calvincelebuski - Tumblr blog

calvincelebuski · 7 years ago

Text

Best Chef USA (reupload)

I deleted this so I could submit it to a magazine then realized it was too long for said magazine.

Recently, CNN introduced a new network, CNN Lifestyle. On this less-news-focused channel, reality shows such as “Lasting Love,” in which a newlywed couple is locked in a dimly lit, windowless room for six months and they are not allowed contact with anyone except each other, “Doing Time,” in which college students are separated into two groups, prisoners and prison guards and hilarious antics ensue, and “Where There be Dragons?” in which participants are blinded and thrown from a moving vehicle in the middle of a nature reserve on the island of Komodo are aired. The undisputed breakout hit on the network is “Best Chef USA,” a cooking competition show filmed on a cruise ship in international waters. Some critics argue that the success of this otherwise formulaic show is due almost entirely to an episode that aired last month. Nearly every major news program covered the episode, especially the programs aired on CNN, many of which devoted five straight months of programming to talking about it exclusively. It has been called one of the most controversial, disgusting, horrifying, culturally insensitive, and inhumane events in the history of television and many analysts and fans speculate that it will be a turning point in the history of reality TV.

The episode began, as most do, with the announcer saying, “Previously on Best Chef USA,” followed by a disorienting, fast-paced series of statements and reaction shots from the previous episode.

“He did what?”

“Todays featured ingredient is the humble banana.”

“I can’t believe it.”

“This is a disaster.”

“I can’t find my eggs.”

“Alright, I’m putting a pizza in the oven.”

“If you go home, I’ll eat my toes.”

“This is a disaster.”

Then a much longer clip was shown. There was something that had happened last week that the producers had told the editor to emphasize.

In the Best Chef Kitchen, Kevin and Mary stood before the judges’ table. Their dishes had been deemed the two worst of that episode. The five other contestants stood behind them. Behind the other contestants were the ten cooking stations that they used to prepare their dishes. The stations were set up in five rows of two, all facing towards the front of the room at the judges’ table. Everyone in the room who didn’t already know which of the two would be eliminated waited anxiously to find out. The three judges, Dan Stevenson, Less Famous Chef #1, and Less Famous Chef #2, looked at each other and then Dan looked at Kevin. “Kevin,” Dan said, “You’ve been eliminated. Please lay down your Kitchenaid Classic Nylon Slotted Turner.”

“I understand. I would have made the same choice,” said Mary, “for my parents, to make them proud.” She knew that the more she brought up her recently deceased parents, the more sympathy she would get from the audience, which would translate into support from the producers.

Kevin walked to the judges’ table and placed his spatula in the center. Then he turned around to exit the room, but on his way out he slipped on a banana peel, causing him to yell out “whoa,” throw his arms up into the air, and fall over. In post-production, the sound of a slide whistle was added. On his way down, he hit his head on the corner of a cooking station. His skull split open and the corner of the cooking station found its way inside. Blood came gushing out and a small amount of his brain came out as well. He was dead before he hit the ground.

One of the contestants, Jenny, said “This is a disaster.” The theme music began to play and the introduction was shown.

“Six chefs remain, all competing for some money, a handshake, and the title of Best Chef USA.”

The contestants were all shown one by one. They smiled and folded their arms. Each was accompanied by The Best Chef USA logo, fire against a black background, and his or her name and a brief description read by the announcer.

“Mary, a slightly overweight fifty-five-year-old with dead parents that she will stop at nothing to impress.”

“Victor, an intimidatingly handsome thirty-five-year old who you should hate with all of your being.”

“Kelsey, an attractive but non-threatening eighteen-to-thirty-four-year-old with blonde-dyed-hair.”

“Hank, a thirty-six-year-old man’s man who never goes anywhere without his trusty cowboy hat and sunglasses.”

“Louise, a forty-two-year-old Danish immigrant to the United States with dreams of opening her own restaurant.”

“Jenny.”

The intro ended and all of the competing chefs were shown sitting in a circle on the deck of the ship and looking at the ground. “This is a disaster,” Jenny said. The other chefs looked at her, slightly annoyed and also surprised. They had forgotten that she was still there.

“I ain’t never want to see someone’s body open up like that again,” Hank said, then he smiled and added, “unless it’s Kelsey’s sweet little p***y.”

Everyone looked at him. They were all completely disgusted and profoundly uncomfortable, none more so than Kelsey, who had never felt more unsafe in her life. Before the episode aired, however, the clip was edited together with another clip of everyone laughing. The producers had decided early on in the season that they couldn’t afford to make Hank the villain. He appealed to an important demographic: boyfriends and husbands of people who watch the show.

The screen cut to a confessional with Louise. “I can’t believe what happened to Kevin. He was just such a nice guy. That was such a terrible thing. I just-” Her eyes were welling up. She began to cry.

Although she didn’t hear it over her own sobbing, the producers were whispering to her from behind the camera, “Say it again but more Danish. Again, but more Danish. Say it like you just left Daneland.”

Then she looked into the camera and said, “and what the f**k is wrong with Ha-”

The screen cut to another confessional, this time with the producer-and-editor-designated villain, Victor. “What the f**k is wrong with Hank? Seriously. I really hope that *sshole gets what’s coming to him. I can’t stand that guy.” After this, he added, “No one here can,” but that was edited out in favor of a clip of him saying “And what’s up with Jenny? I don’t think I’ve heard her say anything other than ‘this is a disaster’ for the last few weeks.” The confessional was cut before he said, “I really hope she’s okay.”

The next confessional was with Jenny. “This is a disaster.”

After that was Hank. “I ain’t gonna apologize just for bein’ me. Yall should know I came here to win.” Instead of somehow connecting the two thoughts or saying something else or providing context, he tipped his cowboy hat, pulled his sunglasses down, smiled, and winked repeatedly until a producer told him to leave. Hank was from suburban Connecticut.

Mary went next. “Kevin is dead now, just like my parents. They died shortly before I came on this show, as I’ve said.” She had said it before in nearly every confessional. “Now I’m not only going to win this for them, I’m gonna win this for Kevin, who was like another parent to me even though he was thirty-three years younger than me. He had an old soul, that kid, and I can only hope he’s up there with Jesus and my parents in heaven.” She dabbed her eyes with a napkin, but there were no tears. “I just can’t deal with three people who were so important to me dying from such horrible, banana-peel-related deaths… Well four if you count cousin Louie, but that wasn’t my ba- never mind.”

Finally, Kelsey’s confessional was shown. What she actually said was “Hank is, like, such a creep. I really don’t feel safe around him. Does he think he’s funny or something? Why does he get away with all this stuff? Everyone here knows he’s a creep. Why hasn’t he been kicked off the ship?” but the confessional was edited to make her say, “Hank is, like, – funny or something?”

The confessionals were over and the contestants were all shown entering the Best Chef USA Kitchen. They all took their places standing in front of the cooking stations. Each had a small table to his or her right with knife on it. At the front of the room was a red curtain concealing that week’s featured ingredient. The host, Isabella Schell stepped out from behind the curtain. She was a slender brunette woman in a black dress who always seemed to have her right hand on her hip. Her mouth seemed to be stuck in a smile that always seemed pleasant at first, but, if anyone looked at it for too long, he or she became increasingly uncomfortable and almost got the feeling of staring into a void and that everything had suddenly, quietly become nothing. For this reason, long shots of her were rarely used. Whenever she spoke, she made broad gestures with her left hand and sometimes shifted her weight from one leg to the other.

“Hello, chefs.” They all tried to avoid looking directly at her mouth. “Today we have a very special surprise. We will be cooking something that has never been cooked before on Best Chef USA.” Because this was the first season, this statement itself did not do anything for the chefs. “But before I introduce that, we have a very special guest judge for today’s proceedings.” She walked behind the curtain. After a few seconds she jumped out and shouted “Me.” The chefs were surprised, mainly because they had never seen her shout or jump before. She didn’t really care what their reactions were; she was getting paid extra for this either way and any anticlimax would be overshadowed by what was about to happen. “Now, then,” she said, “your ingredient for this week is…” the curtain behind her fell, revealing Kevin’s naked, lifeless, cured body hanging upside-down from meat hooks “… Kevin.”

The contestants stared at the corpse. The throat had been cut and the blood drained. The body had mostly been skinned, but the producers had chosen to leave the skin of the head and neck there to make it clear to any viewers who missed last week’s episode and tuned in late that he was no longer a part of the competition. At the request of standards and practices, his genitalia had been cut off.

Louise gasped and went pale. The other contestants suppressed their reactions. Each one of them thought to his or herself some variation of “I’m going to win this, no matter what.”

“In parts of Polynesia, human flesh prepared for consumption is referred to as ‘long pig’ because of its similarity to pork,” Isabella said. She didn’t actually know if this was true or what “Polynesia” was, but the producers told her to say it, so she did.

The screen cut to a confessional with Kelsey. “When I saw that we had to cook long pig, I was like ‘ew,’ but then I was like, ‘not ew’ ‘cause it’s just meat, you know?”

The screen cut back to the kitchen and the three usual judges, Dan Stevenson, Less Famous Chef #1, and Less Famous Chef #2, walked out and stood next to the body. Dan was a celebrity chef and owner of the renowned restaurant, Food for your Fat Fucking Face. He was beloved the world over and considered one of the top authorities on food and undeniably more famous than the other two judges. His face was a constant grimace and his forehead had more wrinkles in it than anyone else he had ever met. When he wasn’t talking, his teeth were almost always clenched, even when he was at his most relaxed.

Less Famous Chef #1, also called LFC#1 had an emaciated figure, a dirty beard, and a constant odor that never seemed to get any better, but he wasn’t always like that. He used to be a beloved celebrity chef as well and owned the restaurant Good Ingredients, Great Eats, but he lost everything when Dan chose to open a second Food for your Fat Fucking Face with dramatically reduced prices right next to Good Ingredients, Great Eats and do regular meet and greets and autograph signings at the new location. After Good Ingredients, Great Eats went out of business and LFC#1 went bankrupt he began living on the streets and eating scraps, pigeons, rats, stray cats and dogs, and whatever he found in trash cans and dumpsters, which, where he lived, was usually scraps, pigeons, rats, and stray cats and dogs. He lived in Connecticut. Gradually, the general public forgot that he had ever existed. When this happened, Dan changed his prices back to the way they were in the original location and stopped showing up at the second location.

Less Famous Chef #2 or LFC#2, unlike the other two, had never been famous or even particularly successful in any regard before the show started. He was added as the third judge because the producers couldn’t find any other famous or once-famous chefs who would work for as little money as LFC#1 and under the same conditions.

Dan opened his mouth to speak, but LFC#2 spoke first. “As a person of Polynesian descent, I just want to say that this is a very poor representation of my people’s culture. I’m here for this episode because I’m contractually obligated to be and I need the money, not because I’m okay with what’s happening.” This statement would be edited out before air. One of the sources of controversy for the episode would come from people of Polynesian descent saying that the episode was disrespectful, with LFC#2 in particular taking a lot of heat from his own people for seeming to be complicit in it. This controversy would briefly make Less Famous Chef #2 the most famous chef on the show.

Dan shot LFC#2 a dirty look, but LFC#2 couldn’t tell the difference between that and a normal look from Dan. Then Dan said, “As was said before, you will be cooking with the Polynesian ingredient, long pig. Just do whatever it is you normally do with pork.”

Isabella looked at the contestants and said, “Alright chefs, are you ready? Everyone grab your Victorinox 47508 3-¼-Inch Paring Knife.” She paused and then said, “Go.”

The contestants all grabbed the knives in front of them and, with the exception of Louise, ran over to Kevin’s body. Louise walked slowly, not sure if what she was seeing was really happening and desperately hoping that she was about to wake up. At the body, the contestants were all frantically trying to get the best cuts of meat. The cameraman struggled to get a good angle.

In the chaos, while Hank tried to avoid looking at or getting any cuts from the buttocks, taint, or general crotch area, someone bumped into him and his knife was pushed into his side. “Aw, s**t.”

“This is a disaster,” Jenny said when she saw the wound.

The cameraman made sure to get a good shot of it. Hank pulled it out and, blood flowing from the wound, continued cutting meat off of Kevin’s body, swearing the whole time.

When Louise got to the corpse, most of the other contestants were already gone. She wasn’t looking in that direction, but she saw them run by, could hear each individual footstep as they scurried back to their stations, and saw the trail of blood left by Hank. Almost all of the good cuts were gone. Even, the face skin, the eyes, the intestines, and some of the bones were missing. The ribs in particular looked like they had been violently ripped out. Pieces of flesh were hanging off of various places. She thought that maybe if she made a dish she had fond memories of it would take her mind off of what she was actually doing. She decided to make something from her youth, Flæskesteg. The producers were always telling her to make something Danish anyway. She started hyperventilating when she cut into the back of the neck.

Back at the stations, Mary was chopping the ribs into smaller segments when a cameraman approached her. “I’m making deconstructed ribs,” she said “It was one of my dead parents’ favorite dishes and I’m doing it to honor them.” Her parents never had deconstructed ribs.

“I’m making deconstructed pork chops,” Kelsey said. “It’s like, I don’t know, you know? NBD. JK I’m actually super stressed. I’ve never worked with pork or long pig before.” She forced herself to laugh a little. “How have I never worked with pork before? Pork chops are supposed to have eyes, right?” Kelsey was thirty-four.

“I may be bleeding a lot, but I ain’t out yet,” said Hank, struggling to speak. “I’m making deconstructed bacon.” He coughed. “That’s man food for all you at home.”

“I’m making deconstructed sausage.” Victor said. “I accidentally cut myself with the knife and some of my blood got in there, but it doesn’t seem like a big deal, you know, considering-”

A producer ran up to him and whispered in his ear, “Hey, I know this is short notice, but we’re sponsored by Crest. We’re gonna need you to integrate this into the dish.” He handed him a tube of toothpaste and left as quickly as he came.

“Uh,” said Victor

“This is a disaster,” said Jenny.

Kelsey banged her hand on the station and loudly said “Is it, Jenny? Is it a disaster? Is it a disaster like, like, everything else that you always say is a disaster?”

“Yes. I forgot to bring my cuts of meat back with me,” Jenny said.

“Oh, okay.” said Kelsey. She went back to cooking.

Louise had just finished rubbing salt onto her cuts of meat when she began to feel more and more nauseous. “I can’t do this,” she said and she threw up all over her station and her meat.

Then Dan started walking around and looking at everybody’s progress. He walked up to Victor and asked him, “What’s this and what are you using to make it?”

“I’m making deconstructed sausage and I’m using Kevin’s intestines and-”

“I’m sorry. You’re using what intestines?”

“Kevin’s, the featured-”

“Kevin the human being?”

“Uh. Well, yes.” Victor was confused.

Dan’s voice began to rise. “You’re cooking a human being? That is f**king disgusting.”

“But you knew about it. You were just over there talking about-”

Dan started to yell. “No wonder you’re the f**king villain this season. You’re cooking a human being and you’re disrespecting me, Dan f**king Stevenson.” He pointed to his own forehead. “Have you ever seen this many f**king forehead wrinkles? You’re disrespecting a man with more forehead wrinkles than you can even f**king count.”

There was an uncomfortable silence, then Victor said “Wait. I’m the villain?”

A producer came over and whispered in his ear. “So far, each of the other contestants has said something in confessionals that, in the right context, could be construed as negative about you and you’ve said things in confessionals that, in the right context, could be construed as negative about each of them.”

The other contestants looked at each other. They all had assumed that, if anyone was the villain, it was Hank.

Meanwhile, Hank, having lost a lot of blood, was struggling to finish his deconstructed bacon without falling over. “Just need to…” He dumped the separated fat and rind from the pan onto a plate. “There.” He passed out.

Mary was the only one besides the cameraman who saw this happen. Having determined that the ribs did not have enough meat on them, she had been trying to think of something else to add to the dish. When she was sure no one was looking, she approached Hank with a chef’s knife. After stomping on his head and kicking him a few times to make sure that he wouldn’t wake up, she pulled up his left pant leg and started cutting off his calf. A cameraman turned towards her just in time to capture all of this, but the clip didn’t make it to air. The producers wanted her to remain a likable character.

Louise had been curled up in the fetal position on the floor since she threw up. Finally, she got up and said, “I have to go. I have to leave,” and started to walk away. She heard someone walking towards her. A producer grabbed her arm and whispered in her ear, “You signed a contract.”

“I don’t care.”

“You’re on a ship in the middle of the ocean. Where do you think you’re going to go?”

She curled up in the fetal position on the floor again.

A few minutes later, the time was up. “All right, chefs, let’s see what you’ve got,” said Dan.

The judges all sat down at the table. From left to right, the order was Dan Stevenson, Less Famous Chef #1, Less Famous Chef #2, and Isabella Schell. The first person to submit his dish was Victor. “I made deconstructed sausa-”

“Made from Kevin, you sick f**k,” said Dan.

“Well everybody made stuff from-” Victor began.

“Shut up.” Dan grabbed the dish out of his hands.

Victor, hoping to stop being presented as the villain, decided not to say anything back to him.

After sampling the dish, Dan said, “Is this toothpaste?” A producer whispered something in his ear. “Because it’s delicious,” Dan continued. “I love Crest Complete Whitening Plus Scope. That being said, the rest of the dish is terrible.”

He passed the dish on to LFC#1, who ate everything on the plate and yelled “This is the best food I’ve ever had.”

“Wait, but we-” LFC#2 started.

“It’s fine,” Isabella said. “I just ate and I don’t actually know anything about food. I just know how to host.”

Next, Kelsey was called up to submit her dish. “I made deconstructed pork chops.”

Dan sampled the dish. “It’s very nice,” he said. “The eyes add an interesting taste and texture that I don’t think I’ve ever had in a pork chop, before. But I’m a little disappointed at the lack of hashtags and emojis. That’s what you kids like, right?”

“Yes,” Kelsey replied.

He passed the plate along to LFC#1, who ate the whole thing and yelled, “This is the best food I’ve ever had.”

After that, Jenny was called up. “I forgot to make something,” she said.

“That’s fine, we just won’t consider eliminating you,” said Dan.

“This isn’t a disaster.”

LFC#2 and LFC#1 looked at each other. LFC#2 was confused and frustrated by Dan’s decision and LFC#1 was sad that there would be one less dish to eat.

Mary was called up next. “I made deconstructed ribs,” she said, “just like my parents used to love.”

“What’s this extra meat?” Dan asked, pointing to Hank’s calf-meat.

“Just a little something special my parents used to make for me,” she said. Her parents never made her human calf-meat.

Dan sampled the dish and said, “This may be the best dish you’ve made so far. You’ve really come back strong after last week’s disappointment.”

LFC#1 grabbed the dish, ate everything on it and yelled, “This is the best food I’ve ever had.”

Next, it was Hank’s turn, but he was dead, so an intern dragged his body up to the judges’ table, presented his dish and said, “It looks like deconstructed bacon.”

Dan sampled it and, addressing Hank’s corpse, said, “It’s very simple, basic, even, but there is something to it that can’t be denied.”

LFC#1 grabbed everything off the plate, shoved it into his mouth and, with his mouth full, said, “This is the best food I’ve ever had.”

The intern dragged Hank’s body back to the cooking station

Finally, it was time for Louise to present her dish. She was no longer in the fetal position, crying. Now, she was lying on her back, looking at the ceiling. She didn’t care that Kevin was dead anymore. She didn’t care that they were assigned to cook him. She didn’t care that she had sliced into his neck and ruined one of her favorite childhood dishes for herself. She had lost all feeling and all desire for anything. The fifth time her name was called, she stood up and, with an expressionless face, scraped the raw meat and vomit onto a plate. She walked up to the judges and dropped the dish onto the table in front of Dan, causing some of the vomit to splash onto both of them.

“What is this?” Dan asked.

“Neck-meat and throw up,” Louise said.

Dan looked at her for a bit and said, “Tell me, if most of the food on my plate is already digested, why should I put in the effort to digest it myself?”

Louise shrugged.

LFC#1 grabbed the plate, ate the meat, licked the vomit off, and yelled, “This is the best food I’ve ever had.”

After Louise walked back to her station, the next segment began. It was the part where the judges talked about which two contestants should be considered for elimination and the contestants pretended not to hear them. Although the other judges were allowed to name candidates, it was Dan and the producers that ultimately decided who wouldn’t make it to next week.

“Louise and Victor, definitely,” Dan said. “One of them threw up and one of them cooked a human being.”

“Well, every contestant cooked a human being,” LFC#2 said. Dan looked at him and bared his teeth, but he continued anyway. “And I think Jenny should be considered too.”

“Why’s that?” asked Dan in a more aggressive tone than usual.

“She didn’t even hand in a dish,” said LFC#2, slightly surprised at Dan’s response.

LFC#1 nodded in agreement, but Dan didn’t see it.

Dan looked at the table took a deep breath and then looked at the two other judges. “Tell me, excluding the numbers, what’s the name you both share?”

LFC#1 was silent. LFC#2 hesitated, and then said “Less Famous Chef?”

“That’s right,” Dan said, “and who was the one who made both of you change your names in exchange for the privilege of being a judge on this show with me?”

“You did.” LFC#2 said.

“And out of all of us at this table, who gets the biggest paycheck? Not only the one with the highest number on it, but physically the largest?”

“You do.” LFC#2 said.

“Why is it that I was allowed to demand that both of you have your names legally changed? Why was I allowed to demand the largest amount of money? Why was I allowed to demand that the means by which I get that money be so big that it takes both of you and eight interns to carry it into the bank for me?” His voice was growing louder. “Why was I allowed to demand that you not use vehicles or animals when delivering the check, but have to walk all the way from the dock to the bank on foot?” He was practically screaming now. “Why on God’s green s**tstained c*mbucket called Earth was I allowed to demand that ten additional interns pull me in a chariot alongside the check to make sure that nothing goes wrong and that if something does go wrong, that whichever of you f**kers is at fault be stoned half to death and have your pay reduced by a third and have that amount be added to my next paycheck? Why was I allowed to demand so many f**king interns? Why do I have more wrinkles on my forehead than you? Why am I so much more important than you?” After a brief silence, he screamed, “They’re not f**king trick questions. All of them have the same simple f**king answer.”

“Because you’re the most famous,” LFC#2 half-whispered, avoiding eye contact.

“And so who should get to choose who gets eliminated and who stays?”

LFC#2 looked at the ground. He knew the producers had final say, but wishing to avoid further conflict and name-changes, said “You…”

Dan yelled as loud as he ever had before, “You’re G*ddamn, motherf**king, weasel-c*cksucking, Tyrannosaurus-s**t-eating right. We can’t negatively judge a dish we haven’t even f**king eaten can we? What the f**k kind of judging is that?” His voice returned to normal volume and he looked at LFC#1, who was cowering under the table, and he patted him on the back. “Sorry if I scared you, Less Famous Chef #1. That was directed at Less Famous Chef #2. You’ve been a good boy. You can come out.”

LFC#2 chose not to bring up the fact that Dan had negatively judged Louise’s dish without eating it.

The surviving contestants, excluding Louise, shuffled uncomfortably.

All of that made it to air.

Dan said, “Louise, Victor, get over here.”

They did as they were told

The four judges looked at each other, then Dan looked at Victor. “Victor,” he said, “you’re-”

He stopped when a producer ran up and whispered in his ear, “Wait until the last few episodes, we need a villain.”

“-not eliminated. Louise is. Please lay down your Kitchenaid Classic Nylon Slotted Turner, Louise.”

Louise walked up to the table and dropped the spatula on it, then turned and walked out of the kitchen, narrowly avoiding the banana peel left by Mary. At this point in the broadcast, the credits rolled.

“Next Week on Best Chef USA”

“This is the second week in a row that someone has not handed in a dish,” Dan said.

The camera panned to Hank’s decaying corpse.

The screen then cut to Jenny and Mary standing in front of the judges’ table.

“Jenny,” Dan said, “You’ve been eliminated. Please lay down your Kitchenaid Classic Nylon Slotted Turner.”

“This is a disaster.”

0 notes

calvincelebuski · 8 years ago

Text

I’ve never once heard a pig make a sound that remotely resembles “oink” and if children’s books don’t stop spreading this bullshit lie around I will harm myself and others

0 notes

calvincelebuski · 8 years ago

Text

Amazon Echo is the perfect product for someone who already owns a smartphone and wants to waste money on something that’s almost the same, but less.

#Amazon Echo #I don't have a twitter

0 notes

calvincelebuski · 8 years ago

Text

Three Shamchat shits in which I play a disappointed father

(If you know what Shamchat is, skip this paragraph) I used to go on this website Shamchat a lot (and still do sometimes) and basically what happens on there is that you play a character of your choice and interact with strangers who are also playing characters. I have some conversations saved from there and I’ve been posting some of them over the last few days.

This is a conversation between Cute gay (Alex) (m, blonde hair, blue eyes, 5'2", can be a demon) and yourself, a disappointed parent.

Cute gay (Alex) (m, blonde hair, blue eyes, 5'2", can be a demon): Sorry

a disappointed parent: You're so... short

Cute gay (Alex) (m, blonde hair, blue eyes, 5'2", can be a demon): I know.

a disappointed parent: I know it wasn't my genes that caused this

a disappointed parent: or your mother's

a disappointed parent: I just don't understand why this is

a disappointed parent: I was really looking forward to having a tall son

Cute gay (Alex) (m, blonde hair, blue eyes, 5'2", can be a demon): I made a dragon out of shadows, but you can only see short.

a disappointed parent: Yeah, the dragon's cool and everything, but can you make yourself grow a foot?

Cute gay (Alex) (m, blonde hair, blue eyes, 5'2", can be a demon): No. I'll get married to someone tall, okay? And where's all my rock music? I can't find it.

a disappointed parent: We... we threw it away

Cute gay (Alex) (m, blonde hair, blue eyes, 5'2", can be a demon): Why?

a disappointed parent: We thought it was making you shorter

Cute gay (Alex) (m, blonde hair, blue eyes, 5'2", can be a demon): Wha..? You guys are actually idiots.

a disappointed parent: You've seen how short those rockers can be. We thought maybe the music had something to do with it

Cute gay (Alex) (m, blonde hair, blue eyes, 5'2", can be a demon): Um.... Billy Joe Armstrong is 6'4".

a disappointed parent: He's one guy though. And he could be 7'4".

a disappointed parent: Imagine that.

a disappointed parent: a 7'4" son

Cute gay (Alex) (m, blonde hair, blue eyes, 5'2", can be a demon): Well, music doesn't make you short.

a disappointed parent: You can't prove that

Cute gay (Alex) (m, blonde hair, blue eyes, 5'2", can be a demon): And both of your parents are short.

a disappointed parent: Don't you dare say that about your grandparents

a disappointed parent: They have done so much for you

Cute gay (Alex) (m, blonde hair, blue eyes, 5'2", can be a demon): Well then don't let mom light my boyfriends on fire.

a disappointed parent: Your mom will do what she wants. She's an artist.

Cute gay (Alex) (m, blonde hair, blue eyes, 5'2", can be a demon): SHE LIT MY BOYFRIEND ON FIRE.

a disappointed parent: And none of your boyfriends have been over 5'6"

Cute gay (Alex) (m, blonde hair, blue eyes, 5'2", can be a demon): Nope. Mark. Zack. Ryan. Nathan. All over six feet tall. There are more.

a disappointed parent: Why didn't we meet them then? This isn't because your mother lit Joe on fire is it?

a disappointed parent: I told you it was an art piece

Cute gay (Alex) (m, blonde hair, blue eyes, 5'2", can be a demon): No. It's because she lit Aaron, Micheal, Tom and Joe on fire

Cute gay (Alex) (m, blonde hair, blue eyes, 5'2", can be a demon): And it's not an art piece.

a disappointed parent: For not being tall enough

a disappointed parent: It is an art piece

Cute gay (Alex) (m, blonde hair, blue eyes, 5'2", can be a demon): THEY WERE PLENTY TALL.

a disappointed parent: It expresses her inner rage at having a short son

Cute gay (Alex) (m, blonde hair, blue eyes, 5'2", can be a demon): THEY ENDED UP IN HOSPITALS.

Cute gay (Alex) (m, blonde hair, blue eyes, 5'2", can be a demon): Then again, she's basically Satan.

a disappointed parent: And Satan hates shorties

Cute gay (Alex) (m, blonde hair, blue eyes, 5'2", can be a demon): When you met her, you were shorter than me. She told me.

a disappointed parent: But I changed. You can too if you stop listening to all that rock music

Cute gay (Alex) (m, blonde hair, blue eyes, 5'2", can be a demon): Besides, she doesn't care that I'm short. She cares that I'm gay.

a disappointed parent: She called you the f word fifty-three times. That's it. It doesn't mean she hates gays

Cute gay (Alex) (m, blonde hair, blue eyes, 5'2", can be a demon): She told me that she hates me being homo and wishes I would just "date girls already".

a disappointed parent: You know it's because of your size and nothing else. Your mother just has her own way of expressing things. She's an artist.

Cute gay (Alex) (m, blonde hair, blue eyes, 5'2", can be a demon): *i morph into an eight foot tall demon* Well, I'm going out now.

a disappointed parent: YES!

a disappointed parent: EIGHT FEET!

a disappointed parent: I LOVE YOU BYE!

Cute gay (Alex) (m, blonde hair, blue eyes, 5'2", can be a demon): My mortal self can't accomplish everything you told me to never do.

a disappointed parent: That's nice, son

You've left the conversation.

This is a conversation between Santa the child slayer and yourself, a disappointed father.

Santa the child slayer: Dad. Love me

a disappointed father: Killing children?

Santa the child slayer: Im sorry I slay kids

a disappointed father: That's what you've been up to?

a disappointed father: come on, son

a disappointed father: Sorry isn't enough

Santa the child slayer: i can't help it. It's in the job description

a disappointed father: You went to med school. You were doing great

a disappointed father: You know how much I paid for that?

Santa the child slayer: I know but....this seemed like the best option

Santa the child slayer: it was a lot father

Santa the child slayer: i know

Santa the child slayer: i wish you would just see me in action! You would be so proud!!

a disappointed father: How do you even intend to make a living off of this?

Santa the child slayer: i get payed very well for this job! If a child is naughty I get the slaughtering job!

a disappointed father: Really?

Santa the child slayer: really. They pay a lot to sell the peices

a disappointed father: I'm ... I'm proud of you son

a disappointed father: *sniff*

a disappointed father: My son's making his way in the world

Santa the child slayer: thank you dad!! *sniff* I've always wanted to hear that! *sniff*

Santa the child slayer: i won't let you down!!

a disappointed father: Go kill some children son!

Santa the child slayer: i must go now! Duty calls! Tell mom I Love her and that I promise to get you a great gift this year!

a disappointed father: Go kill some children and make me and your mother proud!

You've left the conversation.

This is a conversation between Jade(black hair/blue eyes/snake bite piercing/tattoos) and yourself, a disappointed father.

Jade(black hair/blue eyes/snake bite piercing/tattoos): *flips you off*

a disappointed father: Oh, real nice, Jade

a disappointed father: We raised you better than that

Jade(black hair/blue eyes/snake bite piercing/tattoos): yeah I bet *raises a brow and looks at you* then why am I like this

a disappointed father: Some apples are just rotten to the core

Jade(black hair/blue eyes/snake bite piercing/tattoos): aww thanks makes me feel way better about myself *grins*

a disappointed father: I'm gonna go fuck your mom on the roof. You know where to find us, but please, please don't come find us.

a disappointed father: *later, on the roof*

a disappointed father: JADE! WHAT ARE YOU DOING HERE!

Jade(black hair/blue eyes/snake bite piercing/tattoos): *covers eyes* you can't tell me and not think I'm going to look right *starts walking away*

a disappointed father: I'm gonna go fuck your mom in your apartment or squat or wherever you're living now. You know where to find us, but please, please don't come find us

a disappointed father: *later in your place of residence*

a disappointed father: JADE! WHAT THE FUCK!

Jade(black hair/blue eyes/snake bite piercing/tattoos): this time your in my home so go fuck mom at your place not mine

a disappointed father: I'm gonna go fuck your mom on the sidewalk in front of this place. You know where to find us, but please, please don't come find us

a disappointed father: *later in public*

a disappointed father: JADE! THIS IS THE THIRD TIME TODAY THAT YOU'VE DONE THIS!

Jade(black hair/blue eyes/snake bite piercing/tattoos): nooopppppppe I'm a sleep *lays in bed*

a disappointed father: okay

a disappointed father: I'm gonna go fuck your mom on your bed. You know where to find us, but please, please don't come find us

a disappointed father: *later, when you wake up*

Jade(black hair/blue eyes/snake bite piercing/tattoos): no *locks my door*

a disappointed father: JADE! I SWEAR TO GOD!

a disappointed father: *kicks down door*

a disappointed father: *Barges in with sex doll*

a disappointed father: THIS IS YOUR MOTHER!

Jade(black hair/blue eyes/snake bite piercing/tattoos): no no no fuck you *pushes you out of my house* stay out

a disappointed father: NOOOOOOOOOOOO

a disappointed father: I'll be back. You won't even know I'm there, but I will be. And I'll be fucking your mom wherever you go.

a disappointed father: I'm watching you Jade

a disappointed father: I SEE YOOOOOOUUUUUUU

Jade(black hair/blue eyes/snake bite piercing/tattoos): I'm moving to Ireland then!!

a disappointed father: *cackles*

You've left the conversation.

#shamchat

0 notes

calvincelebuski · 8 years ago

Text

Shamchat shit number something

This is a conversation between NBR-588NW and yourself, Peridot (No relation to the Steven Universe character).

Peridot (No relation to the Steven Universe character): Who or what are you?

NBR-588NW: Hmh. Good question. I am a computer glitch, so to say. In the world where I come from, humans are created, not born. I look somewhat weird because the program glitched and created and extra copy out of remaining parts, even though those were not quite matching.

Peridot (No relation to the Steven Universe character): Okay. I'm a guy from Oregon

NBR-588NW: Ah... What are you looking for here?

Peridot (No relation to the Steven Universe character): I don't know

NBR-588NW: Just wandering, eh? Tell me a bit about yourself.

Peridot (No relation to the Steven Universe character): Well I don't think

Peridot (No relation to the Steven Universe character): I have much chance of finding what I'm looking for here

Peridot (No relation to the Steven Universe character): That was one complete thought

Peridot (No relation to the Steven Universe character): Also I like fisting my own asshole by the side of highways

NBR-588NW: Lol, what? That's quite extreme.

Peridot (No relation to the Steven Universe character): It pays the bills

NBR-588NW: Hah, yeah.

Peridot (No relation to the Steven Universe character): and I get to do what I love

NBR-588NW: [Looks down at mismatched hands, looks up again and smiles. Runs his fingers through oddly colored hair.] Hey, dude. You seem really cool, even if a bit weird. I'd like to get to know you better.

Peridot (No relation to the Steven Universe character): What do you want to know?

Peridot (No relation to the Steven Universe character): Who pays me to do this?

NBR-588NW: [Digs through pockets, hands you 10$.] I'd like to know everything you're willing to tell.

Peridot (No relation to the Steven Universe character): Well, I've been fisting my own asshole since before I could talk and over the course of my life I've gotten quite good at it - Good enough that passing drivers on the highway often pull over and give me crisp $100 dollar bills

Peridot (No relation to the Steven Universe character): My parents initially discouraged me from pursuing self-fisting as a career. They said it was a sin and there's no reason anyone would pay me to do it, but I proved them wrong on both counts when I started to get sponsored by the Vatican

Peridot (No relation to the Steven Universe character): We haven't really spoken much since the sponsorship started and I think this whole thing has made them question their faith

Peridot (No relation to the Steven Universe character): I used to get confused for the Steven Universe character, Peridot, a lot because of our similar names, so I added (No relation to the Steven Universe character) to the end of mine

Peridot (No relation to the Steven Universe character): Even though I still think my lawsuit against Cartoon Network should have gone through and Peridot from Steven Universe should have had to change her name

Peridot (No relation to the Steven Universe character): I grew up in New Jersey and moved around for a while before finally settling down in a shack by the side of the highway in Oregon

Peridot (No relation to the Steven Universe character): I live here with my loving wife who is a picture of Ralph Nader with lipstick on it

NBR-588NW: [Tries not to laugh, ends up rolling on the floor laughing.]

Peridot (No relation to the Steven Universe character): What's so funny?

NBR-588NW: [Wiping tears from eyes.] Your story is hilarious. I love it. Thanks for making my day.

Peridot (No relation to the Steven Universe character): Oh. Okay

NBR-588NW has left the conversation.

#Shamchat

0 notes

calvincelebuski · 8 years ago

Text

(If you know what Shamchat is, skip this paragraph) I used to go on this website Shamchat a lot (and still do sometimes) and basically what happens on there is that you play a character of your choice and interact with strangers who are also playing characters. I have a few conversations saved from there and the one you’re about to read is one in which I play my original character in conversation with someone else’s original character

This is a conversation between a young queen {Medieval/Fantasy rp, brown hair, green eyes, 5'7", 20, literate rp} and yourself, SoS the HedgdeH.

SoS the HedgdeH: *goes fast*

a young queen {Medieval/Fantasy rp, brown hair, green eyes, 5'7", 20, literate rp} has left the conversation.

#Shamchat

0 notes

calvincelebuski · 8 years ago

Photo

#Barry #Obamum

0 notes

calvincelebuski · 8 years ago

Text

The Hunt for Al Qaeda

Josh stood at the entrance to the Sarah Lawrence ROTC building in the middle of the South Lawn. His red and black hair and his black trench coat blew in the wind. He looked at the flyer in his grey-fingerless-glove-wearing hands again. “JOIN THE MILITARY. FOOD. WEAPONS. ACTION. BE BADASS. SERVE YOUR COUNTRY.” The message was inspiring and Josh wanted little more from life than food, weapons, action, and being badass. He pushed the door open and entered.

He heard a voice call out. “Hey!” He looked over to see large man standing behind a desk with his arms crossed and an angry look on his face. “That door said ‘pull.”

Josh looked at the door, which had broken off of its hinges and was now lying on the floor and said “Yeah, so?”

The man stood there and scowled. He couldn’t think of a good response, so he said, “I suppose you’re here to join the military?”

“Who wants to know?”

“The recruiter, Janice, is through that door,” the man said, and he pointed to a door that said “The Recruiter, Janice” on it.

Josh pushed the door down and entered Janice’s office where she was sitting behind her desk, on top of which were thirteen phones that were all ringing. She was picking them up one by one with one hand and saying, “Kill. Kill. Kill. Don’t kill. Just kidding. Kill.” In her other had, she held a half-eaten corn dog. She finished with the one shaped like a basketball and stared Josh down as he stared her down. “You here to join the military?”

“What’s it to you?”

“Do you love your country?”

Josh tried to think of a clever response for twenty minutes while Janice waited patiently. Finally, he said, “I don’t know if I love my country, but I love the cunts. See?” He held his right middle and pointer fingers in front of his face and stuck his tongue between them and began wiggling it around, conveniently licking off some of the mayonnaise that covered his hand. Janice tried to hide her arousal, poorly.

“Fill out this questionnaire.” She handed him a piece of paper and a pen. He sat down across from her and began checking boxes

1. Do you want to join the military? ☑Yes ☐No ☐Maybe

2. Are you sure? ☑Yes ☐No ☐Maybe

3. Would you pass a psychological evaluation? ☑Yes ☐No ☐Maybe

4. Have you trained yourself to see in thick brown smoke? ☑Yes ☐No ☐Maybe

5. What is an appropriate reaction to the following people? ☑Yes ☐No ☐Maybe

a. Terrorist ☑Kill ☐Don’t Kill

b. Suspicious-Looking Civilian ☑Kill ☐Don’t Kill

c. Adolf Hitler ☑Kill ☐Don’t Kill

d. Your Commanding Officer ☑Kill ☐Don’t Kill

Josh handed the paper back to Janice and she looked at it and nodded. “Alright. You’re in,” she said. She opened a drawer in her desk and began pulling stuff out and handing it to him. The first thing was a small piece of paper that said, “Hello, my name is” on top and on the bottom there was a line. “This is your badge. Write your name on it and use this…” The next object she pulled out was a needle and thread “… to sew it onto your chest so that it covers your left nipple.” Josh nodded. The third object was a green helmet. “Wearing this on your head will let people know you’re in the military even when you’re wearing a shirt. It can also block incoming projectiles.” Josh nodded again.

Then she pulled out a strange black thing. Josh looked at it curiously. It was an eight-and-a-half inch piece of metal. At one end there was a hole and at the other there was what looked like a handle coming down from the bottom that was a little over half the length of the longer part. Where the handle met the longer part there was a slightly misshapen ring and in the ring, coming down from the long part, was a smaller, curved piece of metal. “This is a gun,” Janice said.

“What does it do?”

Janice pointed the hole in it at the wall and said, “If you squeeze the trigger,” She squeezed the curved metal part and the handle together and the gun made a loud noise and a hole in the wall “It makes holes in things. It also works on people and can kill them.” She handed it to Josh.

Josh looked into the hole in the gun, smirked, and chuckled a little. ‘When am I ever gonna use this thing?’ he thought.

The last thing she pulled out was a cigarette. She offered it to him and said, “Do you smoke?”

“No,” Josh said. “I fire.” He pulled his lighter out of his pocket, grabbed the cigarette, lit the entire thing on fire, and tossed it into his mouth.

“Your first mission,” Janice began, “is to hunt down Al Qaeda. I’ll leave it up to you where you want to start with that.”

Josh nodded silently. He got out of the chair, but he stopped before he got to the door and said to Janice, “The flyer promised food.” She tossed him the half-eaten corn dog corn dog and he caught it and smirked and put the door back up. Then he pushed it down again and left.

His search started in his dorm room. After he finished sewing on his badge, painting his helmet black and covering it with purple and red upside-down crosses, pentagrams, circle-‘A’s, and Shadow the Hedgehog stickers, and eating the corn dog, his roommate Jason entered. Josh grabbed Jason’s desk lamp and swung it at him, hitting him in the head and knocking him to the ground. “Where’s Al Qaeda!?” he half-screamed.

“I don’t know! What are you doing?!” was Jason’s reply, but Josh needed more from him. He hit him with the desk lamp again, knocking out a few teeth.

“Where’s Al Qaeda!?” This time it was a full, shrill scream.

Jason realized there was no way he was going to trick Josh. “I’ll die before I tell you!”

“Well, let’s just see how that holds up!” Josh yelled, and, using rapid duct tape work, he suspended him from the ceiling and began hitting him with the desk lamp repeatedly.

“Okay! Okay!” Jason cried. Josh stopped hitting him and listened. “Al Qaeda,” Jason took a deep breath and continued “is somewhere in New Mexico. That’s all I know.”

Josh looked into his eyes and knew he was telling the truth. “That’s all I needed to hear,” he said, and he dropped the desk lamp on the floor.

“How did you know that I knew something?” Jason asked.

Josh smirked. “Lucky guess.” Then, in one motion, he broke the light bulb in the desk lamp against the desk and slit Jason’s throat with it. As he watched him bleed out, he smirked, scoffed, and said “Nothing personal, kid.” He couldn’t think of a good line relating to what had just happened.

He gathered his things, put on a shirt and trench coat, put the helmet on his head, and left the dorm.

He returned to Janice’s office and told her everything.

“New Mexico,” Janice said hatefully as she leaned back in her chair. “Of course Al Qaeda would choose to hide in a shit state so disgustingly un-American that it was named after another country out of shame.” She returned to a normal posture and looked at Josh, who was standing and leaning against the back wall with his eyes closed, his arms crossed, his face slightly turned downwards, and his right foot supporting his weight while the sole of his left shoe pressed against the wall about a foot and a half below his buttocks. “I hesitate to give you orders Josh, since I’m just a recruiter, not your commanding officer and part of what makes you such a great soldier is that you don’t play by anyone else’s rules, but I guess the only thing to do now would be for you to go down to New Mexico and pay Al Qaeda a visit.”

Josh began snoring. Janice sat there for a moment, then opened her drawer and pulled out a pebble and threw it at him, hitting him in the head and waking him up. He reached down, picked up the pebble and stared at it intensely. Then he looked back at Janice and said “So, I’m gonna go to New Mexico and kill Al Qaeda.”

“Great,” said Janice as she lifted her arms up slightly and put them back down, looked down at her desk, and shook her head slightly.

Josh left the room and, as he was about to push the door down and leave the building, he heard a voice from behind the reception desk say “by the way,” he looked over and saw the large man he met when he first came in. “My name’s Javid.”

“Who gives a shit?” Josh asked sincerely, and he threw the pebble at Javid, hitting him in the forehead. Javid blinked. Josh left the building.

The military flew Josh to New Mexico by helicopter. Ten hours into the flight, the pilot turned to him and said “I’m Jristopher.”

Josh looked at him. “I’m Josh.”

“So, Josh, why’s the military making you fly out to the shit state of New Mexico?”

“I’m supposed to hunt down Al Qaeda”

Jristopher smiled. “’Bout time someone showed Al Qaeda what’s for.”

Josh smirked.

“Looks like we’re here,” Jristopher said.

Josh looked at the ground. Even from 24,000 feet he could tell it was a shit state populated by disgusting people who probably vomited often with little to no provocation. “I’m gonna jump out here, he said.”

“Why did you add ‘he said’ to the end of that?” Jristopher asked.

Josh put on a parachute bag and armed five grenades and threw them across the floor of the helicopter.

“What the fuck, man!?”

Josh pushed the door off and jumped out. He heard the helicopter explode behind him and then pulled the chord on the parachute bag, releasing the parachute. He landed in the middle of the street in a suburban neighborhood and looked around. Puddles of vomit were everywhere and the walls of the houses were dripping with it.

He heard someone call out, “Boooo!” and looked over to see a woman covered in a mix of her own vomit and the vomit of her neighbors. “We hate America!” She threw up and continued, “Fuck the troops!”

“You tell him, Jegan.” He looked to his left and saw a man standing on the sidewalk who was also covered in vomit and was shaking his fist at him. The man threw up on his fist.

People began to pour out of their houses to see what the commotion was and looks of hatred spread across their faces when they saw it was someone in the military. People started calling their friends to tell them about the troop in the middle of town and throwing up on their phones. Within minutes the entire town was present and hurling insults and hurling at Josh. They walked around him counter-clockwise puking their guts out and pushing their butts out. “Eat shit,” a man with a shit-eating grin yelled while he was eating shit. Josh wanted nothing more than to turn that shit-eating grin into a shit-eating frown. The closest they got was twenty-five feet, but Josh knew there was a danger of attack. A child so vomit-covered that Josh hesitated to even think of it as human pooped in its hand and threw it, hitting the sleeve of Josh’s trench coat and the townspeople began to cheer. Some of them began pooping in their own hands in preparation for throwing. The crowd had grown violent. It was time to act.

Josh picked up the poop and threw it into the child’s open mouth. Then he did a series of backwards handsprings that culminated in a backflip into a group of ten professional bowlers. He held his fists out to the sides and began spinning and moving through the crowd, hitting anyone within arm’s reach. Strike. He stopped spinning and grabbed someone by the shoulders and launched himself into the air. He landed on an SUV parked on the side of the road and began running around on top of the crowd, stomping on some heads and kicking others. Occasionally, a head he kicked would come off. He caught one of these heads and threw it at a group of ten professional bowlers. Strike. He saw the poop child and saw that it had spat out the poop that made it the poop child. He dropped down onto the ground and ran through the crowd towards the child. He picked up the poop and threw it back at the ground with enough force that, upon impact, it became a brown cloud of smoke that covered the area and made it impossible for the townspeople to see. He grabbed the now-coughing poop child by the ankles and began running through the crowd and swinging it at everyone in his way, but he saw that it wasn’t effective enough; people were going down but they weren’t dying. He threw the poop child into a group of ten professional bowlers. Strike. He picked up and began swinging a much larger adult, instead, to much better results, but he soon grew tired of this means of combat and threw the adult into another group of ten professional bowlers. Strike. He was set upon by a group of ten professional bowlers with swords who could see in the gas and he did a handstand and started kicking in their direction hitting them as they came at him. Seven-ten split. He kept doing it. Spare. Another group of ten professional bowlers threw their poop in every direction hoping to hit him. He sprinted towards them, reached into one of their anuses and pulled out the intestines, which he quickly fashioned into a lasso that he threw around the group and tightened until their heads exploded. Strike.

“Wait!” said a voice in the smoke. Josh looked and saw a clean-cut, obese, elderly, mustached man wearing a suit, a tie, a top hat, a monocle, a sash that said “MAYOR,” (including the comma) and bowling shoes standing on top of the SUV. “This is madness!” The crowd settled down and Josh stopped to listen to what he had to say. Everything went silent for a few moments as the brown smoke cleared. The clean-cut mayor, took a deep breath and said, “This senseless violence doesn’t have to go on. We all just want to get on with our lives, here. Please, just let us murder you and mail your head to the president covered in insults and we can all pretend this never happened.”

Josh considered this for a moment, then clenched his fists and, under his breath, said “No.” He picked up a dead bowler’s sword, sprinted towards the mayor,, and cut him in two at the waist. Touchdown. As the top half of the mayor,’s body rocketed into the air propelled by blood, Josh grabbed the sash and put it on. The top half of the mayor,’s body hit the ground and the remaining townspeople looked at it, then at Josh. “I’m your mayor, now,” Josh said. The townspeople dropped to their knees and bowed. Josh asked, “Where is Al Qaeda?”

A woman towards the front of the crowd spoke. “Next town over, oh, Mayor,. In Franklin, oh, Mayor,.” She threw up.

“Which way is that?”

The townspeople pointed west.

A man towards the middle of the crowd spoke next. “If they see that you are military they will respond the same way we did here, oh, Mayor,.” He vomited and then went on to say, “It would be best to cover up your helmet, oh, Mayor,.”

Josh climbed down off of the SUV and scalped the former mayor,’s corpse with his sword and placed the scalp on top of his helmet. Then he began walking west. After ten minutes, he passed a sign that said, “Now leaving Bowlingville, entering Franklin.”

He spent the night at an abandoned warehouse filled with forklifts, crates, and, during the day, workers. In the morning, he walked down the streets of Franklin in search of Al Qaeda. He had destroyed the mayor, sash so as not to attract any unwanted attention. “Where’s that damn Al Qaeda?” he muttered to himself as he reached the end of another vomit-covered street. Putting emphasis on “damn” made him more badass. Then he saw it. A mailbox. And written on that mailbox was a name: “Qaeda.” This was the place.

He knocked on the door and heard a voice say, “Come in.” He entered and saw a man sitting at a kitchen table eating a bowl of cereal. “Can I help you?” the man asked. It was him. It was Al Qaeda.

“Al Qaeda?”

“Yes?”

“I’m with the US Military.” Josh lifted his shirt and flashed his badge.

“Really? Well…” Al stomped on a button that Josh couldn’t see under the table. The floor around where Josh was standing retracted into the walls, leaving only a small platform for Josh to stand on. Fifteen feet below it was a saltwater pool filled with sharks. “I’m with a bunch of sharks.” Al Qaeda laughed loudly and pulled a pen and paper out of his pocket to write his joke down. The platform began to slowly descend. “By the way,” Al Qaeda began “my real name isn’t Al Qaeda; it never has been. My real name,” he smiled widely, “is Jal Qaeda.”

“Why would you hide that?”

“You’ll never understand why I do the things I do!” Jal Qaeda ran out the back door, then ran back in, grabbed his cereal and ran out again.

Josh looked down at the sharks, trying to figure out what to do. Then he saw a ladder on the outside edge of the pool. A typical soldier would not have been able to make the jump from the platform to the ladder and many typical soldiers had probably failed before, but Josh was not a typical soldier. He made the three-foot leap with ease and climbed out of the hole.

He ran into the backyard and looked around, trying to figure out where Jal could have gone and he saw him standing on the roof eating his cereal. Jal laughed. “You’ll never get me! You’re down there and I’m up here!”

Josh scowled. He had a point. Josh was down there and Jal was up there and Josh had no way to reach him. Then he remembered the gun. He pulled it out and looked into the hole, then at Jal. “What’s that?” Jal asked. Josh pointed the hole at him and prepared to squeeze the curved metal part and the handle together. But then he stopped and no loud noise or hole was made. He remembered where he was and that New Mexico was a state with an abundance of rocks. He looked down at the ground and saw more than he could count. He picked one up the size of his fist and threw it at Jal, hitting him in the forehead. Jal fell over and tumbled off the roof, dead.

Josh put his gun back in his pocket and smirked. He took his phone out of his other pocket and dialed it and put it up to his ear. “Janice? Al Qaeda’s dead.” He put his phone into a third pocket below his left pocket but above his knee.

The helicopter was there within minutes. When Josh boarded, Janice and a serious-looking bald man with a raspy voice and medals greeted him. “Great job out there, Josh,” the bald man said as the helicopter was taking off.

“Who are you?” Josh asked.

“I’m your commanding officer, Sergeant Major Je-” Josh beat the officer to death with his gun. Janice nodded in approval.

As they flew away, they could see New Mexico being carpet bombed for abetting Jal Qaeda. Josh’s face started to hurt from smirking so much as he watched.

The helicopter landed and Josh and Janice got out in an unfamiliar location. Josh looked around. “This isn’t Sarah Lawrence.”

“No, Josh, it’s not.” Janice said. “This is the white house lawn. You’re getting a promotion, Josh. You’re now the president.”

“Whatever.”

The gun never went off.

0 notes