Alex glances between you and the ray gun. "Yes?"
You smirk. "Then come with me." You make your way to the door.
Alex curious, follows you. "This isn't going to be dangerous, is it?"
"Come on."
You lead Alex out the apartment and down the street a little ways. You need to find somebody uptight, somebody clean, somebody the slob-ifier would have a noticeable effect on. You look up and down the street, looking for a target.
Alex sighs. "Where are we going?"
"You'll see when we get there."
You finally lay eyes on a bus stop. One man in particular catches your eye. He reminds you a little of Tommy before you shot him with the slob-ifier. He's sitting on the bench wearing a full suit. His black hair is neat the tidy and he's reading a newspaper. Sitting next to him is his black, leather suitcase. A man on his way home from work.
You grin and aim the gun at the man. Then you remember how nobody else seemed to notice the changes to Tommy.
You hold up a finger. "Hold on." You glance around before settling on a big, blue mailbox. You point the slob-ifier at the mailbox and give it a short burst, the green-yellow ray snaking through the air and coiling around the postage receptacle. You release the trigger. The blue paint is peeled on its surface, where it had been pristine before. There are also several rust spots on its surface. You're pleased to learn the gun could directly effect inanimate objects as well as people.
You point at the mailbox and turn to Alex. "Did you see what I just did to that mailbox?"
He glances at you curiously and shrugs. "You pointed a toy gun at it?"
You gesture at the slob-ifier itself. "So, you didn't see a ray of green-yellow light shoot out of it?"
"No."
"And, to you, that mailbox has always been peeling and rusty?"
"Yeah? Is this going somewhere?"
Interesting. Only the shooter seemed to notice anything. No wonder Tommy didn't care that you were shooting him with an energy ray.
You point the gun at the mailbox again. "Alex, hold onto the gun while I shoot it."
He looks a little confused at the request, but holds the gun around your hands. "This is sorta awkward."
You squeeze the trigger and the ray shoots out again, enveloping the mailbox. You can tell by the way Alex jerks that he noticed it this time. You let go of the trigger. The mailbox is leaning precariously to one side. It's rusted out, hinged door comically clatters to the ground. A stiff wind blows, carrying away the letters that were contained within, scattering them to the wind.
Alex lets go of the gun and backs away a step, his eyes wide. "I don't believe it! That's amazing!"
You let out a chuckle. "That's not all. Here, grab on again."
As he does so, you point the gun at your original target, the businessman on the park bench. You let another burst of energy fly, holding down the trigger for several seconds. As you lower the gun you see the business man is undergoing quite a few changes. He grows thick stubble along his jaw, then a beard. He runs his hand through his hair, mussing it. Large clumps of his hair become dislodge, scattering into the wind. He now has a receded hairline, and the remaining hair atop his scalp is thin. He pulls off his suit jacket and tie, seemingly suffocated by them. They also blow away in the wind, riding the currents up and away, becoming specks in the air. He lets loose a belch, causing the buttons of his crisp, white shirt to pop as his stomach bloats out, forming a thick gut. However, you see a light blue material under his shirt, not skin. He undoes the remaining buttons and tosses the shirt away, revealing what looks like a stained and dirty mechanic's uniform. He stretches, the belt of his black slacks suddenly snapping, and his slacks disintegrating into a scattering of loose fibers, revealing to lower part of his jumpsuit. He rolls up his sleeves, revealing soft, hairy forearms, partially covered in grease and grime. He hadn't even bothered to wash up before leaving work to go home. He reaches into the pocket of his jumpsuit and pulls out the remains of a half-eaten cheeseburger. He stuffs what he can into his mouth, cheese and ketchup splattering over his beard and down his coveralls. He wipes a hand on his uniform, leaving behind a greasy stain. He reaches for his suitcase. As picks it up, the fine, black leather crumbles to pieces, revealing a rusted, metal toolbox. He opens it, tossing the rest of the cheeseburger in before locking it back up again. He snorts loudly as he waits for his bus to arrive.
Alex lets go of the gun and stares at the now-mechanic, mouth agape eyes wide. "No way!"
You lean back, smirking. "Yes, way."