Post by GodSyllaw on Feb 5, 2005 4:26:22 GMT -5
Part 1 of 4 parts comprising Vol. 1
It was a hot day in New Orleans. Too hot. And boring, too. Because I moved to New Orleans for the fried fish, but once you have seen the inside of every fish joint in the big easy, you end up hating fish. I mean, really hating fish. You also get really thin but zits start busting out on your forehead from all the grease. There's a saying here, ''If the fish doesn't make you break out, the water will.'' The water was so hard in my apartment that it was actually causing DNA mutations.
I decided to go to a place called The Watering Hole, to buy water from the outside world. But it was a pub. Ordering a scotch on the rocks, I got into a drinking contest and downed one drink before passing out. When I woke up, I was lying face down in a puddle of marinara sauce clutching someone's left shoe. I got up, still dizzy, and bumped into the greatest safecracker in the state. Or at least, that's what he said as soon as be bumped into me. I asked him what his name was and he said it was Ura Snotball. I punched him in the face and then apologized immediately.
Well, we hatched a plan. The most devious plan in the history of crime. I would act as the gunman and then enter the largest bank in New Orleans: a bank owned entirely by Popeye's. He would crack the safe, a massive object with even phases of defense systems, and we would make off with the loot: 400,000,000 American dollars and the 11 herbs and spices used in KFC Original Recipe chicken.
The day before the heist was supposed to happen, though, tragedy struck. A man asked Ura what his name was at the DMV, and when Ura had responded, he had been shot in the face seconds later. I knew I needed a safecracker, so I went looking for the second best one in New Orleans. His name was Waldo, and it was easy to spot him in his red and white striped shirt, thick black glasses, and red snowcap. He said he'd help me, only because there was a briefcase in the safe as well that contained a mysterious glowing orange light and had that combination number 666.
As soon as I walked into the bank, I knew it'd be trouble. The lobby was crawling with guards. Walking up to the metal detector in my leather trenchcoat, the metal detector went off. Then, I saw a coin on the floor. When I bent to pick it up, all my guns fell out onto the floor. I said ''Oh crap'' but then Waldo walked in behind me and headshotted 8000 people with a single Colt .45 revolver without reloading once. Of course, someone set off the silent alarm at that exact second, and Waldo cracked the safe quickly, before we ran the hell out of there.
We had 400,000,000 dollars, the secret KFC recipe, a briefcase, and various gold statues. The silent alarm was blaring shrilly behind us. Getting into a 1971 Barracuda, we drove in a giant circle. But then Waldo said he knew a shortcut out of town. I took it, and realized Waldo had made a grave error: the shortcut passed right by a Dunkin' Donuts. Within seconds there was a roadblock and we were forced to bail out of the car. The Barracuda slid onto it's side and we used it for cover. Waldo had his .45 and I had a Jericho 941F, the .40 S&W one.
Everything was going well. Too well. I remember once everything was going well. Too well. Then I slipped on ice and fell onto a man named Eric ''The Hitman'' Daniels. I was afraid. But then I found out they called him ''The Hitman'' because he played Hitman, Hitman 2, and Hitman: Contracts. Suddenly I wasn't as worried as before. I calmed down. Everything was going well again. Then he kicked me in the crotch and I woke up in the trunk of an UGO. It was bad enough I was in a trunk, but an UGO trunk? Ew. I managed to get out but felt unclean for days.
Well, I was shooting it out with the cops when the world went black. When I woke up, I was in handcuffs and next to a guy named Jeff. It was the fifth time in my life I'd woken up in a strange place with handcuffs on and next to a guy named Jeff, but this time it was stranger. A detective came in two minutes later and told me Waldo had hit me with a solid gold statue of Jesus and absconded with the loot. I was pissed. Then, the detective told me it was his last day on the job and walked out the cell. After three days, I realized the cell door was open, and walked out too.
I realized that I had to get revenge on Waldo, and so I looked in every newspaper I could find until I found an article showing he had released an auto biographical picture book detailing his travels through the world. I bought it, and felt the anger rise within me as I saw him spending my money as he wandered around scenic locales like Africa and Paris, flanked by the colorful people of those places. He was always hidden, but eventually I found he was always near a fat man. And I realized if I could find the fat man, I could find Waldo, and exact my vengeance.
~GS
It was a hot day in New Orleans. Too hot. And boring, too. Because I moved to New Orleans for the fried fish, but once you have seen the inside of every fish joint in the big easy, you end up hating fish. I mean, really hating fish. You also get really thin but zits start busting out on your forehead from all the grease. There's a saying here, ''If the fish doesn't make you break out, the water will.'' The water was so hard in my apartment that it was actually causing DNA mutations.
I decided to go to a place called The Watering Hole, to buy water from the outside world. But it was a pub. Ordering a scotch on the rocks, I got into a drinking contest and downed one drink before passing out. When I woke up, I was lying face down in a puddle of marinara sauce clutching someone's left shoe. I got up, still dizzy, and bumped into the greatest safecracker in the state. Or at least, that's what he said as soon as be bumped into me. I asked him what his name was and he said it was Ura Snotball. I punched him in the face and then apologized immediately.
Well, we hatched a plan. The most devious plan in the history of crime. I would act as the gunman and then enter the largest bank in New Orleans: a bank owned entirely by Popeye's. He would crack the safe, a massive object with even phases of defense systems, and we would make off with the loot: 400,000,000 American dollars and the 11 herbs and spices used in KFC Original Recipe chicken.
The day before the heist was supposed to happen, though, tragedy struck. A man asked Ura what his name was at the DMV, and when Ura had responded, he had been shot in the face seconds later. I knew I needed a safecracker, so I went looking for the second best one in New Orleans. His name was Waldo, and it was easy to spot him in his red and white striped shirt, thick black glasses, and red snowcap. He said he'd help me, only because there was a briefcase in the safe as well that contained a mysterious glowing orange light and had that combination number 666.
As soon as I walked into the bank, I knew it'd be trouble. The lobby was crawling with guards. Walking up to the metal detector in my leather trenchcoat, the metal detector went off. Then, I saw a coin on the floor. When I bent to pick it up, all my guns fell out onto the floor. I said ''Oh crap'' but then Waldo walked in behind me and headshotted 8000 people with a single Colt .45 revolver without reloading once. Of course, someone set off the silent alarm at that exact second, and Waldo cracked the safe quickly, before we ran the hell out of there.
We had 400,000,000 dollars, the secret KFC recipe, a briefcase, and various gold statues. The silent alarm was blaring shrilly behind us. Getting into a 1971 Barracuda, we drove in a giant circle. But then Waldo said he knew a shortcut out of town. I took it, and realized Waldo had made a grave error: the shortcut passed right by a Dunkin' Donuts. Within seconds there was a roadblock and we were forced to bail out of the car. The Barracuda slid onto it's side and we used it for cover. Waldo had his .45 and I had a Jericho 941F, the .40 S&W one.
Everything was going well. Too well. I remember once everything was going well. Too well. Then I slipped on ice and fell onto a man named Eric ''The Hitman'' Daniels. I was afraid. But then I found out they called him ''The Hitman'' because he played Hitman, Hitman 2, and Hitman: Contracts. Suddenly I wasn't as worried as before. I calmed down. Everything was going well again. Then he kicked me in the crotch and I woke up in the trunk of an UGO. It was bad enough I was in a trunk, but an UGO trunk? Ew. I managed to get out but felt unclean for days.
Well, I was shooting it out with the cops when the world went black. When I woke up, I was in handcuffs and next to a guy named Jeff. It was the fifth time in my life I'd woken up in a strange place with handcuffs on and next to a guy named Jeff, but this time it was stranger. A detective came in two minutes later and told me Waldo had hit me with a solid gold statue of Jesus and absconded with the loot. I was pissed. Then, the detective told me it was his last day on the job and walked out the cell. After three days, I realized the cell door was open, and walked out too.
I realized that I had to get revenge on Waldo, and so I looked in every newspaper I could find until I found an article showing he had released an auto biographical picture book detailing his travels through the world. I bought it, and felt the anger rise within me as I saw him spending my money as he wandered around scenic locales like Africa and Paris, flanked by the colorful people of those places. He was always hidden, but eventually I found he was always near a fat man. And I realized if I could find the fat man, I could find Waldo, and exact my vengeance.
~GS
