Fanfics TV

Mick clenched his teeth like a vice and put his hands into the air.  Mimi’s eyes widened as she followed suit.

“Both of you, move over to the refridgerator.” the voice commanded.

The two reluctantly obeyed.

From the shadows stepped a rather short and squat man in an immaculate Italian suit, his face covered with a ski mask.  Mimi leaned in closely into Mick’s chest.

The stranger walked up to the counter and studied the Quantum Bullet closely.

“Very interesting device you people have here.  It’s almost a shame…”  he stopped abruptly, then composed himself.  “You.  Blondie.  How many of these things do you two have on hand?”

“Just the one.”  Mimi choked out.

“Don’t bullshit me,”  said the man, “I know all about your little ‘demonstrations’ with the Power Players.  You all go off to your freaky little wife swap day camp trips or whatever and you bring a shitload of Bullets.  More than any sane person would need.”

“It’s self cleaning.” said Mick.

“What was that, Ringo?”

“It’s part of the demo.  The Quantum Bullet is so powerful, it actually creates a small chrono-field and travels back in time to before it was dirty.”

“I’m sorry, what?”

“We only were going to bring the one to show that we could cook multiple things in the same container.”

The well-dressed man stared incredulously at Mick.

“Show me,” he said, “Let’s chop some garlic.”

Mick and Mimi stared frozen at each other.  The man pointed the gun at Mimi’s head.

“Let’s move, people.  I would hate to mess up this very nice kitchen with an unfortunate splatter.”

Mimi moved with a purpose to the pantry and pulled out a few cloves of garlic.

“That would be a good band name.”  she muttered, nervously placing the vegetables on the counter.

“Be quiet.” said Mick.

“What are you two talking about?”

“Unfortunate Splatter,” said Mimi, “It would be a good band name.  Mid 90′s, alt-rock, maybe.”

“That’s cute,”  said the man, “Now show me how this fucking blender works before I kill you.”

Mimi let out and odd squeak and quickly unscrewed the cap from the top of the Quantum Bullet.  She plopped in the whole garlic cloves and pressed the chop setting.

Practically before her finger was off the button, the cup was full of perfectly diced garlic.

“Holy God,” said the man, “That’s the worst part of starting every meal.”

“Totally.” said Mimi.

“Now clean it.”

Mimi poured the garlic out onto a cutting board and showed the man the residue covered container.

“Sticky right?  Watch this.”

She reached in back, turned a small dial, then pressed a button combination on the front.

A small flash of light appeared for a moment inside the Bullet casing and… it was crystal clear.

The thug was shaking his head in disbelief.

“Gimme that!” he yelled, grabbing the container.  He unscrewed the cap and took a whiff of the inside.  He put his finger inside and tried to scrape some residue off the glass.  There was nothing inside.

“Factory fresh.”  Mick sighed.

The man chuckled softly for a moment before eventually breaking out into a hearty guffaw.

“Son of a bitch!  You people are on the ball.  I gotta say–”

Before he could finish, a loud pop went off and the man’s head seemingly imploded inside his mask.  He fell dead to the floor and dropped the Quantum Bullet.

In the doorway stood Ted, the Homeland Housewares night guard, holding a bolt-action rifle.

Mick and Mimi stared at him in shock.

“The chief sends his regards,” said Ted,  “A cleanup man will be by in half an hour to get rid of this trash.”

He gave the corpse a solid kick.

“Next time, lock your gate.”

The drive home seemed to last an eternity.  Mick tried to conentrate on the road, but he couldn’t stop his eyes from constantly darting over to the small box sitting in Mimi’s lap.  Had he really seen what he thought he saw?  Was the Quantum Bullet real or just a fantastic dream?

“We are on the cusp of something gigantic.”  Mimi said, still astonished from the demonstration.

“I know.  It’s incredible.  We’re probably going to make history.” he said flatly.

“Is something wrong, Mick?”

He absentmindedly adjusted the rear-view mirror.

“Mimi, I like a Bullet-Fresh omelet as much as the next bloke, but this thing…”

“What is it?”

“Did you ever consider…maybe…it’s too much?”

“What do you mean, sweetie?”

“Once the power players start spreading word of this thing and it eventually trickles down to the Wal-Mart crowd, the world of ktichen appliances will be changed permanently.  Millions of people could lose their jobs.”

“It’s just business, Mick.”

“Is it?  I’m glad we’re on the right side of this thing for the time being.  But have you ever stopped to consider just how powerful HH (Homeland Housewares) could really become?”

“The Chief knows what’s best.” said Mimi, sounding slightly annoyed.

“Always the company girl, huh?”

She scowled at Mick.

“Who the hell do you think pays for this lifestyle we lead?  You were some nobody Sunglass Hut cashier before he pulled you into the program.”

“I was just saying…”

“We’re not talking about this.  This isn’t even a discussion.  You’d better damn well hope this thing takes us to the next level.  I’m not going back to Bumfuck, Arkansas.”

Mick wanted to argue, but he knew that once Mimi was this angry, it was useless trying to reason with her.

A few minutes later, they arrived at the front gate of their spacious beachfront condo.  Mick entered the code and pulled into the driveway.  The two went inside to the kitchen and Mimi set the Quantum Bullet on the counter.

“We better get some sleep, Meems.  We’ve got a lot of brainstorming to do tommorow.”

“Don’t sweat it, honey.  We’ll hook ‘em.  We always do.  Besides, this thing will pratically sell–”

Suddenly, the click of a gun safety pierced the relative quiet of the night air.

“Mick and Mimi,” a deep, disembodied voice ennucianted with contempt, “I think it’s time your little toy found it’s way to a new playpen.”

Mick bit his lip, breaking the skin so that he could taste the coppery vein of blood underneath.

“Bollocks.” he said.

The Chief sighed and shook his head.

“It’s the real deal, Mick. Uses advanced quantum tech from the Russians to fold time-space. Shit gets blended before it even starts. Swear on my mother’s grave”

“Your Mom’s still alive, Chief.”

The Chief chuckled and started to tap a strange rhythm on the window.

“Mimi, would you be dear heart and get some apple slices from the fridge over there? They’re in the crisper.”

Mimi obeyed and brought them over to The Chief’s desk, setting them down nervously.

The Chief walked over to the panel and extracted the tiny blending device. He set it down next to the fruit.

“Try it yourself, kids. Mouth watering applesauce in the blink of an eye.”

Mick scowled at the Chief. This was ludicrous. It was too early for this. His former mentor had just crossed the threshold from Redonkulous to ReDonkeyKong.

He unscrewed the top of the Bullet and began to plop the slices in slowly and deliberately. Mimi looked on with with a fierce intensity. The last slice went in and he closed the cap. Looking down at the blender, Mick had to admit, he was impressed with the chrome finish, the sleek, sexy, modern design, and it’s lightweight components. If nothing else, it would make a good piece of decorative furniture for the hip Generation Yer on the go.

“She is a beaut, isn’t she?” the Chief asked.

Mimi looked at the machine quizzically.

“No cords, no battery pack. What is this thing running on?” she asked.

“Cold Fusion.” the Chief said plainly.

Mick rolled his eyes.

“Just press the button, Mick. Your life will never be the same.”

Mick hovered his finger over the button while giving the chief the skunk eye. He gave it a small tap.

“Oh my god.” said Mimi.

Mick looked down, and the blender was indeed full of nutritious apple sauce that the whole family could enjoy. He wet his boxer briefs, just a little.

“How do you like them apples?” said the Chief.

Mick had always imagined that The Homeland Housewares building smelled a little bit like static electricity. It was a dry, metallic aroma, like the ghost of a dead toaster. Mimi crinkled her nose as they entered the front door. Did she smell it, too?

It was an ungodly hour and the place was nearly deserted except for Ted, the night guard. He looked up from his Sudoku for just a moment to give the two the slightest nod of recognition.

They headed down the long, empty hallway to the Chief’s office.

“You think there’s a new Bullet?” asked Mimi.

Mick only shrugged, not wanting to think about the gravity of her question.

They arrived at the office and Mick leaned forward for the retinal scan. The computer confirmed his identity and the doors slid open.

The Chief sat Indian style in the middle of an oriental rug, surrounded by a terrible smelling incense. He opened one eye, then quickly closed it.

“Enter, my friends.”

Mick and Mimi obeyed and sat down on a large, neon blue beanbag chair.

The Chief sat motionless for a moment, then let out a dramatic cough. He stood up and slowly walked over to his window to look out over the city.

“This is a big one, guys.” he said gravely.

Mick felt a lump in his throat. Mimi squeezed his hand.

“We need you two to have another meeting with the power players.”

“Like hell.” said Mick, bitterly.

“Don’t.” said Mimi, squeezing even tighter.

Mick freed himself from her grip, walked over to the Chief and looked him squarely in the eye.

“You listen to me, you son of a bitch. We’ve already shown them how to make bullet-fast meals in the kitchen. We’ve already solved the whitest fucking problems in the world: ‘How do I make guacamole in the woods?’ ‘Why aren’t the smoothies on my boat fresh enough?’. Are you telling me that you have something better? What pathetic incremental piece of crap could your lab monkeys crank out this time?”

The Chief sighed and pressed a bright green button on his desk. A small panel slid open across the room. Inside was a tiny chrome blender with a clock printed on it.

“Mick, Mimi, I am going to show you how to make fresh salsa, creamy Alfredo sauce, and fresh ground coffee…in one second.”