EVERYBODY LOVE EVERYBODY!
...WARNING noise of his Dreamcast's "YOU HAVE BEEN DISCONNECTED" message box...
*SNAP Fizzle ka flllaaasssh
Sgt. Gehtfuct looks at the warrant.
Condom factory arson
He tires of the list of charges.
He knows only one thing, this "Stager" character has to be taken down. No more grandmothers will have to tell police about the little ritilin freak that flashed them outside the comic book shop. No more teenage boys will ever had to endure the horrors of a real live goatse re-enactment. The true goatse man will no longer hound police, demanding that his stalker be aprehended. This will come to a swift and violent end.
Meanwhile across town.
In his little hacker shack, a disheveled Jason bangs away on his keyboard. Lines of code flying out of his fingers like super kung-fu karate jujitsu ninja moves flying from Bruce Lee. His eyes gleam as he codes deeper and deeper. He feels the draw of the internet getting more powerful.
It starts as a smile, and then before long, he's consumed by a full out crazy maniacial laugh, bordering on Gene Wilder's adaptation of Willie Wonka. He stares at his screen, beads of sweat forming on his pale white vampirish forehead. Before long he will complete it. Before long it will be done. Before long, he will rule. They said it couldn't be done. They said it was pointless. They said that his penis was far to small to ever reproduce or impress anything but a pre-pubesent girl. They won't be laughing. They won't know what hit them.
As Broken drives home, he wonders what that strange little boy in a trenchcoat was trying to tell him. He's got bigger things on his mind. Bigger, sweeter, and A helluva lot more blonde. He checks the flowers on the seat, he's rushing. The heat isn't good for them. They'll wilt if he doesn't hurry. She doesn't like wilted flowers.
Dustinzgirl has been trying to settle in her new place. Keeping CL out of harms way and safely in his playpen has been a full time chore when she's at home. His soiled diapers are piling up near the door. It's Wednesday, luckily the garbage man comes on Thursday morning before she has to be at work. She's gazing out onto her new lawn, when she notices some slight movement in the bushes. She calmly walks towards the door, cracks it slightly, and lets loose the wooden spoon she keeps by her side at all times. It flies straight and true, and she hears the ever so crisp sound of a nice piece of ash, landing squarely upon skull. The 7-year-old runs home, nursing the knot on his head. "That'll teach 'em to come snoopin around here," she thinks. A sigh escapes as she wonders how word of a 175 lb. man in diapers has spread throughout the neighborhood already. They've not been moved in for even a week yet.
Meh_it_all pulls on her stilletos. She traces her calf with her hands, up to her thighs, and onto the small black miniskirt that hugs her hips. She's looking good today. She knows she can ask a little more, dressed like this. She looks in the mirror, makes a slight adjustment to her lipstick, smiles, and goes out the door.
Sgt. Gehtfuct debreifs his team. While all 7 men are standing around without pants, the Sarge wonders why this was such a vital part of his training. Then he sees it. John Holmes has nothing on this guy, standing third from left, curly hair, mustache, and aviator sunglasses on, LIHP officer Power commands respect, and a complimentary handjob. When he's finished, "The Sarge" Stands in front of his men. A faint smirk crosses his wrinkled war torn face.
"Men," Sgt. Gehtfuct says as he starts to pace back and forth across the room, his eyes ever trained on the uncanny phallus of Officer Power "ahead of us today, we've got something hard, something indominiatable, something not from this earth. And it's name is Stager. The little pile of pre-pubesceant puke has got to be put back into place. And that place is on his knees. Begging for forgiveness. Begging to be set free. Begging for scraps. Begging for just one more warm caress from... Errrmmm... Umm.... Harrrummphhh. He's going to be hating life. Anyways, Get your gear on, and get ready to bug out. DISS MISSED!"
Sgt. Gehtfuct leaves the room red faced. He heads for the showers. The cold showers. Five minutes he tells himself. Five minutes. He'll be good for 3 times within that time span. He shuffles on.
Meanwhile Broken continues on his way. The vanagon's motor purrs. The blue haze that seems to follow him doesn't deter him. He will make it. He checks the flowers. As he's looking down, he fails to notice a speeding Z-28 heading directly for him. It's too late. SKREEEEE!!! BOOOM! Ka-bang!
The Vanagon takes out a lightpole, a mailbox, 3 pedestrians, and lands in a fountain. Water bounces off of the roof of the mangled VW like some sort of hippie revivalist modern art.
Jung pulls himself out from under the car. He only wants to go home. No more idiots asking him why Windows has "The Logon boot definition System Key Freeze Bug." No more. His vision blurrs. No more.
Meh runs over to the mangled Vanagon. "Funny," she ponders, "I've always wanted to see the inside of one of these, just not like this." She reaches the Vanagon and has to break the windshield to get Broken out of the vehicle. She's gentle, ever so gentle. She lays him on the sidewalk, checks his body for any sign of fracture. She finds none. "Lucky," she thinks to herself, "damn lucky." Broken groans, "uggdhhngers."
"What honey? You're going to have to speak up, I can't hear you," Meh purrs.
"Uhhowers," Broken moans again.
"Oh sweetheart, I can't hear you. You just rest now, help is on the way. Help is on the way," Meh keeps saying. She secretly wonders how full Broken's pockets are, a man dressed like HAS to have something on him.
Dustinzgirl was in her mini-van, going to the grocer. She had run out of applejuice, and CL was starting to get irregular. "Sepositories, milk, applejuice, baby lotion. Sepositories, milk, applejuice, baby lotion." Then she hears it. Fa-wump fa-wump fa-wump. "Fuck, fuck, FUCK," she screams while beating the steering wheel. She limps off the road into the first driveway she sees. It's some little deserted strip mall. Luckily she sees a payphone, then she remembers that since the move, she's only been using her credit card, and personal checks. So, she looks for any sign of life, and her eyes fall upon a dimly lit neon sign that is flashing 'OPEN' with quite a bit of irregularity. She shudders and begins to walk to the store, a slight breeze cooling her off a bit in the nintey-degree heat. She pushes the rusty chrome door open, and hears the old world jangle of the classic door bell. It tinkles again as the door pulls itself shut. She sees a man, sitting on a barstool, back to her. He doesn't even move.
"Hello," she creaks, barely making a sound, "I got a flat and I need change for the payphone"
"Hello?" She starts to get nervous, she inches toward the counter, nearer the man on the barstool. She hears a rustle in the back room, behind the curtain. "Is anyone else here?"
A little more rustle, it's closer now.
Sgt. Gehtfuct's team pulls into the parking lot. No cars except a minivan with a flat tire. Using hand signals, they prepare an entry team to go through the front door, and one to cover the rear. With sweet synchronious timing, they pop the front door off it's hinges, bust down the back door, and throw the flash bangs.
As the smoke clears, The team enters to find DG sitting on the counter, Stager laying on the floor clutching his balls. Only, he hasn't got any balls to clutch, they are sitting in a neat little pile next to DG on the counter.
"What in the name of all things holy, hard, and in my ass, went on here," Sgt. Gehtfuct booms.
"He winked," replies the somber looking Dustinzgirl.
"He winked, and then fresh out of a bad episode of Friends he said, How You Doin'," gushed DG.
"Well boys, round him up, call the paramedics, tell them that we've got a woman here that needs attention... better make that two women who need attention. Tell 'em that it's near the front of Descent's Colonics and Computer Repair. And tell 'em to hurry, my ass is aching."
Jason stares feverishly into his monitor, staring at the single blinking cursor in the terminal window, and hits his enter key, with slow and intentional movement. <click>
Joshua: Shall we play a game?
WarAdmin4098:Love to. How about Global Thermonuclear War.
Joshua: Wouldn't you perfer a nice game of chess?
WarAdmin4098: Later. Right now lets play Global Thermonuclear War.