Sonichu Club
by Isaac Kiernan
Based on the screenplay to "Fight Club"
by Jim Uhls
Based on the novel "Fight Club"
by Chuck Palahniuk
Also
Based on the life of
Christian Weston Chandler
Please note: The racist and homophobic comments made in the following story do not represent the feelings of me, the author. They are merely meant to convey the attitude of Christian Weston Chandler (a rather racist and homophobic individual).
People always ask me if I know Clyde Cash.
Clyde has his gun buried deep in my mouth. It was a modified version of a 1984 Transformers Toy. It had once been a highly saught after character named Megatron, but using Crayola Model Magic, and his knowledge of fire-arms, Clyde had converted it into a real pistol. I could feel the silencer holes Clyde had drilled into the barrel of the gun with my tongue. In ten minutes there is going to be a massive explosion that rocks history forever. Nine Minutes. Clyde flashes me a grin. "Any last words?" He asks. It's hard to talk with a gun in your mouth. it comes out as "Mmm hmmm hmm ammymmh" he pulls the gun from my mouth. I clarify. "I can't think of anything." Eight Minutes.
Two years earlier I was at an Internet Lumberjack Support group meeting. The elderly and slightly overweight man, Bob the lumberjack, was hugging me, and my face fit perfectly between his manboobs. This is why all men should wear bras, like me. As He Pulls away He looks at me. "I ain't never had nobody stab me in the back like that" He said to me. "It's okay son, You Can Cry"
That's not the beginning. Let's go back further.
It started with my writer's block. For 6 weeks I couldn't write "Sonichu". My mind drew a complete blank. I went to my church Counceler, Rocky Shoemaker. I told her that I was in pain. She told me if I wanted to know what pain was like I should visit The Game Place, saturday night. That's when the lumberjack support group meets. That's how I met the Lumberjack, my father, Bob Chandler. You know the controls on those plastic molding machines? He invented those. Yeah, he used to be quite a famous guy. But somewhere along the line he lost it all. And then it happened. Sitting here, my face buried in my father's man-boobs, I cried. It made me feel good to cry. And then I was able to write "Sonichu" again. I wrote alot. it was good. R.L. Stine can't write this good. I went to alot of support groups after that. I think my favorite was Trollbusters Anonymous. But then one week it happened. at Lumberjack support group. She showed up. Megan Schroeder. Her lie reflected my lie. I wanted to pull her to the side and say "MEGAN YOU DAMN DIRTY TROLL YOU ARE NOT A LUMBERJACK YOU LIAR". She didn't just show up to Lumberjack support. She was at Trollbusters Anonymous, Virgins With Rage, and even Tomboys and Tomgirls of Virginia. I had had enough.
I was at Teacher's Anonymous. Mary Lee Walsh was speaking. I hate her. Mary Lee walsh looked like dirty old witch with a devil's tail. To me, anyway. She started giving her speech. She was quitting teaching soon. "Well, I'm still here." she said, "But I don't know for how long. That's as much certainty as anyone can give me." I can't wait for this lady to stop teaching. when I was in school she crushed my heart level to 0. she started talking again. "I am in a pretty lonely place." she said, "No one will have sex with me. I'm so close to the end, and all I want is to get laid for the last time." Even though I a virgin with rage I would never EVER sleep with that witch, Slaweel Ryam. I wanted to yell at her for taunting me with sex when I looked over and saw her. Megan Schroeder. I couldn't cry. Megan, the tourist. Megan. Her name felt like a thousand Mary Lee Walshes all telling me I'd never lose my virginity. I hate Her, so.
Tuesday Night is Lumberjack night. Bob, my lumberjack father was sobbing on my shoulder. I saw her again. Schroeder. I pulled her aside "You're a liar. You aren't a lumberjack" She looked back at me, blankly. "I watched you. I've seen you at all the groups." "I watched you," she replied. "I saw you rehearsing this speech." She had me. We talked for a little while before agreeing to split up the nights we went to groups. I had Lumberjack, she had trollbusters. I had Virgins with rage, she had Tomboys and Tomgirls of virginia.
You wake up at Golden Corral. You wake up at McDonalds, Burger King, The Game Place. Lose an hour, gain an hour. This is your life, and it's ending one minute at a time. You wake up at Church. If you wake up at a different time, in a different place, could you wake up as a different person?
No one likes to sit next to me at the game place a second time. They say it's because of my attitude, and my smell. I call them my single serving friends, because I only see them once. This is how I met...Clyde Cash. I woke up to find his orangey tan skin and spiked hair. He was reading the instructions to The Yu-Gi-Oh TCG. He looked over at me, and grinned. "You know why you have to sacrifice a monster before you can summon a monster of greater strength?" I blinked, and then responded: "because the stronger monster needs a blood sacrifice to be summoned?" Clyde shook his head. "Because it delays your turn. It's a time wasting move." My mind was blown. "My name is Christian Weston Chandler," I said, "From Ruckersville, Virginia. I'm currently 27 years old, seeking a boyfriend-free girl" Clyde nodded. "Clyde Cash" he said. "What do you do for a living, Chris?" "Uh, I am currently unemployed. What about you?" Clyde reached down to his custom lego PSP carrying case. "Hey!" I said, "I have the same case!" CLyde grinned, and opened his case. "Medallions." he pulled out a business card with his address written on it, and handed it to me. "I make and sell Sonichu Medallions." and with that he stood up and left the Game Place.
How I came to live with Clyde Cash is a very odd story. I was leaving the game place after meeting him, when I was stopped by a Jerkop at the door. He said he had to confiscate my custom lego PSP carrying case. He said modern bombs don't tick, and that my carry case had been vibrating. I hate jerkops. I was lucky though. Because I had been held up at The Game Place I missed what happened at my home. You see, I came home late from the Game Place to find all of my things broken and battered lying in my front yard. My home at 14 Branchland court had been exploded into oblivion. Apparently my ps3 had been sitting to close to my psp and there was some kind of wireless signal interference from my 3ds and vita that caused a chain reaction leading to my home's destruction. I made my way to a pay phone. At irst I thought of calling Megan, but in the end I called Clyde. He told me to meet him in a bar.
I don't drink REEb so I just talked to him, while he drank. We talked for a while before we decided to leave. as I made my way out he stopped me and said "Why don't you just ask, man?" I was confused. "You got no place to stay, just ask." "would it inconvience you?" He looked down. "Would it inconvenience you to ask?" "May I stay with you?" I asked. "Yeah, come on" he said. We were halway out of the parking lot when he stopped. "I want you to say the most racist thing you possibly can." "What?" I asked. "I said I want you to say the most racist thing you possibly can."
Now let me tell you something about clyde cash. He was a troll extraordinaire. He used to go on 4Chan and post Dubs all day and night. Once he had a job at wendy's but got fired for making scary duck noises at a little girl. He used to work at an adult movie theater. He would splice childrens cartoons into the hardcore pornography. Not more than a frame, so you wouldn't know you saw it, but you'd see it. In the middle of the third reel when the hot blonde is taking it up the ass from the guy in the shrek suit? That's when you'll see Clyde's contribution to the film: a cuddly animated bear with a celebrity voice actor.
Which brings us back to: "I want you to say the most racist thing you possibly can" I stared at him in disbelief. "Why?" I asked. Clyde laughed, "I never been arrested for hate speech have you?" no. "Well there ya go!" I thought for a minute, trying to think up the most vile repulsive thing I could think of... "Well Mr. SIN DINERO, because you have no money, look at you! You orange skinned freak! oooh, I can't stand to look at you! All those damn freckles!" I took a moment to think before adding "You're a freak! HA HA HA HAAAAAAA HAAA! I scoff at you, you ugly freak!". Clyde laughed. We hurled insults at each other all nightm calling each other names like HOMO and Niggo before we finally made it back to Clyde's place on Paper Street.
Clyde's house was magnificent. It was a mansion beyond belief, everything was so fancy! He kept referring to it as a dump, but in comparison to my house it was beautiful! Even thought the ceiling leaked, and the power went out every night, the fact that there were no dead cats or bedbugs skyrocketed the housing value to me. In fact, I got the best night of sleep I've had in YEARS.
Everyone knew what it was, we just gave it a name. Sonichu club. we meet in the basement of The Game Place. I listened to clyde speak. "First rule of Sonichu club: No darkies allowed. Second rule of Sonichu club: NO DARKIES ALLOWED. Third Rule: No more than three matches to light a cross. Got it? Good."
The phone rang. I got it. "Hello, this is Christian Weston Chandler, of Ruckersville virginia, I'm Currently-" "You haven't been going to your meetings". it was Megan. "We have different nights" "I cheated-You weren't at Lumberjack's awareness" "I found a new group" I said, thinking of white club, "Ooh can I join?" "NO. NO GIRLS ALLOWED." "If you don't let me join I'll stop reading Sonichu" That one hit me hard. But I was Adament. I needed white club, and Megan Schroeder wasn't going to screw this up for me. "I said No." "Well then, I'm not going to read sonichu anymore. But I don't think this is a serious 'No more reading thing' this is more of a cry for help type of thing". I closed my eyes and took a deep breath. The Stress was getting to me, I must admit. "Wanna stay on the line and hear me stop reading?" I placed the phone down on the table, without answering.
Strange dreams. I dreamed clyde cash was fucking Megan. He really stuck it to her. IT must have been amazing. For a virgin with rage like myself the dream was enough to give me a pair of DIRTY CRAPPED BRIEFS.
When I woke up I made my way to the Kitchen. Clyde's door was shut. It was never shut. I was eating my officially liscensed Sonichu-Oh's cereal for breakfast. I heard someone enter the room. "WHy was your door shut, huh?" I turned around and found myself face to face with...Megan Schroeder! what was she doing here? "Some night I had last night, huh" she said, winking at me. "What are you doing in my house!?" I asked. "What?" she asked. "My house!" I said, "What are you doing here!" Furiously she grabbed her purse and left. That's when clyde entered the room. "Stuck it to her like sally sitwell!" he said, pulling a rubber glove off of his hand. "Clyde?" I asked..."How did you?" but I knew the answer before I even asked the question.
Clyde had come home late from work and found the phone lying off the hook. He listened for a minute before heading off to Megan's house. Megan answered the door wearing a black slip. "Wow, you got here fast!" she said, eyeing Clyde. CLyde looked over at her dresser. A framed picture of Adolf hitler. and A dildo with a Swastika carved into the tip. Megan looked at Clyde. "It's of no harm to you." she said. Clyde lowered his sunglasses. She winked at him. Shit. Sirens. "One of my neighbors must have called the cops after I said I'd stop reading Sonichu!" "Come on" said Clyde. "I'll get you back to my place."
They did it all night. Fucking and sucking. He had rubbed his duck on her china and given her a dose of his navy. His comeuppance had flowed into her tomtom at max speed. And I, a virgin with rage, cried. It felt good to cry. almost as good as that first meeting with bob, the lumberjack with bitch-tits.
After clyde finished telling me, he told me not to talk about him with her. ever. I thought it was a bit strange but I agreed.
Clyde saw alot of Megan after that. It seemed I couldn't go two minutes without hearing the muffled screams of Megan as Clyde rammed his Duck into her tomtom. I wonder what Clyde's Duck looks like...Mine is bent, and resembles a Boomerang. Ugh.. I should stop thinking about pickles. Dear Sailor Moon, please keep me straight.
I could hear Clyde fucking Megan through the walls when the phone rang. It was Officer Baggett, The Jerkop in charge of the investigation into my home's explosion. Baggett wanted to talk to me about my PS3. Apparently there was dynamite hidden inside it, and something to do with my 3ds being converted into a remote detonator. I think he thinks I'm an arsonist.
Tonight Clyde taught me an invaluable lesson. It was around 5PM. Clyde was giving me an intense look, after Megan had left. I asked him what we were doing tonight. "Tonight," he said, "We're making medallions. To make Medallions we need...Crayola fucking Model Magic."
We broke into the Target late at night. It was the same Target I hade been banned from months before. We stole dozens of packages of Crayola model magic and Acrylic paints. "The first step to making a medallion is to sculpt the model magic into a sonichu shape. then we paint it with the acrylic paint, and then we pop a keyring into the top." I nodded enjoying the lesson. "Do you know that if you mix Crayola model magic with gasoline it becomes extremely flammable?" I shook my head. I hadn't known that. "Yep" Clyde said, "With enough Crayola Model Magic you could destroy the world". Clyde walked over to the acrylic paints. "You know what this is?" I shook my head. "Yellow paint. Acrylic." He took out a brush, and squirted a glob of paint on to its tip. He grabbed my hand forcefully, and painted a big yellow smear onto it. I could feel the paint drying as I tried to shake myself free but Clyde held me in place. "DOn't struggle, face it" "But my hand'll be yellow!" "That's good go with it." I tried to pull free, but his grip was too much. He pulled out white and flesh colored paints, and porceeded to finish painting my hand. When he was done, the image of Sonichu smiled back up at me. I hollered. "Clyde! You don't Know how this feels!" He held up his hand. On it was painted a Sonichu Identical to mine.
Clyde sold his Medallions to Target for $20.00 a Medallion. God knows what they sold them for. It was beautiful. He was selling them their own Crayola Model Magic back to them for twenty dollars a pop.
I was at the bombed out remains of my former home, drawing sonichu when she Approached me. Barb, My mother. "The first rule of Sonichu club is no darkies allowed?" she asked, "What is this?" I must have left it in the copier. Barb spoke again. "Pretend you're me, make a decision: you find this, what would you do?" I knew what to say in an instant. "Well, I gotta tell you." I said, "I'd be very, very careful who you talk to about that, because the person who wrote that... is dangerous." She backed away. I continued "And whoever wrote this might be his own free bitch. Maybe he has a special attack. A curse of some kind. A 'Curse-Ye-Hame-Ha' if you will. Now what if this tomgirl were to...crack. and stroll around Cursing everyone you know and care about. Someone very, very close to you" Clyde's words coming out of my mouth. "Or maybe" I said, "You shouldn't bother me with every piece of paper that has my signature signed at the bottom!" How self-epic I'm a badass.
I got a phone call from Megan. She asked me to meet her at her apartment. All she wanted to tell me was that there were several auctions on ebay for Nazi memerobilia and Sailor Moon videotapes. She wanted me to order them for her. I don't see why she didn't just make her own account.
As I stepped out the door from Megan's Apartment building I heard a voice...a familiar voice. "Christian!" it called. Shit. It was my father, Bob. He looked good. I asked him if he had continued going to the support group. He responded with an unexpected reply: "I have a new therapy group...the first rule is No Darkies allowed...the second rule is No-" I cut him off. "Bob." I said, "I'm a member." He chuckled. "Oh my!" he said, "I go Tuesdays and wednesdays!" "I go thursdays and fridayss!" we hugged. "hey," he asked, "Have you heard of the guy who started this thing? they say he shits his pants on a regular basis, and has an unusual fascination with his initials. He always appears unwashed...dirty" I knew he must be talking about me. I smiled. "Yeah, I know him." "Oh!" he said, "How do you know Clyde Cash?"
I had a great exchange of insults with Bob at that night's Sonichu club. He told me he'd cut me down like he cut down the internet. I told him he was going down like a dirty clown. It's a little bit of what I like to call random Access humor. Everything was going great.
Sonichu club. This was mine and Clyde's gift. our gift to the were getting intense in white club. Clyde was giving a speech about squandered potential. He called out to all of us, "We are an entire generation of internet slackers, living with out parents till we are thirty, we have no great war no great deression." CLyde was really getting into the swing of things. "Internet Flame Wars...this is our war! Our Lives...are our depression." He stopped to let this sink in. "First rule of Sonichu club IS No Darkies al-"
"WHOA WHOA WHOA."
The Jewish man descended the steps into The Game Place's basement. "What's goin' on down here?" he asked. "Excuse me," said Clyde, "You're not a member, what are you doing here?" The man was taken aback. "The sign on the front says Michael Snyder's Game Place." he brushed some dust from his collar. "I'm Michael Fucking Snyder." He brushed his hair back, nonchalantly. "Who said youse could use my basement here?" "We have a deal worked out with your daughter-" started Clyde, but Snyder cut him off. "My daughter's at home sleeping. How much money she get for this?" Clyde chuckled. "Zip." he said. "How much you chargin' these guys to be here?" "Free". Snyder was pissed. He lunged at Clyde taking him down in one shot. He began whailing on clyde, with Clyde just laughing it off. "i like you Snyder" he said between punches. "It's a shame you can't join us because of your jewish lineage" Snyder stood up, leaving Clyde a broken pummeled mess. Blood oozed from clyde's nose, and one of his teeth fell out. As Snyder started to leave Clyde jumped him. "YOU DON'T KNOW WHERE I BEEN MIKE!" he yelled, spraying blood in Snyder's face. "YOU DON'T KNOW WHERE I BEEN" Snyder fell to the floor. "OK Jesus! use my basement go ahead!" Clyde laughed, as Snyder left. We never saw him again.
Clyde had Homework for us that week. We were to pick a total stranger with a different belief structure, or skin color than ourselves and hurl racist and hurtful remarks at them. I chose the black lady who works at Burger King. I told her she was a niggo. I got arrested by officer Bagget for hate speech, and after a short time in jail, returned home to Paper Street with Clyde. With my monthly tugboat we had Government Funding, and the insurance check for my blown-up house left us enough money to travel wherever we wanted. That is how we began holding Sonichu club every night of the week. Clyde began giving out homework assignments every night. Burning crosses in the Darkie's lawns, Firebombing gay bars, rallies in the woods in white hoods, the works. Sonichu clubs began popping up everywhere. There was one in New York, one in Louisiana, one in LA, I could never have dreamed how far my little Group of homophobic racism would spread.
One day I woke up because of the doorbell. I looked out the window to see clyde talking to a young man in a white sheet. "You're too young" he said. "It's just not gonna happen, you can't train here." The youth stood, adament. Clyde came back inside. "What was all that about?" I asked him. He looked me up and down. "We're gonna get some people here. If they look young, tell them they're too young, fat? too fat. old? too old." "I don't-" "If they stand there for 20 minutes let them in. and then we begin." after 20 minutes The youth was allowed to come in, and Clyde began showing him how to make Medallions. The next man arrived. Bob Chandler. The Lumberjack. Clyde eyed him. "Too old, Fat man" Bob started to leave, but I pulled him back. I could make an exception for my own father. The next man to show up was...remarkable. He wore a brown and tan striped shirt, similar to my own blue and red one, and he wore glasses, also like my own. He had a pillow stuffed under his shirt to simulate weight gain... "Liquid Chris!" he said, "Reporting for duty!"
Sonichu club was a new force to be reckoned with. who you are in Sonichu club was not who you were everywhere else. In Sonichu Club, you are not your job, you're not how many comics you've drawn. You are not the striped blue and red shirts that you wear. You're not the monthly tugboat you get from the government. You are not your Crayola fucking Model Magic. You are the all singing, all dancing electric hedgehogs of the world.
I got home late in the evening. My house was crowded with people...the Miscreants, Clyde called them. Each one had shaved their heads bald, and dressed at all times in White sheets they had bought from someone called the kik-ik...I think that's how it's pronounced, they left out the I's. It's kind of like how you pronounce CWC as "Quick" even though it's missing the I. As I entered the house I saw several Miscreants making Medallions. Clyde called me into the kitchen and gave me a few cans of Reeb. he said to hand them out to the Miscreants, who were sitting in front of the TV. I went in to see Liquid Chris and Bob Chandler talking as they watched TV. as I entered they hushed up. "What's going on?" I asked them, as I tossed Liquid Chris a can of Reeb. As if on cue Liquid piped up with "First rule of Project Miscreant, No asking questions". He had me there. "SHhh!" said Bob, "We're On!".
The image on the television set was that of local reporter Jason Kendrick Howell. "Tragedy in Charlottesville!" he announced, as he gestured to the blown out face of the Nintendo of Virginia building. Several windows had fires burning in them, and when you looked at it the right way, the burning windows formed a picture. A picture of Sonichu.
I turned to the Miscreants, who were laughing their heads off. "What did you do!" I asked, shocked. "Did you do this?" "Sir!" said Liquid Chris, "The first rule of Project Miscreant is that you do not ask questions." I was furious enough, but then this happened:
"Officer bagget" it was Howell again, on the TV, "Tell us what your investigations have found?" "Well", said Baggett (whose name would have been hilarious if it started with another letter) "We have found a link between these recent burnings and some underground K.K.K. and white supremecist groups."
"Shit" said Clyde. "What?" I asked. Clyde was not happy with Officer Baggett. "Get ready to go." we left the house and headed for Officer Baggett's home.
Baggett was watching tv when the Miscreants burst in on him. We tied him down, and Clyde produced a rubber band. My pop, Bob, pulled Baggett's pants down, and wrapped the rubber band tight around his...uh...his man balls. His...ugh...Pickle was hanging out for everyone to see. Dear Sailor Moon, Please keep me straight. I was so concentrated on being not a homo that I almost missed Clyde's request. "the knife?...CHRIS! The knife." I pulled out my pocket knife. I use it to threaten trolls on the internet sometimes. I handed it to liquid, who held it just under Baggett's ...ugh...balls. "You hear me, Marcus?" this came from Clyde. "Marcus baggett?" Baggett took his eyes off of his privates and looked up to Clyde. "We are very important to you. We cook your food, we throw away your trash, and we clean up after your pets. We are the all singing, all dancing Electric Hedgehogs of the world. Now I want you to stop investigating these white Power groups. You do and you'll never hear from us again. You don't? and we take your balls." Marcus nodded in understanding. Liquid flicked the knife and...cut the rubber band, freeing Baggett's...balls. and with that, we left.
"Nice, Chris! Great Going!"
This was Clyde speaking to Liquid Chris. He was congratulating Liquid on his performance during the Baggett episode. We had just left Baggett's house and were heading back towards the Game Place for 'Sonichu Club'. How could Clyde replace me like this? what did liquid have that I didn't have? maybe it was because he could play a real guitar, and not just guitar hero...
I was paired up with Liquid for insults exchange at Sonichu Club. I was so mad. I wanted to break him dead. I couldn't hold back. I felt myself saying it before I even knew I was saying it. "CURSE-YE-HA-ME-HAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!"
Liquid's nose was beyond broken, his glasses smashed. His left eye puffy, his right eye black. His jaw was also broken, and his hair was a mess. I guess I just felt like destroying something beautiful. I felt great after hurting liquid so. I went home from the game place and crashed into slumber.
In my sleep I could hear Clyde's voice. He was talking about the future. In clyde's future the only comic books being published were sonichu comics. He saw me living rich on mountain of sonichu cash. Rolling in dosh.
When I awoke I was shocked to see that several weeks had past. The house at paper street was crowded with Miscreants, each making medallions and shipping them out. I made my way out of the house. I had to find Clyde.
I had no luck finding clyde, he's nowhere to be found. I did find several receipts for plane tickets in Clyde's dresser. I decided to visit where he visited, maybe I'd find him.
Everywhere Clyde went I was one step behind. Every Gamestop, every Golden Corral, every Mcdonalds within walking disance of an airport there was a vibration in the air, the floor still damp from last night's namecalling. Sonichu club was here.
In St. Louis, MO. I finally found Clyde.
"Good to see you again, Sir."
This was the cashier at V-stock. His employee name-tag read 'Jake'. "Again?" I was dumbfounded. I had never been here in my life. "When was the last time I was in here?" Jake looked at me like I was a minority. "Last week sir. Everything is going according to plan." "You sure about that?" I asked. "Positive, you were standing right there going over the details of project miscreant." I leaned forward, sweaat starting to pour from my pores. "Just Who do you think I am?" Jake smirked. "Clyde Cash. Sir."
I queezily made my way back to my hotel room. I picked up a phone and dialed Megan. "Go for Schroeder" "Meg, it's me" she paused. "Oh" she said. She wasn't happy to hear my voice. "Megan, have we ever had sex?" "are you asking whether what we've done would be considered fucking or making love?" "Yes" I said, "No! I- just...have we ever done it?" a long sigh eminated from her end. "You love me, you hate me, you're filthy rich, you're dirt poor. Clyde I just don't kn-" "What did you call me?" silence. "CLYDE CASH!" she screamed. "You're name is Clyde Cash are you happy!?" I dropped the phone. "Dammit, Chris, ya talked about me!" I turned around and found myself face to face with Clyde Cash. "Clyde- why does everyone think I'm you?" he sighed. "Chris why would anyone confuse us?" He had me, we looked completely different. "I am you." "But that's impossible...the house on paper street?" "rented in your name" "you have a job-" "Wrong, you have three jobs because you never write, and incidentally you were fired from all three." "Even the job as a volunteer Pokemon Gym Leader?" Clyde nodded. "The changeover isn't complete, not yet." Clyde adjusted his red headband. "See, sometimes you're still you. Sometimes...you're me, and sometimes you're yourself watching me." I dropped to my knees in shock, and did a dramatic glasses removal. "Now it's time for you to go to bed"
It's called a changeover. The movie keeps on going, and the audience doesn't even know the difference.
I made it back to Virginia. I don't know how but I did it. What happened next I won't go into much detail about...just that the miscreants tried to cut off my...ugh...pickle. I found out the truth behind Project Miscreant. Clyde is planning to use his medallions to blow up DC comics headquarters, Marvel Headquarters, Dark Horse headquarters, and Image Comics headquarters. The only comics left will be from small time and indie publishers, bringing Sonichu to the public's attention. In a way it's almost beautiful. Which brings me back to:
Clyde has his gun buried deep in my mouth. It was a modified version of a 1984 Transformers Toy. It had once been a highly saught after character named Megatron, but using Crayola Model Magic, and his knowledge of fire-arms, Clyde had converted it into a real pistol. I could feel the silencer holes Clyde had drilled into the barrel of the gun with my tongue. In ten minutes there is going to be a massive explosion that rocks history forever. Nine Minutes. Clyde flashes me a grin. "Any last words?" He asks. It's hard to talk with a gun in your mouth. it comes out as "Muh MM Mmm hmmm hmm ammymmh" he pulls the gun from my mouth. I clarify. "I still can't think of anything." He laughs. "Flashback humor" he says, "cute."
We're in a building in a city somewhere. We're across the street from DC headquarters. I can see Clyde's Medallion Delivery truck parked outside. seven minutes. I've got to get myself out of this... I've got to...
Clyde's holding a gun. He's pointing it at my head. Clyde isn't real. I have the gun. I look down. I'm alone in the room. I'm holding the Megatron pistol. I look out the window. Six minutes. I look down at the gun. I hear Clyde in my head. He is telling me I'll never be rid of him. Five Minutes. I put the gun to my temple. Four Minutes. I pull the trigger.
CLINK.
It's a toy. A transformer with Crayola model magic on it. It couldn';t harm a fly. I hear a voice.
"Clyde?"
It's Megan. I have no idea how she found me. She runs over to my side and I look at her.
"Are you ok?" she asks.
I honestly don't know at this point.
"Megan," I say, "You met me in a very strange saga of my life"
DC comics erupts in flames.
KABOOOOOM
Marvel Crumbles
CRASSSSHHHH
Dark Horse
BAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAANG
Image
CRUNNNNCH
KaBoom Comics
KAKRASHH
PaperCutz
WHAM SLAM BANGGG
a small up and coming indie publisher.
There is nothing now but Sonichu.
Sonichu is love
Sonichu is life.
END