The door read:
GIRLS’ LOCKER ROOM
The DiStefanos pushed us in and locked the door.
VGRF and I walked in. Blandie, Bernie, and Alien Jones were sitting around on changing benches.
“Aww, BQB,” Bernie said. “All through high school, I dreamed about living inside the girls’ locker room, but not like this, yo!”
Blandie stomped her foot and made her typical mad face.
Boo! Blandie is still the worst!
“What did you do, BQB?! What did you do?!”
“Silence, blonde human,” Alien Jones said as he hopped off his bench. “BQB has done nothing wrong. Well, I mean he has done wrong in so many, many other ways. His life is a total mess but in this particular instance, he is blameless.”
“We’ve been set up,” I said. “Alien Jones, can you use your mind reading powers to detect who framed us?”
“It was Hauser,” AJ replied.
We all let out a collective gasp followed by a “WHAAAT?!”
“He’s struck a deal with Morganstern,” Alien Jones said. “The General contacted Hauser and threatened to blow up the rec center and all the survivors in it unless Hauser kills you and offers evidence of having done so.”
“So why doesn’t he just put a bullet in my head and get it over with?” I asked.
“Because you have replaced Hauser as East Randomtown’s favorite son,” Alien Jones explained. “You’ve brought a modest amount of glory to your burg by setting up a WordPress site that attracts the attention of 3.5 readers. It’s not much, but it’s more than Hauser’s done lately. His thirty-second stint on a 1980’s cop show is old news. Because you’re so loved by the citizenry, Hauser knows he can’t just shoot you. He needs to turn the public against you.”
“By making everyone believe you’re a dirty supply thief,” VGRF said.
“Precisely,” AJ said.
“So now what?” I asked.
Alien Jones hopped back on a bench.
“We wait.”
“Are you kidding me?” I asked. “We need to bust out of here.”
“There’s no escape,” Alien Jones said. “The DiStefanos are guarding the door.”
“Vaporize their sorry asses with your powers!”
“Hauser is the only rec center resident outside this room who knows I’m an alien,” AJ explained. “Everyone else just thinks I’m a deformed human child. The Mighty Potentate would never approve of me outing myself.”
“Makes no sense,” VGRF said. “You out yourself on the Bookshelf Battle Blog all the time.”
“Only to 3.5 readers,” Alien Jones said. “And for the most part, they usually just assume BQB is pretending to be an alien and that I’m not real. The Mighty Potentate would be tried for violation of Intergalactic Space Law were it to ever come out that he’s interfering with Earthly affairs, namely by sending me to help Bookshelf Q. Battler. His Potentosity would certainly vaporize me on his way out.”
“A trial,” I said as I sat down. “So how bad could that be? We’ll just convince the jury we’re innocent.”
“It’s not that kind of trial,” Alien Jones. “Here, all issues of guilt are decided by…a trial of zombie combat!”
“Aw snap,” Bernie said. “I gots to bust some zombie ass?”
“Did you just say, ‘snap?’” Blandie asked. “That’s so 1999!”
“OK,” I said. “We can get through this. I’d better call a zombie author for advice and…aw crap!”
Everyone looked at me.
“The space phone!” I shouted. “I left it out there!”
“No worries,” Alien Jones said. “I anticipated the evildoers’ moves and was able to smuggle it…”
“…in your pocket?” I asked.
“…inside of me,” Alien Jones said.
I shook my head.
“I don’t get it,” I said. “How? You don’t have a butt! You have no orifices to speak of!”
“I do have one.”
Alien Jones punched himself in the stomach and then started hacking up a lung. He sounded like a cat stuck on a hairball.
Hack…hack…hack…HACK!!!!
He looks like he’s laughing but he’s really barfing…up a space phone.
SPLAT!
The space phone popped out of the Esteemed Brainy One’s mouth and onto the locker room floor, covered with sticky alien spit.
“You may make your call now.”
“Um…thanks…you know…I think I’m going to pass on this interview,” I said, staring at the messy phone. “You wanna take this one for me, buddy?”
“Humans,” Alien Jones said as he picked up the device. “Such pansies. You’ll wear the same undies for a week but a little intergalactic spittle freaks you out.”
Bookshelf Battle 