The Great Search, Part Two

Continued from Part One

Small Packages tightened his bow tie at the mini piano made to fit his eighteen inch body, watching his bro pace outside Speed Skater’s cabin. “You know you don’t have to go through with this.”

Skyscraper said, “If-if-if-if n-n-n-n-ot n-n-n-now, then wh-wh-wh-when?”

Small Packages sighed. His bro’s stuttering was worse than usual. There was only one way he could express his love to Speed Skater, and he needed Small Pack-ages’ help to do it.

Speed Skater came around the corner.

Here goes nothing. Small Packages began to play You Are So Beautiful. Sky-scraper belted out the lyrics in his perfect baritone singing voice.

Small Packages could listen to that all day. Unfortunately, since life wasn’t a mus-ical, Skyscraper kept his mouth shut most of the time.

Speed Skater gasped. “You are so cool!”

Skyscraper blinked. “M-m-me? Cool?”

“Yeah! I didn’t know you could sing!”

“He’s crazy about you, Skates. You’re all he ever stutters about. He’s just been too scared to tell you.”

Speed Skater said, “I always thought he was hot, but I didn’t think he was interested.”

Skyscraper swallowed hard. “Y-y-you w-want to t-take a w-w-walk?”

Speed Skater beamed. “I’d love to!”

Small Packages thumped her on the back of the leg. “Great! Where we going?”

Skyscraper turned. “We’ll see you l-later.”

Small Packages looked down. “Oh. Well, uh, have a great time. Don’t stay out too late!”

Skyscraper and Speed Skater walked off.

Well, that was the way it was. From now on, Small Packages walked alone.

He slunk back towards the sixteenth century English village. Time to check in on the latest addition to the Village for Stranded Superheroes Insane Asylum.

Curador sat by the cottage’s fire place, beside the unconscious man-sized Tarantula King and Slugger. The Japanese baseball superhero had proved helpless without his bat.

“How goes it, Doc?” Small Packages asked.

“Not well, Senior.”

Tarantula King jerked awake. “The worm dieth not!”

Curador placed his hand on Taran-tula King’s shoulder, sending him back to dreamland. “I have to do that  before he breaks another straight jacket. He’s been through two this afternoon, and Lord History only produced ten.”

Across the room, Payday sat in his own straight jacket. “Smalls! Come on, kill me! You know you want to. Come on, kill me!”

“It wouldn’t be right. You’re not in your right mind.”

“I have no right mind.”

“Yeah, exactly, that’s why I can’t kill you. Sorry. I only kill sane people and then only if they’re about to get me first.”

Payday’s eyes darted around. “Come on! Somebody kill me! You! Japanese guy! Kill me!”

“Well, guess not much else to see here.”

Continued next Monday

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