The Assassin In The Wastebasket

This Assassin's Creed crack-fiction is an S.J. Endeavor

Prelude:

"Down The Rabbit Hole…"

At first I thought it was my imagination.

I went though the usual stream of various denials: I was dreaming. Hallucinating. My best friend and pseudo-reformed stoner had slipped me LSD. Again.

I tried the usual slew of remedies: I pinched myself. Checked all the meds in the house to see if a side effect could make me 'experience wild delusions. ' Called my best bud and chewed them out for doping me up for the third time that month.

None of those things worked, of course. It was real. All of it. It was really happening. Or, at least, my head thought it was.

But who knows? Maybe I was went temporarily mental. My elevator stopped going to the top floor for a few weeks. The light bulb that was my brain mysteriously dimmed a couple watts. Whatever. The point of the matter was that some pretty weird shit was happening to me, and the ten-inch man running around my room only served to drive home the point that I was either A) crazy, or B) actually getting to see something genuinely supernatural.

But, again, maybe I imagined the incident. Maybe I really did go hopping mad. Maybe my stoner buddy slipped me a cocktail of substances not meant to be mixed. I really don't care. All that matters is that once everything was said and done, I had a scar on my hand the size of Wisconsin and a missing action figure, plus three A+ history exams and a really freaked out pet ferret.

But I'll save a recounting of that little incident for later.

On the following pages, you will find an account of what happened to me over the past few weeks, beginning with the kids I baby sit being mischievous (as usual) and their dad being a wood-shop-a-holic handy man who's seen way too many children's films. From it, you can judge exactly what I am: a delusional video game fan, someone worthy of a straightjacket, or a person who had a miraculous (if not annoying) occurrence happen in their life.

And now, without further ado, follow me down the rabbit hole… take care, and be sure to watch your step.

AUTHOR'S LAMENT

My little bro and I were cleaning out an old armoire this past winter break, and stumbled across some video cassettes of ours from our distant childhood. Guess which one we found?

The Indian in the Cupboard.

Naturally, since I had just gotten my Altaïr figurine, this combination of that movie, my figure, and my favorite game combined to make this:

The Assassin In the Wastebasket.

A mix of elements of all three items, churned together in a blender of doom and all things crazy. With maniacal glee I write this fic, and with deviousness unparalleled by any on our earth I have constructed a (weird) story.

Let it be known now that this is a CRACK FIC. Totally not serious. Completely farcical. The plot is minimal, and mostly humorous (or attempted humor, at the very least). Don't get mad that it's not perfectly canon or an epic masterpiece fit for publication; just enjoy the lameness of the puns and the weirdness of the characters and the situations they get themselves into. This is not a "get sucked into a videogame" fic or any of its derivations; it's a new spin on one of my old favorite movies I am writing purely for the pleasure of.

I hope you can enjoy it too.