"cough cough..."
Rogers coughed violently after hearing what Munster said.
He looked like he was about to laugh wildly, but in the end he reluctantly held back, considering Rand's mood.
"Come on, Rand, sometimes you just can't control the education of your kids."
He spoke to Rand, whose face had turned completely red, in a frivolous, witty tone, and a strange, deliberately suppressed excitement flashed in his eyes dyed purple with colored contact lenses.
"It's not funny, Rogers."
Rand said through gritted teeth.
Then he charged towards Munster again, forcibly snatching the stencil balls from it that had embarrassed him. Munster was very aggrieved, it grunted, and the tip of its tail slid vaguely on Rand's thigh.
"I... I gave Rand... teeth, Rand... gave me... hair..."
The tentacles on its head rose high, a bright blue looming over its scales.
It said so to Rand, trying to get back the wads of paper with the hair on its legs.
"puff-"
Rogers sneered once again beside him, and shrugged after receiving Rand's murderous look.
"I have to say, your little monster is actually quite talented. I should write this down and tell it to my group of boys. I'm sure they'll be as hard as a cannonball in an instant."
Rand took a deep breath, then another, and he could feel his composure melting like ice cubes under the sun.
And it was at this moment that the door of the storage room was violently pushed.
Rand was startled when the mop bar made a loud noise at the doorknob, while a man muttered angrily outside the door.
"Oh shit, whoever the fuck is in it, you better get out of here!"
…
Rand's body trembled slightly, and he involuntarily opened his mouth to say "sorry" habitually, but Rogers reached out and covered his mouth at this time.
He winked at Rand in the dim light, then leaned against the door, letting out a deliberately ambiguous gasp.
The people outside the door let out a series of curses, he kicked the door angrily and then growled inside.
"Okay, okay, you win! Why can't you just be honest in your own homes? I don't care how far you're going but I'll be back in five minutes, if the door hasn't opened by then I'll call the guards! Damn it! The toilets have storage rooms, can't you fucking have some public morals? Why do people always have to do things in places like this?!"
The man cursed angrily and walked away.
As his footsteps gradually became smaller, Rand felt that his cold sweat was soaking through his shirt. Compared with his nervousness, Rogers seemed extra calm.
"Don't worry, they will always encounter this kind of thing, they should be used to it."
he said.
Rand gave him a roll of eyes, then turned and shoved Munster into the wheelchair.
"I'll discuss this with you later, but now we have to get out of here."
…
What happened next was smoother than Rand had imagined.
He and Munster exited through the hospital gate instead of the emergency door. As Rogers told Rand, there was a large number of reporters at the hospital's door, and fortunately none of them seemed to realize that the "woman" in the ultra-short black one-piece was their target Rand West Firth - In the end they had to focus the interview on another person, Bennett, Rand Sivers' special assistant, who escaped in pursuit of Rand who had suddenly left the company.
In any case, he can also be said to be full of stories, but this is another story.
Let's dial back the timeline to the present.
Thanks to Rogers' enthusiastic help, Rand and his little monster returned to the tiny apartment before the FBI agents moved in next door.
Although he only left here for a very short period of time, after returning home, Rand felt that he had been away for a long time.
After this period of living, the apartment has taken on Rand's own scent: those scattered clothes, the magazines on the coffee table, the unsightly fish tank in the living room and the lingering lingering water that pervades the apartment. fishy smell. Strictly speaking it was nowhere near as beautiful as when Vincent first gave it to Rand, but the state of the house now made Rand more reassuring.
"Thank you, Rogers."
Rand turned his head and said sincerely to Rogers.
"No thanks, your women's clothes are pretty good, but don't forget to remove your makeup."
This is Rogers' sincere answer.
Rand's body stiffened awkwardly... Seeing his appearance, Rogers showed that smile again, he came over and gave Rand a warm hug.
"Hey Rand, take it easy, everything will be fine."
Rand gave him a reluctant smile.
Honestly, he doesn't think things will get better...
And just as Rand thought, at night, the plainclothes police were in the house next door that had been vacant for a long time, and there was an overly tidy hatchback cleaning car downstairs - that kind of The insider only needs to look at it to understand that there is a car of a bored watchman.
Rand moved his face away from behind the gap in the curtains, sighed deeply, and turned his eyes to Munster.
He originally wanted to educate Munster about his unusual interest in his leg hair.
However, at this moment, it is nestled on Rand's sofa, looking weak and very depressed, and even the mucus has become thinner.
Rand immediately forgot about the so-called education.
He felt that something was wrong with Munster, but he couldn't tell why.
He was anxious and had a bad feeling about it at the same time.
"Hey, Munster? How are you?"
He walked over and touched Munster's head lightly, and found that its tentacles felt softer than usual... It felt very bad.
That's right, Munster's tentacles were very unacceptable to the touch before, but they would never be as soft as they are now, without a trace of elasticity.
Like two rotten seaweeds, Rand even felt that a little bit of force would completely rot the two fragile little things.
At the same time, Munster's scales, which have always been in a gray state, have become erratic. Rand initially thought it was due to depression, but now when his fingers touch those scales, He found that the slime covering the scales was losing its stickiness, and they had a strong fishy smell.
"Rand..."
Munster reluctantly raised its head, which hummed and rested its head on Rand's lap.
"I like Rand so much..."
It muttered softly, grabbing Rand's hand with both hands and placing it on its face.
"My God, Munster?" Rand exclaimed, staring in shock at the little monster on his lap.
Its body is heating up.
This monster has a fever.
…
In another apartment across the hallway, Rogers, or "Spider", retracted his fingers, and the soft curtains fell back, covering the abrupt hatchback downstairs. In contrast to the restless Rand, he looked relaxed and happy, even humming a soft tune.
The printer buzzed softly in his room, and a few seconds later, a photo landed on the other side of the printer.
Rogers walked over, reached out and picked up the photo, looked at it, and smiled contentedly.
Then he put the picture in the frame and set it up on the bedside table next to the other frame above it.
Rogers took two steps back, and looked at the two photos in front of him with his arms around his chest.
"Today was a great day for me, Mom, he fits your dress better than I thought, so beautiful... I can't wait for him to share with me the art of beauty that transcends the laws of this world, I Looking forward to that day…”
In the two photos on the bedside table, two women who at first glance look very similar (one of them needs to be put in quotation marks) are wearing the same short black dresses and the same black wigs standing in the photo paper.
Only one of them looked embarrassed and his breath was jerky, and the background was a messy storage room.
And the other with a sweet smile, almost every inch of her skin shimmered, she stood in front of the luxurious villa with two boys in her hands.
… What Rand will never know is that "Rose the Redhead's Secret Garden" is not the name of the erotic clothing store he imagined, but a special clothing repair shop specializing in clothing repair.
And the short skirt he was wearing was exactly what the kidnapper "Lilith" wore when he committed suicide sixteen years ago.
"Oh, forgot to mention, Rand looks a lot like you even in that, Mom, and he's always the center of attention..."
Rogers spoke to the dry corpse on the bed in a sweet and illusory tone, as if he was speaking to a living person. If anyone could see this scene, he would probably feel the indescribable sense of distortion. And screamed. Regrettably, there was no real living person in Rogers' apartment except himself. The already-cut "venison" slowly oozes bright red blood on the plate.
Rogers and his mother whispered for a while, and there was some small noise outside the door.
It was the plainclothes group, and someone brought pizza and hot coffee for them. After watching them for a while, Rogers returned to the window, the hatchback a little more intrusive than he had imagined.
"It's nice to be the center of attention, but it's far from the time, is it?"
he said softly to himself.