Patreon Bonus: Mall Brats Season 2, Episode 9

Hi, Spellorians. Abdullah here. Just letting you know that we dropped a brand new episode of our Patreon-exclusive bonus game, Spellmore Mall Brats, over on our Patreon feed, and also dropping a little teaser here in the main feed for you guys. So if you're interested, head over to Patreon for the full episode. Links are in the show notes. We cut to Borbo inside, and he's ripped a strip off his sweater vest that he was wearing. He's tied it around his head like a bandana.

He's sweating and steaming in front of this thing, and he's like, all right, my greatest foe, a fridge. This is the killing blow that I, from hell's heart, I strike at thee. And he, and he punches it, and the engine goes. And there's like, coolant starts pouring out of the fridge onto the ground. And he's like, oh, fuck. Like when that liquid nitrogen truck crashes in T2. Yeah, exactly. So there's coolant pouring all over the floor, and he's like, oh, no.

And he jumps up on like a counter, and he starts running through the kitchen. Oh, sick. But outside, you guys are getting really cold. I get closer to me, you guys. It's so cold. Oh, my God. Huddle up. The gabagoolies start looking around, and they're like, no, no, not again. No. What do you mean? It's coming. What's coming? The big chill. Whoa. Where'd it go? And they start running. It's seeping out from under the doors. And you can feel the air around you is getting like sub-zero.

What do you do? I mean, we don't want to leave Borbo in there to freeze to death. Borbo! I'm coming! And he jumps out a window. And he just smashes through the neon signs. Feet hurt. Exactly. And he lands and hits the ground. Oh, kids, I fucked up. It's okay. I mean, I effed up. Sorry, kids. I'm trying not to swear in front of you guys as much. Anyways, that thing's busted. We got to get the fuck. We got to get the eff out of here. Okay. Baron Kellogg, my trusty seed, help me.

That is not a relationship, little boy. We're going to die. Please, Baron. There is no vegetable blood without our lives. Please keep us intact. Okay. That allows a roll. Okay. Can I roll a sway? We can do it as a group action to convince him to save us. Sure, sure. So who's leading this group action? I'll lead it. So sway. Sway. Risky standard. And I go, Baron Kellogg, please. I pledge myself to you forever if you save my family and I from the big chill. I grasp his claw-like arm.

And I go, we cannot turn into the Gabagoolies. We're way too cute for that. People have to see our faces. Oh, shit. I got one. I got a five. I got a six. Okay. So you take one stress. Holy shit. We're so close. One more and I'm in trouble. So he says, all right, as long as you have pledged yourself to pay tribute to Baron Kellogg with the blood of the beat. This I will help you. I pledge allegiance with of my vegetable juicer and my blender. And my axe. Do not think I take this pledge lightly.

You are now in the servitude of Baron Kellogg. Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah. Good, good, good, good. Let's go. Let's go. I am also quite little. Oh, my God. So I can only take one or maybe two of you. But let's go. Help us. And he starts running. He's like. He turns around. Get on my back. Maybe he can hold on to Borbo and he could be Borbo's wings. Oh, shit. Turn Borbo into a winged creature. Let's say we're on the second floor and there's a mezzanine that he could jump out on. Oh, sure. Yeah.

And Baron Kellogg is like, run for the balcony. I will save you, buff boy. Don't worry. In a flashback, we would see that the cool three kids just before they came in here went up a little bit of stair. And we are on the second floor. And as you start, as Borbo's running. Borbo, athletic specimen. I can feel the blood coursing through his veins. Oh, yeah. He feels like the heartbeat. How old are you again, buff boy? Oh, I'm 11. Dang it. Son of a bitch.

You're the quads of you as an 11-year-old never seen anything like. You should talk to Guinness. As Borbo's running. Borbo's running. Baron Kellogg's like extending his two long arms. And he can see that his sleeves are basically like tearaway jeans. He's got snaps along the outside and he shakes them out. And vrook, the weirdest like human skin colored membranous wings extend out. And he starts to flap. Oh, nice. And Borbo's running as his wings start flapping.

And Borbo feels himself lifting off the ground. Yeah. He's like, I'm running faster than I've ever run in my life. Yeah. Yeah. I'm alive. Look at me, kids. I'm Barfa. Don't touch my fist. They're broken. Everyone's hands are broken. Yeah. And the coolant is rushing down the hallway behind you. It's like breaking windows. Like. Yeah. And the previously frozen people are encased in yet another layer of ice. Preserving them for future generations. Their eyeballs are like, oh, no.

How are we still alive? It doesn't matter. Like we're running. There's like a mist and there's like kids. He's passing kids and they're like getting like, oh, the Gabba. Goose. A couple more frozen. Oh, shit. The Gabba. Ghoulies do. I think at least a few of them get caught in the big chill. We see this slow-mo sequence where like Borbo's running and then like the glass is like shattering out the cold. Yeah. Of each window. Little piece of the glass are cutting his face. Oh, yeah. Totally. Yeah.

And Cal is like. He's only 11. He's only 11. I cannot. This big 11 year old. I cannot suck his blood. The vampire's only as strong as his willpower. And then like a huge tidal wave of like coolant comes around the corner after us. Still running. You pass the ice rink with the old nutcracker set on it and the trees start exploding. Whoa. From the cold. And Borbo. And Borbo. Emerges with the coolant just behind him and dives. Boom. The double doors flap open to Bourbon Street.

The second floor of Bourbon Street. One of those like old timey New Orleans style wrought iron balconies. Nice. In front of you. Yeah. And he. Bubble. Who can say. It's still the take your kid to dinner day. It's still happening. Which normally never would happen. Oh, yeah. Yeah. Right. Yeah. We come through a cloud of smoke. Yeah. As he has Borbo dives off the balcony. What you say? He extends his arms and the kids are hanging on his chest and the wings come out as Borbo flies through the air.

And then the coolant hits all the people. No, I think like that the warm. Okay. Because Bourbon Street fucking warm in here. Yeah. They've been. Yeah. They've been roasting nonstop. They've been putting on brisket. Yeah. All day. Yeah. Yeah. It's the barbecue smoke air. Yeah. The coolant hits the air and it's just a rainstorm inside the mall. Oh, it's like sizzling. All the steam. Yeah. It's like raining barbecue smelling rain.

There's a bunch of angry moms here, too, because a bunch of dads stayed too late and got drunk. They're like, oh, I thought you were taking the kids today. I did. Babe, I did. Babe, look, I did. Babe, I did. This is my one day off a year. It's not take your kids to beer day. Yeah. Yeah. Yeah. Look, I've got him and it's a different kid. That's not even our son. It's a kid tied to a post. Look. Look what I did for you, babe. He's nodding on a giant piece of venison. I did this for you, babe.

I love you so much. Yeah. The coolant and the barbecue smoke air create like a weather front. Oh, yeah. All the sprinklers go off. Now it's just a torrential downpouring. Bourbon Street. All the dads are putting umbrellas over their briskets to try to keep them. Pushing kids out of the way to get umbrellas over the meat. The meat. The meat. Dad rips a rain jacket off of his kid and puts it over top of the fucking hog that he's smoking. It still has to rest for 20 minutes.

And then you hear Keith Fiera go, save the spices. There's celery salt everywhere. But you're watching the dry rubs. The dry rubs. He's watching the dry rubs. He's watching these dry rubs become wet rubs from his like perch above. And he's just bawling. Tears rolling down his face. Yeah. And then he sees over the crowd, the cool tree kids. And Bourbon attached to a vampire. And he's like, cool street kids. Franklin just like waves at him. Double finger. Goodbye. Oh.