Don't you hate having an itch you can't scratch? That trivial little irritation, which normally wouldn't even impinge upon your consciousness, slowly but surely becomes the end-all and be-all of your personal existence. The rest of the world grows dim, as your mind inexorably narrows down to that . . . . . . . . . . . . . . ITCH!
Dan's entire universe consists of the left side of his nose. All the facial gymnastics in the world will not relieve him of the desperate need to scratch. He is staring crosseyed at his nose, hoping that the force of his gaze will make the itch go away. Involuntarily, his right hand twitches at his side. The vulcan machine gun mounted under the stairs swivels to cover him. Temporarily, his mind is diverted by simple fear for his life, and the itch fades in importance.
But not for long.
The neighborhood squirrels are observing the scene from the porch next door. They are betting piles of acorns on who'll be the next one to get blown away.
Troll says, "Why doesn't he just GET ON WITH IT? We've been standing here for half an hour!"
"He's either playing with us, or he's keeping us here for a purpose," Lori says.
"Like what?" asks Brad.
"Like hunting down some of the others, while we're helpless to do anything about it," she patiently explains.
"SHIT!" Brad expostulates, "We've gotta get out of here!"
"You first," BLuR says.
Silence reigns. More acorns are stacked up on the porch next door.
Suddenly, a small light bulb appears above Lori's head. The megawatt laser whips around, looking for a target, but the bulb is gone too quickly.
Lori says, "Man, I sure would like a piece of that pizza, right about now."
Troll says, "What?"
BLuR says, "Shut up!"
She goes on, "Bet Greg put barbecue sauce on that one, too!"
Brad says, "Lori, you are NOT helping."
Dan is too occupied with his nose to be swayed by anything as mundane as food.
Lori goes on, "Mmmmmmmm! Look at all that melted cheese! It's still warm! See the steam rising?"
"SHUT THE FUCK UP!" screams BLuR, "I haven't eaten since yesterday!"
Suddenly, there is a great commotion on the neighbor's porch, as the odds are hastily revised. Scuffles break out.
Troll has his eyes firmly closed, and he's humming loudly, in a vain attempt to shut out the sound of Lori's voice.
BLuR begs Brad, "Brad! Go get some pizza!"
Calmly, Brad says, "No thanks."
"WHAT? Why not?"
"You saw that pizza! It's got pepperoni on it!"
"SHIT! Troll! You hungry?"
Troll is firmly into the third verse of Barrett's Privateers. He ignores BLuR completely.
"DAN! FOOD!"
In a distracted tone of voice, Dan says, "Sorry, Dan is busy but has been told you called."
Lori says, wistfully, "Muuuushroooms! Saaausaaage! Pepperoooooni!"
BLuR begins to tremble, and sweat. "SHUT UP, DAMN YOU!" he cries.
"PI ...." she leaves it hanging in the air for him.
"ZAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!" he bellows.
BLuR throws a head-fake to the south, and lunges for the pizza pile! The others break and run for their lives with single-minded intensity -- except for Dan who is vigorously scratching his whole face as he flees.
BLuR continues his lunge, pizza in hand. He furiously tries to roll out of the line of fire, but the tracking system is too fast for him. He vanishes in a cloud of flaming debris and shrapnel.
No one knows if he ever managed to eat any of that pizza.