***smummy joins #bandagelounge
***Setthekilla has left #dogstarchat
<smummy> hi? there he goes again.
<isis6969> hey mummy!
<smummy> isis, just the one i wanted to talk to.
<isis6969> whazzup, stuffs?
<smummy> i'm putting together a team. i'm trying to get things to happen here.
<isis6969> have you talked to set yet?
<smummy> no, why?
<isis6969> well, he was talking shit on you.
<catgoddess> ya he wuz!
<smummy> i keep on hearing that. wasn't he just on?
<isis6969> dont worree too much, hes just like that. i think that was just him that logged off too.
<smummy> yeah, i saw him. what's he been saying?
<isis6969> it seems so schoolyard. he says there's only going to be one spacemummy and that's him.
<smummy> i'm not all that worried.
<isis6969> you're not on enough to see this, but he has all these fanboy followers who agree with everything he says. they say they're hacking your computer because you didn't know what features to turn off in Bjornix, so there's all this security stuff you'll get nailed on.
<smummy> i got so much to learn.
<isis696> at least you know that.
<smummy> thanks isis. one of these days, i'll buy you a beer or something.
<isis6969> i don't drink beer. i like smokable stuffs ;)
<smummy> gotcha.
***
So we finally meet
I wondered why every time I logged on to a SMIRC channel, this Set character would log off, so I asked around.
Set invited me to a private channel
<setthakilla> I heard you been talking shit on me.
<smummy> No, actually, I'm just wondering who you are, why you avoid me, what's going on.
<setthakilla> I don't like you.
<smummy> Sorry.
<setthakilla> Yea, you'll be sorry.
<smummy> I'm not sorry for myself. I'm sorry for you. Why don't you join me? We could share notes. I'm sure there's a lot you know that would help me and vice versa.
<setthakilla> It doesn't matter. I'm going to destroy you.
<smummy> But I'm already dead. What can you do to me?
<setthakilla> Oh, there are worse things than death. You will find out.
<smummy> Were you unloved as a child or something?
<setthakilla> Just keep going, you'll suffer. Don't worrry. You'll get what's coming to you. I already know where you live. I'm coming your way as we speak. Then you'll find out what fate is worse than death. I'll share one thing I know with you, to illustrate why you should be afraid.
<smummy> Don't leave me in P.D. Suspense-ky here, snakey.
<setthakilla> If your mummy is destroyed, you have no way to get to Sirius. You'll be stranded here forever, but unable to act in this world. You will be as only a wraith. See you soon.
<smummy> I'll open a bottle of wine and let it breathe.
I waited. It reminded me of the time when I was a young larva. There was this kid who sat behind me in science class. He would kick my chair during the whole class and whisper to me how he was going to kick my ass. I would hide in the library every day until I missed the bus. Then I would walk home, always looking over my shoulder. Then one day, I decided enough was enough. I showed up at the appointed place and waited until the last minute to get on the bus. The bully never showed. It became easier to ignore the kicks, knowing that there was really nothing behind them. If only I knew that the creature in the seat behind me was a thermal parasite feeding off the energy radiating from my hot, red ears, junior high and my extended puberty would have been easier to take.
But, in this case, I would be wrong. Set would come. With bells on. With large explosions. I flipped the couch over on top of myself and weathered the explosions that ripped across the electromagnetic spectrum, except for the visible, such was Set's method. The mutating Bjornix computer displayed a mass of characters, ASCII oatmeal.
He caught the mummyship in the hangar and ripped it apart while I lie under the couch in my spilled wine. I heard him laughing for a long time, a low, phlegmatic guffaw before he left, his ship roaring across the sky. I'm not sure why he didn't come after me. He wanted to let me know that he could wreck me at any time.
The next morning on the news, it had been reported that a tornado had torn through town. A reporter came to my house, presumably to interview me, but I would not open the door. It was my first test, a true crisis and I failed utterly.