|Stampede! Wake up Earl! Wake up! Get outta the way! Stampede!
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In Universe Perspective
From the Survival Journal of Burt Gummer:
The sulfurous odor I smelled at one of the crime scenes told me what our perpetrator was. Rosalita's report of an attack that she'd barely survived only confirmed it: We were dealing with an Ass Blaster.
It was up to Tyler and me to hunt the beast down before it laid a Graboid egg and gave El Blanco a hunting partner. Though I was reluctant to leave my students in less-experienced hands, Jodi insisted they'd be fine with Rosalita and Nancy.
Outside town, Tyler and I lured the Ass Blaster to the heat of my truck's engine. Just as I lined up the kill shot, I got an urgent call from Jodi. Two men, Brock and Mead, had arrived. They worked for those overdressed Vegas magicians, Sigmund and Ray, who'd paid Nancy many thousands of greenbacks for the live Ass Blaster she'd caught a few years ago.
It was this same, very valuable Ass Blaster — callsign Messerschmitt — that had broken loose (after some black-market thugs botched their attempt to steal it). The creature had returned here, to its roots in Perfection. Nancy blamed herself for the deaths the creature had caused; she felt it was her fault for selling the creature instead of killing it. I told her she'd done nothing wrong, but I'm not sure she believed me.
To recapture the creature, Tyler and I set out a grill and a bunch of military MREs (Meals Ready to Eat). Theoretically, the Ass Blaster would approach the heat source, eat the food, and lapse into a well-documented dormant state we like to call a "food coma."
The Ass Blaster showed up, all right — but it rejected the food. Worse, Brock and Mead's tranquilizer gun didn't work, because their drugs were burned off by the monster's extremely high body temperature. We barely escaped the encounter without casualties.
Back at Chang's Market, Brock and Mead explained that the Ass Blaster had rejected my MREs because Sigmund and Ray had spoiled the creature with a steady diet of fancy-shmancy French food. I filed this bit of overdue intelligence under "failure to communicate."
Nancy cooked up a French dinner with all the trimmings, which we put out in the middle of the street — a veritable Ass Blaster smorgasbord. That wanna-be bird, however, used its wanna-be bird brain. It could tell that the food on the ground was bait for a trap, so it kept its distance.
Hoping it wouldn't realize that airborne food was equally dangerous, we baited a hook with a chunk of steak au poivre, attached it to a modified hang-glider, and started towing the apparatus behind my truck. The Ass Blaster zoomed in, bit into the flying meat, and lodged the hook in its jaw. Then we faced the hazardous task of reeling in our catch. My survival-school students helped save the day by netting the beast with the macramé hammocks they'd made at Nancy's place (don't ask...please).
Messerschmitt went home to his two daddies, and my survivalists went home with big heads and stomachs full of Nancy's cooking. I know it looks like a happy ending, but it's not: The Ass Blaster lives to kill another day, and my students think that basket-weaving will save them in the high desert. Am I the only one who thinks this is completely FUBAR?
After discovering the remains of a hang-glider and the delivery man delivering Nancy's new kiln, Burt and Tyler determine that an Ass Blaster is in the valley. But the Ass Blaster, named Messerschmitt, is the property of Sigmund and Ray—the same one Nancy and Mindy caught and sold in Tremors 3 and Burt isn't allowed to kill it. Finally they manage to trap it and it's returned to Sigmund and Ray.
- Ass Blaster's can't see body heat in water.
- Despite it being said Messerschmitt has a refined taste, he still eats "raw food" i.e. people.
|Michael Gross||Burt Gummer|
|Victor Browne||Tyler Reed|
|Gladys Jimenez||Rosalita Sanchez|
|Marcia Strassman||Nancy Sterngood|
|Lela Lee||Jodi Chang|