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Polymorph
Chapter 5 - Ups and downs

Chapter 5 - Ups and downs

Chapter 5 - Ups and downs

Kaynard and Berthaline had always enjoyed taking long, warm, bubbly baths together, which is why they'd bought the ‘lion foot luxury tandem+’ model. Its spaciousness easily accommodated two, and the thick, insulated walls could keep in heat for hours. It had been one of their first big purchases together, and was one of their prized possessions.

It even had an additional coating of Ceram-Thick, which the salesman had assured them would reduce wear-and-tear on the enamel. They’d never imagined it would one day be put to the test against gunfire.

Kaynard and Berthaline watched with equal parts horror and awe as their bath rose from the floor and shot towards the patrol car, bullets percussing its underside like a toddler drumming ladles on an upturned saucepan. The salesman would have eaten his tie for footage of the promo-worthy demonstration of Ceram-Thick’s resilience.

The bath’s rim glowed like a solar eclipse, hiding Paul in its shadow. His shag cape furled and whipped behind him as he soared out of the window and towards the patrol car. The two Gorp officers gaped at the naked man flying over their windshield, using his long, black hair to hold a bath as a shield.

Kaynard and Berthaline momentarily lost track of their ongoing trauma and marveled at their bath’s sturdiness. They turned to each other, shaken and bruised, and wordlessly agreed to replace it with an identical one as soon as possible.

Paul clutched the bath's rim so tight his knuckles were nearly as white as the enamel.

“THIS WASN'T A GOOD IDEA!” he shouted as the bath lost its forward momentum and began to plummet straight downwards.

There was little else to choose from, answered his hair, coolly.

Paul glanced over the edge of the bath to see the street level approaching quickly, littered with fuming debris “WHY ARE YOU SO CALM!”

We are free.

“We’re going to die!” wailed paul, lying back into the bath, which suddenly felt very much like lying down in a coffin.

We can fix our body, we just need food.

“That's only if there's a body left for you to fix,” corrected Paul, dejectedly.

But now that he was lying back, he found that looking upwards was more comforting than looking downwards. A smoky, orange glow from the lingering fire filled the sky. The airway was remarkably clear of cars, save for some emergency vehicles buzzing around the top of the Gorp building, as well as the single patrol car they had evaded. It was following them down but much less quickly, its searchlight tracking their descent.

We should have jumped onto that.

“What, the Gorp car?” Paul said, conversationally. He knew he should still be panicking, but he suddenly felt very calm. What was happening to his emotions? “Nah, those things are super rugged, really hard to get into. And also their guns are omnidirectio-”

TANG!

Paul had expected the bath to shatter on the ground and his body to splatter and spread over the rubble like strawberry jam on crunchy peanut butter. This would have made perfect sense.

What didn't make sense was the fact that some of the rubble had miraculously formed a perfectly balanced lever.

The bath landed on the end of a joist which pivoted over a pile of debris like a seesaw and launched into the air a chunk of metal the same mass as the bath and its occupants. The chunk of metal, now having absorbed the bath's velocity, soared upwards until it met the Gorp patrol car, which, to the brief surprise of its passengers, promptly blew up.

Paul lay back in the bath and looked up at this in wonder. “What in Pete's name happened?”

Our plan worked.

“Like hell it did! There's no way we knew that would happen.” scoffed Paul.

We should move.

“Yeah, yeah. Always move. No boxes. I get it.”

No, we should move because that car looks like it is going to fall on us.

Paul leapt out of the bath and turned to see the car drop onto the opposite end of the seesaw, which caused the bath to be catapulted back into the sky.

A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

Far above, Kaynard and Berthaline were just beginning to recover. A Gorp officer had taken their statement and then quickly left with little more than a glance back at their now destroyed condo.

If they were lucky, it was possible they'd receive compensation from Gorp. And even luckier it’d be if their insurance covered some of the damage.

“Either way,” stated Berthaline, running her finger along Kaynard’s jawline, “we’re alive, and we're together, and that's all that matters.”

The couple held each other on their bed, which was miraculously one of the only pieces of furniture that had survived.

“You’re always right, my dear Berthaline,” sighed Kaynard, pulling her close by the waist, “and how suited it should be that we are left with our bed, for it is the place I want to be alive with you most.”

“Oh, Kaynard!” moaned Berthaline.

“Oh, Berthaline!” growled Kaynard.

Just then, a bath which had rapidly traveled down to street level and back up again smoothly coasted through the window. It landed with a rocking motion that made it waddle on its broken feet until it came to a screeching stop beside the bed, as though anxious not to miss anything.

For many nights, Berthaline was plagued by nightmares of baths waddling towards her. No amount of therapy, counseling, and hypnosis seemed to work, so they eventually decided to forgo purchasing a new bath. Instead, they set their sights on a spa.

“Huh,” reflected Paul, his hands resting on his hips as he looked up to where the bath had disappeared, “what are the odds?”

Things happen or they don't.

Paul pondered this briefly, then decided it wasn't worth the effort. He was feeling light, like he'd just won a prize for something. “What's next?” he said, looking around optimistically at the scene of destruction. It all looked a lot the way his sanity currently felt, untidy and chaotic, but also somehow beautiful.

Shattered shop windows shimmered playfully. Huge boulders rested peacefully on crushed cars. An electrical fire surged through a power box, producing an arc of purple lightning. In the distance, milling about at either end of the street, were emergency workers, armored vehicles, and armed forces. They wouldn’t risk making a sweep through here while debris was still falling. Even robots would be spared this danger.

A thirty foot long, half melted metal spike dropped from above and tore through the street like a giant sewing needle through leather, making the ground ripple beneath Paul’s feet. Molten steel sizzled by Paul’s head, passed through a shop’s window, and landed on a mannequin’s face.

We must find somewhere safe to rest. And things to eat.

Paul’s heart was racing wildly, like a horse let out to pasture for the first time in its life. He had just nearly died more times than he could grasp, and yet he felt free. The spinning top in his mind was now whirling so rapidly that it seemed to not be moving. There were no colors. Nothing was making sense, and so nothing really mattered. If things kept going the way they were, there was no way he could mentally prepare himself for anything. So, what was the point of worrying?

Paul chuckled, “Hah! Rest and food, you say? Well my friend, I know just the place. But first, we need clothes,” and he pointed to a shop sign which read Ones for Ones.

Paul stepped through the broken window and past the mannequin that was melting like a dribbling candle. “Man, what a fancy place! I never bought clothes from Ones for Ones before. Just look at the threads!”

Yes, there are many threads.

All along the shop’s walls were displayed the latest onesie fashions. Paul's eyes danced over leather, mesh, lace, corduroy, all woven with smart fiber technology. Finally, he stood before a piece that made him grin broadly.

“Now that's nice,” he admired, pulling it off the wall. Not a moment later, he was admiring himself in a mirror. A navy blue, collarless onesie suit with golden buttons and green cuffs hugged his frame perfectly. The integrated shoes were thin soled, flexible, and separated his toes for optimal movement. And, as a final touch, the purple shag blanket hung elegantly over his back as a cape.

It is good you have covered our body, but now we must go.

Paul winced in irritation when his hair referred to his body as ‘our body’, but was determined to keep riding the good vibe of getting new threads. He clicked his heels as he hopped through the window.

“We’re off! Soon we shall drink, and eat, and then we shall rest. Now, to the Drip!” and he strode off down an alley and into the night.

Not a minute later, a squad of Gorp enforcers swept through where he'd been.

“Any sign of him?” said an officer, his voice amplified by his silver helmet.

“None, but it'll be hard to find anything in this mess,” answered a patroller, gesturing to the smoking debris.

An enforcer ran up, holding something in his hands, “Sir, we've found something. Looks like the remains of a Gorp stiffsuit. Just the cuffs, and traces of blood.”

“Get these to the lab, and make another sweep,” ordered the officer, “There’s no telling what kind of mayhem that thing will bring to the city if we don't stop it.”

Fortunately for Paul, he was already too far away for any of this negative talk to bring down his spirits. He hummed tunelessly as he leapt over a fence, and drummed his fingers on a railing.

“Why am I in such a good mood?” he marveled, surprising even himself with his enthusiastic tone.

We are tired. Our state of being is destabilized. Our behavior is erratic.

Paul nodded. That made sense. Being tired had always made him over wired. And now he was two, which made things twice as bad. Still, it was impressive that he felt so good about things, as if nothing in the world could bother him.

A gun clicked loudly and pressed against the side of his head.

“Give me everything you've got, or say bye to your brains.” menaced the gun's wielder.

Paul smiled. His hair moved.

-End of chapter 5-