Chapter One : It all goes to hell
It was a bright and sunny morning in Tokyo 3. The Geofront was incredibly peaceful, considering the charred remains of the angels were blocking traffic and stinking up the place. Some birds were singing, the temperature was soaring, and there was a general feeling of peace in the air. Shinji Ikari and Asuka were sitting down to a good wholesome breakfast. The beauty of the morning had rubbed off on Asuka, who hadn't smacked Shinji once in the half hour she'd been up. All was well, then, the hateful alarm clock sounded in Misato's room, and a shadow was cast over the sun.
The young drunkard was quite rudely stirred from her bed of beer cans and asprin bottles. She stumbled from her room, grasping the walls for support. Her headache pounded in her skull like a jackhammer. Misato managed to make it to the kitchen table before falling on her face, and demanded that Shinji get her a beer. He did this, quite happy in his work, for he felt that nothing could spoil the feeling of the morning. Katsuraga grasped the can with shaky fingers, her motor control still impaired from her activities the preceding night, of which she had no memory, nor wished to remember. She looked around the room for someone to help her open her beer, but knew that neither Shinji nor Asuka would sympathize with her disorder. Suddenly, an idea painfully sprouted in her remaining brain cells.
"Hey," Misato mumbled to the writer of this fic.
"Uh, yeah?" he replied, sort of confused.
"If you open this, I'll let you burp have one."
"Uh, ok," he replied to his fiction. He took the beer can, and another for himself, from Misato and her fully stocked freezer. His dexterous, completely sober fingers got to work immediately and cracked open the two cans, handing one back to Misato. "To your health," he toasted. The two of them took a slug of the Mr. Pibbs brand beer. Misato got a lovely glow on her face. The writer, on the other hand, spit out the refuse he had just ingested into his incredibly pure body. "What the hell is that?"
"Beer, dumb ass."
"This is some nasty shit, Katsuragi."
"Well screw you too!" Misato returned, feeling insult to her best friend in the whole world, her booze.
"What?" Shinji and Asuka both asked, confused.
"This bastard writer just wasted good beer, then he dared to insult it."
"What writer?" Shinji inquired.
"That one," she said, pointing to the writer, typing this fic.
"Right, whatever," Asuka interrupted, stifling Shinji's questions. "It's better if we just drop this now," she whispered to the other pilot.
"You want somethin' good?" Misato asked the writer.
"Yeah, what you got?"
Misato searched through the freezer, looking desperately for something to feed this insulting bastard. She found some ramen in a bowl, covered with freezer wrap, and freezer burn, as well as a near empty bottle of god-knows-what, some bacon bits, left over pizza, and baking sugar. All this was mixed into Pen-Pen's bowl, and what was still in it. The hungry penguin protested with a few choice 'warks' then returned to his place in the freezer.
"That it?" the writer asked, defiantly.
"Damn you," she shot back, and ran to her car. In the glove box she found a plastic bag filled with multi-coloured candy … or pills … or something. She ran back to the house and dumped them on top of the mixture, for colour. "Fill your face with this you punk-baka!"
"Uh, ok," the writer complied. He took a big wooden spoon, dunked it in the mix, and found that it burned the wood. "Damn, spoons is not good for this." He grabbed the bowl and began to slurp. In a little while, the bowl was empty, and the writer sat, staring into space. His eyes glazed over, and the world dissolved into nothingness.
"Oh man," Katsuragi said in disbelief. "You weren't actually supposed to eat that stuff, just write that you did."
The writer continued to stare catatonically.
"Oh shit!" Misato began to panic. "Shit, shit shit! Nerv doesn't have insurance to cover this!"
"What's the matter, Misato?" Shinji asked.
"Shit, shit!"
"What is it?" he asked again.
"I think she's tripping," Asuka added.
"Shut up, I don't need that right now!" Misato chastised the young German pilot. "Shinji, get that adreneline shot I keep in the freezer."
"Uh, ok, but.."
"Just DO IT!!"
"Ok" Shinji handed Misato the large hyperdermic needle from the vegetable crisper in the refrigerator. She held it up in both hands, as if aiming. "Misato?" he asked. "Why does the wall need an adreneline shot?"
"Oh crap, I can't do this," she said. "Shinji, you come here and do this."
"But, I've never given a wall an adreneline shot.."
"Oh shut up!" Misato was really loosing it now. "I'm gonna go to jail for murder, and Shinji and Asuka will end up living on the streets, selling themselves for money, and Pen-Pen will end up on E-Bay, and the angels will attack and the world will end and…"
The writer blinked.
"Oh! Yes! Do it again!"
The writer blinked … again.
"Oh, I think he's alright."
The writer blinked … yet again, and opened his mouth. "Whow.."
"Yeah! He's allright!" Misato yelled for joy.
"Ok…" the writer mumbled. "Ok, yeah, itsprettycool, yeah! Okokokokokok, YEAH! FIRE!!!"
"Uh oh." Misato got scared.
"I'm gonna have to go with Misato on this one," Asuka interjected. "This is too weird to be hangover stuff."
"YeahYahYah! Mrrrrrrrraaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaammmmmmmmmmmmm! Heh, itsprettycool. WeeeeeeeeeeAAAAAhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!"
There was a long pause.
The writer spoke again, "I am your creator! You will bow down … to my bunghole!"
They did as they were told.
The writer looked from his computer screen, to his tv, to his cd player, to his collection of anime … to the blender. "Yeah! Pretty cool! Cool. FIRE!!!"
"Nooooooooo!"
To be continued...
in Part 2: Misato is a Badman
It was a bright and sunny morning in Tokyo 3. The Geofront was incredibly peaceful, considering the charred remains of the angels were blocking traffic and stinking up the place. Some birds were singing, the temperature was soaring, and there was a general feeling of peace in the air. Shinji Ikari and Asuka were sitting down to a good wholesome breakfast. The beauty of the morning had rubbed off on Asuka, who hadn't smacked Shinji once in the half hour she'd been up. All was well, then, the hateful alarm clock sounded in Misato's room, and a shadow was cast over the sun.
The young drunkard was quite rudely stirred from her bed of beer cans and asprin bottles. She stumbled from her room, grasping the walls for support. Her headache pounded in her skull like a jackhammer. Misato managed to make it to the kitchen table before falling on her face, and demanded that Shinji get her a beer. He did this, quite happy in his work, for he felt that nothing could spoil the feeling of the morning. Katsuraga grasped the can with shaky fingers, her motor control still impaired from her activities the preceding night, of which she had no memory, nor wished to remember. She looked around the room for someone to help her open her beer, but knew that neither Shinji nor Asuka would sympathize with her disorder. Suddenly, an idea painfully sprouted in her remaining brain cells.
"Hey," Misato mumbled to the writer of this fic.
"Uh, yeah?" he replied, sort of confused.
"If you open this, I'll let you burp have one."
"Uh, ok," he replied to his fiction. He took the beer can, and another for himself, from Misato and her fully stocked freezer. His dexterous, completely sober fingers got to work immediately and cracked open the two cans, handing one back to Misato. "To your health," he toasted. The two of them took a slug of the Mr. Pibbs brand beer. Misato got a lovely glow on her face. The writer, on the other hand, spit out the refuse he had just ingested into his incredibly pure body. "What the hell is that?"
"Beer, dumb ass."
"This is some nasty shit, Katsuragi."
"Well screw you too!" Misato returned, feeling insult to her best friend in the whole world, her booze.
"What?" Shinji and Asuka both asked, confused.
"This bastard writer just wasted good beer, then he dared to insult it."
"What writer?" Shinji inquired.
"That one," she said, pointing to the writer, typing this fic.
"Right, whatever," Asuka interrupted, stifling Shinji's questions. "It's better if we just drop this now," she whispered to the other pilot.
"You want somethin' good?" Misato asked the writer.
"Yeah, what you got?"
Misato searched through the freezer, looking desperately for something to feed this insulting bastard. She found some ramen in a bowl, covered with freezer wrap, and freezer burn, as well as a near empty bottle of god-knows-what, some bacon bits, left over pizza, and baking sugar. All this was mixed into Pen-Pen's bowl, and what was still in it. The hungry penguin protested with a few choice 'warks' then returned to his place in the freezer.
"That it?" the writer asked, defiantly.
"Damn you," she shot back, and ran to her car. In the glove box she found a plastic bag filled with multi-coloured candy … or pills … or something. She ran back to the house and dumped them on top of the mixture, for colour. "Fill your face with this you punk-baka!"
"Uh, ok," the writer complied. He took a big wooden spoon, dunked it in the mix, and found that it burned the wood. "Damn, spoons is not good for this." He grabbed the bowl and began to slurp. In a little while, the bowl was empty, and the writer sat, staring into space. His eyes glazed over, and the world dissolved into nothingness.
"Oh man," Katsuragi said in disbelief. "You weren't actually supposed to eat that stuff, just write that you did."
The writer continued to stare catatonically.
"Oh shit!" Misato began to panic. "Shit, shit shit! Nerv doesn't have insurance to cover this!"
"What's the matter, Misato?" Shinji asked.
"Shit, shit!"
"What is it?" he asked again.
"I think she's tripping," Asuka added.
"Shut up, I don't need that right now!" Misato chastised the young German pilot. "Shinji, get that adreneline shot I keep in the freezer."
"Uh, ok, but.."
"Just DO IT!!"
"Ok" Shinji handed Misato the large hyperdermic needle from the vegetable crisper in the refrigerator. She held it up in both hands, as if aiming. "Misato?" he asked. "Why does the wall need an adreneline shot?"
"Oh crap, I can't do this," she said. "Shinji, you come here and do this."
"But, I've never given a wall an adreneline shot.."
"Oh shut up!" Misato was really loosing it now. "I'm gonna go to jail for murder, and Shinji and Asuka will end up living on the streets, selling themselves for money, and Pen-Pen will end up on E-Bay, and the angels will attack and the world will end and…"
The writer blinked.
"Oh! Yes! Do it again!"
The writer blinked … again.
"Oh, I think he's alright."
The writer blinked … yet again, and opened his mouth. "Whow.."
"Yeah! He's allright!" Misato yelled for joy.
"Ok…" the writer mumbled. "Ok, yeah, itsprettycool, yeah! Okokokokokok, YEAH! FIRE!!!"
"Uh oh." Misato got scared.
"I'm gonna have to go with Misato on this one," Asuka interjected. "This is too weird to be hangover stuff."
"YeahYahYah! Mrrrrrrrraaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaammmmmmmmmmmmm! Heh, itsprettycool. WeeeeeeeeeeAAAAAhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!"
There was a long pause.
The writer spoke again, "I am your creator! You will bow down … to my bunghole!"
They did as they were told.
The writer looked from his computer screen, to his tv, to his cd player, to his collection of anime … to the blender. "Yeah! Pretty cool! Cool. FIRE!!!"
"Nooooooooo!"
To be continued...
in Part 2: Misato is a Badman