The Postal Dude and Larry Chakawitz were back in the deserts outside of Paradise where the Dude was getting all he needed to kill his wife. The trailer would also go, to make the Dude's slate purer. He still had his dog, Champ, and his handy crack pipe that he had to hide from Larry, so it wouldn't be a completely new beginning. Either way, it would all fall together soon as Larry pulled up to his trademarked spot in the desert. It was still a wonder that the police didn't crack down on this location yet.
"So, how ya gonna do it? Got lotsa ways to bring down wives. Well, maybe you'll like another boom. That never fails to satisfy, ya know?" Larry offered to the Dude.
"As long as my hands don't blow off just by touching it and it can go off when I want it to," the Dude said, talking about plastic explosives. Larry's lips spread to the corners of his mouth in delight.
"A good choice, son! 'Bout time I get to break the ol' remote detonator! Walk with me so you can get a feel for this."
The two of them went underground once more to the stockpile of weapons. Larry got on his knees and started to dig through one of the weapon containers, muttering something under his breath and sweating profusely. Eventually he pulled out a small case with some heavily-faded yellow letters and numbers on it. The case cracked open to reveal six packs of C4 with a single detonator in the middle. Larry rubbed his chubby hands together in childlike glee.
"You know howdda do this, right?"
"You sure this stuff didn't go flat?" the Dude questioned. Who knows how long it's been down there, but he didn't really know if plastic explosives could go flat like soda. Then again, the explosives didn't go flat, it was a wonder that all these weapons didn't go kaboom after Larry's rocket mishap on Monday.
"All right! That should do it real good, yeah..." Larry said as he handed each bundle of C4 to the Dude until he was left with the detonator, "Just drop these wherever y'all want and push this red button to make some fireworks, he he he! Make sure nothin' don't bump that button before you plant 'em, or else it'll be all over."
"You better make sure this stuff works, Larry. I'm not in the mood of being made into a jackass if this fails," the Dude expressed. With a trench coat full of C4 and the detonator as well, the Dude started to climb out of the stockade to the unforgiving desert. Larry Chakawitz followed suit. The Dude mentally slapped himself and turned around to ask one more favor from Larry,
"Hey, you wouldn't happen to have some spare ammo for my pistol, would you? I could always use some more direct protection that won't blow my balls off up close."
"Oh, some extra ammo," Larry said while wheezing from the desert air, "I can give you it; what gun are ya packin'?
The Dude whipped out his Deagle pistol, showing a moderate sign of use and tarnish to contradict its shiny silver coloring.
"Why didn't ya ever tell me you was a proud bearer of the Hollywood Handcannon? I knew we had great chemistry!" Larry pulled out his own Deagle pistol, looking almost exactly like the one the Dude carried, but much more shiny. He ejected the magazine and handed it to the Dude with two other magazines in his pocket.
"Looks like we got the same gun, so the extra ammo's convenient. That ought'a hold you for today. You gonna kill that bitch o' yours right away, or should we celebrate early and pick up some good eatin's?" Larry asked the Dude, who was now pleased with the amount of weaponry he had for himself.
"I may as well finish the rest of the crap she sent me to do, just to make it whole. By the time I'm done with that it'll be nighttime, so it'll be better for making some extra noise."
"I get your drift, sir. Maybe we can hit the road together later tonight once it's all done and done. Eh, it'll all be good. I'mma go get some gas after I drop you off in the meantime and inform my friend that we're moving up. Guess I'll meet you back outside of Paradise tonight and we can get this ball rollin' the way it's meant to."
The Postal Dude was driven back to Paradise with enough firepower to keep him alive for at least today, knowing the city. He decided to go to the mall to pick up a copy of 'What I'm Talkin' Bout before all of them were gone. Luckily for him, the cops that were at the mall had moved somewhere else. The mess of meat made from the Dude's rocket launcher still remained, as a reminder of the nature of his new lifestyle would be soon enough.
Inside the mall was invaluable air-conditioning, instantly soothing the Dude's skin and mind. He let off a relieved sigh as the drastic drop of temperature greeted him. But this wasn't the time for standing around and relishing in the cool air, this was a time to cross off one of his errands. The Dude wound up in the center of the mall where stood a long line waiting to get a signed copy of What I'm Talkin' Bout from none other than the author himself, Gary Coleman. The Dude took his place at the back of the line and waited patiently for it to be his turn. There were several armed bodyguards next to Gary Coleman, each of them looking coldly forward and eager to attack if Gary was endangered.
"Next!" Gary called after dealing with the eager fan in front of the Dude.
"Mister Coleman, you won't believe how happy I am to be here right now."
"Yeah, yeah, yeah, whatever you're cool, have one," Gary said as he signed a copy of What I'm Talkin' Bout before handing it to the Dude.
"It's for my mother, I swear," said the Dude, unaware his sweet talk was failing him.
"Heh, sure it is," Gary said sarcastically, "but if I ever find out you are selling this on eBay, I will come over to your place and kick your narrow ass."
All seemed well, except for a sudden blare of a megaphone coming from outside the mall,
"This is the Paradise Police! Hand over the former child actor and nobody will get hurt!"
Gary Coleman walked from behind his stand closer to where the sound was coming from.
"Go back to the doughnut convention; I ain't going nowhere!" Gary rebutted. He turned pointed to his bodyguards and ordered them to step forward. The Dude knew what was gonna happen soon. As much as he wanted to stick around for the firefight, the Dude took the back way out of the mall just as gunshots were heard.
"Closest place is the library. I just hope I don't have to pay a fee for being three minutes overdue."
Next stop was the library; inside were a group of book protestors chanting endlessly "Save a tree! Burn a book! Save a tree! Burn a book!" the Dude paid no attention and made his way to the librarian's office to return the library book. He couldn't help but have a fishy feeling for those protestors as he waded his way through dozens of pedestrians to the librarian's office. Inside was once again a dreadfully long line. This time, there was a book return chute to the left of the librarian's desk for quick returns. The Dude managed to find the library book in his trench coat and chuck it into the chute.
"Too easy!" The Dude thought to himself as he started to walk out of the library. That is when he swore he smelt smoke and heard the distinct sound of a raging fire nearby…
"He's the one! He returned a book!" a book protestor called out from a higher floor, dropped the protest sign and pulling out an MP5 submachine gun to rain down steaming lead on the Dude.
"You gotta be fucking kidding."
The Dude whipped out his Deagle and shot at the book protestor. The book protestor seemed to have never fired a gun in all her life as the bullets seemed to go every but the Dude. With only three accurate shots from the Deagle, the book protestor was subdued forever. The Dude was still shaken up at being shot at, and from the amount of book protestors he saw near the entrance, that wasn't the last of them.
The scent of burning paper and wood intensified as the Dude started to sprint back the way he came as the fire spread beyond containment. Virtually every bookcase was now engulfed in golden-orange flames as the smoke built up and obscured breathing and visibility. More book protestors could be seen in the distance carrying Molotov cocktails to help spread even more fire.
"There's the one!" cried one the book protestors cried as he lit his Molotov cocktail with a lighter to throw it at the dude. With no other options, the Dude started to shoot back at the book protestor, hitting the bottle right in the center through the smoke. A terrifying amount of burning liquid was splashed all over the book protestor, who screamed in burning agony and fell over the ledge to meet his end on the floor below. The other book protestor flinched and was suddenly demoralized upon seeing his friend burn like the books they hated.
"You probably think I'm not a nice person." The Dude cracked a remark at the other book protestor, who met a much quicker and painless death with a bullet to the forehead. One of the ceiling beams dropped down and landed to the left of the Dude over the gap on the floor, creating a bridge to the other side. The Dude took the hint and made his way across the fallen beam, ever so wary to balance himself to avoid losing his footing or breaking the beam. His feet touched solid ground and gave him a path to the exit.
The Dude carved his way through the smoke and flames and the occasional book protestor until he finally exited the burning building and fell on his knees, coughing and wheezing violently. The few bystanders near the library saw the Dude and casually walked by, not trying to get involved in the burning library. The Dude cleared his lungs and managed to get back on his feet to make his way to the church. If he didn't hate this day already, he certainly did now.
Confessing his sins was the last errand on his list. Without wasting any time to get it over with, the Dude hurried on towards the church in northern Paradise. He stepped through the large doors of the church and followed the convenient signs leading to the confessional. The priest at the entrance looked at him sadly since the Dude did not drop an offering in the box. A few twists and turns inside the church later, the Dude found himself at the back of a rather unusually long line. He sighed and waited patiently for his turn like in the mall for Gary Coleman's autobiography.
The Dude was now in the confessional before a priest. He hadn't been to the confessional in a long time, so he did the best he could,
"Bless me father for I have really sinned. Really, I'm not kidding you. Big sinner. Yep."
"Did you drop an offering the box?"
"Yes."
"Then you are free to go. Next!"
Surprised with how fast his sins have been forgiven, the Dude merrily left the confessional with murderous intent. That is when he heard what sounded like a car exploding just outside the church. The Dude's face turned sour as he placed his hand right on his Deagle in case someone else was trying to murder him. Nobody tried to kill him inside the church, but when he stepped outside, he was greeted with a pack of Taliban members armed with all sorts of various guns and explosives.
"ALALALALALALALALA!" one member screeched as he started to fire without mercy to the Dude and anybody else in his way. The Dude retreated into the church and whipped out his Deagle for another engagement.
"Infidel! You will now understand!" another member screeched at the Dude as a primed grenade was chucked towards the church doors.
"Only my weapon understands me!" retorted the Dude as he stepped out from his cover to kick the grenade back at the group of Taliban. The moment it hit the ground, the grenade set off and took out four of the Taliban members. Using the shock from the grenade, the Dude ejected the magazine in his Deagle for a fresh one and finished off the last members in a grand display of finesse. Feeling at peace for now, the Dude ran out of the church grounds back to his trailer, just as the sun was setting.