Chapter 3
I'm so very sorry I didn't update in months. Really. Inspiration seems to have left me for quite a while, and I've been busy with all kinds of things unrelated to writing. I'm having my finals now, and instead of convincing myself to start studying for the math exam, I've decided to try and write yet another great chapter for this epic tale.
Another disclaimer: Don't own Silent Hill, yadda yadda, you should know this stuff by heart by now.
Garry opened his eyes to the sound of birds singing. In just a fraction of
a second he was right awake and sitting up. Shreds of memories flashed through
his troubled mind – memories of the horrors in Noiseless Hill.
Confused, Garry investigated his surroundings. Much to his surprise, he noticed
he was in his bedroom. The early sun-rays crept in through the half-closed shutter,
there was nothing to be heard – not even the snores of Cherry –
except for the birds, singing their promise that it would be a beautiful day.
Garry lifted the sheets, a strange feeling overtaking him, and counted his toes.
Ten. He had ten toes.
Had it all been a dream? Garry got out of bed, and realised the strange feeling
was happiness.
As he skipped through the house, passing by the empty room that had once belonged
to his daughter, the happiness grow to ecstasy. He started laughing on top of
his lungs, doing a little dance while he made coffee.
The weird dream about Noiseless Hill was now forgotten – he was Garry
Mayonaise, aka Mayonaise-man, multi-millionaire and masked vigilante. He had
gained superpowers at the tender age of ten, in a freaky accident involving
clowns and turkeys. He had led a normal life, had a normal marriage with a normal
daughter, and then it had all come to an end.
The Infamous Diaper Gang, murderous toddlers that roamed the streets of Funk
City, where Garry and his family lived at the time, had ambushed the Mayonaises.
They had demanded for Cherry to sing "Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star"
to them, but she had refused and offered them oral sex instead. The kindergartners
did not take this well and launched a direct attack against the Mayonaises.
Garry fought brave to protect his beloved wife and daughter, but as he was occupied
kicking the kids around, a UFO flew by and dropped a cow on his wife and daughter,
killing them on the spot. From that day onward, Garry swore to use his superpowers
only to fight evil – for a small compensation, which had eventually brought
him to his millionaire-status.
Yes – he was Garry Mayonaise, and he was making coffee.
The phone rang. With his psychokinetic powers, Garry made it float towards him
to answer it. He took a sip of coffee while answering it, for the ability to
use his nostrils to talk was one of his special powers.
"Mayonaiseman, how may I help you?" he snorted. "Yes…
Uhhuh…I'll be there in three minutes, Mr President."
He hung up and finished drinking his coffee. He got dressed in his pink spandex
costume and flew out the window, heading for Washington DC. After 47 seconds
of flying, he crashed through the window of the Oval Office, landing on a chair
in front of the President's desk.
The President of the United States of America was colouring a picture of a dog
– badly. Little sweat drops were visible on his forehead as he was trying
desperately to stay within the lines. Garry coughed, causing the President to
bite off the tip of his tongue.
"Ow," he whined. "Now where in th'name of Gawd did yew
come frum?"
Garry pointed. "The window. How can I help you, Mr President Man? Mr Commander-in-Chief?
George? Can I call you George?"
"No, yew cannot," the President responded with a sulky tone in his
voice.
"How 'bout Ron?" Garry asked, trying to keep the social talk
with the most powerful man in the world going.
"That's not even mah name!" the President shouted. He had
a sudden fit, then calmed down. "How's the family, Mayonaise?"
"Still rotting, Bob," Garry replied.
"Ah'll have you executed if yew keep doin' that, Mayonaise,"
the President huffed. "And don't yew go thinkin' Ah won't,
'cause Ah've dunnit before."
"Fine, Mr President," Garry whined, twitching uneasily. "What
seems to be your trouble today?"
"Ah have gas," the President responded with a blush.
"… I mean, the reason you made me come here," Garry said,
suppressing a giggle.
"Oh. Ah need yew to take out sum terr'rists."
"Gah, again?" Garry sighed. "How many of those guys are left
between me killing them and them blowing themselves up?"
"Ah dunno an' Ah dun' care, Ah'm the President of the
United States of America. It's mah job t'find scapegoats to distract
the American people from how me 'n mah Administration screw up,"
the President babbled.
"True," Garry agreed.
"Now lis'n up, mah friend Tony, the Prime Minister of that other
country, what's its name again… yew know, it's small and it's
like a mini-version of the States…" – the President tried
desperately to think of the name of England – "… Ah think
it was sumthing like Ingulland or sumthing, well nevermind, really…"
"Is there a point, and if so, when are you getting there?" Garry
asked, staring out of the window and bored out of his mind.
"The point is," the President screeched. "That
those bastards took MAH TEDDY BEAR!"
Garry twitched again. A teddy bear. He had a mortal fear of teddy bears.
The President let out a soft cough. "Now, they're hidin' somewhere
in a cave or a desert in whateverstan, so go find them an' get
me mah bear back."
"Erm," Garry started. "What's this based on? What evidence
do you have that they have your bear?"
"Evidence shrevidence!" the President shouted. "Think
Ah had evidence when we invaded Iraq? Ah mean, can yew watch me on tv and say
honestly that Ah look like Ah have any fuckin' clue what Ah'm talkin'
about? Yew just go get mah bear ba…"
There was a tapping on the door and the Vice-President stepped in. "Sir?
Time for your nap."
"Dick," the President snarled. "Ah'm in the middle of
a meeting."
"Sir, you really need your rest, or you might fall off your mountain bike
again," the Vice-President countered.
"Ah fine," the President muttered. "Excuse me." He got
up and walked past Garry. "Yew go find mah bear now, Mr Mayonaise."
"Yeah sure," Garry said, crashing another window on his way out.
"Prick."
Garry had a fun-filled day, doing the things he enjoyed most in life –
killing people, innocents and terrorists alike. At lunch-time, he flew back
to the United States to eat at his favourite Burger King's. After lunch,
he had a short nap before flying back to the Middle-East, where he killed some
more random people. A couple of minutes past three his mobile phone went off.
"Mayonaise," he said, decapitating a random guy with his laser vision.
"This is the Vice-President," the voice on the other end said. "Just
calling to tell you that the President's teddy bear has been found. Apparently
one of the dogs took it outside and buried it."
"Oh," Garry said. "Well, I was about to come back anyway.
I have a meeting with my fan club."
He hung up and killed a bunch of people on his way home by dropping two F16's
on them. He had an intense chatting session with his fan club, which eventually
resulted in a massive orgy. When he had exhausted all of his fangirls, leaving
a few unconscious, he suddenly remembered he still had to charge the President
for his services. He blasted off to Washington DC again, accidentally killing
a few of his fangirls who were in the way.
As he crashed through yet another window of the Oval Office, he noticed the President wasn't there. Sitting behind the desk was a pale guy, still looking rather young, messy hair and blood-shot eyes.
"Mr Mayonaise," he said. "We need to have a talk."
"Who the bloody fuck are you?" Garry asked.
The boy cleared his throat. "I am the Creator," he said with an overly dramatic tone of voice. He made a wide arm gesture. "All this is mine. Everything in your life is mine. Everything that ever happened to you is my doing. I…"
Garry had already lunged himself towards the Creator – they were rolling on the floor as Garry was strangling him while simultaneously biting his leg.
"You made my life a Hell!" Garry shrieked.
"Ghhh… nnng… no… killing your Creator…. bad idea…" the Creator said, choking. "If I die… you die!"
Garry let go. "You might have a point there," he decided.
"I just came here to tell you," the Creator wheezed. "You need to go on with the story."
"The story?" Garry asked, an uneasy feeling growing in his stomach.
"Yes, Noiseless Hill. I'm sure you remember," the Creator said with a smirk. The two words sent shivers down Garry's spine.
"I mean," the Creator continued. "This morphine-induced hallucination has been fun, but it's time to move on, Garry."
"I don't wanna," Garry whined softly.
"Garry, contrary to popular belief, being comatose is not cool."
"You can't force me to wake up!" Garry sulked.
"I guess not," the Creator sighed. "But you should know you stopped breathing 90 seconds ago."
Garry opened his eyes, this time to the wheezing of his lungs filling up with
air again. He was not in a soft warm bed – he was lying on the cold, hard
floor of the school hall. He let out a whimper as he became aware of the pain
in his foot again, and slowly got up, leaning heavily against the wall.
He stared into the cold darkness to what was unmistakably a door, and prepared
to enter the Noiseless Hill Elementary School for the Mentally Retarded.
Well, that didn't make much sense, did it? The next part will be
coming soon, I hope. Anyway, if you liked this, keep reviewing. they might inspire
me to make the next chapter less crappy ;)
