Not that long ago, but somewhat far away…

There were six girls in a white room. Yet the room was completely silent. Each was comfortably cradled in a chair or cushions suited to her, and each held a copy of the same book – in this one's lap, in this one's arms, held over that one's head – and the only sounds were the occasional turn of a page. If anyone could observe without disturbing them, he or she would note curiously that they were each on the same page at the same time.

This was far from the most unusual quality in the room. The green girl caught everyone's glance right off. The large water tank that the blue blonde lounged in was also remarkable. There was something just a bit off about the one who looked greyish, but that may have been the way she'd found the one dim corner in the chamber. But it wasn't the lighting that gave the girl curled up near her that abundant fur and sharp, pointed ears on top of her head. The two others seemed normal, until the fanged grimace and twitching body wraps gave their observers pause.

In near perfect unison, the back covers slammed shut. A sharp, sudden tension swept the room like a silent banshee. Yet the girls' focus remained downcast on their books. After a few seconds, eyes darted, but none spoke.

Until a soft moan seemed to fill the space with a single question. Then the room erupted in sound. Strident girls' voices yelled, accused, screeched, and cried. It was a mere four seconds before the first book was airborne, colliding with the back wall at a velocity hard enough to leave a dent and fuse the pages together. That book was lucky. The others paid in violence that would have made a combat reporter surrender his credentials and camera and run for it. A literary snowfall of ruined books was not enough to fully vent the combined fury of the girls within. Empty covers were shredded, soaked, burned, and stomped. Fallen pages were gathered up for another volley of violence, and returned to Earth in ways that would have made a printer cry. The grey girl handed the sole intact book – hers – to the furry one and lurched purposefully to the wall-size mirror. With a fresh target, the others returned to their destruction with a dark, rich glee. Grey girl merely stood there and stared accusingly, but the observers involuntarily backed up a few steps. Lightning flashed behind her as another bloodthirsty howl shattered the air.

The white lab-coated researcher turned to his plainclothes companion. "What did she say ?"

He sighed, pulled his sleeves over his own grey wrists, muttered, " 'What the hell was that ?' ".

"So…they don't like the first book ?"

"Sir, if I were you, I'd tell Mattel to pulp the first volume, burn any others, and send the author a check with a note that says, 'Do the world a favor and quit writing'. I fail to see how this book, " he gestured with his own copy of Monster High, "will enhance anybody's life but hers."

He turned from the continued violence, leaving the question of how to get six still infuriated young women with dangerous abilities out of the facility safely to Lab Coat. He tossed the book in the nearby trash with all the care of a used tissue and began to slowly stagger to his car. With any luck, his daughter would join him before sunset.