(no subject)
As I walked home from work yesterday, I found something magical. I don't know where it came from, who it's previous owner was, and why it was laying atop a huge pile of corpses. I didn't care. When you find something this fan-fucking-tastic, you don't bother with details, like dead people and SWAT teams. I found this:
I did what any white, underpaid American would do: I picked it up.
First things first, I checked for bullets. Because a massacare isn't really a massacare unless you have at least 328 bullets. Anything less is just chaos, and anything more is just showing off. You know those assholes who play Grand Theft Auto with the weapons code punched in a billion times? Then just shoot the same pedestrians and cops an equal number of times? Boring. I perfer to shoot other things:
The local Wal-Mart... I know what you're thinking; "Andrew is so cool. He is the most awesome ninja in Indiana!"
There is two things wrong with that thought: I'm awesomer than any ninja in Kentucky as well (dare I say that I'm the awesomest ninja in the Mid-West?).
Secondly, why the fuck would you be thinking that shit anyways? The Michigan City Wal-Mart has Chinese writing on it. That should be the most important thought.
Anyways. Me and Mr.OhShitagun (I named it) go into the Wal-Mart. I took aim into a crowd of fat people and popped off a couple of shots.
There was one survivor:
This guy hopped onto a moped and miraciously it held his girth long enough for him to escape. Dumb fat guy, making me look inept at mass-murder....
I felt really fucking bad about it the next morning. I mean, the stupid oinker got away! On a MOPED! But I came to a revelation!
Harrelson always left one survivor to tell the tale of horror. I was wearing a Ronald Regan mask, so the fat moped man will be so confused that he'll think Patrick Swayze was really pissed off. I probably got off the hook on this one.
Seriously, everything except for the pile of corpses really happened.
I did what any white, underpaid American would do: I picked it up.
First things first, I checked for bullets. Because a massacare isn't really a massacare unless you have at least 328 bullets. Anything less is just chaos, and anything more is just showing off. You know those assholes who play Grand Theft Auto with the weapons code punched in a billion times? Then just shoot the same pedestrians and cops an equal number of times? Boring. I perfer to shoot other things:
The local Wal-Mart... I know what you're thinking; "Andrew is so cool. He is the most awesome ninja in Indiana!"
There is two things wrong with that thought: I'm awesomer than any ninja in Kentucky as well (dare I say that I'm the awesomest ninja in the Mid-West?).
Secondly, why the fuck would you be thinking that shit anyways? The Michigan City Wal-Mart has Chinese writing on it. That should be the most important thought.
Anyways. Me and Mr.OhShitagun (I named it) go into the Wal-Mart. I took aim into a crowd of fat people and popped off a couple of shots.
There was one survivor:
This guy hopped onto a moped and miraciously it held his girth long enough for him to escape. Dumb fat guy, making me look inept at mass-murder....
I felt really fucking bad about it the next morning. I mean, the stupid oinker got away! On a MOPED! But I came to a revelation!
Harrelson always left one survivor to tell the tale of horror. I was wearing a Ronald Regan mask, so the fat moped man will be so confused that he'll think Patrick Swayze was really pissed off. I probably got off the hook on this one.
Seriously, everything except for the pile of corpses really happened.