curb so I may keep watch at his side. He babbles in words I cannot understand, but I hear they are full of love and respect. I wag my tail and bark a salute as he gets onto the school bus. He is a good human, and a good reward for my years of hard work. I pray he never learns of the horrors I face every day.

But work never waits, it simply hovers. I trot back to the porch and sit patiently. The garbageman will be here soon. Yesterday, I nearly bit through the wheels of his truck. Today, the great Muffin will chase him into the river.

Such is the life of a conqueror.
 

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