Ch. 2

The Big Deal

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I would like to apologize to all those unfortunate enough to fall under my chaotic nature (see, chaos can gain supremacy). Not that I want to hurt any of your feelings. You see, the problem is, I'm actually taking off so many other's that I can't possibly name them all. So this is just a non-threatening warning. OK?

Anyway, continuing from where I left off

"What's the big deal?" demanded Trinity, wanting the best deal possible.

"Sir" started Sgt. Phil.

"Don't call me sir'," Trinity reprimanded with a nervous look on her face, "you make me sound so masculine. Besides, I don't like that volume setting anyway." Sure enough, Trinity truly is a feminine creature. She's got a body to die for (heck people were throwing themselves off buildings they wanted her so badly. How this would help them accomplish this goal is beyond me) and her voice can only be described as ethereal.

"Ma'am"

"Dude, I've got a name. It's right here," Trinity said pulling out a nametag from her, uh, cleavage.

"And I'm SJ," said SJ since that is his name.

"Trinity," Phil said in a somewhat exasperated sort of way, "I must arrest your husband for violating the Limb Law."

"What's that supposed to mean?" asked SJ, a bit taken back 5 spaces.

"Your hands and feet aren't attached to your body!"

"But what about Rayman, the video game character?"

"He's licensed".

"Well I'm not going with you," said SJ, taking his wife's hand and promising to put it back when he was done with it.

"Where do you think your going?" shouted Phil, reaching into one of his pockets.

"We're going home," said Trinity. Phil pulled out his freeze gun and aimed it at SJ and pulled the trigger. But SJ deflected the shot with little ease. Little Ease wasn't quite sure what he was doing here but he was determined to figure this out. When SJ and Trinity got home to there toyfactory, it was almost dinner time. But before they could even sit down at one of the cafeteria tables (that is in the factory's cafeteria) a voice was heard over intricate intercom made of paper cups and string.

"Trinity, Trinity," it said, "your presence is requested in the production plant." Noting the urgency in the intercom's voice, Trinity grabbed up her husband and dashed for the production plant.

"What's the problem?" SJ asked when the two arrived in the plant, which actually took a long time since stem cells are very resistant to cutting, which means that kicking them off the football team is not an option.

"I said, What's the problem?'" SJ gritted, annoyed by my senseless ramblings.

"Some of the workers are rising up in mutiny and bumping their heads on the ceiling," said the intercom.

"Surrender SJ, or I'll send this place into the dirt," called out a voice that sounded a lot like Sgt. Phil's.

"If that's Phil, then I'm going to screw the plot and improvise something," said SJ. Of course it was Phil. "Alright, screw this plot."