Day 2, 1500: Just to let you know, I did drive the truck, right off a cliff. After looting what I could, since most of it was shit I only got about 40 bucks and picture of some dipshit, I set the bastard into drive and watched it blast through the divider and go sailing into the canyon below. That will leave the DSers in a panic and leave a whole shit load of paper work for four eyes and cue ball. God, I kick ass. But that was in the back of my mind now. Why? Because I was fucking hungry.
I managed to hitch a ride from some smelly, shit-for-brains, asswipe heifer named John Wandy. How did I know his name was John Wandy? Because he said it over and over again. Not only did he say his name a billion times, he also talked about his fat whore wife, Brenda. Of course, that's all I could find out, because he talked in a language I would call "Incoherent rapid-fire Hick Cornerian."
"Weeeell Me and Brendablahblahblahblah," He would start.
"Whatever," I would reply, just listening and waiting for my stomach to finally attack my other organs for sustenance.
Once Captain Dildo reached the entrance to Cornerian City, he tried, I guess, say goodbye.
"Bladeblablablah!" He blubbered as he waved.
"What? I can't hear you, your horrible hick accent is in the way." I said with a smirk on my face.
Finally understanding my reply, he just drove away with oh-my-god-he-just-made-fun-of-me look on his face. I couldn't care less, right now I needed food, fast. I went through the neon lit sign and walked into a crowded avenue, the streets hustling and bustling with a bunch of dumbass tourists dragging their snot nosed little hellions behind them, going from one retail outlet to the next, fueling their corporate masters with more cash to feed their, decadent, money grubbing bank accounts… I hate this planet. A orange haired feline walked by me and threw a half-eaten hamburger into the trash can next to me. Seeing a perfectly good saliva-ridden meal going to waste, and the fact that my stomach was going to implode if I didn't eat, made me go diving in. Maneuvering my hands through the waste, I managed to get a hold the burger. After securing my grip, I worked my way out the trash bin, only to be met by my orange friend. He gave a wide-eyed look, staring directly at a banana peel stuck firmly to my face after my less than stealthy infiltration of the trash receptacle.
"What are you looking at, cockbreath?" I said as I munched down on the hamburger. It tasted somewhat like a mix between a fish taco and used motor oil out of a Rolls Royce with severely blown rings. (Rings, hah, talk about antiquated.) All of fifteen seconds and a several stares later I had finished off the hamburger. Dear God, that stupid thing must have been made from sawdust and axle lube, judging by how greasy and how tough to chew it was . Oh well, as I always say, hunger is the best spice.
I finished my meal and made a more perceptive scan of my environment. For the most part, most of these brainless wonders seemed to be preparing for some party or celebration.
"Ohmigod, he gonna be comin' here!" some raconic bimbo blurted out. She had the look that told me she had about as much brain power as my sock.
"I, like, can't believe it! He is sooo ceeuuute!" her equally retarded friend replied.
"I mean he's like...you know... coming here!" the racoon screamed then started giggling like the stupid shit she was. Stupidity like that is why Cornerians should be harvested and fed to things more productive, like bacteria. But that still left me wondering who this person could be, then, to my utter dismay, I looked up. My skin began to tighten, my hair stood on end, my fists began to clench, as I looked to a humongous billboard displaying Fox McCloud's ugly frickin' face. The bastard had the facial expression "Look, I'm an asswipe! Like me!" and held out his thumb, probably preparing to shove it up his ass.
It seemed no matter where I went, this bastard was there to mock me. Memories from Venom came rushing back. The little piss head was in my sights, the bastard couldn't shake me; all of his advanced Arwing technology meant precisely dick when I was on him. Then he did either the smartest thing or the dumbest thing a pilot has ever done. I'm willing to go with the latter. He did a series of pathetic "maneuvers" that succeeded in one thing, putting him on a direct line for a fucking building. Still, I stuck to his ass like stink on shit. Did the fucker try to pull up and over the building? Did he try to flip a bitch and slide in behind me? Hell no, the dumbass ACCELERATED. Seeing that I was flying at about 2000 miles per hour directly at a fucking building, I had to bail or eat reinforced steel. He just flew toward the building like a moron. He was probably wondering why I pulled up when he clipped the fucking thing. Which, needless to say, sent him into a spin. Then, he accidently fired a shot in whatever direction he was pointed in, in his pitiful effort to right himself from the spinwhich just so happened to be at the belly of my Wolfen. It knocked out my main thruster. I then preceded to do the classic move when you take a catastrophic hit, a nose dive straight to the ground.
Bullshit, complete bullshit.
So here I was, standing in Fox fawning central, staring at a billboard of the most overrated pilot of all time and these morons think they have an honest-to-god hero. To be honest, getting past the Venomian defenses is not that hard. Almost all of the ships that Andross had were piloted by an AI program that could have been made by falling asleep on a keyboard. In battle situations, I HAVE SEEN THESE THINGS TARGET EACH OTHER, IF YOU LOSE TO THEM YOU DESERVE TO DIE! The only reason Venom ever got a as far as they did was because they fought the Lylatian Wartime Defense Force, also known as, the Laughable Wannabe Dumb Fucks. These guys couldn't hold off an ant from assaulting their genitalia. How bad are they? Well, first off they only have a standing armada of 2,000 ships. I'm not shitting with you, folks.
"Yessery bob, tha' there man's a 'ero alrahght," A man interrupted my thoughts. I looked over at him. The arctic fox wore a cowboy hat(commence hatred), suspenders, blue jeans, and a shirt whose buttons appeared to be strained to the point of breaking by his beer laden gut.
"Tha' man saved us awll, yes he did." He muttered to himself. That's another reason I hate Fox, because of him, men like this were still alive.
He looked over at me, "Ya new 'round 'ere?"
"Yeah," I said, trying to avoid contact with this "gaucho" as much as possible.
"Weeell," He put his thumbs around his suspenders. "He..."
"Spare me the details, please," I interjected, fearing any long winded story telling from this man will force my brain to end its own suffering via explosion.
"If ya say so, weeell he saved us awll, everyun' o' us. Neaow wurr havin' a paraide in his 'onor real short laaike." Well, isn't that special. I might need to stake this one out. I want to see him one last time, for old time's sake. Speaking of which, a bunch of big amateur "rent-a-cop" security guards that don't know security from a hole in their ass, began to wave their hands stupidly. Apparently, it was a primitive way of telling the populace to get off of the street. I also noted that the populace must be just as troglodytic to understand the gesture. So I took to the curb and waited.
1630: Yay, parade time! The oversized gaudy floats made their way down at a pace of a snail in dire need of toilet. Genetically stupidified children gathered around me and began to rubbed their filth encrusted bodies all over me. Just before I broke into a psychotic episode of child homicide and mutilation, a bunch of hoots and hollers emanating from down the street revealed that Captain Jackass himself had finally arrived. Oh, I'd been waiting for this. I leaned over the makeshift railing to see CJ's Mode of Transportation. It was a blue convertible Vec, series 730. The sleek model and powerful motor and sporty engineering being horribly tainted by his presence. Oh, I hate him... on so many levels.
He finally came into view. What I really I mean is that I could finally see all 100 of his ugly exterior. He was clad in his para-military garb, a medal on his shirt and shit on his grin. Truly disgusting. But that wasn't all, he had all the rest of Star Cox with him. The greying wonder, the screeching tadpole, and the fuck-around falcon all standing with him, basking in the glory of over appreciative cock-mongers. The Falcon pointed out to the crowd and gave a grin that could only mean one thing, "I just guzzled some cock." For some stupid reason, this made the women scream. One even fainted and knocked me to the ground, landing on a crybaby brat beneath me. He writhed and screamed under my crushing weight. Oh, sweet bliss. Eventually a big burly feline shoved me off the little prick and tried to help him. The kid was still moving, damn.
I stood up and brushed myself off, only to find that the Vec had long since past.
1700: "Shit," I muttered under breath. I wanted him to scowl at him a little longer, perhaps even draw his attention, but NO I had to be knocked by some shallow vagina. Worked my way through the dispersing crowd and hit an alley way, trying to get out of there unnoticed.
It seemed the more I walked down there, the darker it got. Soon, only the light from a single moon lit the area. That's when I felt it, my tail's fur puffed out, tripling its diameter. That only meant one thing, something's defiantly not right and someone else is defiantly here. I looked up and only saw the silhouettes of railings and windows. I looked behind me and only saw the crowded street about a hundred feet behind me.
"What the hell!" I said out loud. As if to answer me, a sharp object pressed against my throat. this was not good, not good at all. I really did not want to die today. But, my thoughts were interrupted by the voice of my attacker.
"Your eye patch hugely inhibits your vision, it was pretty easy to work around." I knew this voice. Luckily for me, the owner of it wouldn't kill me. I hope.
"Piss off, Leon." I told the damn the chameleon. I heard a small chuckle and the knife ease off my throat. I rubbed it to make sure there were no marks from the jackass.
"No matter how many times I see it, your tail is fucking hilarious as hell when I see it like that." The cold blooded lizard said as he walked in front of me. Glancing over my shoulder, I saw my tail fluffed up to about the same size as Pigma's flabby gut. I attempted to smash it down to normal size with my hands, for the most part succeeding.
" How the hell did you find me? Scratch that, how the hell did you get here?" I asked, finding that more important than his sly remark.
"Long story. Just come along if you want to hear it. I also want to hear how a screw up like you managed get off that hell hole." He replied. I hardly liked his tone. Only I'm allowed to talk like that, but something else concerned me at the moment. I noticed Leon's body had changed color to fit his environment, as chameleon's do, but the problem was his whole body had..changed...color. Oh God!
I threw my hands in front of my face. "GOD DAMMIT LEON!"