Snufftoons, ch. 6


The Invader’s Handbook said that distractions were an invader’s most powerful weapon when undermining native societies.  If 898 could throw the planet into chaos, he would only have to eliminate the Mayor and his cronies, allowing Inperial forces to move in and establish control.

For some reason, 898 couldn’t remember the Handbook’s exact words.  His thoughts were clouded by an overwhelming urge to run back to Anime Town and soak up the mushroom cloud of toonblood filling the streets.  He found resisting the urge terribly difficult.

The rioting in Anime Town was a good start.  The toon pirate ship still floated above the streets, with an endless flow of pirates spilling down to wreak havoc in the streets.  It would keep the toons busy enough for the time being.  But for now 898 needed a distraction of his own.  Not just to ignore his growing desire for toonblood, but to keep the invasion steadily moving forward.

Ahead of him he saw it, a huge gothic building made of greenish stone, sitting like a fortress at the end of the street.  Unlike the other buildings, this one didn’t wobble or transform.  It sat still and sturdy, with the only movement coming from dozens of cartoon gargoyles perched on the building’s ornate moldings.  Adorning the building’s front was a single massive dollar sign.

898 smiled to himself.  A bank.  Bringing down the planet’s economy would be the perfect tactic for this invasion, and perhaps allow him to refocus his drug-addled brain.

He slipped through the bank’s front door and found himself in a giant lobby.  Hundreds of desks filled the room in a neat orderly grid, each with a snooty cartoon pig sitting at it.  The pig bankers wore neat suits of black, brown, or green, and each looked up from its accountings to look at the little green alien.  He was the only visitor in the lobby.

“Sir?” said one of them, rising from his desk.  The toon pig’s flabby jowls shook as it hurried over. “Perhaps you are looking to make a transaction?  Otherwise we shall have to ask you to leave.  The bank is no place for wacky shenanigans.”

898 looked past the pig to a giant steel vault on the far wall.  It had to hold the city’s savings.  898 pushed the toon pig away and crouched down to the floor.  He coiled up his springy metal bones, depressing himself to half his own height before springing loose.

The invader soared over the banker pigs in a green blur, spinning and twirling through the air.  He impacted the vault feet-first, and his green flesh compacted again, pushing more force against the giant door.  In seconds, the vault door cracked under the pressure and shattered, spraying debris across the bank.  The banker pigs squealed in fear and ran for cover.  898 hurried into the vault to execute his plan.

He landed on a floor of cartoon puppies.  There were millions of them, little white toon dogs spotted with black dollar signs, crawling around one another in a squirming mountain.  898 stared in disbelief.  This was some sort of trick.

A toon man sat at the peak of the mountain, cuddling several puppies to his face.  He wore a tuxedo and top hat, and his eyes were simple black dots.  He didn’t seem to notice 898 or the broken vault door.

“You!” 898 yelled.  He started hiking his way up the mountain of puppies.

The cartoon banker saw the little green man and jolted in surprise, dropping the puppies in his hands.   He tried to move on the writhing mountaintop, but couldn’t quite get away.  “Who are you?” he screamed, pointing at 898.  “This is the Cartoon World Bank!  You can’t just barge in here!”

898 pointed the revolver.  “Is this the city’s money?” he asked.

A smile of square white teeth spread across the lower half of the banker’s face.  The toon went from terrified to pleasant like a switch was flipped.  “Why yes, it is,” he said.  “Would you like it?  I’m more than willing to sell it you know, but the Mayor just won’t let me.  Perhaps you would like to steal it?”

The plan had been to destroy it, thus striking a blow to the planet’s economy and diminishing the Mayor’s power.  But since the money was alive it counted as Inperial property, and he couldn’t destroy it without good cause.  The rules just weren’t applying to this planet.  None of the traditional plans seemed to pan out, and all his efforts so far just brought more chaos.

And the cartoons thrived on chaos.

898 rubbed his chin and thought.  Formulating a new plan would be difficult.  He looked at the banker only to see the toon man staring at him quizzically.

“Hey, I know you,” the banker finally said.  He squinted at 898 with his black dot-eyes.  “Yeah!  I know you!  You’re famous!  You’ve been all over the Clint Cobblestone Show!  It’s an honor to meet you, sir!  I’m a big fan of your work!”

“I just arrived on this planet today,” said 898.  “How can I possibly be famous?”

The banker reached down into the mountain of puppies and pulled out a small cartoon television.  The TV screen showed 898 decapitating Ranger Rabbit over and over again.  It then switched to the battle royal still raging between the pirate toons and the anime.

The toon banker tossed the television aside, where it was reabsorbed into the mountain of squirming puppies.  “You’re on the Clint Cobblestone Show!” he said.  “It’s the greatest show on the planet because it shows the best violence on the planet!  Everyone watches it!  And you’re its biggest star!  Just look!”

He pointed down the mountain and the invader turned to see a cartoon astronaut standing near the broken doorway to the vault, filming their conversation with a blue-eyed cartoon camera.

898 thought about this Clint Cobblestone Show.  Not only were the cartoons enjoying his invasion, but that caveman was making a profit.  It was yet another dimension of this invasion that was spinning out of control.  898 suddenly felt very agitated.

He pointed the black revolver at the banker.  The banker cowered in fear, which gave 898 only a slight comfort.  The banker and the mountain of puppies were still capital that belonged to Inpire Inc, so he couldn’t slaughter them, and he ached to kill them all and be done with it.

But no.  There was an invasion to get back to.  Work to be done.  A promotion to be earned.  Good Greed, he needed another dose of toonblood.  The toons truly had nothing of real value, besides what Inpire was already taking from them.

898 lowered his gun and hurried down the steep mountain to exit the bank.  This was perhaps the worst invasion ever.

At the base of the mountain, the GI John kept filming the invader.  He zoomed in and captured every hint of hatred and disgust on the alien’s green face.  898 pushed the astronaut out of his way and stomped out of the bank.


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