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There was a surprised cry and then a crash followed by a howl of pain.

“Now then,” the waitress said cheerfully. “I'm Mally and I'll be your waitress this evening. If you're looking for Sheila and I don't really blame you if you are cuz, man, the boobs on the girl, I mean, dang! Well she called in sick, I'm afraid. Frankly speaking though, just between you and me, I think she's just playing nookie. Wait, or was that hooky?” She shook her head. “Anyways, I think she's gone to the pie-eating contest. I mean, who wouldn't? Pies are great! Why, if only I'd know about it sooner, you know, I wouldn't have agreed to fill in for her and I'd be at the Pie-Pie Emporium myself this very moment. Sigh!”

The poor Bond Nerd was frozed stiff, his countenance ashen. His eyes were wide open, veritable saucers upon his shocked, distorted face.

It was her. That Mallet Girl cosplayer. All dressed now in a cute waitress uniform.

It was her. She even had a small, smiling mallet drawn on her name tag.

It was her! He thought he had gotten away but it was all a lie! A lie! It was simply too much for his already over-stressed heart.

“So what can I getcha?” Mallet Girl asked.

But for the answer, there came none. Clutching his chest tightly, the Bond Nerd keeled over ever so slowly. Silently, he slid off the stool and fell on the floor with a dull thud.

Mallet girl leaned over the counter to look down on him. “Hey, buddy, you okay?”

No answer. Not even a sound did he make. The Bond Nerd didn't move at all and he was starting to froth at the mouth.

“Oh, dear,” Mallet Girl went. “Does this mean I won't be getting any tip? Aw, man. And I was gonna complement you on your looks, too. You must be a celebrity or something cuz you look awfully familiar.”

CHAPTER DISCLAIMER

No actual nerds were killed in this chapter. Maimed? Yes. Hospitalized? Yes. Terrified to within an inch of their life? Yes. Beate, bashed, broken, and stomped? Yes, yes, yes, and yes. But killed? No.

CHAPTER DISCLAIMER DISCLAIMER

No actual nerds were killed OR hurt in any way whatsoever in this chapter. Any violence thus depicted was just a figment of the author's twistedly sick sense of humor and imagination. He is currently receiving treatment as per the orders of the court.

Incidentaly, it will be some time yet before the next chapter is written and thus presented for your enjoyment. We here at Junkyard Press beg your pardon and patient consideration.

In the meantime, please enjoy this lovely elevator music rendition of the heavy metal band Goat The Sequel's new hit single “Sticky Love For Bleeding Orifice”.

INTERLUDE -- MEET THE FAMILY

Jake's Assorted Junk Thrift Mall. At least, according to the rusted, faded, hand-painted sign hanging on the wire fence with barbed wire coiled at the top, just beside the front gates.

The place was actually known to the residents of the fair city as the Axion Plus Junkyard. Or App-J for short. It was the biggest junkyard in Axion Plus City, located just outside the city proper but still well within the city limits.

In the light of the full moon, an old television set with bent rabbit ears antenna lay at the summit of the tallest mountain of assorted junk at the center of the main yard, surrounded by a maze of pile up, old, broken down cars. The television switched on by itself. The screen showed nothing but static at first, a thick flurry of electric snow. Then the television set quieted down and show a blank white screen.

For a moment there was silence, save for the faint sounds of various heavy machinery in the distance.

The television screen flickered and then...

“Howdy-howdy-howdy!” A pint-sized version of Mallet Girl but with a rather over-sized head popped into view, waving her right hand in greeting. “It's me! Chibi Mally!” She nodded. “Chibi Mally! Yep! That's my name and don't you forget it!”

“I'm just like Mallet Girl,” she continued, balancing a red croquet ball on the tip of her right index finger whilst spinning a wooden mallet like a cheerleader's baton with her other hand, “only much more adorable.”

“Hey!” a voice protested from off-screen. It was Mallet Girl.

“Now, now, Mallet Girl,” a man's voice replied. “You can't inflict bodily harm on Chibi Mallet Girl just yet. We still haven't finished paying for her yet and we're still waiting for news on her insurance application.”

“Whoopsy!” Chibi Mallet Girl let out an embarassed giggle. “I though she had left already.”

“You can't treat me like this!” Mallet Girl cried. “I'm the star of this show! I'm leaving!”

There were sounds of foot steps followed by a door creaking open and then slamming shut.

Chibi Mallet Girl waited for a couple of moments to make sure that Mallet Girl wasn't coming back. “Whew!” she said then. “For a minute there, I was afraid she was gonna go ballistic again. She can be quite the spoiled, violent diva, that girl.” She nodded knowingly, with her eyes closed.

Suddenly, a shrill whistle sounded. A badly pixelated, diminutive mailman marched across the screen; so terribly and choppily animated was he, just like the video game characters of yore. He handed Chibi Mallet Girl a small, white envelop, tipped his hat, and then marched off the screen.

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“Now then,” she panted, casually tossing aside what remained of the wooden dais, “just one more and I'll have gotten the complete set.”

She turned around to see the last remaining Nerd disappear down an open trapdoor in the stage floor towards the rear of the stage. It seemed that the man had discovered one of the secret passageways leading out of the building for the exclusive use of celebrities and star performers wishing to avoid the fuss and unwanted attention of rabid fans and paparazzis alike.

“What the--!?” Mallet Girl exclaimed in surprise. She was quick to recover however and drew yet another one of her wooden mallets from her back. “Hey! Come back here you! I said come back here! Oooh! Bond Nerd, I challenge you! You hear me? Hey!”

But the Bond Nerd was not listening. He had been shown the path to salvation, the way out of this horrible nightmare. He was not about to stop for anything.

He was the complete opposite of the super spy he adored and admired so much. A gaunt-looking, nervous little man, he was completely devoid of the suave, calculating deameanor of Agent 007. Why, he couldn't even pull off the legendary character's signature statement properly, not even if his own life depended on it.

Down the narrow staircase the terrified, little Nerd stumbled and into the dimly-lit corridor below. It was narrow, just as a little wider than the staircase, but it mattered little to the poor Bond Nerd. He just kept on running and running with nary a pause or thought as to where the dark corridor was leading to, visions of the rampaging devil woman nipping at his heels lending wings to his faltering feet and legs.

The corridor was long and winding but finally he found himself clambering up the short staircase at the end of it. He threw open the door and fell into a deserted alleyway, several buildings away from the veritable hellhole that had been Building 85. He was out at last and bathing in the fading light of setting sun.

But still he was not away far enough. Escape still remained but an elusive dream for he could still hear her calling out to him, calling out his name. Oh, that voice! That horrible, nightmarish voice! Not unlike the sound made by a tin can slowly being crushed but intensified a hundredfold. He would remember that voice for the rest of his life, such as it was.

“Come back here, Bond Nerd! Face your beating like a man!”

Shrieking in abject terror, he scrambled to his feet in all desperation. He ran and he ran and he ran, crashing into many a trash can, sidewalk sign, and occasional mime. Past shops and stores he fled. Past startled pedestrians who stared at him in wonder, completely oblivious to his plight.

Everything appeared distorted to his fevered mind. The people. The cars and buses. The neon signs. The fiberglass mascots standing in front of the shops. Everything, even the most mundane of objects, appeared to be dark and twisted versions of themselves, all seeking to put an end to his sorry, miserable existence.

“No!” he cried out. “Keep away! Oh, Jesus! Oh, sweet Moneypenny, save me!”

And so he continued running. And run he did until he could run no more, collapsing in a heap in a dark alley, sobbing and gasping for breath.

He lay there on the filth-ridden, slime-covered concrete, shivering and crying. With trembling hands, he covered his face as though to shield himself from the horrors, both real and imagined, but mostly imagined, that were besetting him.

It took him a while to recover, to regain enough composure and courage as to lift his head and look about him. And when he finally did, he found himself in the middle of a dark, deserted alleyway, the cold night air heavy with the stench of rotting garbage emanating from the dumpster nearby. Yeah, it was already evening. He must have been running for more than a couple of hours. Quite a feat indeed considering he was neither athletic nor possessed of a robust constitution; he had never ran even a fraction of a mile in his entire life.

But this amazing achievement was lost upon him for so concerned was he with his own safety, both physically and mentally. He looked here and there, left and right several times just to make doubly sure, until he finally allowed himself a sigh of relief. That woman was nowhere to be seen. He had succeeded in losing that monster and he was safe at last.

Slowly, he made his way out of the alley, shoulders slumped, head bowed, for though a great weight had just been lifted off him, he found himself at the very brink of exhaustion. He considered calling the cops, going to the precinct even. But then, he paused, if he did go to the police, that woman might take it as a personal affront; he could only imagine the vengeance she would exact upon him then.

The poor Bond Nerd shuddered.

She may only have been cosplaying Mallet Girl but she was still quite the formidable force to reckon with. No doubt the cops will be hardpressed indeed to bring her in. Why, they might even have to call in the real Mallet Girl to deal with her. If only she hadn't been so crazy, she would have been perfect to play Mallet Girl.

He noticed a diner to his right. “PAPAYA-RAMA-LAMA” the sign above the door said in bright red, orange, and yellow neon lights.

His stomach growled as if in response.

Perhaps a little bite to eat was just the thing he needed to help soothe his frazzled nerves and clear his head? Yes, a bite to eat. Oh, and a smoothie. He was parched. He'll make up his mind after eating on whether or not he should report the incident.

And so the Bond Nerd entered the Papaya-Rama-Lama Diner.

A small bell rang as he opened the door. Looking around, he saw that all the booths were occupied and he had no choice but to take seat by the counter. He waved at the waitress behind the counter as soon as he was seated. “Um, excuse me.”

The girl's back was toward him. His eyes widened as she turned around and greeted him with a perky smile.

“I'll be right there,” she replied. She refilled one of the cups on the counter with coffee. “Think fast, Gramps!” she then cried out as she gave the cup and saucer a quick push, sending them sliding fast towards the far end of the counter. Without waiting to see if the old seated at the far end caught the cup and saucer or not, she returned the carafe to the coffeemaker and then turned and stepped toward the Bond Nerd.

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“Get ready to move,” he continued. “We're going in!”

The security guards on the scene glanced at each other, unsure of what to do or say.

“Well? Don't just stand there like idiots! Get a move on!”

“Sir,” one of the guards eventually said. “Don't you think we should wait for the police?”

“Forget the police,” another guard mumbled to the one next to him, “we'd be better off calling in the army.”

The security head could not believe his ears. “Are you deaf, man? They are dying in there! We don't have time to wait! It's high time you really earned your paychecks, boys.”

“But, sir, it's Mallet Girl.”

“M-M-Mallet Girl!?” The man nearly fainted at the mention of her name. He had dealt with her before, back when he was still the president and owner of his own corporation. That had been a pure and unadulterated disaster and it was only because of his father-in-law's connections that he managed to get appointed to the prestigious position of head of security of all of Studiotown.

“Mallet Girl, you say? Aherm-herm! Uh, yes, of course. Quite right, we should wait for the cops to show up and let them handle this mess. Quite right. Good call there, Johnson. Carry on, men. Carry on!”

And with that, the poor man retreated to the relative safety of his car. He legs couldn't carry him fast enough. He wasted no time in driving back to his house. With that mallet-wielding calamity on steroids around, he was not about to take any chances. He quickly packed his clothes and hurried off to the airport. He can only hope that it wasn't too late already and that he can get enough distance between him and Studiotown before the proverbial shit hit the ceiling fan. Such was the state of mind he was in that he completely forgot all about his wife and children.

Meanwhile back inside Building 85, Mallet Girl was just about done. She had long since lost track of the time but it no longer mattered. She was just having too much fun. Why, she hadn't enjoyed herself this much since kindergarten. Yep, that day a couple of weeks ago sure was a hoot! Too bad Aunt Mitzy swore she'll never let little Mel take her to school for Show & Tell ever again.

Only two of the Nerds were still standing, still conscious and relatively unhurt, that is. Mallet Girl had chased them back to the stage and had cornered one of them by the five-tiered dais. She was just about to give the poor, cringing, gibbering fellow one more whack with a heavy rubber mallet when her eyes alit upon the words written on the Nerd's sash.

She paused.

“Hentai Nerd?” she murmured to herself. “Hentai Nerd...Hentai...” She pursed her lips in deep thought even as she tapped her chin with the mallet absentmindedly. “Hhhmmm...hentai...? Now where have I heard that word before? Wait...”

Her eyes widened as the realization slowly sunk through her thick skull and into her mallet-obsessed brain. She stared at her mallet and then at the Hentai Nerd and then back at the mallet.

The Hentai Nerd was a short and portly youth, no older than sixteen years of age. Bucktoothed, with small beady eyes hidden behind large, half-inch-thick prescription glasses, his black hair cropped short the shape of a rice bowl.

“Eeewww!” Mallet Girl cried out in utter disgust and dismay, letting go of her once precious rubber mallet as though it had been tainted with deadly plague. Or worse, cooties. “Gross! I can't believe I touched it with my mallet! Oh, my poor rubber mallet! It was custom-made!”

She pointed at the Hentai Nerd with a trembling finger. “Why you-you...you... Aahhh!” She pulled at her hair in frustration. “No fair! I'm not touching that!”

And so the Hentai Nerd looked quite relieved indeed. He had always known this particular hobby of his was going to save his life one day. He wiped the snot dripping from his nose with the back of his hand. “Oh, thank goodnesh!” he lisped.

But the young man's elation was short-lived. He watched in horror as Mallet Girl took hold of the five-tiered dais and proceeded to lift it off the floor. The dais, though made of mere wood and nails, was large and sturdy enough to hold twenty people. It was as heavy as a small car but even then the dais, creaking and groaning, began to rise slowly and with one final heave, she pushed it over her head.

“Hah!” she cried out triumphantly.

“Wait!” the Hentai Nerd shouted desperately. “You shaid you weren't going to toush me!”

“Well, duh!” Mallet Girl replied. “Fists and mallets are too precious to waste on the likes of you. This is more than good enough!”

“Waaaaahhhhh!” the Hentai Nerd screeched in terror, shielding his face with his arms as the wooden structure descended down upon him.

“Die-die-die-die-die!” Mallet Girl went, repeatedly slamming the five-tiered dais down upon the poor, wretched fellow.

“Oh, the pain! The agony!” the Hentai Nerd screamed. “Mashter Happy, make it shtop! Oh, make it shtop!”

Mallet Girl screamed as well. “Aaahhh, die already! Why won't you die!?”

“Aaaiiieeee!”

“Graaaahhhhh!”

Eventually though the poor boy did moving and he made no more sounds.

Mallet Girl was out of breath. That had used up more energy that she would have cared to admit but it was all well worth the effort, she thought. Suffer not the hentai to live as the old saying went. Or at least as she remembered it.

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And with that, she drew a wooden mallet from the holster at her back and with a flip of her foot, she flipped up the wooden mallet lying on the floor, sending it spinning into the air. She had let go of that mallet when she dealt with Kawaii Nerd who was just too cute to be struck with a mallet. It simply wasn't done. Yeah. Fists were much better. Deftly, she caught the mallet with her free hand and then let out a wolf howl that could be heard throughout the whole building.

The blood-curdling cry froze the remaining Nerds in their tracks, like hapless animals caught in the headlight beams on a oncoming truck.

A group of them, seven in all, stood huddled in the corner of a backroom. They had barricaded themselves in, barring the double-doors with chairs and crates and all sorts of TV props. They had heard that horrible sound and nearly half of them fainted. Shortly thereafter, the horrific screams of their brethren began.

“Aaaaaahhhhhhhhhhhh! Noooooooooooo!!!”

“Aaaaiiiigggghhhh-gllrrrggghhhh-kkk-kkk-kkkk!”

“Ack, noooo! Let go of me! Waaaghhh! Ah-hu-hu-hu! It doesn't bend that way! It doesn't bend that way!!!”

“Monster! She's a friggin' monster!”

“S-stay away, you! I-I have a slide rule and I'm nod afraid to use it! Don't come any closer! I'm serious! Aaiiieee, nooooo! She's taken away my slide rule and now she's sticking it up my--”

“AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!”

And then there was silence. Silence so deafening that the suspense was just too much to bear for the frazzled nerves of the poor, hapless Nerds that a couple of them fell to their knees, clutching at their ears.

“Oh-god-oh-god-oh-god-oh-god-oh-god!” one of them went. It was the Silent Movies Nerd. “We're all going to die! I just know it! She's gonna kill us all!”

The others tried to quiet him down.

“No, no, hush up, man!” the Math Nerd desperately implored him. “She's going to hear you!”

“We're all going to die!” the Silent Movies Nerd continued to scream. “If only the real Mallet Girl was here! She'd save us from this monster!”

“You'll doom us all, you idiot!” the Super Villain Nerd growled under his breath, shaking a trembling fist at the prostrated man; the Silent Movies Nerd was now lying on the floor, flat on his face, his hands clutched together over his head in prayer to God and to Mallet Girl for salvation.

But it was all too late. The room literally shook when the double-doors were suddenly struck with a tremendous force from the outside. It was Mallet Girl.

“I hears you, my little mousies,” she cooed. “Come out, come out! And let's play a smashing game of croquet.”

She rammed the doors with her shoulder. Then she gave them a kick. And then another and another and another. Blow upon blow she delivered upon these wooden doors, each terrific blow rocking the doors that the very hinges themselves threatened to give way at any moment.

But the double-doors held. They seemed to be made of sterner stuff that she had anticipated. Something valuable must have been stored in this room at one time or another, she thought. Mallet Girl grinned. It looked like she was going to have to bring out the big guns after all. She had been slumming it all this while, taking it easy. It was time to get serious. What joy!

She reached back over her shoulder for yet another mallet, one of the bigger ones this time, fashioned from dark, heavy hardwood. She had the mallet half-drawn when she noticed something very interesting. She paused. “Hang on a minute,” she murmured.

“She-she stopped,” the Math Nerd stammered. He laughed nervously. “She can't get in. Ha-ha-ha! She can't get in! We're saved!”

“Oh, thank God!” the Silent Movies Nerd exclaimed.

“Alright!” the Video Games Nerd said as he faced the others. “You hear that, guys? She can't get in. She really can't get in! Ha-ha-ha! Whew! For a moment there, I really thought we were done for.”

“We're saved!” cried the Silent Movies Nerd, tears streaming down his face like a mini waterfalls. He was still lying on the floor. “We're really sa--”

The nervous, hysterical laughter of the Nerds were all cut short by the slow but very audible creaking of the doors swinging open. Wide-eyed with terror but still clinging to the fleeting hope that their ears were deceiving them, the Nerds turned around as one to see Mallet Girl peeking out at them through the half-open double-doors of the backroom. Grinning from ear to ear, there was a hungry look upon her face.

In their panic, in their haste to close the doors and bar them with whatever they could get their hands on, it seemed the Nerds had not only forgotten to lock the double-doors but they plum failed to notice that they opened outward into the corridor instead of inward into the room.

Mallet Girl licked her lips greedily. “I see you!” she whispered out lout and ever so slowly.

The desperate cries and screams of the Nerds could be heard from miles away.

Outside Building 85, a very large crowd had gathered. People from the game show's audience and studio staff. People from the other buildings. The Studiotown security had cordoned off the area and closed down the whole lot itself.

“My God!” one of the security guards exclaimed. “They're getting killed in there!”

“Alright, men! Listen up!” the head of security bellowed. He slammed the door of his car shut. He had just arrived it seemed and was in quite the dark mood for it. He had just been apprised of the situation. The one time this month he had decided to come in late and this happened. Clearly he needed to get a handle on this situation personally and quickly, else he'll never hear the end of it back at the club.