This year I am working on a story called Bob vs. The Alien Slug Monsters. Instead of an outline I have a basic list of plot points I want to cover between meeting Bob and sending him off to fight the king of the slugs. There is more of a cast of characters than an actual outline, so we will see how the story develops. And with that intro we continue with Bob Versus the Alien Slug Monsters…
Day 72: He looked at the wall clock, eating as he waited and watched.
He looked at the wall clock, eating as he waited and watched. As he hadn’t timed the slugs before, he wasn’t sure how long it would take. This time when they returned he marked the time as well as counting the number of slugs that went out into the parking lot to try their luck with the salt covered people.
As he watched and waited, Bob ate the sandwich he slapped together, washing it down with a glass of water from the tap. Realizing he might need to take notes, once this group of slugs disappeared he dipped back into the office to retrieve a scratch pad and pencil. He marked down the times and the numbers of slugs.
As expected the fewer number of slugs meant a quicker turn around. ‘And each time they go they take fewer with them.’
Bob ate and tried to decide if they were running out of slug soldiers to try out or if there were fewer they were willing to risk in the attempt. He wasn’t quite certain. He looked at the rows of the dead laid out in front of the diner. He wasn’t sure why the slugs were keeping them where they were but recognized enough of the faces to know they were among the more notable citizens of Centerville.
‘Which means they aren’t holding them for a good reason.’
For now Bob could do nothing for them. At some point though he knew the salt protection would run out. Enough of the salt would have been taken off by the dying slugs to remove the protection. Bob knew he wasn’t going to be able to get enough salt to cover all of the people on the stretchers again. He also didn’t know if the slugs would return to the beginning and try again once they reached the end of the collected stretchers.
Bob frowned wondering over his next steps as two of the slugs went from the outer parking lots back to the Bowl-a-Rama. They opened the doors like Big Mike’s entrance but their time inside was short lived. Soon they came out. To Bob’s surprise he noticed there were no other slugs with them. The two escorts were sent back with no accompanying slugs. They made for the gap in the plantings.
Bob waited. They did not return. He checked the clock, watching the second hand circle, the minutes slowly ticking by. Still no slugs returned.
Bob swallowed. Something was going on. He didn’t know what, but something. The Bowl-A-Rama was silent. Nothing moved. The parking lots were quiet. Bob strained his ears listening but heard no screams and no sounds of disks returning.
He looked to the Bowl-a-Rama. He was not about to go up to the front doors and attempt his impersonation of Big Mike. ‘But I need to know what is going on.’
‘I might be able to get in the back.’
The thought made Bob’s insides quake but he had few options. While waiting in the diner allowed him to eat and let the slugs diminish their numbers a bit he couldn’t stay there forever.
‘Crap,’ he thought. Bob slipped out of the booth and made his way to the back of the diner.
Ten til Midnight 