Hard Laughter.

 
Tarka:
 
"Bring it forward just a little more. No no! Yesss... There! That's 
perfect.  Don't move it an inch."  Ellen leaned forward and looked at the
new dishwasher and grinned.  She then looked over to the workmen from 
Sears. "Thank you both!"
 
One of the workmen half grinned. "It is all part of the job. Thank you for
your purchase and good day to you."  The two workmen left out the front door 
the way that they came in.
 
Ellen ran over to her dishwasher and opened it up. She just had to use it
now that she had it. "No more washing dishes in the sink for me!" She 
managed to get it filled with dirty dishes and hooked up to the sinks 
water. Then plugged it in and turned it on.  The purrring sound it made 
was music to her ears.
 
With a snort of satisfaction Ellen walked away from the washer, heading 
for the living room to read the lastest book by Jane Austin. It had just
come out and she was itching to read it.
 
A moment later she stopped in her tracks. Something, or someone, was
watching her.  Slowly she turned in a circle looking all around. 
There wasn't anything there that she could see.
 
Ellen saw something out the corner of her eye and turned her head fast to 
look.  There was something there. A glowing spot hovoring in the air to one
side of her. She only had a moment to wonder what it was before it grew to
engulf her in pain and wonderment, for it was like an electric shock all
over.
 
She shreeked in pain and fell a moment later, onto a hard, bone cold 
platform. It was a soft grey in color, smooth as glass, and leaning
to one side.  She tried to get her grip only to slide off the slab of 
grey onto the floor.  Confused she looked back up at the platform that she
had been on only a moment before.  It was already moving away as the floor
under her carried her away.
 
On the platform the white glow she had seen before appeard and snapped, 
leaving a startaled looking dog in its place. It was just as rudely 
dumpped off the platform and onto the moving floor.
 
 
Alopex:
 
 
Ellen's head was swiriling. She didn't feel she could trust her vision, or 
even her own brain--which was pounding like a rock concert against the back 
of her head. She sighed and closed her eyes, laying her head back on the cold 
surface.
 
The taste in her mouth was odd--metalic, that taste that you get when you 
realize too late that the bread you just bit into has a tiny spot of mold on 
it somewhere. Still, she didn't focus on that thought, or anything else as 
her brain reeled. Just before she passed out she wondered if she had 
remembered to pack a lunch for her daughter, Millie, that day.


Terrycloth:
 
 
Millie stared at her empty lunchbox. Mom had forgotten to pack a lunch 
*again*. She closed the lunchbox and tried to act like she'd already 
finished, but the lunch monitor didn't seem to be fooled.

"Do you need a lunch voucher, Millicent?" the lizard hissed, leaning over the 
table and flicking its tongue in Millie's face.

"N-no, maam, I'm fine. I just --" Millie started, but then saw HIM walking 
by, out of the corner of her eye. Oh no! He was going to ask her out, she 
knew he was. "Actually... yes, I do, maam." Millie took the ticket from the 
monitor and headed quickly for the kitchen, ducking through the door just 
before HE saw her face. Close call.


Dogfire:


Ellen's head stopped pounding, except for that clitter of toenails on a hard 
floor. She lifted to head to find she was still in a grey room with a moving 
floor and dog. The floor seemed to be a revolving disk. And the dog? It was 
still there. Only now it stood up on all four legs and shook itself, It's 
floppy ears flickered and the large hound with a reverse pattern of fur along 
it's back ridge padded towards the wall.
 
The hound trotted up to the disks moving edge and stepped over a threshold. 
At once the grey wall irised into a hole revealing a hallway. Brightly lit 
and humming. Ellen heard a voice and stood up.
 
"Dang Nabit, those observation scoops are too rough these days."

The dog padded down the corridor, muttering explesitives.  Ellen followed. 
Two things struck her. This was not Kansas. And as far as she knew, Dogs, at 
least the four legged kind could'nt speak, much less talk and sound like Slim 
Pickens.

Ellen looked at a sign ahead of her. A sign with an Arrow pointing towards a 
doorway. At least, she muttered to herself, it was in English. It said 
'Maytag Scoop Passenger Dembarkation and Debriefing'

Ellen turned and found herself in what could pass as a waiting room in most 
Dental offices, a few chairs, a sofa and a coffee table with a magazine. The 
Dog was sitting in a chair causally nosing at a magazine. As if that's what 
dogs do regularily. 

She sputtered, The hound looked up, floppy eared. "Are you alright? Should I 
page the receptionsist?"

Before Ellen could respond, the glass door slid aside, revealing a dragon 
headed creature who rumbled, "Mr. Pickens, we're ready." A door opened.

The dog jumped off and said, "First time trips get you all wobbly. You'll 
settle in."


Tarka:


Millie tossed her books down and crached into the sofa... she turned the 
TV on and frowned. She really didn't enjoy school. She hated it.
 
An hour or so later Millie was watching DraganBall Z and started to worry
about her mom. She was always home by five on weekdays. She got up and 
started to search the house. There was a new Maytag dishwasher in the
kitchen. She uppluged it and reached for the phone.
 
Meanwhile... at the Magtag superheros building.
 
 
Alopex:
 
 
Meanwhile at the Maytage superheros building Ellen was still having a 
difficult time comprehending the sudden change in location, in decor...in 
reality. In the back of her mind she hoped that some grean creature with a 
large cranium and big black eyes would jump out and go 'boo', or maybe even 
have Agent Skully appear, just so that she could properly go back to 
unconsciousness.
 
Reality, however, had different plans for her.

Mr. Pickens started to nose through some drawers that seemed to be filled 
with pamphlets and leaflets. Ellen couldn't read what was on them, but they 
looked oddly like travel brocures. When the Dog noticed her attention, 
however, he quickly slammed the drawer shut.
 
With a jerk of his head, Mr. Pickens indicated to the dragon-headed creature 
that he wante a word outside. They departed and a heavy metal door slid 
closed with the smoothness as if it were floating on mercury. Ellen was left 
alone with her thoughts, a vinyl chair, and several frustratingly locked 
drawers.


Terrycloth:
 
 
Ellen stood up, and padded silently over to the door. There was no sign of a 
handle or keypad. Did it only open from the other side?

She heard faint murmurings, and put her ear to the door. Yes... they were 
talking, just on the other side. What were they saying, though? Something 
about... a connection moss. Lost? The dog sounded angry, but she couldn't 
make out what he was saying. The dragon-thing spoke back calmly, but equally 
incomprehensibly.

Then the door opened, so smoothly and silently that she didn't realize what 
was happening until she stumbled sideways, right into Mr. Pickens.

The dog twisted, and shoved, and she quickly found herself pinned to the 
floor, with the dog's teeth just inches from her throat. "I knew it was too 
easy. She set us up."


Dogfire:


At once, another voice said, "Calm yourself Mr.Pickens." The dog backed away 
and a dragon with blue whiskers leaned over and helped Ellen to her feet. A 
strange tingling ran through her skull, like too much champaign and hordoerves-
at a New Years party. At once she was bombarded with questions,

Just as suddenly as the questions were fired to her, she answered them back 
in rapid successsion.

"Are you Ellen?"

"Yes"

"Did your receive the Dishwasher on time?"

"Yes"

"And it was addressed to Ellen Buttle."

"No, my name is Tuttle, they delivered it to me late too."
 
The Dragon flicked his blue whiskers, "Buttle? Tuttle. Grimy, cockup of a 
fifth magnitude. Well that throws a wrench in everything."

The blue dragon turned to the other and said, "Get the rinse cycle set up for 
fast drainage. Mr. Buttle is still waiting in San Jose."

The blue dragon rumbled, "Mr. Pickens, while we ready the cycle, escort Mrs. 
Tuttle to the washbin.."

Suddenly the room seemed to grow larger, before Ellen Tuttle could scream a 
vastly larger Mr.Pickens, a hound now larger than an elephant dropped his 
snout and casually scooped up Ellen tuttle, carrying her in his jaws like 
some pup. 

Ellen bounced up and down in Mr. Pickens's canine mouth. Back through the 
hall way they went till she was dumped back into the same room.  She looked 
up and for once the Mr.Pickens looked a bit apologietic, ears and tail sound. 
"Sorry for snappinng at ya Miss, but we have to keep a lid on this. "

Ellen opened her mouth, "Wa wha where am I?" The sounds of a dishwashing 
machine filled the room. The huge hound barked, "Oh, we're the traveling time 
bureau, but don't tell them I told you."  As quickly as he came in, the dog 
vanished through an irised doorway, leaving Ellen alone in a room that now 
smeeled of hot water and suds....


Tarka:


Millie nodded to the officer and thanked him for comming around.

"Don't worry miss.. We will do our best to find your mother for you. We will 
send someone around tonight to check up on you. Tell then good night."

She closed the door behind the officer and settled down on the sofa,.. 
worried about her mother now. She was far far to late. Then someone rang the 
doorbell. She leaped up and ran to the door... hoping that it was her mother 
so she through open the door.

"Hello Millie... I heard that your mom went missing so I thought that I would 
come over and well... stay with you for a bit?"
 
Millie staried.. It was him.. the school geek... oh god... now what can she 
do.
 

Alopex:
 
 
What she could do was slam the door shut. And so she did. Even though her 
mother had been seeing his father off and on for weeks now, she could not 
stand the sight of him.

Or, "Him" more properly. His real hame was Jimenes, or "Jim" as she called 
him--pronounced, "Him" of course. It was a sufficiently derogatory name for 
someone who simply wouldn't leave her alone, and for which she could not come 
up with a specific reason why she disliked Him so.

She left him on the doorstep, knowing that, in his obstinance, or infatuation--
-whatever it was--he would stay there for some time. It wasn't really a good 
solution, because she knew he was there and would continue to but him unseen. 
Still, she had little choice, so she went up to her bedroom and turned on her 
computer.

Meanwhile, back at Maytag central, Mr. Pickens was walking back down the 
corridor after dropping off Ellen and setting the controls. He shook his 
head. Although he didn't know that Millie had unplugged the dishwasher at the 
other end, he knew that the connection was lost. Sending Ellen out was 
effectively sentencing her to a random trip to just about any washing machine 
that existed on her home planet.

He sighed. She didn't really deserve such treatment, but he had no choice. 
And he had his orders. The potential was too great that her return would 
reveal their colony--in fact the whole Endeavor (TM)--to persons that 
definitely should not know of their existence. The hope was that her arrival 
would so disorient her that anything she said would not be believed by anyone.
 
"She also had a cute tail," Mr. Pickens thought. But then, so did his mate, 
and he quickly put that thought out of his mind.


Terrycloth:
 
 
Millie headed right for the chatroom, but no one was there. "Come on," she 
thought to herself. "Connect. Please?" Down below she could here HIM pounding 
on the door every ten seconds or so, relentless. What the hell? Was he trying 
to break it down?

Finally her friend arrived. Paradox, he called himself. "Ah, Millie, did my 
little present arrive?"

"It wasn't supposed to come until next week," Millie typed back. "It took my 
mother, and I'm still stuck here. I unplugged it but she didn't come back." 
There was a CRASH from below, almost like the door *splintering*.

"ROFLMAO!" Paradox replied. "Plug it back in! Quick! If you want to see your 
mother again, that is."

Millie leapt from the chair, tripping over it and sprawling out onto her 
bedroom floor. She scrambled to her feet and hurried to the kitchen. As she 
reached the hallway, Him burst through the wreckage of the front door. There 
was... there was something horribly wrong with his arms... and his eyes...


Dogfire:


Him's eyes were almond shaped pieces of glass, his arms had become as spindly 
as sticks. The twisted, but oddy fitting, shape wedged it's way through the 
door and promply slipped on a growing puddle of soap and water streaming from 
the kitchen..

The dishwasher loading door lay open, twisted in fact, and sprawled on top 
was a sudsy, inert form of Millie's mother, Ellen. 

Millie cried, "Mother!". Ellen lifted her head and sputtered, "Millie, help 
me." She hiccuped, blowing a stream of bubbles.
 
Millie skidded to her mother and hauled her off the open loading door of the 
dishwasher. The pair slipped to a chair. Ellen hiccuped, then started 
giggleing, "Millie, I'm so glad to see you!"

Millie hugged her mother, glad to see she was okay, well a bit sudsy. When at 
once, the dishwashing machine started swelling. The disconeected power plug 
arced like a snake and plugged itself into the wall. A blast of light and a 
large hound bounded out of the dishwasher! Ellen's burbled, "Ack! It's Mr. 
Pickens!"
 
The dog scrambled across the floor towards the Ellen and Millie. Ellen 
instinctively clutched Millie to shield her. But the hound's attention was'nt 
focused on him. Snarling, the dog leaped and snagged a green reaching arm 
belonging to Him.

Like a dancer, the hound snapped at Him, gnawing an arm, biting a leg, till 
the screetching caricarture of what was once a Geek pimply adolescent, was 
herded to the kitchen, towards the dishwasher.

The dishwasher swelled like a sponge on steriods and with a loud whoosh, Him 
was sucked into it's bright interior. Another flash of light and he was gone. 

Ellen and Millie stood up, watching an empty kitchen, and the ruined interior 
of a dishwasher. 

Cleaning the kitchen took the rest of the evening. Despite a police search, 
no one knew where Him was.

Ellen broke off her relationship with the now gone Him's father. Millie 
promised not to say a thing about the night of the beserk dishwasher. And the 
dishwasher? It was a total ruin and the Sear's store figured an odd manufactur-
ing error caused the apparant explosion that fateful night.

Ellen had arrived home early, when the Sear's men came and took away the 
cursed machine and replaced it free, with a built in machine. They were 
carting the remains off to their truck and had just shut the cargo door when 
Ellen froze. 

She saw lying casually in the passenger seat of the truck was a large roan 
colored, floppy eared hound dog. 

Just as the men walked around to the truck doors, the dog stood up and stared 
at her, fixed her with an undog like grin and winked. 
 
The Sear's delivery men jumped inside the truck and drove off.


Terrycloth:


Sears refused to accept the return of a dishwasher destroyed with an axe.