How come Max’s shadow is bigger than him, but Slylock’s isn’t?

He has Gas!

Gyahahah! N-now I’ve g-g-got you, Slylock! You may have escape’d my M-mind Control Serum, b-but you won’t escape my Memory L-loss Solution!

“What?” I shout, “We can’t hear you through the glass!”

You will lose your memories and be completely in my p-power!

“What? I see your lips moving, but-”

In thirty m-minutes you won’t even remember your own n-n-names!


Sly! Cut it out! Max interrupts, Are you deaf?

“No,” I whisper, “I’m just testing if that door is airtight. We can hear eachother just fine, so it’s not, but he thinks I can’t hear him, so he doesn’t know that.”

He blinks. Ya lost me.

“Not to worry. Just don’t get near that,” I say, nodding toward the beaker, which has no started to exhales something that resembles the way a caricaturist would illustrate bad breath.

You think it’s really Memory Gas whatever?

“Course not. But that doesn’t mean it’s safe.” I sniff tentatively. “Do you smell that?”

Smells like… rotten eggs?

“And window cleaner. And… farts. Shit. Ammonia, methane, and sulfur.” I glare at the window. I guess he was right enough about not remembering our names in thirty minutes, as being dead tends to impair your memory a bit. “Max, get that candle.”

Aw jeez, Sly! Are you gonna try sumthin desperate like sealing over the top a the beaker wit wax? Cause… I dun think that’s gonna work!

“Not quite.” I don’t elaborate any more, because after all What’s-his-mustache out there can hear us. I just push the beaker over by the door with my foot. “Now, get behind me and cover your head!”

What? yells Count Doofus, I can’t hear you!

And I toss the candle into the beaker.

When the smoke clears, there’s a flaming pile of splinters where the door used to be, and sprawled against the wall is Count Weirdly, unconscious.

Is he dead? asks Max.

“No such luck. But maybe he’ll have lost his memory.”

The Final Word.


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