I love my job
Because my job is writing this awful garbage! I hope SpikeTV is interested, because I don't see much of another market!
Jerry's car screams around a corner. Jane Penny is right on their tail, not ten yards behind and gaining. She's running with her fingers pinched together into knife-hands and swinging her arms with a permanent ninety-degree bend at the elbow. Her legs and arms pump like she's some kind of unstoppable futuremachine sent back in time to prevent one of the occupants of Jerry's automobile from becoming some sort of future leader that rises up and puts an end to the futuremachines and their distant revolution. Jerry clutches, changes gears then punches his foot down on the accelerator, the car's massive V-8 roars like a lion as the tires chirp for a split second and the car lurches forward again.
Vania is hanging out the passenger window, taking potshots at Jane Penny with her sidearm. After fifteen expended rounds, her Glock's slide locks back. Vania crawls back into the passenger's seat.
VANIA (Yelling over the engine's considerable roar):
That was my last magazine! I'm out!
JERRY (Likewise shouting):
I can't believe this! I'm doing nearly a eighty miles per and she's still gaining!
VANIA (Still shouting):
Do you still have that squad auto?
JERRY (Shout, shout, let it all out):
Never leave home without it! Although, it's in the trunk sweetheart! We really don't have the time to stop and get out and get it, now do we!?
Vania turns around in the front passenger seat and looks backwards. Jane Penny is right on their rear bumper, her feet almost tripping against the shiny chrome novelty scrotum hanging from Jerry's bumper. Vania looks at the back seat. Of course! The rear seat release, a knob that, once pressed will release the back seat, allowing it to fold forward so as if one were so inclined, could shove junk into the trunk that were larger than the eponymous storage facility! That's the only way!
VANIA (Shouting backwards at Skulk and Bull):
You two (Pointing her index and middle fingers at Skulk and Bull)! Trade me seats (Transitions her hand-gesture from two fingers pointing at two chumps in the back seat of a Charger to a thumb hitched over her shoulder, pointing toward the front of the auto)!
SKULK (Yelling incredulously):
Oh you have to be kidding!
VANIA (Barking an order):
No chance! Get moving!
Skulk and Bull try their hardest to stand up, move into the front seat of a racing automobile and allow Vania to exchange seats with them. This is High Comedy folks, truly a moment to cherish.
With Vania in the back seat, she grabs onto the seat-retention knob and yanks, the back seat releases and begins to tip down into the passenger compartment. She crawls up onto Honus' lap to allow the seat back to clear, then wriggles her torso into the small half-seat wide opening leading back into the trunk. Her backside, naturally, is sticking pretty much straight up, the top half of her torso down, obscured, most of the way into the trunk and her knees effectively mooshed into Honus's crotch. Honus, ever the gentleman, has his back against the far corner, his hands up, fingers splayed out, attempting to not touch her whatsoever as she's more-or-less straddling him in the back seat of this big, sexy, black Dodge.
POV Jerry. His left hand is on the steering wheel, deftly maneuvering, his right hand on the shifter. He stomps the clutch, shifts gears and then plows onto the gas, causing the car to roar even more resolutely than before as it tries to escape Jane Penny's unrelenting pursuit. Jerry looks up from the road into the rearview mirror. Jane Penny is right there, not three feet off his rear bumper. Her entire torso can be seen in the rearview, her arms pumping, her breasts bouncing as if she were animated by Gainax, truly a sight to behold.
Jerry's right hand reaches up from the shift lever and grasps the rearview mirror. He adjusts the mirror down so that the view moves from the pursuing Jane Penny to Vania's gray wool-skirted rear all sticking up while she roots around in the trunk.
CU Jerry, with his hand up on the mirror, he looks at the camera knowingly, smiles like a hungry wolf then twitch-raises one eyebrow. Jane Penny, out-of-focus can be seen directly behind and to screen left of his head, running her little legs off behind them.
Vania emerges from the trunkspace with a FN Minimi Squad Automatic Weapon. The Automatic Rifle is in the Paratrooper configuration, with a collapsed stock and a shortened barrel.
Vania tosses two sealed-plastic ammunition containers to Honus then flips the seat up. She slides off of Honus' lap and in the same motion, retracts the collapsible stock.
Vania opens the machine gun's feed hatch then pulls an ammunition belt out of the weapon's attached ammunition box. She lays it into the feed mechanism then slaps the hatch closed and racks the bolt to its back and locked position.
VANIA (Shouting):
You're my A-Gunner! Keep my ammunition coming!
Jane Penny makes a heroic leap! She lands on the Charger's trunk, her fingers, each like glistening railroad spikes pierce the sheetmetal trunk lid and she pulls herself up onto the back of the speeding car.
VANIA (Shouting):
Ears everybody!
Honus covers his ears calmly, plugging his middle fingers into the canals. Skulk and Bull however, cower together, holding their palms over each others' ears. Skulk and Bull close their eyes and grimace in anxious fear, knowing that the inside of the automobile is going to get very loud and very scary in a short interval.
Vania squeezes the trigger on the Squad Auto, shooting straight out the Charger's rear windshield. The passenger compartment is soon filled with muzzle flash as she fires. Broken glass, spent cases and disintegrated links dump onto Honus' lap.
Tracers pierce through the night sky like a sewing machine needle through sackcloth while the rumble of a light machine gun rattles through the warm Arizona sky like a jetliner. Jane Penny is engulfed in the Squad Auto's muzzle flash, tracers zip through her as if she wasn't even there. Her back has blossomed with exit wounds like a field of pansies. The exit wounds all appear as if they are sketch paper, doodled upon with non-photo blue color pencil and daubed in ink.
Vania's face is all business, she lacks the aggressive, has-an-erection smile that you or I would have while firing a Squad Auto. Oh no. To her, this is her job and she approaches it with the same gentle dignity as she would digging through stacks of reference material searching for the one obscure mention that could Crack The Case, as it were. Muzzle flashes reflect off her glasses, turning them opaque orange/white.
The Squad Auto's belt begins to wane. Within moments, Vania's weapon will be empty, and Honus, being an awful A-Gunner has not even bothered to open a second ammo-box, let alone have the belt ready to be shoved into the weapon's feed hatch.
Luckily, Jane Penny can stands all she can stands and can't stands n'more and finds herself detached from the Dodge's trunk. She tumbles off backward, her claws scrabbling for purchase but finding naught but cold asphalt while tracers still lick the night beside her.
Jane Penny somersaults and tumbles end-over-end as Jerry's car speeds off into the night, her steely claws making a delightful clankity metal sound as they impact the macadam.
Jane Penny wordlessly, gruntlessly stands up. Her hands are back to normal and the myriad impact wounds that appear to be holes in her linework close up on their own as if one took an high-speed serial image of a meteor impacting a planetoid and ran it in reverse.
Jerry's Charger's taillights can be seen disappearing into the background as Jane Penny wordlessly turns around, facing the viewer. Her body turns before her head, her chest facing the camera before her face. She walks with a determined stride - directly into the camera, setting a competent editor up for an end-of-scene transition.
JERRY. MIRROR. VANIA'S ASS. DUDE, CLASSIC!
Jerry's car screams around a corner. Jane Penny is right on their tail, not ten yards behind and gaining. She's running with her fingers pinched together into knife-hands and swinging her arms with a permanent ninety-degree bend at the elbow. Her legs and arms pump like she's some kind of unstoppable futuremachine sent back in time to prevent one of the occupants of Jerry's automobile from becoming some sort of future leader that rises up and puts an end to the futuremachines and their distant revolution. Jerry clutches, changes gears then punches his foot down on the accelerator, the car's massive V-8 roars like a lion as the tires chirp for a split second and the car lurches forward again.
Vania is hanging out the passenger window, taking potshots at Jane Penny with her sidearm. After fifteen expended rounds, her Glock's slide locks back. Vania crawls back into the passenger's seat.
VANIA (Yelling over the engine's considerable roar):
That was my last magazine! I'm out!
JERRY (Likewise shouting):
I can't believe this! I'm doing nearly a eighty miles per and she's still gaining!
VANIA (Still shouting):
Do you still have that squad auto?
JERRY (Shout, shout, let it all out):
Never leave home without it! Although, it's in the trunk sweetheart! We really don't have the time to stop and get out and get it, now do we!?
Vania turns around in the front passenger seat and looks backwards. Jane Penny is right on their rear bumper, her feet almost tripping against the shiny chrome novelty scrotum hanging from Jerry's bumper. Vania looks at the back seat. Of course! The rear seat release, a knob that, once pressed will release the back seat, allowing it to fold forward so as if one were so inclined, could shove junk into the trunk that were larger than the eponymous storage facility! That's the only way!
VANIA (Shouting backwards at Skulk and Bull):
You two (Pointing her index and middle fingers at Skulk and Bull)! Trade me seats (Transitions her hand-gesture from two fingers pointing at two chumps in the back seat of a Charger to a thumb hitched over her shoulder, pointing toward the front of the auto)!
SKULK (Yelling incredulously):
Oh you have to be kidding!
VANIA (Barking an order):
No chance! Get moving!
Skulk and Bull try their hardest to stand up, move into the front seat of a racing automobile and allow Vania to exchange seats with them. This is High Comedy folks, truly a moment to cherish.
With Vania in the back seat, she grabs onto the seat-retention knob and yanks, the back seat releases and begins to tip down into the passenger compartment. She crawls up onto Honus' lap to allow the seat back to clear, then wriggles her torso into the small half-seat wide opening leading back into the trunk. Her backside, naturally, is sticking pretty much straight up, the top half of her torso down, obscured, most of the way into the trunk and her knees effectively mooshed into Honus's crotch. Honus, ever the gentleman, has his back against the far corner, his hands up, fingers splayed out, attempting to not touch her whatsoever as she's more-or-less straddling him in the back seat of this big, sexy, black Dodge.
POV Jerry. His left hand is on the steering wheel, deftly maneuvering, his right hand on the shifter. He stomps the clutch, shifts gears and then plows onto the gas, causing the car to roar even more resolutely than before as it tries to escape Jane Penny's unrelenting pursuit. Jerry looks up from the road into the rearview mirror. Jane Penny is right there, not three feet off his rear bumper. Her entire torso can be seen in the rearview, her arms pumping, her breasts bouncing as if she were animated by Gainax, truly a sight to behold.
Jerry's right hand reaches up from the shift lever and grasps the rearview mirror. He adjusts the mirror down so that the view moves from the pursuing Jane Penny to Vania's gray wool-skirted rear all sticking up while she roots around in the trunk.
CU Jerry, with his hand up on the mirror, he looks at the camera knowingly, smiles like a hungry wolf then twitch-raises one eyebrow. Jane Penny, out-of-focus can be seen directly behind and to screen left of his head, running her little legs off behind them.
Vania emerges from the trunkspace with a FN Minimi Squad Automatic Weapon. The Automatic Rifle is in the Paratrooper configuration, with a collapsed stock and a shortened barrel.
Vania tosses two sealed-plastic ammunition containers to Honus then flips the seat up. She slides off of Honus' lap and in the same motion, retracts the collapsible stock.
Vania opens the machine gun's feed hatch then pulls an ammunition belt out of the weapon's attached ammunition box. She lays it into the feed mechanism then slaps the hatch closed and racks the bolt to its back and locked position.
VANIA (Shouting):
You're my A-Gunner! Keep my ammunition coming!
Jane Penny makes a heroic leap! She lands on the Charger's trunk, her fingers, each like glistening railroad spikes pierce the sheetmetal trunk lid and she pulls herself up onto the back of the speeding car.
VANIA (Shouting):
Ears everybody!
Honus covers his ears calmly, plugging his middle fingers into the canals. Skulk and Bull however, cower together, holding their palms over each others' ears. Skulk and Bull close their eyes and grimace in anxious fear, knowing that the inside of the automobile is going to get very loud and very scary in a short interval.
Vania squeezes the trigger on the Squad Auto, shooting straight out the Charger's rear windshield. The passenger compartment is soon filled with muzzle flash as she fires. Broken glass, spent cases and disintegrated links dump onto Honus' lap.
Tracers pierce through the night sky like a sewing machine needle through sackcloth while the rumble of a light machine gun rattles through the warm Arizona sky like a jetliner. Jane Penny is engulfed in the Squad Auto's muzzle flash, tracers zip through her as if she wasn't even there. Her back has blossomed with exit wounds like a field of pansies. The exit wounds all appear as if they are sketch paper, doodled upon with non-photo blue color pencil and daubed in ink.
Vania's face is all business, she lacks the aggressive, has-an-erection smile that you or I would have while firing a Squad Auto. Oh no. To her, this is her job and she approaches it with the same gentle dignity as she would digging through stacks of reference material searching for the one obscure mention that could Crack The Case, as it were. Muzzle flashes reflect off her glasses, turning them opaque orange/white.
The Squad Auto's belt begins to wane. Within moments, Vania's weapon will be empty, and Honus, being an awful A-Gunner has not even bothered to open a second ammo-box, let alone have the belt ready to be shoved into the weapon's feed hatch.
Luckily, Jane Penny can stands all she can stands and can't stands n'more and finds herself detached from the Dodge's trunk. She tumbles off backward, her claws scrabbling for purchase but finding naught but cold asphalt while tracers still lick the night beside her.
Jane Penny somersaults and tumbles end-over-end as Jerry's car speeds off into the night, her steely claws making a delightful clankity metal sound as they impact the macadam.
Jane Penny wordlessly, gruntlessly stands up. Her hands are back to normal and the myriad impact wounds that appear to be holes in her linework close up on their own as if one took an high-speed serial image of a meteor impacting a planetoid and ran it in reverse.
Jerry's Charger's taillights can be seen disappearing into the background as Jane Penny wordlessly turns around, facing the viewer. Her body turns before her head, her chest facing the camera before her face. She walks with a determined stride - directly into the camera, setting a competent editor up for an end-of-scene transition.
JERRY. MIRROR. VANIA'S ASS. DUDE, CLASSIC!