Lollipop Babies with chainsaws by Benson Phillip Lott
Lollipop Babies with chainsaws by Benson Phillip Lott
“These babies have been bad.
But Cupcake City ain’t safe without ‘em.”
THESE BABIES ARE PROFESSIONALS
DO NOT TRY FIGHTING CRIME WITH A CHAINSAW
UNDER ANY CIRCUMSTANCE
(EVEN WITH YOUR PARENTS PERMISSION)
Deep in the trenches of Cupcake, a foul being stirs, so monstrous, so heinous, so deformed, the only proper reaction by anyone who encounters it is: “Yuck! That’s totally disgusting!”.
This fiendish ghoul is one of many wretched creatures, materializing from the gutters of our “most-friendliest” of cities. They are far worse than “Skelly-ton” and his ruthless gang of “Kerplatz”. Far “ickier” than that fat, lazy blob “Bobble Pop-Poppy”. Far “whackier” than the laughing crew of “Mad-Doofus Bumble-Bee Punks”. And yes, far more frightening than that killer troop of girl scouts lunatics (“Troop Cray-Cray”) who sold poisonous cookies to the elders and housewives of Cupcake, last year, the week before Christmas.
And as the rancid, mutant creatures rise up to roam the streets of main downtown area, an invisible magic (given by the thirteen witches of “Moriah”), allows them to multiply by the hundreds, spreading their infectious foulness everywhere, making tonight – by far — the most menacing ever for, this once, peaceful city.
IMPORTANT NOTE: The aforementioned creatures, infecting the streets of Cupcake, are known as “Festering Cretins”. They are the latest creation from the wicked coven of “Moriah, Conquering Wind” – Cupcake’s greatest enemy. Thirteen witches well-rehearsed in the blackest of black arts whose power derives from an ancient force, simply referred to as “The Force”.
No, not that “force”, the other “force”. It’s got something to do with “planetary alignments” or “energy fields”; “life’s current”, or something.
With this power, “Moriah”, plans to overthrow Cupcake. And, eventually, ever other city on the planet — and there’s not a soul on Earth to stop them.
Except, maybe — “The Babies”.
There’s no such thing as “bed-time” for children living in Cupcake. At least, not ones with random, chainsaw-slashing abilities. And that’s precisely what Pink Zinc (of “The Lollipop Babies”) keeps explaining to her stubborn mother, “Vera”, whose blocking access to the front door, preventing her child from leaving.
“Look, mom,” Pink Zinc says, sternly, “you gotta let me go out! Cupcake is under attack! There’s bad guys out there that need sawing!”
Vera sighs, shaking her head. “Sorry, hon. I just can’t let you leave. And I realize the city is under siege and there’s probably lots of god awful, horrible, really evil things trying to take over our streets, but after last time – with Skelly-ton and the Kersplatz – and all the mess that came with that – I just can’t, in good conscience, let you go.”
Zinc frowns, annoyed. “Uh –Why the heck not?”
“Because. I’m your mother and I don’t like you involving yourself in such dangerous things. Plus, it’sdark out. Past curfew. And besides – it’s probably freezing. And you’re not even wearing a warm coat.”
Zinc inhales sharply, through her nose. “Whatever…”
Vera hold up a finger, stepping closer. “And another thing — your chainsaw’s charging – so’s your iPad.”
Zinc backs away, amazed she forgot about her saw. “Where at?”
“Under your bed.”
Vera shrugs. “I don’t know, hon. That’s where the nearest outlets were!”
Pink Zinc rolls her eyes, mumbling.
“Look, mom – I have to go. The other babies waiting. They depend on me! I’m the best with a chainsaw. They’ll never make it if I’m not there.”
Vera folds her arms, glaring. “Okay, I’m gonna put this as plainly: You — are baby. And, yes, Irealize secret government experiments make you more sophisticated than most children, but the fact is: I’m your mother. And I have final say-so regarding what you do and where you go.”
Zinc frowns. “Uh, what about Daddy?”
Vera pauses, considering the question. “Well…I suppose he does, too. But since he’s still at work, I’m making the decision. And I say – you’re staying home. So, that’s that.”
“Oh my God!” Zinc cries. “This is so ridiculous!”
“Uh, not really, it’s law!”
“Yes, the law!You’re minor! That means if you’re outside – alone – past curfew and the cops catch you, you go straight to juvenile hall. The courts will take you away from me and you’l wind up living in some group home with a bunch of delinquents and hard cases. Is that what you want? You want the government to beinvolved in your life more than it’s already been? Besides, it’s seven o’clock — time for Binkie.”
“Binkie” is Zinc’s favorite, blue pacifier. The temptation to go back to her room, put it in her mouth, crawl in bed and pick a good book for Storytime is almost irresistible. But the citizens of Cupcake needhelp. So do the “Lolli’s”. And if her electric chainsaw’s charging under the bead, there’s always the back-up gas one (in her closet).
Pink Zinc points angrily at her mother. “Look, ma – what can I do to change your mind? I mean – if it’s really that important, I’ll get the mayor on the phone and get his permission to be out past curfew so he can notify the police. Because you know he’s the one who ordered to switch on the Chain-signal!”
For those who’ve been living on Mars, The “Chain-signal” is the same concept as the “bat”. Only, instead of depicting a “winged rodent” image in the sky, it’s two massive chainsaws (shaped like a “V”) and a pair of lollypops beneath it, crossing one another (like an “X”)
It’s actually, quite pretty.
Abraham, Jennifer and Bob are seated at a rectangular, wooden dinner table, preparing to feast on a delicious stuffed-turkey, a basket of hot butter rolls and a huge bowl of arugula salad (with four bottles of different dressing on the side). They’re about to “dig-in” when – suddenly – the doorbell rings. They pause, mid bite, looking to one another, perplexed. Citizens of Cupcake rarely go out at this hour. Certainly, no one any of them know. So, naturally, they’re all alarmed by the abrupt disturbance.
Curious, they all four rise from their chairs and walk to the front door. Abraham leads the way and he’s the one who reaches for the brass knob, answering the bell.
The instant the door opens, all three of them scream. The “Festering Cretin” stands menacingly on the porch, drooling and hissing. Snorting like a wild animal.
Abraham is about to slam the door, but it lunges forward, raising its scaly arms. Sharp claws scratch at the door, jagged teeth clamp furiously at the air. A horrific roar exits from the monster’s throat.
Abraham Jennifer and Bob scream in awestruck terror, throwing themselves into the door, still trying to shut it.
Unfortunately, their too late.
The Cretin slides in, squealing and shrieking, knocking everyone to the floor. It’s jaws drop, exhaling a thick, blue cloud of rancid gas. Abraham, Jennifer and Bob cough fervently, gasping for air.
“Now you are in the hands of Moriah!” The Cretin declares; its voice, echoing and raspy. “Her wind will carry you to the black skies. From there, you’ll vision will change. You’ll know what it is to see in the dark. Like owls, you’ll soar through the endless night. You will be likeno other. Your mutation begins with me…”
“What took you so long?” Lisa-darling asks Pink Zinc, throwing up both hands as she approaches the meeting area.
“I’m here! I’m here!” Zinc hollers, rushing up to her clan.
Lisa-darling shakes her head. “We’ve been waiting for an hour!”
Pink-Zinc wipes sweat from her forehead, gasping for breath. Her other hand clutches her chainsaw (the “back-up” from her closet).
“Sorry, you guys – car trouble.”
Realizing her joke didn’t land, Pink Zinc tries another. “Look, I’ma child of divorce, gimme a break!”
Lisa-darling rolls her eyes, revving up her own gas-powered chainsaw. “Whatever, kiddo. Whatever.”
Zinc sighs, looking at each baby apologetically, “My mom was giving me noise, I had to wait ‘til she was distracted on her phone with my dad. I really am sorry. Now, what do we got goin’ out here?”
Lisa-darling sighs. “Oh, you know. Just another invasion of mutating creatures working for the “Moriah” witches. Nothing special.”
Hot Fire n’ Hot Mess, the two “craziest” of The Babies, are the original government experiment. Because of this, they’re not only highly advanced with great intelligence and exceptional in their ability to chainsaw fight, they can also transform into fire-breathing dragons whenever and if-ever the situation calls for it. Which, right now, it most definitely does.
The other babies– Candystix, Pink Zinc, Lila-darling and Apple Crawler -simply fight as their regular selves. And all look anxiously to their “fearless leader” (Trench Coat baby) who chills smoothly in the background, leaning against a streetlamp (in her trench coat, of course).
“Okay, girls – we ready to do this?” Trench coat asks, motion the others to “circle-up” around her. Everyone bows their heads and Apple Crawler says a quick prayer (to the “Chainsaw Gods”) while they all shut their eyes.
“O, ye – o, ye – Lords and Masters of The Saw. We ask of you now to look down on us with favor and grant us the victory we so desperately seek in these – our darkest of times. Thank you and bless you – Lords of the Saw – and may tonight’s buzzing chains remind you of the battles you – yourselves – won, those many moons ago – when gods walked upon the Earth. From here on out, these saws – buzz for you…”
One thing important to know: When your average Festering Cretin is split in half (by chainsaw, axe, etc.), a slimy purple residue gushes out from the wound, making a huge mess. And – boy – it sure is nasty! Like any zombie-like creature, it’s critical to take-out the brain in order to properly kill it. That way it doesn’t do something crazy, like reform or continue to exhale poisonous gas.
And another thing: The hit single “Blue on Black” (by Kenny Wayne Shepard) should be playing during the entirety of the Lollipop Babies’ retaliation: “Babies vs. Cretins”.
There’s no reasonable explanation for this. Other than it’s a really cool song that belongs in a really cool fight scene where really cool zombie-like brains are really cool – exploding.
Evil “Lovina” is head witch to the coven of “13”. She’s lead black magician and seriously gifted at summoning of the powers of The Void. “Moriah” wouldn’t be nearly as devious without her.
At present, Lovina stands poised on the rooftop of a house just outside the Cupcake city limits. Threw a mystic vision-portal she witness all mayhem inflicted on defenseless citizens and laughs wickedly with her fellow sisters. For in a matter a hours (before the morning sun) Cupcake will be theirs. And their plan for global dominance will take effect.
One other thing: “Moriah” witches can, if necessary, control the state of weather. One of their greatest spells calls for a Perfect Storm to bring total chaos to Cupcake City, destroying every living thing within a twenty mile radius. But, because they’d rather “rule” Cupcake than “destroy” – that option remains Plan B for the time being. For now, the Festering Cretins seem to be doing a decent job of taking over, turning all human life into parasitic mutations. Then again, the witches still don’t know about The Babies. Maybe after they realize how brutal those infants can be with their chainsaws, they might change their mind, invoking the storm. Only time will tell.
It’s raining monster slime as The Lollipop Babies attack from every angle, every street; sawing and splitting, ripping and thrashing. Purplish goo splatters all over. Puddles and puddles of yucky death-muck coats the asphalt on every sidewalk. The Babies split up, occasionally slipping on guts, brains and severed zombie-limbs. Trench coat baby leaps in the air, splitting apart three Cretins at once. Flying heads fall bowling balls, rolling away, crashing into sides of buildings.
The Cretins do their best to scare off the attacking Babies, snarling and hissing, biting at their noses. Toxic dust clouds fill the air. For a moment, Apple Crawler and Candystix are blinded by the thick swirls of vapor.
“Hold your breath!” Lila-darling shouts. “Don’t inhale any of that blue stuff! It’s bad magic! It’ll turn you into them!”
All the Babies shut their mouths, saving “good” air as long as they can.
The “13” watch their mutations cut in tiny little pieces and decide to cast spell “Plan B”; chanting to the “ Storm Gods”, asking (in backwards Latin) to wipe out the town.
“Bring Thunder! Bring Lightning! Bring Hell on Earth for all!”
A breeze begins. The sky becomes a hurricane. Clouds burst with sleet and rain.
All appears hopeless.
Everything seems lost.
The Festering Cretins continue spraying poison at the Babies; none of whom can hold their breath. Luckily, Hot Fire n’ Hot Mess (being in dragon-form) soar above the toxic clouds, saving the others, pulling them up in the air. Gently, they drop the Babies on a nearby roof, two stories above. But when Lila-darling’s rescued, she immediately races to the fire exit, moving down the rear of the building. She hides herself in an alley directly behind the Cretins.
The monsters barely have time to notice before she springs forward, raising her chainsaw far above her head. In a matter of seconds, Lila slashes every one of those nasty creatures, sawing them into chunky bits of green muck.
The other Babies cheer and whistle from atop the roof, gradually making their way back to the street. A few blocks away, more venomous Cretins can be heard, trashing stores and making a huge mess.
The biggest problem for the Babies is discerning “authentic” monsters from Cupcake citizens (turned monster by the toxic gas).
The only way to really tell the difference is by setting up Lila-darling’s favorite iPod-stereo (a X-mas gift from Aunt Zoo-Zoo) and blast meditation music that’ll melt away the fungus.
It may seem silly, but calming music is the perfect way to combat infectious disease. The relaxing vibrations and Zen-like sound dissolve all “wickedness”, created by the thirteen witches of “Moriah”.
Unfortunately, some “infected” are so far gone, it takes quite a long time (and volume), returning poor citizens to human. A few of the Babies plug their ears with Kleenex, fearing they’ll go deaf if they don’t. But eventually, Cupcake’s peace is restored and all monsters fade away, ducking into blackness (under cover of night); defeated and in shame.
Abraham, Bob and Jennifer are very-very hungry, arriving back to their house. Afterall, they missed dinner, still on the table – maybe, a little cold.
But, as all appears over – the worst is still to come. The Perfect Storm is on the horizon, getting closer. The witches call on it, arms raised, chanting: “Snips, snails, puppy dog tails!”
The thunder roars. Clouds darken. A harsh rain begins to pour.
A huge tornado (thick and gray) tears through Cupcake, causing citizens to panic. Everyone jumps in their vehicles, driving furiously away. Some flee on foot or bicycles, screaming as they race through the streets. The power shuts off as cables and telephone wire explode and fall in sprays of electricity. Cupcake is emptied as the storm destroys houses, crumbles buildings and shatters glass windows.
Only the Babies stand their ground, facing the chaos head-on. Their ready to die if necessary, but – thankfully – that won’t happen.
Thankfully, there’s a plan.
“The key is the eye!” Trench Coat baby screams, pointing at the center of the storm. Smaller tornadoes blast downtown Cupcake. Hail and whirlwinds desecrate the peace.
Hot Fire n’ Hot Mess morph into humans, looking to Pink Zinc, confused. “What’s she talkin’ about?”
Trench Coat baby gives a frustrated sigh, stomping her foot. “I’m talkin’ about the eye! The eye of the friggin’ storm!”
“Oh, right!” Everyone says at once. But it’s obvious, by their expressions, no one really knows what Trench Coat’s referring to.
Lila-darling reaches into her pocket, grabbing her iPhone (another X-mas gift from Aunt Zoo-Zoo). She clicks on her Google app and types in “eye of storm” in the search bar.
“Eye of the storm!” Lila shouts, making sure al Babies can hear. “A region of mostly calm weather at the center of strong tropical cyclones. A circular area, 30–65 kilometers in diameter, surrounded by the eyewall.”
“Eye storm, eyewall,” Apple Crawler mutters. “What’s next ‘eye of the tiger’?”
Trench Coat baby groans, throwing up both hands. “Just toss your chainsaws at the empty hole!”
The Babies nod in unison, chucking their weapons directly at the “eye”.
The storm disintegrates. Those mini-tornadoes disappear. The hailing stops. The sky clears, returning to blue.
The witches cry out, bitterly defeated. “We will return!”
Perhaps – next time – they’ll find a better spell.
Until then, the Chain-signal goes “off”. Our newborn heroes walk wearily to their houses, dreading inevitable punishments for sneaking out past curfew.
For now, their chainsaws are silent.
And the only fear left – is disappointed parents.
Copyright Benson Phillip Lott 2020