Government Conspiracy TV

"Alright, which one of you motherfuckers did it?" Carver said, barging through the doors of the conference room. Around the elongated oval table were several men and a woman. They all wore the same generic black business suits, but had different colored ties. Their heads turned away from the TV at the back concrete wall and gave Carver the attention he demanded.

"Did what?" Yamir asked. 

Carver ignored Yamir and inspected the others for any signs of guilt, pride, or anything in-between. His anger made him sharper, unlike most people, but as the seconds went by, it was clear they all were confused by his outburst.

"None of you know? Are you shitting me right now?"

"Carver, have you eaten anything today? You know how you get when you're hungry," Malory said in a motherly tone, almost unable to keep a straight face by the end. The guys all got a laugh out of it, since it wasn't the first time Carver had acted like a child. 

Carver gritted his teeth and marched up to the table. He took the remote and changed the channel. On the screen, it showed a man with short black hair wearing a business suit in the middle of a dark woods. He held a handgun to a dodo bird's head and said: "You're extinct now, motherclucker."

"He looks like you Carver, except much better looking," Dan said and elbowed another coworker. 

"That's because it is me. I was on that job last week. Eliminate the last remaining dodo bird. Do you not read the assignment board?"

"This is just a show." Yamir shrugged. "What's the big deal?"

"What is the big deal? Oh, I'll tell you. That is exactly how it went down. The location, the bird–"

"The stupid punchline?" Dan added, getting a few laughs. 

"Yes. Everything. Whoever is making this show is airing our operations. Does no one see a problem with that?" Carver pointed at the screen with the remote. "It even says reenactment on the bottom!"

"Calm down, Carver. Clearly the writers have a vivid imagination and happened to get some details right. It's nothing to worry about," Malory said.

The screen changed to the host of the show, who reminded them of the guy from Unsolved Mysteries. "These shadow agencies operate in the dark of night so the people do not see their deeds. Maybe they do it to protect us? Or maybe to cover up their crimes? For this next one, we follow a shadow operative who tries to take out her next target, a vampire."

Malory swiped the remote from Carver. "I don't think we need to see this…"

Malory struggled with changing the channel on the remote and Carver took it back from her. 

"You need to see this. It will prove I am not exaggerating," Carver said and turned up the volume. 

The next clip showed a woman with flawless brown hair and an equally flowing purple dress. She walked up a Victorian set of stairs at a party. Couples and other groups were drinking champagne and conversing with one another. The woman walked past a elderly couple who were discussing global politics to find her target. Count Bogdan. 

Count Bogdan had the classic features of the region. Thick black hair, tall and slender. His pale skin proved sunlight was not his friend. The woman approached him at the top of the balcony and leaned against the wooden banister. 

"Hey is that you Malory?" Dan jested. "You sure cleanup nice."

"That's not me. I–I don't wear dresses..." Malory said, letting her nerves leak through her tone. 

Back on the TV, the actors captured their attention once again. 

"Malory, so we meet again," Count Bogdan said and raised his glass. 

"I just wanted to come by and congratulate you on the fundraiser. And your speech was amazing."

"Why thank you, my dear. You are so kind." He took a sip of his drink. "If I had half your beauty though, I am sure we could have set some kind of fundraising record."

Malory tilted her head and closed the gap between them. She batted her eyes up at him, feeling lighter with every second. "You really think I'm beautiful?"

"Most definitely. You remind me of a full moon. Unmistakable and bold. Generously warming us with your glowing light."

She put her hand on his chest and leaned in to whisper in his ear. "How would you like to bask in something else?"

The men in the conference room jeered and hollered, forcing Malory to defend her reputation. 

"This is just a show. She doesn't even look anything like me," Malory said, clenching her jaw.

"But you were on the operation to kill that vampire, right?" Yamir asked.

"Yeah, I remember that case got sealed. How did it end?" Dan asked.

"I guess we'll have to find out." Carver crossed his arms, still watching the TV. 

Malory was starting to sweat now. The dialogue was verbatim, but she didn't want to admit it. Her reputation as one of the guys was fading fast. If she turned it off now, they would certainly be teasing her with kissy faces all month. If she didn't… well she was hoping the show didn't get the rest right.

"I would," Count Bogdan said, taking in her wonderful rosemary scent. "Shall we adjourn to my study?"

"Lead the way."

Count Bogdan led her to a room down a short hall. Inside, a lamp hung above, illuminating a wooden desk and a modest bookshelf. Two glasses and a bottle of scotch sat on the table along with a few loose papers. 

"Would you like some scotch?"

"Sure," Malory said and waited for him to turn his back. With him distracted, she reached down to her leg and removed a silver knife that was strapped to her. She lurked behind him, searching for the perfect spot to stab him. The point of the blade wavered inches from his torso.

"Would you like one or–" Count Bogdan said and turned around, only to have his words cut short from the blade being plunged into his gut. 

"You almost had me. I could feel your powers of seduction working, but you aren't as good as you think." Malory pulled the blade out, revealing blood. 

"I'm not a vampire." 

Those were Count Bogdan's last shocked words before he toppled on the floor and blood drained from the sleek hole in his body. 

The conference room was quiet and everyone turned to Malory who was frozen with shame. She wanted to run away. Hide where no one could see her failure, but it was not an option. Then, without warning, everyone except Carver broke into laughter.

"She can't tell the difference between magical powers and her own feelings? Ha, classic Malory," Dan said, shaking the guy next to him.

Malory was seconds from tears when Carver broke through the noise.

"Damn it!" Carver said and turned off the TV. "I guess I was wrong."

"What are you talking about?"

"That's not how that mission went. I was there, right Malory?" Carver asked. 

Malroy knew he was lying. He wasn't assigned to her mission and it was dead on. Not a detail was out of place, but he was giving her an out. She was going to take it. 

"I told you. I don't wear dresses. And as for this Count, not even close to resembling the vampire I took out. The only thing they got right was a silver blade. Amateurs," Malory said.

"Boo! Way to waste our time, Carver," Dan said and walked to the doors. "I'm going to get some lunch, who wants sushi?" 

"Are you buying?" Yamir asked.

"The government is buying," he said holding up his government issued credit card. 

The rest of the guys all talked over each other and followed him out, leaving Carver and Malory to talk. 

"Thanks for covering for me," Malory said, offering a weak smile while she adjusted her pink tie.

"Anytime." Carver smiled and pulled out his suppressed Glock from his shoulder holster. "Now how about we go down to that studio and fix this PR problem?"

"Lead the way."

The Cat Did It

A bushy haired man named Branson was sitting up on his faded couch that proudly wore the scars of a glorified scratching post. Sitting on the other side of his smoke glass end table were two detectives donning drab grey suits. Their badges were the only colorful part of their attire, perched on their belts next to the spare magazine. One of the detectives, who identified herself as Detective Fraser, was rifling through her bag to grab some photos. The other detective, Detective Peck, sat back in his seat and snuck a peek at his coworker's ass. Branson could see the interest, but he never thought a detective would be so unprofessional in his presence. Detective Peck looked back at Branson and winked at him, before sitting forward.

"Mr. Stairfield, we are here to ask you a few questions about your cat," Detective Fraser said, with a stack of photos and drawings in her hand. 

Branson cocked his head. "My cat?"

"Yes, sir. Recently we had a string of vandalisms and robberies where we have caught all the suspects."

"Okay…" Branson said, unsure where they were going with this.

"All of them had the same story. They told us a cat told them to do it."

"They sound crazy."

"We would agree, but they all gave us the same description of the cat," Detective Peck said.

Detective Fraser laid out a few of the photos and drawings, all depicting a black cat with red eyes and fur that stood on end. Branson took a brief glance at them before looking back at Detective Fraser. 

"Your neighbor said you have a black cat," Detective Fraser said. 

"Well, my neighbor is a liar! It shouldn't take a detective to know that. Who told you?"

"Alice Fletcher. Lives a few doors down," Detective Peck said. Both detectives sat at the end of their seats, surprised by Branson's hostility. 

"Alice Fletcher is a loon. And a little…" Branson trailed off, noticing the detectives were starting to take more interest in him. He shook his head. "I'm sorry, I just get worked up when her name comes up. She is always trying to get me in trouble."

"We aren't accusing you of any crimes, Mr. Stairfield. We are simply looking for some cooperation in our case."

"I thought you said you arrested everyone?" 

"We did. The problem is we recently had a murder and the suspect in that case explicitly mentioned a black cat told him to do it," Detective Fraser said, pointing to a picture of the cat. 

Branson looked between the two faces of the detectives. He knew what they were implying and he wasn't having any of it. 

"Do you think I did it? Is that why you're here?" Branson said, standing to his feet.

"We are not saying that sir…"

"You think I dress up as a cat and go brainwash people into committing crimes? You want to see my closet? Come on. I'll show you. No cat suits in there!" Branson almost yelled at them. 

"Please calm down, Mr. Stairfield," Detective Peck said. 

Branson waved his hands around. "Calm down? Why?"

"We just want to see your cat," Detective Fraser said.

"I told you, I don't have one!"

"Then why is your couch all ripped up?" Detective Peck questioned.

"I bought it second hand! Even comes with a permanent cat piss smell. Want a sniff?" Branson said, lifting up the cushion.

"And the litterbox?" Detective Peck asked, pointing to the grey box with kitty litter next to his grungy door.

"Came with the couch. Haven't had time to throw it."

Detective Fraser collected her photos and put them back in her bag. She shoved it into Detective Peck before he could lose his temper. She pulled a card out from her suit pocket. 

"I can see we came at a bad time. If you do see a black cat, please give me a call," she said, placing the card on the table.

Branson watched them both with steely eyes as they left his apartment. The door closed shut and Branson picked up the card on the table. It had her name, badge number and contact information as well as the case number on the back. He walked over to the kitchen and turned on the stovetop, leaving the card on top. 

From behind, a black cat scurried out of an adjacent room and jumped up on the couch. The cat meowed and Branson turned to face the cat. 

"You really fucked up this time," Branson said. The cat responded with a meow. Branson moved over to the window and opened it, letting in the fresh outside air. He looked down at the sidewalk that was three floors below him. The undercover looking police crustier was parked near the curb.

"They are getting too close. You need to fix your mess," Branson said, turning to face the cat. The cat jumped off the couch, ran toward Branson and jumped up on the window sill. It looked back at Branson and meowed one last time to him before jumping to the next window sill.

"And none of that loose end bullshit again," Branson called out to the cat that had already sprung to the last set of window sills. The cat landed on a railing which surrounded some green shrubs along the exterior wall.

The two detectives walked out of the building side by side and the cat balanced on the railing near them. It meowed, getting the attention of Detective Peck. He looked right at the cat before he grabbed Detective Fraser's ass. She turned to him and slapped him across the face. The cat meowed again. There was a brief pause where the detectives were either going to tear each other apart or kiss. Unfortunately, it was the former. They both drew their service weapons, but Detective Fraser was not hindered by the bag. Three shots rang out as she shot her partner twice in the chest and once in the head.

People across the street screamed and a car that was driving by screeched its tires, leaving smoke in its wake. The woman looked over to the cat and it meowed one last time. Another shot rang out and Detective Fraser collapsed to the floor over her partner. The cat looked up at Branson, who watched the whole ordeal unfold from the comfort of his window. He looked over to the card that went ablaze. The stovetop coils were red hot and the card shriveled up into nothing more than ash. Branson gave the cat a nod.

"Look what you made me do, Alice. Look what you made me do."

Too Much Power

Matthew stood at the altar of his problems. Before him two women were torn to shreds, blood splattered everywhere in his hotel room. The carpet was crimson and the walls were like abstract paintings if they only used different shades of red. This was the consequence of making anyone he pointed to fall in love with him. At first it was fun. He could get any woman he wanted. A model. Actress. His crush from college. No one or thing was off limits, free to live out his own fantasies with whomever he chose. That was until his lovers all caught up with him.

He was out one night at a celebrity ball with a beautiful model he met at a hotel, when he ran into Hannah Soreno, a famous actress he was with only a few weeks ago.

“Matty, who is this?” Hannah asked.

“Oh hi, Hannah. This is–” Matthew said.

“Patricia. His girlfriend,” Patricia interrupted, extending her hand.

“Um Matty. Why are you with this skank?” Hannah asked Matthew.

“Who are you calling skank, you whore!” Patricia said.

“Matty. Come on. This woman can’t possibly be worth your time,” Hannah said, pulling him away from Patricia.

“Matthew can be with whoever he wants to.” Patricia pushed Hannah.

That was all it took and a brawl ensued. Extensions were flying in the air as the two wrestled on the floor. Matthew stood there unsure what to do while another woman in a silk black dress grabbed him by the arm, taking him away from the fight. She dragged him over to the food table and spun him toward her. It was his crush from college, Gretchen.

“Gretchen? What are you doing here?”

“Saving you from those crazy women. Obviously.”

“Well thanks. I appreciate it. I didn’t realize you were going to be here.”

“A little birdy told me you would be here,” she said, shaking her pink phone at him.

“I didn’t tweet it out.”

“No silly. I track your phone.”

“Um…”

“Let’s get out of here. I know a place much more...comfortable,” Grechen said, running her finger down his tie.

“Um…what about those two?” Matthew asked, pointing to the women still locked in combat.

“They will never love you like I can. Come on. I’ll show you,” she said, taking his hand again and whisking him away.

They left the ball and stopped at the top of the stairs of the exit. At the base of the stairs was a wall of women, all of whom Matthew had used his power on at some point. One of the women stepped forward into the light.

“Unhand our man!” Maddie said, pointing at Gretchen.

“He is not your man!” Gretchen said.

“We’ll see about that. Charge!” Maddie said, pointing at her.

The rest of the women ran up the stairs toward them. Gretchen pulled Matthew back into the party. They pushed through the crowd of people, passing Hannah who was bashing Patricia’s skull in with a serving platter. This was all a lot for Matthew to process, but he kept up with Gretchen, who was at least trying to get him out of this ever escalating situation. They got past the crowd and went into the adjoining hotel. She pulled him toward the front desk, when Matthew grabbed her wrist and pulled the opposite way.

“I have a place upstairs. We can hide there,” Matthew said, pulling her along.

They went down a hall and up the stairwell to the fifth floor. The echoes of the rabid women still followed them up the stairwell. They got to the top and went three doors down to room 508. He swiped his key card rapidly in front of the sensor. It kept beeping and a red dot appeared above the knob.

“Hurry,” Gretchen said.

He kept doing it until it beeped and the color changed to green. He pushed the door open and closed the door behind Gretchen. Matthew backed into the untouched room while Gretchen kept her ear to the door. The women gathered outside in the hall, all upset that they lost him.

“I can’t believe you lost him,” one of the women said.

“Me? I beat you up here and I am in heels. What’s your excuse?” another woman responded.

“Ladies. Ladies. We didn’t lose him. He is obviously hiding. Playing hard to get was always his style,” Maddie said and the rest of the women nodded in agreement. Maddie pulled out a handful of key cards from her purse.

“Everyone take one and split up. Whoever gets him is worthy of his love.”

Most of the women grabbed their card and went back into the stairwell to go searching at the other levels. Only Maddie and Sandra stayed on the fifth floor.

“I don’t mind sharing if you don’t?” Sandra offered.

“It’s a deal.”

They both went to the doors on each side of the hall and went inside. When they were done searching they called each room clear and went to the next.

“They will be here any second. Quick, look sexy on the bed,” Gretchen said, pushing him on the king-sized bed.

“What?”

“I’m going to hide in the closet. You distract them with your hunkiness and I will take them out from behind.”

“Wait? Distract them. Hunkiness?” Matthew asked.

Gretchen closed the closet just as the door beeped. Maddie opened the door and saw Matthew sitting on the bed.

“He’s in here,” Maddie called out to Sandra from the entrance.

They both came inside the room and closed the door. Sandra peeked her head in the dark bathroom while Maddie went up to the closet.

“Maddie. I thought you were here for me. Not my empty closet,” Matthew said, trying to play it cool.

She stopped short of opening it and ran her fingernails across it instead. “You sure are right, baby.”

Sandra came out from the bathroom and waved with her fingers at him. They both approached him from two sides, licking their ruby red lips. In a normal situation he would be thrilled, but this was getting out of hand.

“So Matthew, who do you choose? Me or Sandra?” Maddie asked.

“He chooses me, you whores!” Gretchen said, jumping out of the closet with a knife in each of her hands. She dispatched them so fast Matthew blinked and almost missed it. What he would have given to blink slower. When she was done, she bounded to the door, blood dripping from her blades.

“I’m not done yet. Not till they are all gone and you are safe. Stay put. I’ll be back.” Gretchen blew him a kiss as she left.

His head was spinning. He had two dead women in his hotel room and there were sure to be more bodies by the end of the night. All because he wanted what he was never supposed to have. Love was supposed to be developed, nurtured. Not conjured out of thin air. What he had to do next took a lot of willpower, but he knew there was no other way. He went into the bathroom and found his night pack. Inside, he pulled out an extra shaver blade and lined it up with his pointer finger on the tabletop next to the sink.

“Come on Matthew. The Yakuza can do it. So can you,” he said to himself.

He took a few rapid short breaths and slammed the blade with his palm into his pointer finger, searing it clean off. He screamed in pain and fell back onto the floor as blood leaked out the end. The blade slid on the floor next to him, but he did not have the will to do his other finger. The door beeped and Gretchen came back inside, covered head to toe in her victim’s blood.

“Matthew! What happened!” she said, falling to her knees next to him. She held his hand in hers, trying to comfort him.

“I tried to cut it off.”

“Why?”

“I was the cause of all this. This finger is the reason I have an army of women after me,” Matthew said, trying to pick up his finger.

“What are you talking about? The blood loss must be getting to you.”

“No. I have this power. The power to make anyone fall in love with me by just pointing at them.”

“Yep. You must be going into shock. I’ll get you a towel.”

“I’m serious. Your feelings you have for me aren’t real. I used my power on you. Think about it. Did you ever have feelings for me before we got together?”

“Yes.”

“No, you didn’t.”

“Yes I did. Ever since I saw you in that psychology class. Third row with that dorky backpack. What a nerd you were. My whole notebook for that class is just pictures of you with your name written all over it.”

“But–”

“I was always hoping you were going to ask me out, but my friends all told me to play hard to get. Hell, even my counselor told me not to date anyone. That I need to work on myself. Take my medicine. Blah blah blah.”

“So...my powers...didn’t work.”

“Nope. And nothing in this world is going to take me away from you. Not even those psycho bitches.”

She hugged him tight and he stared ahead. It was more terrifying than he had thought. This woman wasn’t crazy because of him. She was crazy all by herself.

***

Mystical VHS

Glass rained from the sky, while men in tactical gear descended upon me like black angels of death. There was nothing I could do in the dark complex filled with giant silver vats. My team had abandoned me and so too had my rivals. As I floated in a glowing vat of smooth, pure white yogurt sprinkled with orangutan piss and bad choices, I dwelled upon everything that led up to this moment. It all started with a job. A simple job in fact. Should have been in and out in ten minutes, but naturally with any heist, there were variables beyond my control. And what was it over...a goddamn VHS tape.

It all started last week when word on the street got out about my very steamy love making with Sharlet Everdeen. I would normally think an ex would spread this to the world, trying to get back at me, but Sharlet and I hadn’t been together for over three years. Reason being, she died trying to base jump with nothing more than her blanket. She was dumb, but I didn’t stop her because she had succeed before. I don’t pretend to understand the physics behind it and I didn’t want to be the man who held her back. She respected me for that and I for her fearlessness. Anyways, I am getting off track.

This was an issue because we never discussed our sex life to anyone, yet here it was out in the open like I was the main character in some episode of Sex and The City. I had my people ask around where this came from and they said people watched it. And not just that, but my whole life. When I was born, my awkward teenage years, stuff I did with vegetables for...experiments. Private stuff that no one could have known about me. And it didn’t stop there. There was footage of stuff that had yet to happen. Like when earlier in the week I went to get a taco at El Toro Tacos. This footage was on a VHS tape that apparently a lot of people had already seen. And rumor had it they even saw how I died.

Needless to say, I had to get a hold of this tape. This was way too personal and if my enemies got a hold of it, they would use it against me. Luckily, my team was able to track down the VHS to Little Gambino’s Video Store on 5th and Grand. The bad news was the owner hated my guts. Probably why, once he attained this tape, he had private screenings of it everyday. It never left his store. If people asked about it, he had it cued up in the backroom somewhere. I exhausted all my resources and connections to get a shot at this tape, so it left me no choice. I needed to steal it. My right hand man, Rico, got the layout of the building. Three rows of movie shelves ran in the middle and behind the counter, at the end, was a private viewing area concealed by a red velvet curtain. What was behind that was a mystery at the time since it was always dark.

To help with this unknown, I had Selena. She was our muscle. Toned, but not bulky. What she lacked in weight and sheer strength, she made up in height. The rest of the guys called her Stretch because she was all legs. And I mean all legs. There is a point where long legs stop being an attractive trait and start being a concern. She definitely hit that point years ago. It was like attaching a baby's torso to those stilt legs people walk around with at carnivals. One kick from her though and you wouldn’t be eating solid food for a month. Rounding out my small infiltration team was Barkins. She was a dog. A grey pitbull to be exact. I called her Barkins because she never barked. It was ironic. I could have brought any number of my other guys, but these three I knew I could trust not to say anything if the VHS was playing when we got inside.

Once night fell we made our way inside. Selena kicked the door in and Rico worked his magic on the alarm system. It left me and Barkins to make a beeline for the backroom. There were no lights on the inside, but that didn’t matter since the shelves basically guided us to the back counter. I leaped over the top with Barkins and through the red veil to find...an empty room. Nothing was in the back. No projector, seats, anything. Four white walls and a single light shone above. Rico and Selena joined me in my utter disappointment.

“What gives?” Rico said.

“Why is there just an empty room?” Selena said.

“Maybe there is a secret door?”

“Or maybe he moved it out? Someone might have snitched,” Rico said, looking up at Selena.

“Bite me, Rico.”

Barkins was never good with commands and drove her fangs into Selena’s legs like she was eating a giant dog bone. Selena screamed and tried to kick Barkins off her, but Barkins clung to her.

“Get her off!” Selena said.

She did a roundhouse kick, trying to release the dog, but instead she landed her blow on me, launching me through the pathetic excuse for a wall and down two stories into a vat of white cream. When I landed in this vat, I thought I died. Above me was a tall ceiling, unlike the building I was in and I was swimming in the best yogurt I had ever tasted.

“Are you okay?” Rico yelled from above.

“Yes. Get me out of here.”

It wasn’t long until my vat of happiness soured. On the catwalk next to me was an orangutan wearing a red bandana and dragging a sign behind him. It wasn’t any orangutan. It was Kevin’s orangutan. Kevin was my rival. He always tried to move in on my territory and this time he had me where he wanted me. The orangutan held up the sign, ‘I know you like some flavor in your yogurt, I hope you like this one.’

By the time I read the sign, I noticed the stream of piss pattering in front of me. I tried to stop the orangutan, but he had the high ground and the yogurt acted like quicksand against my attempts to move. My team was still in the room above me laughing at my pain.

“Are you going to get down here and help?” I yelled up to them.

“Selena needs to go to the hospital. Dog bites are no joke. We’ll be back after that,” Rico said.

“Are you shitting me right now?”

“No, but that monkey might,” Selena said, laughing before the pain stopped her.

“We’ll be back. Don’t worry,” Rico said and they all left me. Even Barkins. That little bitch.

Then the rest is history. The orangutan runs off once the tactical men fall from the sky and I am just waiting for one of them to save me from this once delicious hell. I still don’t know what was on that tape, but I do know one thing. With friends like mine, who needed enemies.

Pocket Dimension

"How about a game of chess?" Morty asked.

Liz looked around the tight blue fabric world. Light filtered in enough to remind her of a summer evening. She lounged at the base of the pocket that cradled her like a hammock, poking at the stretchy wall next to her. Her blonde hair covered her lint pillow.

"Naw, I think I'm good."

"You have been saying that for three months. Why won't you play with me?"

"Cause I have other things to do."

Morty looked around to make sure he wasn't missing something. "Like what?"

"Relaxing," she said, closing her eyes and letting out a sigh.

"Don't you want to return to your family? To the real world?"

She shrugged. "Eh."

"Eh? Your family is worried sick. You probably lost your job by now. It won't be long before you are declared dead."

"That's ok."

Morty kicked the stretchy wall next to him and the entire room moved like a bounce house. Liz's whole body went with the flow.

"Oh yeah that's the stuff. Do that again," Liz said.

"If you play chess with me, I will."

"And ruin my vacation? I don't think so."

"Come on Liz. Please?"

"Nope."

Morty leaned against the wall and slumped down next to Liz. "Why don't you want to leave this place? There is literally nothing to do here."

Liz paused for a moment and sat up. "Life is too stressful. Expectations. Deadlines. Run here. Do that. All for what? To put some food on the table? Make my parents proud?"

"I didn't realize life bothered you so much."

"It doesn't. I just wanted a break is all. And I couldn't afford a real vacation, so this was a welcome surprise."

Morty pulled himself up by pinching the wall in his hand. He wobbled to stay upright for a moment.

"Well, you can stay here for as long as you would like."

"Really? And you will stop asking me to play that stupid game?"

"Stupid...game?" he muttered to himself, his eye twitching and mouth starting to foam.

"Morty? Are you ok?"

He shook himself out of his minor mental breakdown and smiled at her.

"Yes. As long as you like. But I will be taking off some of the comforts you have grown used to."

Morty snapped his fingers and nothing happened…to the pocket. Liz hugged her stomach, trying to muffle the loud gurgling sound. At the same time, a toot came from her butt and she pushed her hand firmly against her jeans. Her pants felt heavier and brown liquid leaked out her pant leg.

"What did you d–" she said, followed by a green stream of vomit that splashed against the wall.

"You haven't relieved yourself for three months. Naturally there are some side effects to that. Also…chess isn't a stupid game."