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Li'l snake, lotta fun

Sir Pentious popped the hood of his cockpit and slithered out for a better view of the battlefield. He coiled around the unintentionally obscenely placed barrel of his latest design - the four-storey high 'I Win' machine - and scowled at the subjects of his ire.

"You stupid slutsss are always getting in my way! What are you even doing here? Don't you have thingsss to do? Disgusting thingss?" Snake and hat alike stuck their tongues out in distaste. "No matter, I'll have you sssplattered along the sidewalk in no time." He grabbed an eggy henchman and flung it at the duo for emphasis, cringing when his limp-wristed throw sent it plummeting to the ground where its explosion elicited a dismal cloud of dust and yolk. He shrugged and retreated to the safety of his cockpit.

Across the cratered streets of this deserted sector of Hell, atop the bluff of an explosively excavated bunker, Angel stood with two hands upon his hip, and two more telescoping his eyes. Cherri stood beside him much the same, minus a few limbs and eyeballs. The blowing of sulphur-scented dust billows sent hair and fluff alike waving in dramatic fashion.

"What the fuck did he say? No, really. Some 'genius' he is. Can't invent a Satan-damned megaphone." Angel squinted harder, as if it would help him hear better.

"How should I know? Something about wanting to splatter us, I think."

Angel half-hid a cheeky grin.

"Boy, he has -not- learned his lesson at all, has he?" He took a drag of his cigarette, turned, and flashed a more genuine smile Cherri's way. "Hey bitch. Thanks for invitin' me out again. It's getting real hard with this hotel shit lately. It's like tryin' to jerk off with the door open. Gotta be quick or Mum'll catch me." He emphasized 'Mum' with an exaggerated eye roll and quotation fingers.

"Awh, Ange," she said, casually smacking a flung Egg Boi out of the sky with a bent golfclub, "you know no one eats ass quite like you do. It's not the same without my killing buddy."

Angel's eyebrow raised unerringly upward.

"Uhh, I think you meant 'kicks' ass, sweety."

"Yeah, sure," Cherri shrugged. "Hey, y'wanna - DUCK!"

"Do I wanna... what the fuck does that- woah!" Cherri leaped down behind the bunker and pulled Angel down after her. His eyebrow took a second longer to follow.

The mini blast of nuclear fallout collapsed down over them, sending the duo into a fit of coughing, which transitioned quickly into doubled-over, knee-slapping, adrenaline-fuelled laughter. They recovered, slowly, tear lines streaking the soot that covered their faces, just as a gaggle of shell-shocked eggs came rolling over the bunker's crest.

Cherri clambered to her hands and knees, facing Angel.

"So, Angie... wanna smash?"

The spider gave a non-committal Bugs Bunny impersonation.

"Ehh, sorry toots, you're not exactly my type. Maybe with a few hard drinks in me." He shrugged, then hesitated, taking another moment to seriously consider the thought.

"No, you moron. Smash eggs!" Cherri got to her feet, an already-damaged egg's shell crunching pitifully beneath her heel.

"Oh shit yeah!" Angel leapt to his feet, grabbing an egg-mook in each hand. He slammed all four heads together with a satisfying SMACK!

The two set about with reckless abandon - a whirlwind of bombs and bullets, a raw and visceral manic melee, with the inevitable outcome of painting the roads yellow with egg viscera. A yellow-bricked road, straight to hell, if you will. Eggs were cracked, smashed, and splattered to a chorus of laughter, confused grunts, and piteous mewling, until finally only one remained.

Number Fifty-Six backed up against the crater's wall, trembling, his Pentious' Pistol held meekly in front of him. Angel and Cherri advanced, their befanged grins spread in a sinister savagery, with eyes glowing red and shadows deepening around them. Number Fifty-Six gulped and pulled the trigger. The gun rumbled with the ear-raping vibration of a stored nuclear blast. Louder and louder, building to a terrifying crescendo until, at last, it erupted. The gun sputtered a pathetic smoker's wheeze, and out popped a small white flag, upon which read: 'Will fix later. - Sir P.'

"P-please," cried the egg, dropping the gun and bringing his stick-thin hands up to shield his bruised face. "Don't kill me! I have a wife! And... and kids?"

Angel and Cherri gave each other a confused look.

"Like... ya mean, you and an egg-chick bumped uglies? Do you lay another egg? I don't get it."

Cherri rolled her eye.

"He's obviously just lying so we don't kill him, doofus."

Angel crossed two arms beneath his breast fluff and raised two more in a halting motion.

"Woah, woah," he said, waving his hands around. "No, wait. This is important. I wanna know if the eggs can fuck, Cher." He stepped forward, looming directly over Number Fifty-Six who was about one more threat from pissing himself. "Well, sweetheart?" His voice was pitched low, insistent.

"Uhh- umm, will you let me live if I answer?"

"Depends on what the answer is, sugar." Angel's wink and quick fluff-readjustment had him sweating.

"What the hell, Angel. You'll fuck some dumb egg but not your best pal? That's fucked up."

"Ahh, c'mon. It ain't like that ya dumb broad. This is science yer messin' with. I just wanna know if they got the bits t- hey!" Cherri pushed Angel Dust's face off screen. She lowered to an easy crouch before the terrified Egg Boi, pretended at smoothing out his yolk-stained suit, and gave her most winning, toothy smile.

"Ya really wanna live?" Number Fifty-Six nodded so enthusiastically that his hat was sent flying. "Then you're gonna have to close your eyes and open up, okay?"

"Christ Cherri, you're more fucked up than I gave credit for."

The Egg Boi gulped.

"Just... don't tell anyone, okay? The boys'll never let me live it down, and the boss can get really jealous..." His panic-talk picked up in speed and intensity, and would have kept going had she not gotten fed up. The demon gal said, 'Ahhh,' and stuffed a red bomb into his mouth mid-sentence, lit-fuse and all. She kept two fingers jammed into his nostrils until he swallowed. Number Fifty-Six blinked, Angel smiled and waved goodbye, and Cherri lobbed that miserable minion up and over the bunker's crest with just her fingers.

An unnecessarily long whistle preceded a splat, and then the duo were coated in far-flung egg guts and red dust. They collapsed together into another fit of laughter.

"And that's why you love me, Angel."

"You know it, sugar tits."

Meanwhile, from the cockpit of this mech, the snake demon Sir Pentious surveyed the battlefield through the wrong end of a telescope.

"I can't tell. Are we winning? And why is everything so tiny?"

Number Thirty-Two, who was standing upon the shoulders of Number Thirty-Three, tapped thoughtfully on his shiny dome.

"Well, hmm. Let's see, Mr. Bossman...uhh, nope! Not winning."

"Drats," said the snake, clicking his fingers. "Well, how many of our soldiers are left?"

Thirty-Two held his hands up and pinched his fingers as he counted.

"Gee, Boss. Well that's one... two, three... uhh, none, Sir."

The Egg was knocked to the floor as Sir Pentious drew to his full height, hood flared and many eyes all brimming with uncontained fury.

"Blasted whores! That's it! If they want to test my anger, then they shall drown in it. Ready the weapon!" The Egg Bois exploded into action, rushing around the cock pit to their assigned stations to a soundscape of 'oh boy!'s and 'wow!'s. The snake popped the dome of his machine and coiled around its thrumming groin-cannon once more. He shook his fist, and his banshee shriek of a taunt was loud even by his typically shrill standards.

"YOU HEAR THAT?! I WAS SAVING THIS FOR ALASTOR, BUT INSTEAD I'M GOING TO USE IT TO SQUASH YOU LIKE THE BUGS YOU ARE! YOU'RE FUCKED!"

Our heroes, who had by now recovered, stood once more upon their gory playground. Angel squinted, sticking a pinkie finger in his ear hole.

"What'd he say?"

"I think he said we're fucked, Ange."

The spider simultaneously shrugged, rubbed his forehead and shook his head, but his smile said it all.

"Uhh, hey Angel, you happen to have a baseball bat on you?" Cherri looked down at her broken golf club, then back up at the death cannon that was eyeing them down and quite obviously charging up for something lethal.

"Christ-on-a-stick, woman. Where do you think I keep these things? Up my ass? Let me tell you, babe, it's a little less fun than what it looks like. A little."

Cherri's dour look could have withered flowers.

"D'ya have one or are we just dead?"

"Alright, alright. Sheesh, gimme a minute," he said, rummaging through his fluffy pocket dimension. One by one he pulled out junk - a Tommy gun, a flame thrower, a bright pink dildo... he grinned sheepishly.

"Angel!"

"Okay! Umm... aha!" His exclamation was sincere and loaded with a worrying amount of relief. He bent over in mock bow, and offered the discovered bat up hilt-first. "Your weapon, ma'am."

Cherri ripped it from his grip, tested its heft, and took position upon the batter's plate. She kept thoughts of the ass-bat in question out of her mind and focused purely on surviving the next five seconds. She raised it on high, and pulled the cap of her batter's hat down low. She was ready.

Sir Pentious' machine bucked and bounced, steam pouring from its vents and a viscous, green goop dripping from its shaft. The cannon bulged at its base, here and there nuts and bolts sent flying as something pushed down its barrel. There was a horrible clanking trill as the weapon almost disassembled itself before their very eyes. Then, at last, its cavernous tip spread obscenely wide, and out spewed a ball of radioactive green muck.

Cherri Bomb popped the bubble of gum she'd been working on, and a bead of sweat streaked down her forehead. She pulled back, swung the bat once, twice, and then, when their death was at last upon them, she unleashed the best home-run smack of her life.

The car-sized ball of ooze crunched against the bat's metal edge. There was a pregnant pause as it hesitated, as if uncertain, and then with an elastic twang it was sent hurtling right back where it came from.

Sir Pentious, where he sat upon his spent machine, watched in disbelief. His shoulders sagged, and his hood along with it. Even his hat was frowning.

"Well, sssh-"

The glowing green ball enveloped him and then they disappeared - snake, eggs, mech and all.

***

"So, what... it was some kind of shrinking booger?"

Angel and Cherri stood before the ruined mech - now regular demon-sized, and billowing smoke and steam. It's diminished dick-cannon drooped sadly to the floor. Cherri poked at the cockpit's dome with the tip of her bat.

"Well, that was fun," said Angel. He stretched - two hands behind his head, two more held to the sky. "I wonder how this guy came back anyway, I thought Creepface squashed him." He shrugged, and focused on fixing his ruffled hair.

"Wanna beat this thing up a little more?" Cherri gave the machine an investigatory battering. It rung like a struck gong, which phased into an annoyed rasping.

"Ssstop that!"

Cherri scratched her head.

"Huh? You say something, Ange?" But her queer friend was too focused on fixing his outfit to be paying any attention.

"I ssssaid," the mech's domed head suddenly popped open, unleashing a billowing of smoke and the heat of a small fire. A miniature Sir Pentious flopped out, gasping for air, as a flurry of even tinier Egg Bois ran around squeaking and putting out fires behind him. The demon filled his lungs, pointed bitterly at Cherri, and scowled, "ssstop that!" A forked tongue poked out of mouth and hat alike, and all eyes were trained on his two most devious of foes.

Sir Pentious' glare quickly dropped into a nervous confusion.

"Why are you looking at me like that?"

Angel and Cherri had both bent over, their heads pressed together and their eyes wide and sparkling like only a puppy dogs' can.

"Awh! He's so cute!"

Angel grabbed the snake by the throat, chest, and tail, and hoisted his squirming body up into the air.

"Lookit the li'l fella. He's small enough to fit into my pants!"

"Put me anywhere near your pants and I can assure you I'll bite and constrict the first thing I come across!"

Angel's eyebrow wiggle put a dent in the snake demon's righteous enthusiasm. Luckily, Cherri swiped Sir Pentious from Angel's grasp, and curled him up against her chest like a newborn baby.

"Nope. He's too cute to keep trapped in your panties. I'm taking him home with me."

Angel rolled his eyes.

"Oh yeah? And what're y'gonna use him for?"

Cherri grabbed their captive and straightened him out like a tube of toothpaste. He 'hurk!'ed and stiffened instinctually, and she used the opportunity to hold him like a pen.

"Stationery. He's like some tiny desk Sir Pentious. It'll be great!"

The blood drained from his face, and he went limp once more. This had not been a good day for Sir Pentious.

***

"Confounded woman. Release me," whispered Sir Pentious, desperately afraid of waking her up, but too proud to be completely silent. He'd spent the night being squeezed, squished, and tormented, and had only now worked up the courage to attempt his escape.

He managed to squeeze his way out from beneath her breasts, wheezing with the effort, and at last coiled unbound upon the bedside table. He reached back between her cleavage and brought forth his slightly scrunched, frowning hat, which he placed upon his head. Sir Pentious and his hat watched the girl sleep, scowling, and dreaming of the many ways in which to partake in her obliteration.

But, unfortunately, killing a defenceless, sleeping girl was not in the least bit satisfying or dramatic enough, and he had not the tools or the... appropriate size with which to capture her at this moment. He slithered over to the open window, and placed a finger to his earhole.

"I'm ready for extraction," he grumbled.

There was a burst of static, and then the reply came.

"Boss! We're so glad you're safe! We're on our way!"

He turned back one last time to look at his tormentor's frail form.

"When I next return, I ssshall be a large desk Sir Pentious, and you, you insufferable whore, shall... uhh, suffer... yes."

There was a crack of thunder and a flash of lightning from the miserable streets outside, and then he was gone.