The taxi containing Sands and Jacob rattled to a stop in front of the
furniture store.
"That'll be $50," growled the driver.
Sands fumbled in his pocket, pulled out a handful of bills somewhere in the vicinity of $120, and waved it around vaguely.
"Umm...I'll give it to him," said Jacob, taking the money. "Wow, it's exact change! Pretty neat, huh, mister?"
The taxi driver scowled as Jacob handed him a $50 and pocketed the difference. Sands, oblivious to all of this, pulled out his phone and tried to call his superiors. Unfortunately for him, they were in the middle of changing his phone line, and his phone was therefore dead. At the sound of a cheery automated voice apologizing to him and asking if he would like the pay $5 a minute to stay on the line, even though there wasn't one, he angrily threw the offending object out the window of the car, and pouted.
A passing man was hit on the head and killed instantly. His sudden and unprovoked death instilled a deep-rooted fear of Bob the Builder in his child, who slowly went insane over the years, until he finally went on a rampage, killing ten construction workers and destroying five pieces of heavy-duty construction machinery. Had this unfortunate occurrence not so affected his life, he would have gone on instead to kill cancer and invent a better cheese grater, but such is life.
Jacob, oblivious to such matters, led Sands out of the vehicle.
@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@
Lorenzo and Fideo wandered past the various displays of tables and lamps, having managed to fight their way into the store. Dead men sprawled across large, comfortable couches in their wake, all shot by the two mariachis and then posed for their amusement.
The Mexican president's advisor was engaged in sneaking away from the makeshift fort that housed his employer when Lorenzo and Fideo arrived. Fideo instinctively tackled him, and Lorenzo went to the fort.
"El Presidente?" inquired Lorenzo over the sounds of Fideo beating the advisor into unconsciousness for no real reason.
"Sí," said El Presidente. "Are you here to save me?"
"We are now."
@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@
Sands pulled his gloves on dramatically. One wound up backwards, and he muttered to himself as he fixed it. He grabbed his gun from Jacob, who sighed, took it from him, turned it around the right way, and placed it back in his hand.
"Thanks, kid," said Sands. "Now go away."
"Okay," shrugged Jacob. "I need to go get my chocolate anyways."
"There was chocolate involved and you didn't tell me?!" wailed Sands at the kid's retreating back. "Nooooooooo!!!"
His lip quivered as he turned toward the entrance of the furniture store, as he tried to cope with the loss of a snack he had not even known existed. A small cry of self pity welled up from his throat, but he managed to bring himself under control by remembering that in just a few moments, he would be shooting people once more.
The two guards who had been in charge of Ramirez were the only living members of Barillo's cartel that were still outside. The rest of them had followed General Marquez as he had stormed the store a few minutes ago.
Sands fired his weapon several times, missing the thugs by large amounts of space. Several pigeons fell from the sky, and Sands looked proud of himself.
"Hurhur," commented one. "You missed, and I now ridicule you for your inadequacies."
Sands oriented on the sound, and shot him in the throat.
"Hey, you shot him!" yelled the other, shooting Sands.
Sands shot him in the foot for the neat noise it made, and then in the top of the head as he doubled over in pain.
Sands looked proud of himself once more, and promptly fell over.
@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@
El snuck in through the back of the furniture store. He was slightly hindered by the fact that the back door was closed and locked, but solved that problem neatly by going in through the ten foot by ten foot delivery bay door, which was open. He crawled over the large and sickly green chair that stood in his path, accidentally tearing the crepe paper on it, and went into his super sneaky stealthy mode. He ducked and weaved through the eclectic collection of objects, narrowly missing being seen by Lorenzo and Fideo, who were leaving with El Presidente and numerous wads of cash they had found under a couch cushion. El dropped to the floor, and crawled along in a manner the store's manager would find comical when he went over the security tapes the next morning.
General Marquez, meanwhile, hunted through the store for El Presidente. Despite the fact that he had gone in with ten men, he was now alone, seeing as they had all gotten killed through sheer incompetence. He shook his head at the memory of the event. One man had stubbed his toe on a coffee table, causing him to yell and jump back. He had collided with the man behind him, the rest of the men had panicked, and then they'd all shot each other. General Marquez was not pleased, and he grumbled to himself under his breath.
El popped up from behind a canary yellow futon, guns at the ready.
"Hey, El!" enthused Marquez. "How's your family?"
"You killed them, remember?" pouted El.
"Heh, yeah," reminisced the general. "That was pretty funny, huh?"
In response, El shot him in the kneecaps. And then in the foot, the hands, and the shoulders.
"Damnit," grunted El. "My aim is really off today. I meant to shoot you in the head."
"Urghhhhh..." moaned Marquez.
El stepped forward and pressed the barrel of his smoking gun against the forehead of his sworn enemy, and pulled the trigger. He somehow managed to miss yet again, but tried yet another time, and finally succeeded in killing his nemesis. He let out a whoop of joy, and hopped out the nearest window.
@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@
Barillo stepped purposefully through the carnage in the furniture store, chomping on a piece of rubber between his teeth to keep the pain away. Ajedrez followed, kicking random corpses in the nuts and other such inappropriate areas, and generally making a mess.
They arrived at the pile that had been, until quite recently, General Marquez, and Barillo shook his head in disgust. He kicked the corpse angrily, but stopped when he noticed that some of it had gotten stuck on his shoe. Ajedrez felt no such compassion for her footwear, and stamped on the already much-mutilated body until it was roughly the thickness of a pancake. Barillo glowered at her, and she headed back off for the front door in a snit.
She leaned against the frame of the doorway, and stared balefully out at the world. Her eyes alighted on the prone figure of Sands, and she grinned evilly, checked to make sure she had her gun, and moved toward him.
Sand's sunglasses had long since fallen off his face, revealing the fact that his eyes had been pulled out and then replaced with decorative ping- pong balls, which Sands had subsequently pulled back out.
"You fucking little monkey," commented Ajedrez, shoving the sunglasses back onto his face and pulling him to his feet. "You don't know when to quit, do you?"
"Nnnnnhh..." replied Sands incoherently.
Ajedrez brought her gun up to his chin threateningly, and then started making out with him for no apparent reason. Suddenly, a shot rang out, and all the rabid Johnny Depp fangirls in the audience screamed and wet themselves, causing the more sane audience members to exile them to a corner.
Ajedrez slumped to the ground, looking somewhat bewildered. Sands's left arm twitched erratically and fell off, revealing his real left arm to be concealed in his coat and holding a pistol.
"Eeheehee," reminisced Sands, and he fell over once more.
@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@
Billy carried Snuffles over to where Barillo stood, next to a very thin lump of blood and gore. Despite the fact that it has gone entirely unmentioned in this story due to a clerical error, Snuffles had somehow provided invaluable information, and his actions were, in fact, so heroic that he really should have been the protagonist all along. Never fear, though; the person responsible for this ghastly omission is currently trapped in a copy machine, so the crime is atoned for.
Ramirez followed Billy, noticing for the first time how very chubby Snuffles was from never having to walk. Snuffles, for his part, noticed for the first time how very stubby his own legs were, and suddenly felt a wave of shame.
"May I present," Billy started, very deliberately failing to hide Snuffles behind his back, "Special Agent Jorge Ramirez."
He wandered off, scratching Snuffles's nose fondly.
"You know, you can't arrest me," gloated Barillo.
"I know," smiled Ramirez, bringing up his gun. Barillo sputtered for a moment, but was silenced when Ramirez shot him a second later.
"Wow," grinned Ramirez, "That was easy."
Barillo's arm twitched up and shot Billy in the head.
"Wow," frowned Ramirez, "That was random."
He picked up Snuffles and left.
@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@
Out in the parking lot, Jacob rode up to the carnage on his bike, which he had gone home to retrieve out of boredom. He did not stop quickly enough, and ran over Sands, who moaned.
A gloved hand rose dramatically from the ground, and Jacob grinned.
@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@
Lorenzo and Fideo trudged across Chambers with El Presidente to the neighborhood. The Mexican ruler's limo was waiting for him there, since he had called it from the beauty salon they had all stopped to get their hair done in. El Presidente clambered in, and the car drove off, leaving Lorenzo and Fideo alone with only each other and their wads of cash.
@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@
Ramirez passed Sands on the sidewalk. The CIA agent leaned heavily against the wall of a store, bleeding profusely.
"See you around," said the ever-oblivious Ramirez, tossing his borrowed phone at Sands.
"Up yours," growled Sands, rubbing at his temple where the phone had struck him. Ramirez grinned and moved on.
"Are you okay, mister?" inquired Jacob of Sands.
"You will be," Jacob assured him.
"I seriously doubt that, but okay."
@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@
The last that was ever heard of El Mariachi himself was that he had gone home to the dry cleaner's and taken up knitting.
THE END
"That'll be $50," growled the driver.
Sands fumbled in his pocket, pulled out a handful of bills somewhere in the vicinity of $120, and waved it around vaguely.
"Umm...I'll give it to him," said Jacob, taking the money. "Wow, it's exact change! Pretty neat, huh, mister?"
The taxi driver scowled as Jacob handed him a $50 and pocketed the difference. Sands, oblivious to all of this, pulled out his phone and tried to call his superiors. Unfortunately for him, they were in the middle of changing his phone line, and his phone was therefore dead. At the sound of a cheery automated voice apologizing to him and asking if he would like the pay $5 a minute to stay on the line, even though there wasn't one, he angrily threw the offending object out the window of the car, and pouted.
A passing man was hit on the head and killed instantly. His sudden and unprovoked death instilled a deep-rooted fear of Bob the Builder in his child, who slowly went insane over the years, until he finally went on a rampage, killing ten construction workers and destroying five pieces of heavy-duty construction machinery. Had this unfortunate occurrence not so affected his life, he would have gone on instead to kill cancer and invent a better cheese grater, but such is life.
Jacob, oblivious to such matters, led Sands out of the vehicle.
@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@
Lorenzo and Fideo wandered past the various displays of tables and lamps, having managed to fight their way into the store. Dead men sprawled across large, comfortable couches in their wake, all shot by the two mariachis and then posed for their amusement.
The Mexican president's advisor was engaged in sneaking away from the makeshift fort that housed his employer when Lorenzo and Fideo arrived. Fideo instinctively tackled him, and Lorenzo went to the fort.
"El Presidente?" inquired Lorenzo over the sounds of Fideo beating the advisor into unconsciousness for no real reason.
"Sí," said El Presidente. "Are you here to save me?"
"We are now."
@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@
Sands pulled his gloves on dramatically. One wound up backwards, and he muttered to himself as he fixed it. He grabbed his gun from Jacob, who sighed, took it from him, turned it around the right way, and placed it back in his hand.
"Thanks, kid," said Sands. "Now go away."
"Okay," shrugged Jacob. "I need to go get my chocolate anyways."
"There was chocolate involved and you didn't tell me?!" wailed Sands at the kid's retreating back. "Nooooooooo!!!"
His lip quivered as he turned toward the entrance of the furniture store, as he tried to cope with the loss of a snack he had not even known existed. A small cry of self pity welled up from his throat, but he managed to bring himself under control by remembering that in just a few moments, he would be shooting people once more.
The two guards who had been in charge of Ramirez were the only living members of Barillo's cartel that were still outside. The rest of them had followed General Marquez as he had stormed the store a few minutes ago.
Sands fired his weapon several times, missing the thugs by large amounts of space. Several pigeons fell from the sky, and Sands looked proud of himself.
"Hurhur," commented one. "You missed, and I now ridicule you for your inadequacies."
Sands oriented on the sound, and shot him in the throat.
"Hey, you shot him!" yelled the other, shooting Sands.
Sands shot him in the foot for the neat noise it made, and then in the top of the head as he doubled over in pain.
Sands looked proud of himself once more, and promptly fell over.
@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@
El snuck in through the back of the furniture store. He was slightly hindered by the fact that the back door was closed and locked, but solved that problem neatly by going in through the ten foot by ten foot delivery bay door, which was open. He crawled over the large and sickly green chair that stood in his path, accidentally tearing the crepe paper on it, and went into his super sneaky stealthy mode. He ducked and weaved through the eclectic collection of objects, narrowly missing being seen by Lorenzo and Fideo, who were leaving with El Presidente and numerous wads of cash they had found under a couch cushion. El dropped to the floor, and crawled along in a manner the store's manager would find comical when he went over the security tapes the next morning.
General Marquez, meanwhile, hunted through the store for El Presidente. Despite the fact that he had gone in with ten men, he was now alone, seeing as they had all gotten killed through sheer incompetence. He shook his head at the memory of the event. One man had stubbed his toe on a coffee table, causing him to yell and jump back. He had collided with the man behind him, the rest of the men had panicked, and then they'd all shot each other. General Marquez was not pleased, and he grumbled to himself under his breath.
El popped up from behind a canary yellow futon, guns at the ready.
"Hey, El!" enthused Marquez. "How's your family?"
"You killed them, remember?" pouted El.
"Heh, yeah," reminisced the general. "That was pretty funny, huh?"
In response, El shot him in the kneecaps. And then in the foot, the hands, and the shoulders.
"Damnit," grunted El. "My aim is really off today. I meant to shoot you in the head."
"Urghhhhh..." moaned Marquez.
El stepped forward and pressed the barrel of his smoking gun against the forehead of his sworn enemy, and pulled the trigger. He somehow managed to miss yet again, but tried yet another time, and finally succeeded in killing his nemesis. He let out a whoop of joy, and hopped out the nearest window.
@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@
Barillo stepped purposefully through the carnage in the furniture store, chomping on a piece of rubber between his teeth to keep the pain away. Ajedrez followed, kicking random corpses in the nuts and other such inappropriate areas, and generally making a mess.
They arrived at the pile that had been, until quite recently, General Marquez, and Barillo shook his head in disgust. He kicked the corpse angrily, but stopped when he noticed that some of it had gotten stuck on his shoe. Ajedrez felt no such compassion for her footwear, and stamped on the already much-mutilated body until it was roughly the thickness of a pancake. Barillo glowered at her, and she headed back off for the front door in a snit.
She leaned against the frame of the doorway, and stared balefully out at the world. Her eyes alighted on the prone figure of Sands, and she grinned evilly, checked to make sure she had her gun, and moved toward him.
Sand's sunglasses had long since fallen off his face, revealing the fact that his eyes had been pulled out and then replaced with decorative ping- pong balls, which Sands had subsequently pulled back out.
"You fucking little monkey," commented Ajedrez, shoving the sunglasses back onto his face and pulling him to his feet. "You don't know when to quit, do you?"
"Nnnnnhh..." replied Sands incoherently.
Ajedrez brought her gun up to his chin threateningly, and then started making out with him for no apparent reason. Suddenly, a shot rang out, and all the rabid Johnny Depp fangirls in the audience screamed and wet themselves, causing the more sane audience members to exile them to a corner.
Ajedrez slumped to the ground, looking somewhat bewildered. Sands's left arm twitched erratically and fell off, revealing his real left arm to be concealed in his coat and holding a pistol.
"Eeheehee," reminisced Sands, and he fell over once more.
@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@
Billy carried Snuffles over to where Barillo stood, next to a very thin lump of blood and gore. Despite the fact that it has gone entirely unmentioned in this story due to a clerical error, Snuffles had somehow provided invaluable information, and his actions were, in fact, so heroic that he really should have been the protagonist all along. Never fear, though; the person responsible for this ghastly omission is currently trapped in a copy machine, so the crime is atoned for.
Ramirez followed Billy, noticing for the first time how very chubby Snuffles was from never having to walk. Snuffles, for his part, noticed for the first time how very stubby his own legs were, and suddenly felt a wave of shame.
"May I present," Billy started, very deliberately failing to hide Snuffles behind his back, "Special Agent Jorge Ramirez."
He wandered off, scratching Snuffles's nose fondly.
"You know, you can't arrest me," gloated Barillo.
"I know," smiled Ramirez, bringing up his gun. Barillo sputtered for a moment, but was silenced when Ramirez shot him a second later.
"Wow," grinned Ramirez, "That was easy."
Barillo's arm twitched up and shot Billy in the head.
"Wow," frowned Ramirez, "That was random."
He picked up Snuffles and left.
@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@
Out in the parking lot, Jacob rode up to the carnage on his bike, which he had gone home to retrieve out of boredom. He did not stop quickly enough, and ran over Sands, who moaned.
A gloved hand rose dramatically from the ground, and Jacob grinned.
@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@
Lorenzo and Fideo trudged across Chambers with El Presidente to the neighborhood. The Mexican ruler's limo was waiting for him there, since he had called it from the beauty salon they had all stopped to get their hair done in. El Presidente clambered in, and the car drove off, leaving Lorenzo and Fideo alone with only each other and their wads of cash.
@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@
Ramirez passed Sands on the sidewalk. The CIA agent leaned heavily against the wall of a store, bleeding profusely.
"See you around," said the ever-oblivious Ramirez, tossing his borrowed phone at Sands.
"Up yours," growled Sands, rubbing at his temple where the phone had struck him. Ramirez grinned and moved on.
"Are you okay, mister?" inquired Jacob of Sands.
"You will be," Jacob assured him.
"I seriously doubt that, but okay."
@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@
The last that was ever heard of El Mariachi himself was that he had gone home to the dry cleaner's and taken up knitting.
THE END