Chapter 3: Grandpa Dustin's Story

Stacy and Quincy O’Snappers escorted grandpa Dustin into his room and sat him down in the bed. They attempted to chastise him for such behavior, but when he saw that a glass of chocolate milk was awaiting him on his night stand, he quickly lost interest and began to drink the drink of the gods. When Stacy thought he was at least halfway paying attention, she told her grandfather of the plight she had just been through. As she went through the abridged version of the story, grandpa Dustin proved to be a great listener of stories. He gasped, cried and screamed in horror at all the right places, and even told Stacy that she would be a great campfire ghost story teller. As Stacy got to the end of her tale, and the real reason she had come here, she decided to try and jog grandpa Dustin’s memory first.
“Gramps, before I tell you this final part of the story,” she started. “Do you, um… by any chance remember the stories you used to tell me when I was a kid? Stories about a Lizard Man that you used to hunt?”
At the mention of the fabled man/creature thing, another goofy grin cracked through grandpa Dustin’s lips as his eyes got wide and he nodded enthusiastically.
“Well, he kind of saved my life tonight, gramps,” Stacy finished. At this, Quincy O’Snappers let out a not so subtle laugh/cough. This proved to be a mistake.
“SO, YOU DON’T BELIEVE IN THE LIZARD MAN, DO YA!?” grandpa Dustin angrily shrieked at the instantly petrified Quincy O’Snappers. “YOU’RE A BAD EGG, BY BOOGY!” And at this, grandpa Dustin threw the glass of chocolate milk at Quincy, breaking on his face and splattering his whole body with an unholy combination of jagged glass and scrumdiddlyumptious chocolate milk. Poor ol’ Quincy O’Snappers, heart broken at the combination of the degrading comment in regards to his status as a human being in comparison to an egg and having objects thrown at him, ran out of the room crying. After these horrifying sequence of events had run their course, grandpa Dustin’s face immediately broke back out into his trademark grin, and declared “DAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!”
Stacy sat staring at her grandfather, unsure of whether it was even safe to move, let alone trying to talk to the man. After a few minutes of terrible silence, grandpa Dustin began.
“Back in my younger years, I was quite the assassin. At first I only used my ninja skills to play pranks on people and steal ice cream, but as the years went by and my skills developed, rumors spread far and wide of my awesomeness. Soon, the army was hiring me to pull off assassinations, and I got to travel the world, seeing sights that these here eyes will never forget. After almost 30 years I was tired of slaughtering the innocent. It became boring to me, and all I wanted to do was sit in a wheelie chair and roll down hills for the rest of my days, despite me being only 50 or so. I figured I could live out the rest of my days in peace, what with all the money I had made over the years.
“When I came back home to Findlay, things had changed. Sure, it had always been a crappy place to live in, what with floods and crazy snow storms and incompetent snow plows. But now, things had gotten even crazier; in place of the high school there now sat a volcano mountain lair, home to the then newly founded Blood-Eyed Cat Syndicate. When the town had fell into craziness, a few manipulators formed the Blood-Eyed Cat Syndicate to take advantage of the situation and control the masses. It was very Orwellian, donchaknow.
“Well, the dreaded Blood-Eyed Cat Syndicate had heard the legends of me in my absence, and upon hearing of my return knew that I could be of some assistance to their nefarious misdeeds. See, the Blood-Eyed Cat Syndicate’s master plan was to try and find some kind of ancient relic, some so-called Golden Puma or something, that had been supposedly hidden in Findlay years back. They thought they knew who had it, some kind of self-declared Lizard Man who could climb telephone poles in an instant, like 20 feet in five seconds. ‘Shenanigans,’ I declared to them. ‘Not shenanigans,’ they declared right back at me. They then gave me the coordinates of the area they presumed him to be in, and sent me on my way.
“So I traversed my way through this new, unfamiliar Findlay, full of bears and wild boars and the like, fighting my way with only my trusty dagger, all in the hopes of finding and killing the Lizard Man, with the deal being that if I did, I would be able to move my family out of here.
“One night, after wrestling and then eating three bears, I lay awake, staring out at the prettyful starry night sky, when I heard a rustling. I quickly pulled out my dagger, only to see what I instantly knew had to be the Lizard Man. Before I could strike him down, he headbutted me and took the dagger from my grasp. At this point I thought I was dead, but the Lizard Man instead spoke to me. His voice was so beautiful and full of magicalness that I’ll never forget the words he spoke to me on that fateful night.
‘I have heard of your plights, Dustin Powell. You are a good man, and I know you hunt me only for the benefit of rescuing your family. Fear not, I will not kill you, although doing so would be as simple as eating a wingless fly. Listen and listen well: I am going to give you something of grave importance, and I will need you to deliver it to someone of great importance, someone who will be able to help not only me, but to also help your family escape the dreaded Blood-Eyed Cat Syndicate. You must take this and deliver and deliver it to the son of your friend Matthew Murray, and tell no one of this meeting. Now go, and make as much haste as you possibly can!’
“So I did, and never heard from him again. Now, here’s where the story gets weird…”
All of a sudden, Quincy O’Snappers ran back into the room. “Quick, we have to get out of here!” he cried. “The Blood-Eyed Cat Syndicate’s here!”