Part 71: Francis and the Sting Dust adventure

So Phanto somehow split into two monsters once I used that mirror on his frozen corpse, and then one killed and ate the heart of the other. That is hardcore. I must give him a name that will strike fear in the hearts of all who hear it. I must name him...

Francis!



What? No! That's not what I wanted to name him at all!

Looks like you're stuck with Francis.

Damn it all. I think I need to snort something to deal with a name like that.



Hmm... It's no cocaine, but I think it'll do. Give it here, Holly.



No! My scorpion dust! Bad Francis! Very bad!

Looks like it had an effect on him. He's zipping all over the place.

Well send him to work, then! I need more scorpion dust, and he's gonna pay for it.






Is that good enough?

Maybe. Let's see how he can handle a gun to the face.






WE DO NOT RESORT TO FART JOKES HERE, MISTER! For that, you go in The Box.



Francis is very sorry. And I think I need to change his diet. Eww.

Like what? All we have is fish.

Maybe carrots?




That worked. What else?

He could probably use some fruit, too.





He isn't coming down...

I'll call the fire department. If they can get kittens out of trees, they can get masked demons.






Francis flipped out and dropkicked the firefighters.

Good!

So, uhm... Now what?

Training?



Go away, we're closed!

We got rid of the doodle.

Welcome, friends! How may I help you?

You're taking this Jason Voorhees looking motherfucker for a month.

Is he at least housebroken?

Sometimes!






On the first week of skill training, Francis would only pass gas. Lots of gas. Like, enough gas to destroy the ozone layer. Let's stop talking about that.




After that unpleasantness, he managed to focus his chi or something like that and got The Glow. If he had hair, I'm sure it would he gold and spikey now.



Instead of learning a new skill, Francis picked up a machine gun. We decided to let him keep it, because nobody wanted to get near an armed monster.



Well I'll be damned. He really does have a machine gun. Let's see what it can do.



Is this even legal?

Everything is legal when you don't get caught. Besides, I don't see any "no small arms" signs here.



First match. Francis vs some stupid yellow dinosaur.



Stats-wise, Francis looks to be totally dominant in everything. Just the way I like it.



As soon as the match bell rang, Francis opened fire. There wasn't much left of that dinosaur to identify after he was finished.



He was so happy about his first kill, that he skipped around the arena.



I'm sure that if Francis could make any more noises than a horrible dry growl, he would be saying "Say hello to my little friend".



It is so nice to have a monster with opposable thumbs. I should consider getting him a bazooka next.



The final opponent was supposed to be a suezo, but he was found half eaten in his cell, along with none other than Dirt McGirt. That little prick must have nine lives or something. Francis is going to have to put him down.




There was nothing left of Dirty, except a cloud of blood. He might have escaped during the hail of gunfire, or he might have been vaporized by all the bullets. Who knows? I don't care. We won, and it was time to rock out.



I broke into the PA room, and pumped some Van Halen through the speakers. Beer kegs and bikini girls appeared out of nowhere. We partied like it was the end of a Rodney Dangerfield movie.



Of course, Holly was only concerned with Francis' fame. She is such a stick in the mud. Hey, come on! Party down! Show some leg!

I am really uncomfortable right now.

Then why don't you go work? Francis and I are too busy rocking the fuck out to bother.

Fine! Come on, Francis. We're going to train you to be the best! WITHOUT Norman.






Do you see that, Norman? Look at all his numbers go up!






Oh God his face!

Holly, are you still in the bathroom?

I can't wash it out of my eyes!

I guess I'll have to work Frank now. Come on, boy. Let's go building.





You're pretty good at that, you know. Maybe we should try mining.





He enjoys that way too much. It ruins the simple joys mining brought me. Let's see if postal work can break your spirit.





He already has a machine gun, remember?

Shit. Right. Better stop that before he gets all disgruntled. Oh hell, bring your gun, Frank. We're gonna kill things again.







I don't know what you did, but it made that deer run to me and it was awesome. I shot it right in the eyes! You should have seen the brain splatter, Holly! It went out like scrambled eggs from a cannon!

Thank you for the lovely mental image, sir. But now...



Yeah, yeah. I know. What do we train him up with next?