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Date Posted: 11:12:24 04/25/02 Thu
Author: sfdgsfdg
Subject: gsdfgs

The Mission, part 6


A low rumbling sound emanated from the back of the closet, growing in decibels with each passing second. Soon the sound was rattling lamps and shaking pictures from their hooks. Heather's eyes widened in fear as she turned back just in time to see dozens of people shoot from the closet doorway. With no hope of escaping the bolting horde, she and Dancer were instantly knocked to the ground. As quick as it began the stampede was over, the rumble fading off into the distance. Hesitantly Dancer and Heather pulled themselves back to their feet, amazed to find themselves still in one piece.

"Oh my GOSH! What happened?!??" Dancer asked, swaying unsteadily.

"We were just TRAMPLED! THAT'S what happened! I TOLD you not to open that door! Ow Ow!" Heather complained, gingerly checking her bumps and bruises.

"Was it... BUFFALO?" Dancer asked, still trying to stop the room from spinning.

"Buffalo? Are you DAFT? Those were PEOPLE! I... I think I saw Elvis and... what does Jimmy Hoffa look like?" Heather asked.

"I don't know, I don't know," Dancer moaned. "How many people do you think she had locked IN THERE?"

"Well, I've got at LEAST 24 shoe prints on my backside, I can tell you that!" said Heather unhappily. Stepping forward she peered into the tiny closet. "How on earth could all those people fit?"

"I have no idea. It's like everything around here is vacuum packed! Anyway, what about Harm? Did you see Harm?" asked Dancer, joining her friend for a look see into the infamous closet.

"I don't know and I don't care. I've had enough of this place. Let's get out of here before anything else happens... And STOP breathing on my neck!"

"I'm not breathing on your neck. What's wrong with you?" Dancer asked. "I thought YOU were breathing on MY neck!"

Realization dawned as a giant pink tongue lolled over one of Heather's shoulders.

"AAAAIIIIIGGGGGH!!!! Get in the closet! Get in the Clo.."

With lightning quick speed, once again their adrenaline propelled them forward. ~Slam CLICK!~ The door closed behind them.

"What kind of dog IS that?!" Dancer panted, leaning against the door.

"Big dog. Big dog BIIIIIIIG dog." Heather wheezed.

"Yes. I figured out that part," Dancer said sarcastically. "Is it gone yet?" she asked, tilting her head to listen.

"Ow! Ow! Watch the HAIR!" Heather complained, trying to bat it out of her face.

"Sorry. I keep forgetting," Dancer said. "I keep TRYING to smooth it down, but apparently dog spit is like shellack or something. In any event, people in glass houses and all that!" Dancer quipped, nodding towards Heather's own hair. "Anyway, do you think she's gone?"

"Yes. I think so," said Heather. "Let's get OUT of here!"

Reaching for the door, she attempted to turn the handle. It jiggled a bit, but did not turn. Locked. Turning to Dancer with a look of utter despair she rasped, "Door's.... locked."

"What?" asked Dancer, straining to hear.

Heather tried again to find her voice, "The door is LOCKED," she whispered, barely choking back a sob.

Dancer's eyes widened. "Are you telling ME we are LOCKED in LU'S CLOSET????!!!!!!!" she shrieked.

Heather slowly shook her head up and down, eyes welling with tears.

Immediately Dancer began pulling wildly at door knob, Heather all the while clicking her heels and wailing, "I want to go home. I want to go home. I want to go home. I want to go..." She was cut off by a voice from the darkness.

"I've tried that already. It doesn't work," said the voice.

Dancer and Heather froze.

"Who said that?" asked Dancer, looking around fearfully.

"Commander Rabb, at your service," said the voice.


~TO BE CONTINUED!!!!~


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