Asom Meets His Foe
Read Weener-Hoozers, and Weenering the Hoozers first so you don't get confused by this story.
Hello, everybody. It's your favorite battery, Asom, here again. And get this:
I confronted my enemy!
After years of research after being grabbed by the strange invisible hand, I came across this site, titled "Weenerhoozers.com."
To my surprise, the site was full of stories from people about their encounters with a mysterious, invisible hand! I knew I was closer than ever to finding whoever did the horrible thing to me.
So I got my phone and dialed Mr. Goodman's number. After the phone rang a few times, he picked up and greeted me warmly.
"Hello, Asom? I thought you retired from button making. Are you looking for another job?"
"No," I replied. "Now listen, Mr. Goodman. Have you ever heard of Weener Hoozers?"
There was silence on the other end. Then Mr. Goodman spoke quietly.
"Asom, you found out, didn't you?"
"Yes, Mr. Goodman."
"Hmmm. Well, in case you were wondering, that Weener Hoozer who grabbed you has been sentenced to life in jail."
"You mean it was caught?" I was stunned, to say the least.
"Yes. Would you like to meet him?"
"Why, of course."
Mr. Goodman payed for my flight to Alcatraz, and when I arrived there, the officer told me which cell the Weener Hoozer was in.
I followed his directions and found myself in an empty room with a door on the opposite wall. It was more like a vault. An officer went before me and unlocked, then let me in.
It was dark and damp in the room. It smelled like stale cigar smoke. And on a bench to my right, sat a snake... except, where a head should've been, there was a scaly hand with sharp claws.
The Weener Hoozer saw me. It was smoking a cigar, and after putting it out and flicking it to the ground, the Weener Hoozer slithered up to me. Without warning, the officer slammed the door shut and locked it from his side.
I was trapped in there with a Weener Hoozer.
The Weener Hoozer scanned me. I was dressed in my finest business attire, and evidently, the Weener Hoozer was impressed.
"Nice clothes ya got there," it complimented. Please don't ask me how the darned thing talks.
I nodded. "Nice orange jumpsuit. Really compliments your claws."
The Weener Hoozer chuckled. "I like you, Asom. I'm sorry for grabbing you. That was when I was a rookie at Hoozering, and I didn't really know how or when to properly Hoozer you."
I sighed. "It's okay, Weener Hoozer. I forgive you. Nobody's perfect. Say, what do they call you?"
The Weener Hoozer paused. Then slowly, it answered, "My name is Steve-O."
I gasped.
Then my old friend, Steve-O, unzipped the Weener Hoozer costume and stepped out of it. He had an evil grin, and a mischievous look in his eye.
"Hello, Asom. Nice to meet you again."
He let out a blood-curdling cackle, then took a step toward me.
"What are you going to do?"
"Hoozer you," Steve answered, his voice as cold as ice.
"NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!"
To be continued...
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