The Scissorman sliced and diced Bartleby’s flashy Osprey-brand hiking pack, spilling out its contents like a torrent of brand new video games from a busted box off of a ladder.

“Nooooooooo!” James shouted calmly.

“The computer, James,” Bartleby cried out, “the computer,” he repeated, “its inside the Osprey-brand backpack,” he clarified diligently.

The Scissorman didn’t give a rats ass about home networks. It wanted to cut us into ribbons.

James slid towards the computer which had spilled out of the backpack but had a hard case and didn’t break. An expensive case. A scissor-proof case. IF only they made clothes like computers.

The Scissorman struck at Barteby’s face and neck. A direct hit! Bartleby was scratched to holy hell. But not dead. Not yet. Later, maybe. If James didn’t hurry up with the computer.

The computer booted up. Linux loaded.

The Scissorman turned to James.

“Quick, James. Activate the home security network. You’ll have to connect to our router.”

THe Scissorman tried to dice the computer, but was unsuccessful. Christ, it was dangerous.

James clicked on several icons, and connected to the home’s wi-fi.

Bartleby dove towards the Scissorman, knocking him into a bean bag. Anyone remember bean bags? From the 1990s? Yeah, we had 16 of them. Bean Sea James would call it , comeing home from fixing Xfinity dishes in the evenings.

James did it! He activated the security.

“GOod thing this was not a windows computer. We’d still be booting up~!” James screamed at the top of his lungs triumphantly, as the home’s security network activated and an intense burst of daemon killing rounds fired at the Scissorman from a gun that looked like a camera in the hallway, defeating him.