This is a silly little thing that just struck one 
day while hanging out with TimeRunner and Switch of the 
Toledo Zu. This is just a pointless little shaggy dog, 
which won't make much sense if you don't know the series 
involved. Don't look for deep meaning folks. ^_^

Rights belong to the owners. Please don't sue me. I'm 
broke.

     The man in the worn leather overcoat grit his 
teeth as the pain ripped through his body. He staggered 
leaning heavily against a wall as his expression of 
practiced indifference was forcibly replaced by one of 
pure agony. His long blonde hair hung limply around his 
sweat beaded face. 
     He lurched unsteadily towards the table, one hand 
clutching at his stomach as though trying to contain the 
incredible suffering to just that one spot. It almost 
felt as if his belly would explode if he didn't keep the 
pressure one. 
     He extended his free hand, reaching desperately 
for the plastic container with the colorful little 
tablets in it. With a savage half lunge, half stumble, 
his fingers closed on the rectangular container, 
clutching at his salvation with desperate strength. 
     He leaned down, grasping at the top of the bottle 
with his teeth and bit it off, tearing the hard plastic 
easily, despite his agonized state. He swallowed the 
pop-off, childproof cap quickly. It certainly couldn't 
make him feel any worse than he already did.
     He threw his head back, fighting the lurching 
vertigo and cramping pain in his stomach and tilted the 
contents of the now open bottle into his mouth. The 
little tablets fell in, a few bouncing off his cheeks 
and chin to scatter on the hardwood floor.
     As the bottle was emptied, he felt the pain ease a 
little. Just a little. Nowhere near enough. He crumpled 
to his knees, throwing the now empty bottle into a 
shadowed corner of the room, it's peeling paper label 
finally coming free and fluttering to the ground.
     With his free hand, he clawed at the floor, 
gathering the colorful chalky tablets and shoveling them 
relentlessly into his mouth. The pain still kept a firm 
grasp on his innards, as he crumpled all the way onto 
the floor, clutching at his stomach with both hands now, 
moaning softly in pure misery.
     The man, Bolt Crank, teeth still grit, his eyes 
glazed over from the pain and staring sightlessly at the 
torn paper label from the bottle which proudly 
proclaimed 'Tums'. "I shouldn't have eaten that robot 
with the 8 on it," he muttered to himself.
     Yes folks, he shouldn't have. Because, this is 
what happened to _Eat-man, after_.

End.