Puddles and Whiskers, Not Any Puppet


Not Any Puppet

Leaning against the window of Wake Me Up, Puddles watched wageslaves walk past their eyes downcast. Through the glass of the walkway, she watched mid-morning traffic fly past, more wageslaves onto their jobs. She listened to Chuck place his order through their shared comsystem, chuckling to herself when the coffee dispensing wageslave announced his name as, “Chunk!”

“I thought you said no more chasing cheating spouses,” she said over comms.

“Somethings cannot be helped,” Whiskers replied.

Puddles casually looked around the elevated walkway intersection spotting Whiskers sitting on a observation bench sipping his coffee and reading his ever present tablet. Out of the corner of her vision she spotted Chuck exiting Wake Me Up and heading the opposite direction. Glancing at her skin watch, almost time.

“Anyone spot our target?”

“Not yet,” Whiskers responded quickly.

“I just got into position,” Chuck replied. “I don’t see him.”

“Keep an eye out Chunk,” Puddles teased.

“How hard is their job,” Chuck mumbled.

Chuck wearing his latest wageslave disguise, a tan overall with an accounting firm’s shoulder and breast meme-badge sat down at a table with an excellent view of foot traffic. Pulling out a tablet Chuck shopped while drinking his coffee and keeping an eye out for their target. Instead of their target, Chuck spotted a man erratically walking down the sidewalk, bumping into garbage stations, chairs, and the occasional wageslave causing a commotion as wageslaves attempted to adjust to the disruption.

“Isn’t it a bit early to be drunk?” he asked over comms.

“What?” both Puddles and Whiskers responded.

“There’s this guy…”Chuck trailed off. “What the an’jal is this guy?”

“Something wrong?” Whisker asked.

“No, this drunk is cradling a hand puppet of a bird, talking to it, and bumping into anything that gets in his path. Which seems to be everything.”

“I spotted Amson,” Whiskers cut in. “He is walking towards me wearing a blue suit carrying a black case.”

“I see him,” Puddles responded. Tossing her coffee cup into the trash she started towards Whiskers when she collided with someone. “What the…”

The man who collided with her bounced off her across the walkway scattering wageslaves. His disheveled and mismatched outfit wageslave outfit did not stand out as much as the robopuppet that his left hand was inside.

“Heading your way,” Chuck said.

“Are you okay?” the man asked.


“Not you!” the man screeched. “Are you okay Lovey?” He asked the robopuppet in a cooing voice that caused Puddles stomach to heave.

Puddles decided the best course was to ignore the man and attempted to walk past to intercept Amson who was crossing the elevated walkway towards her with Whiskers following.

“What’s wrong Lovey?” he asked the robopuppet as it began to screech and caw loudly. Wageslaves avoided the scene with alarming speed. “Did this feline hurt you? What’s that?”

Puddles turned to see what the man was going on about.

“Puddles down he’s got a…”


On the ground, bits of plastic and metal showered Puddles. Amson, their target fell over his chest and face, what remained of his face, covered in blood. Whiskers dove for cover. Chuck flew overhead, arms outstretched. The man, his left hand in the remains of a robopuppet, stepped over Puddles, grabbed the briefcase and ran past Whiskers.


One thought on “Puddles and Whiskers, Not Any Puppet

  1. Pingback: Puddles and Whiskers, Not Any Puppet II – Speaking Out On Life

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