Country-Style Laughing Gas (1/2)

(PARENTHESES) indicate verbal cues
*ASTERISKS* indicate emphasis. more asterisks = more emphasis
[BRACKETS] indicate nonverbal cues and only serve to provide context for the sound design
More than one space between lines indicates a longer beat than usual, usually around an additional half-second per empty line.

X = Narrator
H = Harley Quinn

[ambiance = occasional, echoy waterdrips]

X: [echoy pacing] Harley Quinn darted back and forth across an abandoned factory, where she was instructed to stay put and keep guard.

H: Phooey! Phooey, I tells ya!

X: Harley Quinn hocked a fat blob of spit into the concrete floor, darkening it on impact.

H: Mista J's gonna get his hiney whupped by Batgirl out there, I just knows it. Every time he goes out and tries to enact anutha' one of his crazy schemes on Gotham, that roody-poo ends up with his face bashed into next Tuesday! Every time, EVERY TIME! [loud clacking stomp]

You wanna know why? It's because he always takes *harlots* with like, uh, whats-er-name... uh... OH! That one, Poison Ivy. She's always gettin' in my way and taking the wind outta my sails. She's practically *my* Batgirl! 'Cept instead of being in the way of world domination, she's getting between me and Mista J...

Worst part? I know why he takes her insteada me, too. She's got like these, weird, chemical kinda stuff, flowing through her veins. Y'know, what *all* the big heroes and baddies have. Well, there's a few exceptions. Like all the bat-people running around. But they're nowhere near as cutthroat as Mista J is! That's what I love about him so much, he's not some speedo-wearin', boomerrang-throwin', boot-lickin', uh something somethin' pansy like all the so-called "good guys" are!

But that also means he's got real high expectations for who he associates with. I'd like to think that I've proved my worth time and time again, but I guess he just ain't impressed with anything a normal ol' GMO-free human like me can do. I'm neva gettin' any closer to him unless I suddenly develop super-strength, laser eye-beams, or any kinda superweapon my body can conjure up.

X: That last phrase echoed in her head throughout the next half-hour.

H: Hm...

I'm sure *my* body can conjure up *some* sorta weapon, right? I mean regular guys have lifted cars while hopped on up adrenaline before, what stopping me from doing the same? Maybe... I just gotta figure out *what* special technique I could work on, train up to become the new hotness?

X: Another few moments passed, before a metaphorical light bulb shined above her head. Looking down at her suit, she exclaimed:

H: Of COURSE!

X: Before pinching some of the form-fitting latex.

H: This thing clings to my body harder than a craaazy ex! If I were to stuff something inside-a here, nobody would be the wiser! I might not be the greatest puncher, but if I sneak up on 'em with a bunch of iron on my knuckles, I could swing the nastiest whallop they've ever seen! Their *grandkids* are gonna feel it! Or... or! I could even put this valve to good use! Fill myself up with somethin' real dangerous. Like, uhm, maybe some kinda acid?!

...

Then again, I'd ratha not give myself an acid bath whenever I walk around. That seems a *liiiiil'* bit silly. And, as much as I'd like to throw summathat POW n' BAM n' onomatopoeia-punchin' nonsense back at that eggplant-lookin' rat, solid metals are gonna weigh a skinny thang like me down real quick. Gotta go for something lighter. Lighter than solid, liquid... gas?

Hmm, gas. Mista J's laughing gas would do wonders for me, but he's always got such a tight grip over the supply of it. What else could there be...

X: Her eyes wandered around the room in thought, until they eventually strayed out a shattered window and to the nearby fast food restaurant. It laid across the street, below some mellow-looking light-grey clouds.

A large sign was plastered onto the comparatively intact glass. "Try our new XL, X-TRA SPICY chicken bucket for an X-TREMELY low price.

Harley grinned ominously.

She hopped out the hole-in-the-wall [woosh] and ran directly to the restaurant, aiming to enter through a vent on the roof.

[punch punch boom pow MY LEG]

One fried chicken heist later, Harley would return with far more than a "bucket" of chicken. Knocking out all the employees, nabbing as much as she could carry on her person and running back without a trace, the restaurant was left in a state of disaster.

Sprinting as quickly as possible, Harley dumped her entire load of greased-up poultry onto one of the few tables lying around. It was old, cracked, and wobbled often, but at least there wasn't any mold on it. Or, "nasty stuff", as she'd put it.

H: ("eh-HEEEEEH"-type giggle/laugh)

What a DEEEEEEEVIOUS plan I've cooked up rights about now! But, first things first- I gotta slobber up all this *greasy JUNK* if I wanna show Bat-rat what for!

X: She wrapped her tongue around the first piece- a small leg, specifically, and yanked the entire piece in, bone and all. Her initial reaction was that of mild discomfort, but she'd quickly come around to enjoy a certain hot "kick" the chicken's crispy skin had. Tiny brown crumbs fell from the edge of her bottom lip and onto the table beneath, soon followed by the clacking of saliva-dampened bones.

She threw both legs up onto the table, crossed upon one another as she threw another piece into her mouth. This one almost tasted spicier than the last, lambasting her taste buds with the flavor of roasted green peppers. These were no tangy bell pepper, mind you- she had grabbed no less than a handful of jalapeno-infused wings, greedily shoving them in as if she were on the brink of starvation. The smoke from a fiery meal welled up from within her being, gathering inside her belly.

H: (long burp)

Lordy, this is working wonders already!

X: She said, giving her mildly-distended belly a hearty smack on it's side.

H: I wonder how much *gas* I've got in the ol' tank?

X: Harley tensed herself up, attempting to fire off a round of flatulence. Unfortunately for her, however, all she had were blanks. After a good half-minute of trying her hardest, she gave up and returned to her bout of unchecked gluttony.

H: (mouth half-full) Fooey! I'm *never* gonna show 'er up at this rate. And I already feel so full, too...

X: At that moment, her stomach let out a gurgling wimper, being stuck inside the purgatory between feeling far *too* stuffed, and not nearly stuffed enough.

H: (mildly heavy breathing for approx 1-2 seconds), C'mon girl, focus yourself. Eyes on the prize... (crunch, munching on chicken) eysh on the prysh...

X: [shuffle shuffle] She dug further down the pile, gobbling up every bit she could. Each piece after the last went directly into her stomach, now bloated enough to prod the underside of the table.

Her rapid, hasty eating was accompanied by quick gulps of air being sucked down of her throat alongside the chicken. Every so often, her abdomen would swell out an extra half-inch, suddenly snap back to it's prior size, before the gas drained up her windpipe, producing a satisfying...

H: (loud but short "BrrUURP"-type burp noise)

X: Harley leaned into her wooden chair, the back audibly cracking, despite being made of far fresher wood than the table was. The tip of her middle finger rounded about an indent on her suit, the rubber forming a shallow pit where her navel was. (deadpan) With how much she had eaten already, one would also wonder if her insides were made of rubber as well...

H: (sigh), Looks like I've just about cleaned the entire table dry. But I STILL haven't gotten so much as a single POOT outta this fat thing!

X: She gave her hip a hearty slap, her posterior sparing a single jiggle in response. Harley Quinn wasn't a particularly curvy woman, but her new gut could be noticed from a mile away. It was easily the most "curvy" thing about her, and something she'd be sure to brag to "Mister J's" other female henchmen about.

H: If my ass doesn't wanna cooperate wit' me on this one, I'm gonna have to take matters into my own hands!

X: She took one look at the evacuated chicken shop she had robbed, er, "borrowed from" hours ago. Imagery of the food she had left behind instantly came to mind, and she soon knew what must be done.

H: (smug "pff"), So THAT'S what 'ta problem is. I ate a whole lot, but just not enough! And the only thing easier than stuffin' my face with food, is stuffin' my face with MORE food.

X: She made a leap for the window with much of the same flashy acrobatics that she would normally use.

Her momentum would soon come to an abrupt halt when her paunch made contact with the windowframe, she was a far-too-round peg trying to fit into a square hole.

H: Ack, at least I can thank my lucky stars there wasn't any brok'in (as in "broken" but pronounced "broke-in") bits left on there...

X: After spending several minutes wriggling herself to escape her constrictive position, she faceplanted the ground in an unceremonious fashion. She dusted herself off and trudged back to the restaurant for seconds.

...well, more along the lines of fifths or sixths, at this point.

Now being far too hefty to climb up the building's side and enter though the roof, she kicked down the front double-doors instead with a swift kick.

H: (single loud pant/exhale, like you mustered up all your strength to punch something really hard)

X: Within not an instant more, she brought herself to the nearest frying basket of chicken and helped herself. Paying to mind to whatever flavor it was, Harley proceeded to make light work of it much like she had with the other armful she had eaten back in the base.

Though, it may have been beneficial for her to consider that ghost pepper-flavored wings were an especially popular item- reaching heat levels far beyond the specials they considered to be "X-TRA SPICY". Only after hastily vacuuming down over two dozen thighs and wings did Harley notice quite how peppered her second course was.

She limply dropped the half-eaten piece in her left hand, before exclaiming an ear-piercing:

H: EEEEEEE!!! Hot, HOT!!

X: Despite being such a simple thing to yell, it was clear enough to anyone within the earshot of a hundred feet. Seeing as the site was closed until further notice, however, this was a moot point. She scrambled to search for something to drink; water, milk, booze, anything would do. Instead, she found jack squat. None of the faucets seemed to work, someone had busted the soda machine in the initial panic of her break-in. The alternative of just hopping around and waiting for all the piping-hot exhaust to finish fuming from her mouth wasn't much better.

The only thing that would end up saving her from having to drink fryer grease was a soft serve machine in the furthest corner of the dining room.

H: (near-shouting) Forget the gas, I've gotta make sure my whole darn BODY doesn't start burning up!

X: She cranked the lever as hard as she could, causing a torrent of vanilla ice cream to pour into her mouth. Her mouth clasped onto the nozzle, and she actively sucked on the plastic to try and get the frozen dessert out faster.

H: (several hics, swallows, stifled burps) [also note to self: add some stomach gurgling and mild farting sounds here]

[letting-go-of-valve sound]

H: (short of breath, gasping for few seconds before speaking) Hooo...  I think... that finally oughta be enough...

X: "Enough" was an understatement. Her insides rocking and rumbling about punched against Harley's flat palm.

Both the cold ice cream and warm chicken meat formed a potent combination- with the former melting into simply "cream", and then into a noxious, dairy vapor, multiplying in volume from it's solid form and continuously bloating up her midsection. Instead of actively trying and failing to summon up a "poot" as she had earlier, she was struggling not to let loose all of the gas in her body before she'd be able to make good use of it.

Loud crashing and clanging could be heard in the distance.

H: Aw, cripes! She's here?! That skank is gonna suck the place dry of intel if I don't get my heinie back there right now!

X: And so she left, waddling off as fast as she could in an attempt to take Batgirl down once and for all.