"What the hell are you talking about?"
"About life. About everything. The Universe."
"Ahhh...that's great. Helpful information for us all."
I bitchslapped that cynical ninny that has the same internal address as my more well-mannered self. I brushed off my shoulders, and went ahead with cracking the safe.
The tumblers all tiptoed around in my ear as I listened for the one misstep, that fatal flaw in their dance. They all slid into place and the safe opened with a dusty yawn. Inside was the most amazing and personal items that this resident had done his best to secure away from prying eyes.
"The safe is just the front. The real juicy stuff will be hidden in a shoebox or sumptin'."
"Shut it, you ninny!"
I rumaged through the safe, fondling the private securities of Occupant. Legal documents, some jewelry, and financial papers. Hooboy, we better slow down here. Perhaps the ninny was correct. Be there better booty in a mere box?
Under the bed seemed too easy but I checked it first. I didn't want to search the rest of the place only to find it was in the most boring, unoriginal spot. Nagging uncertainty now quieted, I began to search the house with my chainsaw.
One giant room always seemed like a better idea than a bunch of little rooms. I hope Resident agrees, as I did take some effort to remove the walls. Now that I had some room to think, I could easily find this mythical black box of hidden secrets. Closets were engulfed in flames, cabinets smashed with sledgehammers, and desks splintered into ruins. Still no piece of a life was to be found.
"Well now. I guess we're proper fooked. We've come this far and now we don't have an ending, much less a point."
"I told you this would happen. I did. I said it before we left."
"You didn't say squat, you just stuffed your face full of chippers and then gave me a purple nurple."
"Yeah, well that's my way of saying, 'Don't leave the house today, there's no sign of life out there.' That's what that means."
Suddenly, we turned and found ourselves looking down the business end of an electric bastardstabber. It was curled up right beneath my left nostril. I swear, I didn't hear shat. Well, not until I saw the Motherfuckers.
The Motherfuckers' ship roared through the Intellisphere, blissfully sailing the currents. That's when they spotted us, sitting about, fucking around, not doing much of anything really. For shits and giggles they punched through into this nonsensical fiction.
The ship, StabbedToDeath, was a curved phallic symbol, fistfucking its way through the creative landscape. It's mighty hull is said to have withstood a barrage of blasts from the Rodentia Maxmillion Army, whatever the fuck that is. Shitting below, engulfed in StabbedToDeath's mighty shadow, I spasmatically jerked my head towards its captain and crew.
General Atrocity drove a steel spike, twelve inches long, through my liver. MercyMary removed my most vital vertebrae. Rampaging Bile gnawed on my fingers, snarling all the while. Several Seconds blew the right side of my face off, yet I didn't see a gun or a bullet or anything much else after that. And that's when it got scary.
Such a raw concept like the Motherfuckers can not be bound, not by the likes of me anyway. I'm a throwaway. A voice that has said nothing and is nothing. A few letters in between quotes, the barest semblance of life. So when my meager physical senses were destroyed, then they went to work on me.
"I told you to stay home and watch movies."
"Shut up you ninny."