From the case files of Black Maria (2)

“So,” remarked Agent All-Devouring Void, “you gonna eat those fries?”

“Man,” said Agent Chupacabra, rounding on the nebulous black mass, “why don’t you just shut the fuck up about my fries, okay?”

“Can’t blame a guy for asking,” rumbled Agent All-Devouring Void.

“Okay, see,” said Agent Chupacabra. “Actually I totally can blame you. Because, like, number one, see, you are like asking me every fifteen seconds whether you can have my fries or not. And I am totally not finished with my fries. I mean, anyone with, like, half a brain or something could see that I am like still actively eating at my fries. And the second thing is like it’s not like you get nutrition from them or anything. Every time you get a hold of somebody’s French fries you just, like, sit there reducing them to component molecules right in front of them or something, and it is totally disgusting. I am not sure what the fuck it is that drives you to annihilate structured matter all the fucking time, but I wish you would like do it in private, man, because, Jesus.”

Agent Chupacabra sighed deeply at the terminus of his rant and fished around in his pile of oil-fried potato shreds for a while.

“Man,” he said. “This totally is not goat.”

“I’ll eat them,” volunteered Agent All-Devouring Void, helpfully. “If you’re finished, I mean.”

Agent Chupacabra did not reply.

“Oh, hey, look!” said Agent All-Devouring Void, craning a tendril of flickering black quantum anomaly around the chair upon which it was seated. “It’s Agent Fine!”

Agent Chupacabra startled. “Huh?” he said. “Where, man?”

“In the line for the milk machine,” said Agent All-Devouring Void. “Man, would I like to reduce her to her component molecules. Rawr!”

“Okay, look, just shut up, man,” said Agent Chupacabra, sinking lower in his chair, his spikey tail lashing agitatedly against its brushed-metal legs. “Don’t, like, look at her. Or, like, wave your spatial projections in her direction or whatever.”

“Shit!” hissed Agent All-Devouring Void, hunkering itself into a more compact shape, at least in Euclidean terms. “She’s coming over!”

“Okay okay okay,” said Agent Chupacabra. “Just play it cool.” Then, he sat up and bared his fangs at Agent All-Devouring Void. “Okay, look at my teeth, man. Do I got anything stuck in them or anything?”

“Hm,” said Agent All-Devouring Void. “Just a little hunk of meat or something there…” The anthropomorphic quantum anomaly extended a questing three-dimensional pseudopod.

“Wait, no, man,” said Agent Chupacabra, starting to pull back. “I’m not asking you to—”

With a crackle of radiation, Agent All-Devouring Void’s tendril scraped against the food particle stuck in Agent Chupacabra’s fangs and reduced it to subatomic dust. Agent All-Devouring Void emitted a vaguely satisfied sigh.

“Jesus!” cried Agent Chupacabra. “Do not do that! I mean, what if you had like reduced one of my teeth to component molecules or something, huh?”

“Relax,” said Agent All-Devouring Void.

“Relax?” cried Agent Chupacabra. “Relax? Listen, man, I need every one of these boogers for the purpose of sucking goats properly. Do you know how difficult it is to suck goats if you are not equipped with a full set of choppers?”

“Just take it easy,” said Agent All-Devouring Void. “I am in perfect control of the matter I obliterate. Now shut the hell up. Agent Fine is coming.”

“We talk about this later, man,” said Agent Chupacabra, clenching his teeth together and doing a quick rundown of his scales with his grooming claw.

Half a minute later, Agent Fine walked past, holding a container of skim milk. Her decidedly synthetic skirt made little “voop voop voop” noises against her decidedly synthetic sport jacket, sounding very much like a child wearing a pair of snow pants.

As she passed Agent Chupacabra’s table, she looked down at him. The Mexican goat-sucker fixed her with his best ladykiller grin.

“Hay, baybee,” said Agent Chupacabra. “If I told you that you had a beautiful body, would you, like, have lots of sex with me?”

Agent Fine stared at Agent Chupacabra for a full ten seconds. At tick seven, a little trichinosis-worm of doubt began to wiggle in Agent Chupacabra’s gut. That had been the right pickup line, hadn’t it? I mean… wait, no, what had he said? He was pretty certain that he hadn’t just outright said he wanted to have lots of sex with Agent Fine. I mean, you don’t do that in a pickup line, right? I mean, that would totally be like a huge Freudian slip or something, wouldn’t it? A Freudian slip that was like so huge nobody could actually possibly make it in real life or anything, right?

Right?

In the remaining three seconds, Agent Chupacabra tried to retrace, using sense memory, exactly what positions his tongue and teeth had been in, and was in the process of reaching some rather distressing conclusions when Agent Fine stormed off.

“Aaaugh!” said Agent Fine, making little clawing motions in the air as she lurched away. “They told me this was a clerical error! That it would be fixed by now! Just report to your assignment, Dolores! It’ll be simpler that way! We’ll get it cleared up in no time! Six months I’ve been reporting to this insane asylum! Day after day! Why do I keep doing this? Why? In the name of Jesus, why?”

…and so on and so forth, all the way down the hall and out of sight.

Agent Chupacabra sighed deeply and thudded his elbows against the table.

“Agent All-Devouring Void,” said Agent Chupacabra, “I want you to know that my life totally sucks.”

“Huh,” said Agent All-Devouring Void. “So, um, you gonna eat those fries?”

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