Chapter 227: London Bombings
Christmas is approaching, and Ron gets a new card!
Thanks to modern technology, Ron managed to capture Sheldon's limbs twitching in his own piss last night with his iPhone. He saved it as a keepsake.
It's too bad they don't make animated Christmas cards like those moving pictures in Harry Potter movies, otherwise Ron's sure his card would be the most popular one of the season.
The only downside is that Sheldon is still throwing a tantrum.
"Ha! Sheldon, you should have seen your face. It's exactly like when you wet yourself as a kid," Ron laughed, holding up the newly printed card.
"Ron, you've got to make me one of these for Christmas, I'll even pay for it." Leonard grinned, his eyes practically bulging as he examined Ron's new card. "If you sold these at Caltech, you'd make a fortune."
"Hey! I just lost bladder control. It happens to everyone," Sheldon protested.
"Yeah, that's true, but you're the only one who pisses himself while wearing pants after turning twenty."
"Go ahead and laugh, laugh all you want. Anyway, I'm moving to another city soon. You can stay in this crime-ridden hellhole and wait for those criminals to slit your throats in your sleep."
Sheldon spun his laptop around: "Look, these are the cities I'm considering."
"Don't you think moving to a new city is a bit of an overreaction to all this?" Leonard asked with concern.
"Our apartment was burglarized, and our security system nearly electrocuted me to death, so I've decided to leave Pasadena permanently. You think that's an overreaction?"
Penny came over with snacks and squeezed between them: "Please, Sheldon, you can't move away. You should stay here so the mother ship can find you when it comes back."
"That would be ideal," Sheldon sighed, "but unfortunately, I'll be stuck on Earth for the foreseeable future, so I need to find somewhere safer and more hospitable than Pasadena, like..."
"Like where?"
"Like Enid, Oklahoma," Sheldon stared at his laptop screen. He'd found a promising option: "Low crime rate, plus high-speed internet, but no hobby train store."
"Sorry, Enid." Sheldon turned and drew an X over Enid's location on the whiteboard map of the United States.
"Hey, hey, hey, Leonard, are you some kind of masochist? Wouldn't it be great if Sheldon moved out?" Ron asked, puzzled. "Then you could move in with Penny, and I'd have a two-bedroom place all to myself. I could throw bikini parties there.
I could even try to get the Sports Illustrated swimsuit models over for some fun. Want to come to my party?"
Leonard and Penny looked at each other and said in unison, "Bye, Sheldon."
Sheldon rolled his eyes and continued his search for a new place to live.
In London, England, Detective Michael Grant was driving his daughter to go shopping.
"Dad, we need to hurry. They only have two sizes left!" Traffic was moving slowly, and his daughter kept urging him on.
"When am I going to meet him?" Any father would feel disappointed when his daughter started dating someone, and Grant, like any other dad, was worried and anxious, concerned that his daughter had been fooled by some British punk.
"His name is Charlie, he plays rugby. You'll meet him when he picks me up for the formal." His daughter said shyly, "Dad, please drive faster~"
Grant was still worried. "Is he driving you there?"
"He hired a car service."
"No drinking and driving."
"Don't worry, the car comes with a professional driver, so relax." His daughter hugged Grant's arm and shook it playfully. Any father in this situation would smile and stop wanting to lecture.
"That dress you picked out is beautiful, it's perfect for you."
His daughter gave her father a quick kiss on the cheek. "My dad has the best taste!"
The car continued toward the boutique. Because traffic was so heavy, his daughter hurriedly opened the door and jumped out before Grant could fully stop.
"Be careful, wait until I park properly."
"They'll be out of my size soon." His daughter kissed Grant on the cheek and bounded toward the clothing store. Grant could only shout for his daughter to watch for traffic, then smiled as he maneuvered into the parking space ahead.
Unexpectedly, he collided with a car trying to back out from the store.
"I'm sorry." "How could you be so careless!"
Grant got out to discuss a solution with the other driver when suddenly... "BOOM!" The car behind him suddenly exploded, the massive shockwave sending Grant and the other driver flying. Grant hadn't heard an explosion like that since his days in the Marines.
He stumbled to his feet and looked toward the source of the blast. It was the clothing store his daughter had just entered!
"Emma!" Grant shouted his daughter's name and rushed inside. However, waiting for him inside was a charred body, burned beyond recognition by the explosion.
...
Meanwhile, Ron was watching the news with Leonard and Penny in his apartment when a piece of international news on TV caught his attention.
"An hour ago, a terrorist attack involving a car bomb occurred on Oxford Street in London. No organization or individual has claimed responsibility yet. Casualties are currently unknown. Stay tuned for further details in our continuing coverage."
Ron frowned because he spotted a familiar figure on TV. Was that... Detective Grant?
Immediately, Ron's phone started buzzing.
"I need to take this call," Ron stood up and walked to the apartment door. "Grant, how are you holding up? I just saw you on TV. Is your daughter okay?"
"Emma's gone. She was just going to buy a dress like any other day, and then the bomb..." Grant was halfway through when he choked up, unable to continue.
"I'm so sorry for your loss." Ron's heart sank. "Is there anything I can do?"
"Information, I need information." Hearing Ron's offer, Grant forced himself to suppress his grief and said urgently: "I need the name of the bomber. Scotland Yard won't tell me anything. I had no choice but to reach out to you for help, Ron!"
"Don't worry, I'll get you the most detailed intel available, and more than that." Ron pulled out another phone and checked flight schedules: "I'm also taking the first flight out to meet you. We're friends. Your fight is my fight."
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