Kill Bvill v1

Chapter Two:

"The Blood Splattered Bride"

El Paso, Texas

A truck pulled up to a lonely little chapel. The driver, a sheriff with big elvis sunglasses on, looked at his dash, where there was a row of multi coloured sunglasses, for some stupid reason. He stopped right in front of the chapel and got out, with a superior small town sheriff air about him. He began to slowly walk toward the silent chapel, cowboy boots jingling as they made contact with the desert ground. He reached the doorway of the chapel to become faced with a horrific sight.

Nine dead bodies were placed around the chapel, with broken glass, blood, and splintered wood everywhere. He walked into the chapel and stopped in front of a dead woman in a bridal outfit, and began to speak to his son, who was examining the scene.

"Son number 9, what have we got here?"

"Well, pa, it's a fricken massacre. Nine dead bodies, includin' this little beauty here. What d'ya reckon did this?"

"It looks like the work of somebody organized... My guess is a crazed celebrity look-alike. They must have been good- they made short work of all them people in here..."

"Too bad, too. This little blond princess looks like she woulda been a beaut, if she hadn't been dead, or covered in blood."

The sheriff leaned over the face of the dead bride, contemplating what his 9th son just said. He was right- this little beauty was pretty...

Suddenly, a cough sounded, and the supposedly dead bride spit blood all over the sheriff's face.

"Son number 9, this little cunt ain't dead... and this little cunt's a bastard- a man with long hair..."

Bet you thought I was dead, eh?


Well, I wasn't. You see, Bvill's last bullet put me in a coma- I survived. Four years, I lay comatose in the bumpkin hospital at El Paso, but I finally woke up. Why was I in a bridal gown if I am a male? You'll find out, in due time...and by that I mean probably in Volume 2...

When I woke up in the hospital, a slobbering man fawning over me...well, maybe I should recount the story... even though I was comatose, so there is no way I could know the exact deatails of the following tale...

But first, here is a little assassination attempt on a sleeping me...

A car pulls to a screeching halt in front of a hospital...El Paso hospital... A woman gets out, 6' tall, blonde, and clad in a white nurse's uniform, which looks totally fake.

She walks in the hospital, whistling an annoying yet catchy little tune perfectly, lips and mouth never getting dry, and confidently strides past the other nurses toward her goal. Walking past the nurses, who don't realize that this woman's uniform is totally fake, she smiles maliciously and turns down a corridor. She walks into a random room to prepare...

"Excuse me? Nurse lady? What are you doing here?" It is the old man from the Simpsons, who always gets hit in the groin and falls, also recognized as the friend of Grandpa Simpson.

"Shut up, old daffer, I'm trying to prepare a serum of assasination." While she says this, the whistling continues to a climax, leading us to believe that the woman was really lip-synching the whistling...dastardly...

She sets the bag she is carrying down on the old geezer's bed, despite his old protests. She craftily withdraws a silver platter, a needle, and a bottle labelled with the label, 'Elixyr of Death'. She sets the silver tray on the bed beside the man, who is still babbling uselessly. She picks up the needle, inserts it into the bottle, and fills the needle with elixyr of death. It is at this time that she truly notices the old man with her.

"You're fuckin yellow."

"Excuse me? Ohhhh, my kidney..."

"Where the hell are you from, you yellow freak?"

"Who are you?"

"Oh, shit. Now you've triggered another crazy in and out seizure inducing zoom thing..."

NANCY
MEMBER OF:
THE FATAL COBRA FANFICTION SQUAD
CODENAME: Deadly Sirens

"Now wasn't that traumatic? Hey, geezer...great, he had a seizure and died...Meh."

She resumed fixing the tray to hold the single needle. Pointless, really, carrying a single needle on a tray, but hey, it's in Kill Bill!

The crazy nurse woman resumes her whistling lip-synching freakshow down another random corridor, and she finally, FINALLY reaches the room of our hero, TCWUTLA. She steps inside, drops the bag, and places the tray neatly on the bedside table.

"Well, well, well. If it isn't our little TCWUTLA. (henceforth referred to as 'Tcwutla') Man, you sure got drive. That bullet that Bvil (formerly Phil) put in your head shoulda killed you, but you kept on tickin. Now, it is my job to..."

She reached for the needle.

"Now. Don't think that I don't respect you. Because I do. Hell, in the profession of fanfiction, you should be greatful for this kind of death. However, I will administer this poison to you with utmost dignity and respect."

She slowly moves the needle toward the peacefully slumbering Tcwutla, who is blissfully unaware of what is going on. Suddenly, the Nancy the nurse's cell rings, startling her. Emitting a loud 'Aw Hell!' She gets her cell and snaps it open.

"Yes Bvill. She is alive. I am standing over her right now..."

"Good job, Nancy... However, I am calling to tell you to abort the mission. Assignment terminated. Get out of there- you did a good job, but we aren't going to kill him in this manner."

"MOTHER FUC-"

"Nancy, control..."

"Mother Fucker. We have EVERY right to kill that little bitch-"

"Now, do you mean to defy my direct order? I said get out of there. I miss you- come on home."

"Awwwkay Bvill..."

She snapped the phone shut and whipped around to the sleeping Tcwutla.

"Bet ya thought that was pretty fuckin funny, didn't ya? Well, you're lucky Bvill read the Author's Note, or you'd be DEAD. Now, goodbye."

And with that, she gathered her things and left the room.

Now, I plunge you, the reader, deep into the cavity of the past. See now, what I had to experience when I woke up.

"Allright, everyone gather round. Now, what we have here- yes, Mr. Bvuck?"

"Oom, yuss docta. I must know, woot iz ziss patient's name and condizion?"

"Um... this patient is comatose, and we don't know his name. The folks here at the hospital call him 'Kyle', on account of he looks like a Kyle. Now..."

This particular experience was just before I woke up. I was in a room with seven other comatose patients, and one of those med school batches came to take some 'on the field' notes. So, here we were- seven comatose patients, a doctor, four med students, and little old me. This was fun...

"Excuse me, doctor, I think this male just opened his eye at me."

"What? He is comatose. Kyle isn't expected to wake up for a long time, if ever. He was shot in the head."

Suddenly, I sat up, and winked at the startled five people. I then grinned mischeviously and proceeded to snap all their little necks. I just couldn't resist- that little foreign boy was just lookin at me, and I swear I felt him drooling on me...So, I had not even gotten out of bed after four long years of being a comatose patient, and I had already killed five people.

Tcwutla swung his legs aroung and sat up on the side of the bed. Flipping his long black hair and giving his sexiest model face, he got up and- CRASH- he fell to the floor.

Oh, that was hot...

Tcwutla realized that his legs had not come out of hibernation from the coma yet. This would be difficult...

Tcwutla crawled over to the door, knowing exactly what to do. He reached up and twisted the handle...

...and proceeded to scream bloody murder into the hall. Immediately, he heard footsteps.

The door flew open, a male nurse running in immediately. Looking around, he let out a gasp at the sight of the five dead people on the floor near the empty bed. Suddenly...

...something sliced the tendon in his foot, causing him to squeal with pain and drop to the floor. He writhed in pain, searching for the cause of his cut. He turned to the door, where our Tcwutla was hiding behind.

"Hey there. I gotta ask you something... Do you have a Pussy-?"

The man's screams blocked out the rest of the question. Sighing, Tcwutla took the scalpel and plunged it into the man's temple, wriggling it around viciously. The now dead male nurse ceased moving on the floor. Tcwutla proceeded to search the male nurse, and to his joy he found a set of keys, with a keychain that read 'Random Wagon', in loopy 70's style letters. For some reason, Tcwutla reached in another pocket and pulled out large elvis-style glasses. He put them on, somehow being able to see...

He proceeded to crawl into the hallway, where he met no less than four janitors, two security guards, three female nurses, a doctor, a male nurse, and a lost stripper. Sighing, he snapped all their necks (don't ask how it is possible for a crippled floor bound biotch to snap the necks of 12 people...) and stole the empty wheelchair that the lost stripper was pushing. Tcwutla was now wheeling down the corridors of the hospital, toward the parking lot.

Tcwutla wheeled past many cars in the underground lot, wondering where the dead male nurse's car would be. Suddenly, a passing mobile caught his eye.

I SAY URRRRRCH!

Tcwutla looked straight ahead, then whipped his head to look at the car, then whipped his head back looking straight...all the while carefully avoiding whiplash. In one quick motion he withdrew the keys from the pocket of the hospital gown and looked at the 70's keychain, then the tailgate of the truck.

"RANDOM WAGON"

Well, that was easy...

Tcwutla wheeled over to the truck, opening the door of the back seat, then hauling himself in. Ditching the wheelchair and closing the door, Tcwutla sat back and caught his breath from the tiring experience, taking off his sunglasses.

The climax of my chapter has not yet been achieved. First, I must...

'Wiggle your big toe'

C'mon, try it at home, it's fun. Stare at your ugly feet, then talk to your appendages. Repeat after me, while glaring at you toe:

Wiggle your big toe.

Wiggle your big toe.

Okay, that didn't work...let's try it in a British accent.

Wiggle your big toe.

Aww hell! I forgot, you're reading this, so accents really aren't affective...Oh well...

I SAID WIGGLE YOU DAM LITTLE BITC- ooo hey!

Tcwutla's big toe started to wiggle and shake like a polaroid picture. It boo-toe popped, it did the twist, it knocked up your grandmother...

Allright, the hard part's over. Now, for the next eight hours, I will do the same thing to my legs. Yee-haw.

As I sat there, in the back of the dead male nurse's Random Wagon, willing my limbs out of entropy, I began to think...to plan... I had to get revenge on the Fatal Cobra Fanfiction Squad, and I knew exactly who would be easiest to find...

Eight Hours Later...

Wow, that seemed to go by quick...

The sound of a car door opening, and we see feet dropping onto the pavement by the bottom of the truck. They proceed to scurry four steps to the front door, which opens.

Tcwutla got into the front seat of the car, revved the engine, and gave a wink as he put the glasses back on. He would take a plane...he would read about his targets on that plane... He knew exactly where he was gonna go...

"One ticket to Japan" Says Tcwutla, slamming a wad of ones on the airport counter.