1.8

But, naturally I didn't have any time. After a measly five minutes Thing pulled Bob to a stop in front of a gas station and the both of us were getting out of the car. 

I was considering my options very closely:

  1. Go with Thing, try to bring some spirit beings over Here and potentially hand over the planet to a bunch of sadistic maniacs. 
  2. Refuse and get sliced and diced like a microscope slide specimen.
  3. Run. And then have Thing reappear in front of me and proceed to be sliced and diced. Or maybe get caught by some government before that and sliced and diced by some lab-coat creeps.

Some choices. Playing along was the only possibility where there was a chance that I wouldn't become a fish fillet. I'd lost my loyalty to humanity anyways. And I didn't want to go too far back into town with a ripped up shirt and mussed-up hair, looking like a hobo or something.

I suppose when I left the car in that state with Thing in my company it didn't look much better. But then again Thing was pretty attractive, so it was probably better to my (nonexistent) reputation than seeming homeless. 

Could've been worse, really. 

The End

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