PART 17: A LONG SHOT IN THE DARK BLINDFOLDED WITH BOTH HANDS TIED BEHIND YOUR BACK WHILE TRIPPING ON ACID
/Oh, god, no...not the blue tie-dyed ones...I can't BELIEVE I let Irvine buy me clothes for my birthday...what was I thinking? Thinking...I shouldn't think to myself all the time; I'll end up like Laguna. After all, I can't let anyone see me being nice, even myself. What'll myself think of me?\
/Okay, cool it, Squall. We're looking for some replacement pants to wear, not a Freudian analysis.\
/Green corduroy stretch pants? Are these even MINE?\
/I'm gonna kill Rinoa, if I ever see her again. Well, maybe not KILL...maybe just maim horribly.\
Squall sighed and looked at his computer screen. Besides talking with some horny Turkish men over ICQ, he hadn't done much today.
"You've Got Mail!"
Squall almost expressed visible joy at the sound. He lunged for the mouse and eagerly brought up his mailbox. It was from Selphie.
FROM: queenofbooyaka@balambgarden.edu
TO: crankylittlebitch@balambgarden.edu
HI SQUALL!~ WUZZZUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUP?????
I havwen't gotten your pasnts back yet, biut we know wherte they and Rinoa are. Allso, Zell got abducxted by aliens. Heheheheh ^_^ OH YEWAH! I have a favor to ask of you.
If tyou want your pants back, you8n hyave to have sex with Kiros. Be at Sir Lagun a's hourse at 7 PN tonight. Pnats optionbal.
Booyaka!
Lovew Selphie
Squall screamed, and shuddered. Sex with Kiros? Then he sat back and really thought about it. Kiros was articulate, attractive, cultured, eloquent, and an interesting fellow. Squall wasn't quite sure what to make of his passion for banana-yellow thong bikinis and furry purple leopard-print pants, but he figured that if he was knocked out cold, he might not even notice. Sex with Kiros might even be an eye-opening experience-nay, an enjoyable one even!
Still. It was a yucky thought.
There was another email lying in wait for him to discover. Something so awful, the human mind can barely rationalize its existence. Something so filthy and hideous, your eyes could turn to stone as you read it. Your blood would boil in your very capillaries and the flesh would melt from your splintering bones were you ever to encounter the madness.
Squall knew no better, and opened the email.
FROM: ~*PuPpY_pRiNcEsS*~@girlystuff.barf
hi squally-poo!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
i haff yer pants haha!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! if u want em back, cum 2 outer space he he he!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! may e we kin hug again!!!!!!!!!!!!!! I luv u, so i sent u this poem frum chiken soup 4 the whinebag adolescent's soul!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
The Last Date
By Susie Whompingshire, age 13
Dedicated to Britney Spears
Sally was a pretty girl on a date with Dean
She had a new gown and her hair was soft and clean
Sally thought it was a date to go and eat ice cream
Little did poor Sally know she was living a dream.
Dean was not a white guy or a Christian or rich
He was ethnic and a heathen poorer than shit
His mommy was an alkie that his daddy liked to hit
Daddy didn't believe in God and high school he had quit.
Sally got in Dean's car at quarter of ten
Little did she know she would never see home again
Once the car pulled out all the terror began
Did I mention Dean wasn't a good Christian man?
He pulled out marijuana and a bottle of Jim Beam
Dean smoked and drank and smoked and drank until he turned quite mean
Then he turned to Sally and the poor girl starter to scream
Because the stuff upon his pants was not freshly whipped cream.
Dean threw her down upon the seat and, cuz he was pagan
Started raping her and smoking more and drinking crack and ragin'
When he was finished Sally was quite sad and pregnant
And then Dean told her that into her crotch she'd soon be diggin'.
He gave her crabs and AIDS and more the world has never seen
She had syphilis and gonorrhea and her pelvis turned bright green
Poor Sally never even got any ice cream
Because then heathen Dean hit a flock of pedestrians who screamed.
Since that Wiccan Druid scum went out to drink and drive
Sally, her fetus, and five old ladies are not alive
It's enough to make any young virgin lady cry
See what happens when you worship idols and lie?
NOW PASS THIS MESSAGE ON TO EVERYONE YOU HAVE EVER HAD THE MISFORTUNE OF MEETING, AND SCROLL DOWN PAST THE GIANT ASCII PICTURE OF JESUS!
*
*
*
*
[Insert hideous ASCII picture here]
*
*
*
IF U PASSED THIS ONE TO 0-3 PEOPLE, YOU ARE A BAD CRACK-SMOKING HEATHEN AND ARE GOING TO HELL!
IF U PASSED THIS ON TO 4-10 PEOPLE, YOU MUST REALLY WANT THEM TO KICK YOU IN THE TEETH!
IF U PASSED THIS ON TO MORE THAN 10 PEOPLE, YOU ARE A GOOD CHRISTIAN VIRGIN AND JESSICA SIMPSON WILL PERSONALLY SPIT ON YOUR DOORMAT!
Squall blinked. "..."
/Well, at least I have a little something extra to send Selphie...\
PART 18: RANDOM? WE'RE NOT RANDOM AROUND HERE, NOT AT ALL!
Somewhere out in the cold, vast reaches of darkest outer space, trapped upon an alien warship, all alone and terrified, Zell farted.
PART 19: A PLAN HATCHES LIKE A ROTTEN EGG
"Okay, spiffy!" Selphie announced. She, Laguna, Irvine, Quistis, and Ward were all in a small, stuff room. The duck-like girl stood at the head of the room in front of a large Fisher Price easel, on which rested a huge sheaf of papers. Ward stood behind the easel. The other three sat expectantly at the pool table Laguna had thoughtfully dragged in.
"Laguna, I'm not one to criticize another's taste in furniture, but a pool table is for playing pool on." Quuistis said tactfully.
"Don't tell me how to live my life!" Laguna said, punching Irvine in the head. Irvine choked on a ham sandwich. He wasn't eating it, but he choked on it anyways. Go figure. "I happen to be very artistic, and us artist types don't function in the bourgeois restraints of so-called NORMALCY and SOCIETY! We are OUTCASTS WITH A K! WE ARE OLD SOULS! WE ARE THE EMBODIMENT OF ART ITSELF! DOWN WITH THE GOVERNMENT!"
"Laguna, you ARE the government."
"DOWN WITH ME! Strive to destroy yourself so that you may become NAUGHT BUT A VEHICLE OF TRUTH! WHAT IS THIS FRAIL, MORTAL FLESH WHEN ONE SEES THE OVERWHELMING, ALL-ENCOMPASSING GRANITE STONE THAT IS ART?!"
"Shut the fuck up." Quistis said.
Laguna blinked.
"Can I START now, pleeeeeeeeeeeease?" Selphie asked, frowning adorably.
"Go 'head, Sefie." Irvine said encouragingly.
"THANK YOU! Ahem, okay." Selphie pointed to a small stick figure with a frowny face. "This is Squall. At 1500 hours, Squall will show up here, hopefully in what passes for a good mood."
"Wait, you know for sure that Squall's coming?" Quuistis interrupted.
"Yeah! I even printed out his email. He sent this really stupid poem along with it, too..." Selphie looked around. "Where the hell did that printout go?"
Irvine's mascara was running down his cheeks. Hee sniffled and blew his nose in a cocktail napkin as he clutched the snot-smeared, tearstained pages to his heart. "Thayut's so true! Booo hoo hoo hoo..."
"Um...duly noted, asshole." Seelphie said. 'Anyways. When Squall gets here, Ward will have the Tequila Funnel prepared." Waard flipped the sheet over to reveal another stick drawing. Thhis one was on Squall sitting on a stool with a large hose stuck in his mouth. The hose extended from a huge funnel labeled, "TEKEELA". The funnel was being held by a fat stick figure with a scar on its face. (Don't ask how a stick figure can be fat; they used a thicker marker, okay?!)
"Once Squall is completely inebriated, enter Kiros." A drawing of Squall and a stick figure with braids. "Kiros will make his move, the two of them will fuck like weasels-" A picture of a heart wearing exciting lingerie. "-and then Kiros will give us the rockets." A doodle of penile rocket ships graced the paper. "We'll go up in space-" A rocketship with five happy smiling faces peeking out of the windows. The one in the cowboy hat was wearing lipstick. "-and rescue Zell from the aliens." A stick figure smiling and holding a hot dog was hiding behind a stick figure with a duck bill brandishing a baseball bat at a green stick figure. "Then we use the spaceship and Squall to lure Rinoa-Hobag, recover the pants, and go the fuck home. Any questions?"
"What's with the duck?" Laguna asked.
TO BE CONTINUED...
/Oh, god, no...not the blue tie-dyed ones...I can't BELIEVE I let Irvine buy me clothes for my birthday...what was I thinking? Thinking...I shouldn't think to myself all the time; I'll end up like Laguna. After all, I can't let anyone see me being nice, even myself. What'll myself think of me?\
/Okay, cool it, Squall. We're looking for some replacement pants to wear, not a Freudian analysis.\
/Green corduroy stretch pants? Are these even MINE?\
/I'm gonna kill Rinoa, if I ever see her again. Well, maybe not KILL...maybe just maim horribly.\
Squall sighed and looked at his computer screen. Besides talking with some horny Turkish men over ICQ, he hadn't done much today.
"You've Got Mail!"
Squall almost expressed visible joy at the sound. He lunged for the mouse and eagerly brought up his mailbox. It was from Selphie.
FROM: queenofbooyaka@balambgarden.edu
TO: crankylittlebitch@balambgarden.edu
HI SQUALL!~ WUZZZUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUP?????
I havwen't gotten your pasnts back yet, biut we know wherte they and Rinoa are. Allso, Zell got abducxted by aliens. Heheheheh ^_^ OH YEWAH! I have a favor to ask of you.
If tyou want your pants back, you8n hyave to have sex with Kiros. Be at Sir Lagun a's hourse at 7 PN tonight. Pnats optionbal.
Booyaka!
Lovew Selphie
Squall screamed, and shuddered. Sex with Kiros? Then he sat back and really thought about it. Kiros was articulate, attractive, cultured, eloquent, and an interesting fellow. Squall wasn't quite sure what to make of his passion for banana-yellow thong bikinis and furry purple leopard-print pants, but he figured that if he was knocked out cold, he might not even notice. Sex with Kiros might even be an eye-opening experience-nay, an enjoyable one even!
Still. It was a yucky thought.
There was another email lying in wait for him to discover. Something so awful, the human mind can barely rationalize its existence. Something so filthy and hideous, your eyes could turn to stone as you read it. Your blood would boil in your very capillaries and the flesh would melt from your splintering bones were you ever to encounter the madness.
Squall knew no better, and opened the email.
FROM: ~*PuPpY_pRiNcEsS*~@girlystuff.barf
hi squally-poo!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
i haff yer pants haha!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! if u want em back, cum 2 outer space he he he!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! may e we kin hug again!!!!!!!!!!!!!! I luv u, so i sent u this poem frum chiken soup 4 the whinebag adolescent's soul!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
The Last Date
By Susie Whompingshire, age 13
Dedicated to Britney Spears
Sally was a pretty girl on a date with Dean
She had a new gown and her hair was soft and clean
Sally thought it was a date to go and eat ice cream
Little did poor Sally know she was living a dream.
Dean was not a white guy or a Christian or rich
He was ethnic and a heathen poorer than shit
His mommy was an alkie that his daddy liked to hit
Daddy didn't believe in God and high school he had quit.
Sally got in Dean's car at quarter of ten
Little did she know she would never see home again
Once the car pulled out all the terror began
Did I mention Dean wasn't a good Christian man?
He pulled out marijuana and a bottle of Jim Beam
Dean smoked and drank and smoked and drank until he turned quite mean
Then he turned to Sally and the poor girl starter to scream
Because the stuff upon his pants was not freshly whipped cream.
Dean threw her down upon the seat and, cuz he was pagan
Started raping her and smoking more and drinking crack and ragin'
When he was finished Sally was quite sad and pregnant
And then Dean told her that into her crotch she'd soon be diggin'.
He gave her crabs and AIDS and more the world has never seen
She had syphilis and gonorrhea and her pelvis turned bright green
Poor Sally never even got any ice cream
Because then heathen Dean hit a flock of pedestrians who screamed.
Since that Wiccan Druid scum went out to drink and drive
Sally, her fetus, and five old ladies are not alive
It's enough to make any young virgin lady cry
See what happens when you worship idols and lie?
NOW PASS THIS MESSAGE ON TO EVERYONE YOU HAVE EVER HAD THE MISFORTUNE OF MEETING, AND SCROLL DOWN PAST THE GIANT ASCII PICTURE OF JESUS!
*
*
*
*
[Insert hideous ASCII picture here]
*
*
*
IF U PASSED THIS ONE TO 0-3 PEOPLE, YOU ARE A BAD CRACK-SMOKING HEATHEN AND ARE GOING TO HELL!
IF U PASSED THIS ON TO 4-10 PEOPLE, YOU MUST REALLY WANT THEM TO KICK YOU IN THE TEETH!
IF U PASSED THIS ON TO MORE THAN 10 PEOPLE, YOU ARE A GOOD CHRISTIAN VIRGIN AND JESSICA SIMPSON WILL PERSONALLY SPIT ON YOUR DOORMAT!
Squall blinked. "..."
/Well, at least I have a little something extra to send Selphie...\
PART 18: RANDOM? WE'RE NOT RANDOM AROUND HERE, NOT AT ALL!
Somewhere out in the cold, vast reaches of darkest outer space, trapped upon an alien warship, all alone and terrified, Zell farted.
PART 19: A PLAN HATCHES LIKE A ROTTEN EGG
"Okay, spiffy!" Selphie announced. She, Laguna, Irvine, Quistis, and Ward were all in a small, stuff room. The duck-like girl stood at the head of the room in front of a large Fisher Price easel, on which rested a huge sheaf of papers. Ward stood behind the easel. The other three sat expectantly at the pool table Laguna had thoughtfully dragged in.
"Laguna, I'm not one to criticize another's taste in furniture, but a pool table is for playing pool on." Quuistis said tactfully.
"Don't tell me how to live my life!" Laguna said, punching Irvine in the head. Irvine choked on a ham sandwich. He wasn't eating it, but he choked on it anyways. Go figure. "I happen to be very artistic, and us artist types don't function in the bourgeois restraints of so-called NORMALCY and SOCIETY! We are OUTCASTS WITH A K! WE ARE OLD SOULS! WE ARE THE EMBODIMENT OF ART ITSELF! DOWN WITH THE GOVERNMENT!"
"Laguna, you ARE the government."
"DOWN WITH ME! Strive to destroy yourself so that you may become NAUGHT BUT A VEHICLE OF TRUTH! WHAT IS THIS FRAIL, MORTAL FLESH WHEN ONE SEES THE OVERWHELMING, ALL-ENCOMPASSING GRANITE STONE THAT IS ART?!"
"Shut the fuck up." Quistis said.
Laguna blinked.
"Can I START now, pleeeeeeeeeeeease?" Selphie asked, frowning adorably.
"Go 'head, Sefie." Irvine said encouragingly.
"THANK YOU! Ahem, okay." Selphie pointed to a small stick figure with a frowny face. "This is Squall. At 1500 hours, Squall will show up here, hopefully in what passes for a good mood."
"Wait, you know for sure that Squall's coming?" Quuistis interrupted.
"Yeah! I even printed out his email. He sent this really stupid poem along with it, too..." Selphie looked around. "Where the hell did that printout go?"
Irvine's mascara was running down his cheeks. Hee sniffled and blew his nose in a cocktail napkin as he clutched the snot-smeared, tearstained pages to his heart. "Thayut's so true! Booo hoo hoo hoo..."
"Um...duly noted, asshole." Seelphie said. 'Anyways. When Squall gets here, Ward will have the Tequila Funnel prepared." Waard flipped the sheet over to reveal another stick drawing. Thhis one was on Squall sitting on a stool with a large hose stuck in his mouth. The hose extended from a huge funnel labeled, "TEKEELA". The funnel was being held by a fat stick figure with a scar on its face. (Don't ask how a stick figure can be fat; they used a thicker marker, okay?!)
"Once Squall is completely inebriated, enter Kiros." A drawing of Squall and a stick figure with braids. "Kiros will make his move, the two of them will fuck like weasels-" A picture of a heart wearing exciting lingerie. "-and then Kiros will give us the rockets." A doodle of penile rocket ships graced the paper. "We'll go up in space-" A rocketship with five happy smiling faces peeking out of the windows. The one in the cowboy hat was wearing lipstick. "-and rescue Zell from the aliens." A stick figure smiling and holding a hot dog was hiding behind a stick figure with a duck bill brandishing a baseball bat at a green stick figure. "Then we use the spaceship and Squall to lure Rinoa-Hobag, recover the pants, and go the fuck home. Any questions?"
"What's with the duck?" Laguna asked.
TO BE CONTINUED...