Happy Reading 🙂
“Do you think anyone would want to hurt you or scare you?”
Wil Wheaton looked at the big detective with a serious face. “Michael Dorn.”
Diego furrowed his brow but Farnsworth’s jaw dropped. “Not Michael Dorn!”
“Afraid so. There’s been something of a feud happening at any convention we’ve both been guests at. I mean, two years ago at a dinner party his cat, Gowron, knocked up my Princess McMittens at a Star Trek reunion event and he’s flat out refused pay kitten support. Then, we got involved in this DDR arcade challenge and I spilled a whole bunch of soda on the machine…”
“And it shorted out before he could beat your high score?” interjected Farnsworth.
“No. He totally destroyed me. But then he slipped on the dance pad and hit his head. And then it shorted out and zapped him pretty good… it burned a hole right through the cheeks of his pants.” He tilted his head back and laughed. “It was amazing. But yeah, I’ve been on his bad side ever since.”
Diego’s phone buzzed with a text from Quast.
“Do you think I’m in danger?” Wheaton asked.
“No. We think it was just someone trying to prank you,” Diego said and then indicated to Farnsworth that he needed to make a quick call. He turned and spoke in hushed tones, several paces away.
“So…” Farnsworth tried to stall. “You’re a big Knights of the Illuvian Age fan?”
“Do they have a screenplay yet? Have you seen it?”
A mischievous glimmer twinkled in Wheaton’s eye. “You’re wondering how they plan to handle the unicorn sex scene?”
Farnsworth blushed and shrugged.
“I haven’t seen the full script yet. But I’ve been told ye old pokey horse is a significant part of the special effects budget.”
Diego was still on the phone and couldn’t help the new detective. “I had your action figure when I was a kid,” he blurted out.
Wheaton raised an eyebrow. “You ever make me do anything weird?”
“Well now it’s my turn.”
“Turn about’s fair play. Now you have to do what I tell you—it’s only fair. Stand on one leg.”
Farnsworth inexplicably obeyed.
Wheaton took a jar of peanuts from the cupboard. “Are you allergic to peanuts?”
Farnsworth shook his head.
Wheaton grimaced and put them back, instead turning to the mini-fridge. “Okay. Well I think I have some questionable bologna in here I can make you eat.”
Diego hung up and rescued Farnsworth. “We’ve got to go. Thank you, Mister Wheaton, for your time.”