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The Butler was tired of all the Conspiracy Theories which swirled around him each time a crime was committed. Yes, there were Jobs to be done, including changing his name from one alias to another – this time choosing Riddick. Hadn’t he been the Grand Master, leading The Ultimate Life on the Pacific Rim? Between Us, he was able to take The Heat At Any Price, and never suffer from Paranoia. But this stint as a servant? This is the End, he thought to himself.
Things were different now and it all started the day he opened the massive teak door and heard a cacophony of voices claiming, “We’re the Miller’s.” The Man of Steel winced, knew he had to play The Host, as it might be his only Redemption.
“I’m sure you will Adore some Afternoon Delight,” he spoke as if in a Trance. “The Museum Hours have been expanded, and now you may Free the Mind. Soon you will be aware that this mansion is like No Place On Earth. Rising From Ashes, bringing back the bones, the Mortal Instruments who will begin World War Z with only 2 Guns.”
A driving vacation was intended to keep them off Planes, so the Miller’s had taken the Scenic Route. They were on The Hunt to complete everything on The To Do List. It was to be the Getaway of a lifetime. They would even buy Off Label clothing for the trip. The hardest part was The Purge, removing any trace junk food from their diet. The Miller’s had not expected this Bed & Breakfast to actually be in a museum. A very strange turn of events to be sure.
“There are Stories We Tell here,” began The Butler as he led the family into the dimly-lit parlor. He looked intently at each member of the Miller tribe, then focused on the wife. Home grown, middle America with a pleasant apple pie smile. His eyes locked on hers, Love is All You Need,” he whispered as he kissed her hand. “You’re Next,” he winked at the sweet and sassy pre-prepubescent daughter who was now looking up from her iPad. He wanted to Smash and Grab that device, but kept in mind that this was the World’s End – Instructions Not Included. This would be truly be Epic. Someday.
The Miller man drew in his grits and gravy overhang, “I think that’s quite enough,” he insisted and tried to usher his family toward the door.
A strange sound met the Miller family’s ears. The sound of ripping and tearing of clothing. There in the parlor, in lights which had been flicked into the brightness of day, The Butler was tugging and peeling the silicone mask from his face. The once form and figure of a man was shed, revealing a sparkling metallic shape, not unlike a woman. The silicone mask fluttered to the floor, iridescent strands tumbled over the gleaming shoulders and sapphire eyes searched the room. At last The Butler was free to speak.