"You know what?" Lisa prompted. "This sucks."
"Well, yeah, but is that neccisarily a bad thing?" asked Fred. "One time we were stranded in the Sahara Desert, and then the camel ate my last bar of chocolate. Unfortunately, I had already used the emergency flare to ward off the mummies who were invading our V.W. Caravan and shedding their acidic layers of mummified skin and... what was I talking about?"
"You were talking about the mummies," prompted Lisa, a psycic psychopath of the highest degree. She immediately regretted helping him to free his pet wombat from a gaping storm drain in Mongolia all those years ago. Maybe he would leave her alone if she de-magnitized his fillings. Either that, or tookwashed off some of that damn pheremone perfume. The clerk had warned her that she would be followed by a horde of losers if she chose "Euo de Magnet" Damn, she thought to herself, that was a dumb name for a perfume. But it had matched her shoes. As impractical as seven inch fingernails. Fred continued his tale of insanity in the desert as she transcribed it on her palm pilot, which was color coordinated with that twit Ian's pulpy gray matter. That'll teach him for trying to instill in Anna a bit of fashion sense. But, Noooooo! She would rather beat something senseless than... Would that idiot Fred never stop drooling over the damn wombat?! She planned to feed it to the next band of roving gypsies that passed through.
"Hey! Hey, Lisa..." Fred panted. Damn him, wouldn't he stop? She psychically ordered his legs to curl up like those of a dried up witch. Fred fell to the ground, grasping his groin. Oops, missed! "Too bad I didn't order his legs to fall off," she muttered to herself, wondering if she should call triple A and get him tuned up. "Then I would find out what that noise meant." She groaned at her own bad joke, resisting the urge to kick the wombat into the next sand dune, since she needed to keep Fred a bit... distracted, and there was nothing like a friendly wombat to get Fred, well, a bit distracted. This was because he was such a sick little puppy. She was glad he was never attracted to her pet pig. If only he knew the terrible secret of the society for the protection of wombats from perverted farmers. But, since he wasn't a farmer... perverted, yes, but not a farmer, he wasn't under the same kind of scrutiny. If the ASPCA ever found out that she had ever... but she was trying to forget the traumatic experience with that bull. Oh, God, the memory was coming back again.
[flashback] It had been warmer than the average day in Arkansas that summer, and Lisa's parents had let her play in the pasture. Then the bull had broken through the fence and pushed...
"Lisa? Lisa!" Fred shook her back to the present. She grabbed his nose and twisted until Fred had screamed deafeningly in pain long enough to bring her back. She apologized for twisting it off. Her mind had been...elsewhere. It didn't matter, though, the desert story was just getting to the good part. Unfortunately, the desert scenery had already been converted to the dank sewer wher they were hiding from the feds.
[Fade in helicopter sound effects and black out]
