Ad for Deadly Donut Gun. Don’t be fooled. This is not a toy!
Written 8 July, 2008
A Three-Donut Vacation
XXIII: Confrontation at the Donut Factory: Promised Cliffhanger Ending
I fired my watermelon gun at the last remaining ImSoNotADiva Bartlett clone, but the melons had no effect. Damn! She had enabled Movelock! And I couldn’t bring my Mystitool orbit weapon to bear because Havok4 has screwed push (in fact, my Well of Death, which used to toss avies 150 meters into the air, is now more a Well of Annoyance).
The blade of Sweetie’s razor-sharp katana was invisible beneath its sheath of glazed donuts, and she was visibly tiring from their weight (even heavenly puffy glazed donuts add up). I had to help her—but it was too far to jump across the conveyor full of hot oil, and it would take entirely too long to go around.
“The scones! Sweetie gasped. “They’re our last chance! Use them!”
My first toss missed. The throwing scone embedded itself, quivering, in a thick Plexiglas window.
The Diva glanced at me and snarled, and that’s when I threw the second scone. It zinged toward her, too fast and too close to dodge, but my aim was off. The scone merely grazed her arm.
And now my Sweetie’s katana, heavy with the weight of accumulated donuts, was falling to one side. Smiling with glee, Diva began to raise her hot donut gun, preparing to Krispy Kreme Sweetie to oblivion.
I had one scone left, and I knew I had to make it count. Calling on my years as an inveterate Second Life pool hall gambler, I calculated the trajectory and threw the scone, as hard as I could, directly into the hot oil on the conveyor.
It was a risky move, I knew. A miscalculation would have been disastrous. I might have missed Diva entirely and splashed the bubbling grease onto my precious Sweetie. But my shot was true. A great gout of hot oil flew up in an arc and drenched Diva. She screamed and wavered just long enough for Sweetie to flick her blade to the side, freeing it of its donuts. Then she spun on one foot, the blade raised, and snickety-snack, off came Diva’s head. It tumbled into the hot oil, was flipped by mechanical fingers like any donut, and quick as a flash was glazed with liquid hot sugar.