Cast of Fools

Shadow ScytheX

I'd like to thank everyone for the support. I'm not gonna' go into detail with all of the reviews since I'd like to get this done and watch Detective Conan.

Chapter 3: Cult of Personality

Felix gave the paper the once over, then quickly used it to shield his face from the flaming brick. This time, Felix sat down and pondered this quandary.

'If you think about it, the structural integrity of a brick would not allow it to combust before hitting its melting point, thereby making it useless unless it was some magical brick-sludge being thrown...'

And as if somebody was reading his thoughts and publishing them on a site at midnight for quick reference when looking for stuff to read over and laugh at, a flaming chunk of sludge, presumably concrete, smacked him in the leg. Imbedded inside was a note, but Felix was too busy attempting to remove the flaming sludge without charring his leg, or worse, ruining his jeans.

"God dammit, these are new... Shit, shit, shit, shit!" He managed to put out the fire and save himself from injury, but alas, the jeans were no more. There was now a large, blob shaped burn in them. Even Kurt Cobain would have to say, 'Dude, it's time to buy new pants.' And then he would walk back to his grave, leaving Felix wondering how he was able to talk without a jaw.... Or much of a head, for that matter.

Barring that, Felix then took off his pants, and decided to read the note in his boxers. I mean, it's not like plaid boxers really present a target, and when you're reading a note and standing still, surely nobody will notice. And they DEFINITELY won't throw old milk cartons filled with napalm at you. This, in fact, was exactly what happened. Minus the noticing and the napalm, but plus several dozen matches.

Felix managed to escape the napalm and the resulting inferno in his main room. He went to his bedroom, put on some pants, then carefully snuck out the window, reading his note. "Where is everybody the same? Same houses with the same windows with similar uniforms. Well, what the dancing Lord involves being the same? And uniforms... And similar housing situation... And cookies. I'm hoping for cookies. Maybe even pancakes. Yes... Mrs. Butterworth, your delicious syrupy goodness shall soon be mine, mine and mine alone..."

At this he gave a maniacal cackle, and then hid behind a garbage can. Why did he do this? Well, he's already a Voodoo Child. People are just looking for an excuse to throw stuff at him. Hell, throwing things at people is fun as anything. I mean, if you see a crazy religious blowhard, bean him in the head with a conveniently located brick. You'll be laughing to yourself in self-satisfaction for days. And then, you realize you have no life and you go back to the little pity hole you call a computer.

Nonetheless, Felix was still on the lookout for self-righteous bastards who happen to be armed with bricks. Those HURT, man. I mean, everybody hurts, sometimes, as R.E.M. illustrates, but god DAMN, those things hurt. And if they aim low, you probably won't be able to walk for a few days. And that just does not bode well for our misguided hero.

Anyways, Felix walked around the town, thinking about the riddle that had almost permanently disfigured him. All of a sudden, the answer hit him. It hit him, dragged him back to their hideout and probably beat and molested him on the way there.

When Felix awoke, he saw a large sign greeting him:
"WELCOME TO THE CULT OF PERSONALITY."

-Fin