Stuff that Happened to Thing #5
Part 3: The Endless Quest of Plotlessness

Last time, Hwango fell asleep in the middle of the floor when Thing mysteriously went into the kitchen. We now rejoin our irregular programming, already in progress.

Hwango the Indistinct lay peacefully on Thing #5's living room floor, snoring softly. Thing returned from the kitchen holding a ridiculously large carving knife in one hand, and a ladle in the other. When Hwango failed to awaken and react in appropriate horror, Thing walked over and kicked him in the head. Did I mention these two are friends? Just wanted to make sure. Anyway, back to our story.

"Hwango," Thing #5 assembled, kicking him in the head repeatedly, "I can't help noticing that you fail to awaken, or at least speak to me."

"That is because you are causing me irreversible dain bramage. Would you mind stopping?"

Thing considered this for a moment. Then he realized that he'd already stopped kicking Hwango when he started to consider stopping. Annoyed at the thought of being successfully out-thought by someone who had just been kicked in the head several dozen times, Thing went to get his chainsaw.

Hwango sat up and considered a promising career in accounting. Then he scooped his brain back into his head, and rejected the idea. Despondent and lonely, the idea wandered off to wallow in self pity. Thing #5 returned with the chainsaw.

"Going to cut some wood, I hope?" Hwango said, a bit nervously.

"You can hope that all you want, but it you'll be as wrong as you aren't right."

"Deep."

"All mindless gibberish has depth."

"Just like the level of sewage beneath the streets."

"Nice metaphor."

"Actually, I hadn't changed subjects."

"Which one of us is talking right now? I've lost track."

"Damned if I know, Thing - or Hwango, as the case may be."

To end the confusion by avoiding the problem, Think proceeded to club Hwango over the head with the chainsaw.

"Ow. I think you should give me that chainsaw." said Hwango.

"That would be akin to strapping myself to an atomic bomb and instigating nuclear war, in that it would be counterproductive to my own survival." said Thing, finally managing to use proper words for communication.

"You could have just said it would be a bad idea."

Thing considered hitting Hwango with the chainsaw some more, but decided it would be redundant. Besides, he'd already done it once this episode. Instead he decided he'd try to breed a better chainsaw, and began casting about for a potential mate for it. The line became entangled in the chandelier, however, and Thing abandoned the idea. Faced by this much rejection in one episode, the idea found it could no longer cope with the emotional strain, and left the house, sobbing weakly.

"Thing," Hwango said as he lifted a heavy chair over his head, preparing to bash in Thing's head, "are you familiar with the concept of revenge?"

"Yes. In fact, we dated for several years. Then we decided we had nothing in common, and got married. I divorced it soon after, upon realizing that it's impossible to marry a concept." Thing said. He noticed Hwango, and stepped to one side as Hwango brought the chair down where he'd been standing.

"Are you trying to change the subject?" Hwango said, picking up an armoire and throwing it at Thing.

"No. I'm trying to figure out why you're rearranging my furniture so violently."

"I'm making room to polish the walls."

"Ah." said Thing. "Don't you think we discussed that enough last episode? I mean, we shouldn't beat the issue to death."

"I suppose you're right, as is always occasionally the case, Thing." Hwango said, and released the issue. It crawled away miserably, nursing its shattered arm and three broken legs. Once it had gone, Hwango broke a huge serving platter over his head.

"What was the point of that?" Thing inquired.

"I was hoping you might know, actually." Hwango said, kicking over a lamp.

"I see." Thing said.

"No, you hear." Hwango corrected, throwing a hat rack out the window.

"No, I see. I'm reading the subtitles." Thing said. Thing was very tempted to try killing Hwango again, and wrestled with his conscience. His conscience, predictably, lost. Thing finally stabbed it through the neck with a loaf of zucchini bread.

"Thing, that was ridiculous."

"No, that was zucchini bread. You can tell by the walnuts." Thing explained.

"Ah, yes, how foolish of me." Hwango said.

"Very." supplied Thing.

"That wasn't a question, Thing." Hwango said, annoyed.

"Correct, that was an answer."

"Thing, I think we should discuss developing the plot some more."

"Blasphemous!"

"It is?"

"Of course it is. Don't you remember? It's our mission to avoid letting this story have a plot. It's just too dangerous."

"I'm starting to lose track of who is who again, Thing."

"I'm the smart, good looking one. You're the one with a face."

"You know, it's a miracle I survived all that abuse you were pouring on me earlier in this episode, Thing." Hwango said, noticing a slight pain where Thing had repeatedly hit him with the chainsaw.

"Perhaps you didn't." Thing suggested.

"Hrm. Hadn't thought of that. I'll check." Hwango checked for a pulse. "Yup, found a pulse. I'm fine."

"That's a table you're checking, though." Thing observed. Hwango put his thumb to his forehead.

"No, you were right. No pulse. I must be dead." Hwango said.

"Is this heaven or hell?" asked Thing.

"For the reader? Hell. For us, Limbo."

"Not in these pants, Hwango." Thing said.

"Does this episode have a surprise ending?" asked Hwango.

"Well, if it does, I wouldn't know, or it wouldn't be a --"

The End!


...until the next episode, that is, in which Thing #5 will do battle with his worst fears, his greatest ambitions, and his most mediocre lawn decorations.


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