Ficlets

Paul's Bodyguard

But his attack was abruptly thwarted – Jon was lifted high into the air, a rough hand disarming him. He hung by his shirt, bobbing rhythmically.

Funkeinstein was one of Paul’s earliest creations: a nine-foot tall, diaper-wearing, humanoid monster with a cloud of white hair, crafted through a bizarre process involving parts of corpses, weird chemistry, arcane rituals, aberrant physics, and possibly-alien technology stolen from a mysterious mothership connection. Funkeinstein could only do three things, but did them well: it brought the funk, solved mysteries of the universe, and served as a kind of bodyguard and manservant to Paul.

Jon tried to extricate himself from the bobbing giant’s grasp, punching futilely at its dead arm.

“To score 315,” said Paul, “you would have to answer every single question incorrectly and misspell your name.”

“Your machine fed me the wrong answers!”

“Perhaps it gave you correct answers to the wrong questions. Did you ever think of that?”

“You suck!” Jon wailed.

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