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   Chapter 13 No.13

The Time Saving Agency By Christina Engela Characters: 4853

Updated: 2018-06-29 12:01


Eyes still tightly closed, Xyl began flexing his neck and shoulder muscles to the accompaniment of loud click-click, snap and pop sounds, his facial expression altering dramatically as he did so. The blue haze was gone (and so was most of the chrome plating on the teaspoon). And he was smiling. He was actually smiling.

"You okay, Mister?" Albrecht ventured faintly, completely forgetting his accent. "Mister? You okay?"

Xyl's eyes suddenly snapped open. He was back.

"Okay?" He grinned lop-sidedly. "That was the worst cuppa java I've had in my whole life! You call that coffee? Have you got anything stronger?"

"Sss-sss-tronger?" Albrecht stammered, noting a dull pain appear in his chest. "Stronger? Than Hot Stuff Blend? N-no, Mister but…"

"Okay then, I'll have another."

"A-a…noth - " Albrecht began, falling silent.

Thinking better of making any further protests, he just numbly reached for another Teflon-lined cup and, hands shaking, poured the darkly opaque and aromatic liquid into it. Handing the cup over, he figured it was finally his day to see everything. 'This is it' he thought, 'the fat lady has sung, the camel's back has snapped, the show's over – and I've seen it all!' Xyl downed it; eyes closed, discharged a little more lightning and sparks and swayed a little again etc, etc. A distracted ha-ha bird smacked loudly into a signboard that read 'no ha-ha birds', sticking for a moment before sliding unnoticed to

been beamed once before, only it never felt quite like that."

His head was reeling. If his eyes had been open they would've been staring at each other, probably from opposite sides of the room – which was not the one he remembered entering a few moments ago. It reminded him of a hospital, or maybe a science lab. Mister Scrooby was standing there beside him, still calm and friendly.

"Anybody seen my stomach?" He groaned. Then, remembering himself, he started to reach for his ten-mil.

"Please don't." Scrooby said quietly, in the way someone without a gun addresses a man with a gun.

"What the hell just happened?" Gary asked, his hand not quite on the weapon yet. "Where are we?"

"Simply put, " he replied, "That was a chrono-spacial transport and you're now at the headquarters of the TSA."

"You're speaking gibberish." Gary countered. "Don't do that. I hate gibberish. I got an 'F' for it at high school. Tell me that again, in plain Terran."

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