May
23rd, 2555.
11:24
PM
"ZzzzZzzzzZzzzz"
"Magnet?"
"Zzzz...wha?"
"Aren't we going to save Pansy?"
"Yeah, tommorow. Sleepy time. Bears...Mario...tired...ZZZzzzzzzZZzzzz"
"Ah, hell."
"The commander dozed off, didn't he?"
"Shouldn't you be asleep?"
"I shall never close my eyes on a mission, for I am..."
"Aw hell, here we go again."
"THE SNIPER! My target never escapes my sight as an unforseen force guides me. I can go without sleep, food, or taking a dump for weeks on end. I am the perfect stealth killing machine. I F'ing own."
"Yeah, while your on your little ego trip, you might want to notice the giant red behind you, licking his lips."
"What are you-OH MY GOD! AHHHMMMMAAARRMMMFFFfffff..."
"Dumbass."
"Hey, what happened to the red commander?"
"He's still doing unspeakable things to the carcass."
It was dank in Grug's stomach. Very dank. So dank that if the author knew a better word for dank, he'd use that one instead.
"Hey
John, how are we here?" inquired hippie, still blaring his
Woodstock jams.
"We
were eaten, dumbass." snapped John.
"No, how are we here, alive, and not getting digested by stomach acids?"
"I don't know..." replied John.
"Hyello." said another voice.
"Who the hell was that?" said R2-D2, shaking like a Chihuahua on crack.
"Me."
said the voice, and the owner of the voice stepped into the light.
"I'm
the sniper for the blues, Earl...damnit, what number was I?... To
hell with it. My real name's Mary."
The reds looked at each other, and started laughing very hard. When they had finished their little giggles, John said, "Mary. What a loser. Was your mother drunk?"
"No, my father was." said Mary.
"So, how are we getting out of here?" asked R2-D2.
"I don't mind staying in here. Getting digested sounds pretty erotic." said Mary, smiling.
John simply pointed a finger at Mary and said very coldy, "You're no longer allowed to talk anymore."