50wtkhb 31
a/n: Sorry if it's hard to follow, I've been known to finish sentences in the most unexpected.
"Hey Parker," Seeley Booth nudged his teenage son while he drove down his driveway. Booth pointed out the window to some college kids walking down the highway. "What're thooose?" Booth snickered at his joke.
Parker immediately killed himself.
"Aw man." Booth parked his car on a whale.
He walked into the Jeffersonian and was instantly hit with the smell of decaying hipster flesh.
"Expletive!" He shouted. "It smells like teen sadness in here. Bones, what the hell is all this?" Sealy Mattress gestured to the Great Wall of Torsos filling up one side of the Jeffersonian.
Booth stepped forward, only to hear a squish under his foot. He looked down to find he was stepping on a severed pirate. "Whaaaaatttt?"
"We've had a mass casualty involving the latest fashion trends." Brennan said, approaching Seeley Bar Stool.
"Is that what I saw on the way in here? Those kids were wearing ridiculous shoes-"
"Jyes. That's it."
"What is the name of this deplorable trend?"
Hodgins walked in like a zombie, but he was actually just a Cranberry. "Crocs." He said Sweedishly. "Patent pending"
"Crocs?"patent pending.
"Yes."
"What does that word mean?" Booth pondered his existence.
"It's short for crocodiles." Hodgins said. "Literally. People are wearing crocodiles on their feet."
Brennan spoke up. "It's led to mass loss of limbs, amputations, hospitalizations, casualties, a cosplay spin-off, a book series, a movie-based-on-the-book-much-to-the-upset-of-the-book's-cult-following, and Cholera. And it's only been around 2 days."
"This is not what Trump meant when he said to build a wall." Booth said, sizing up the Great Wall of Torsos.
"Sweetie," Angela said, "Trump didn't know what Trump meant when he said to build a wall."
"You don't owwnnn meee..." Fisher sasheyed through the bodies in full ballerina getup and exited stage left.
"Guys! Breaking news!" Sweets ran in, slipped on a spleen and fell down out of the shot. He popped back up.
"Weebles wobble" Hodgins said.
"But they don't fall down." Booth whispered after fighting it.
"What kind of breaking news?" Angela asked skeptically.
"The real kind." Sweets said, breathless. "Not the CNN kind."
"THIS IS NOT A DRILL!" BOOTH CRIED HOLDING UP A SCREWDRIVER.
"calm down." Sweets said. He pulled a piece of paper out of his pocket and straightened it out over the railing of the RMS Titanic.
"That's not a paper of breaking news!" Angela cried.
"Shit, you're right. This is just the shroud of turin." Sweets tossed the shroud over his shoulder and pulled out the real paper. He read off it: "At 4:03 pm on April 16th, 2017, The President of the United States was gifted a pair of Crocs - patent pending- by one Vladimir Poopin. The president trusted this gift wholeheartedly despite the wooden-crate danger-stamped gift wrap courtesy of JC Penny's."
"That's so specific" Angela whispered.
"just trying to fit in, The President suffered severe flesh wounds to the legs. In a press conference, Sean Spicer said it could've been much worse. The president could have lost his dick too, but says Melania, "you can't lose what you never had." Fortunately, doctors were able to reattach a spare foot they found lodged in the president's ass. A positive identification of the foot by Dr. Temperate Forest Brennan, determined the foot to belong to one Red Foreman. Now stop asking." Sweets finished. "That was the official release."
"Hey," Booth got an idea which is better than getting gonnorhea. "Where can I get a pair of those?" He looked into the camera and all the readers instantly knew what he was going to do with them.
"One step ahead of you." Angela said, pointing to the corner of the room where the top half of Hannah Burley was hanging from a hook while she bled out her severed bottom half.
"She's still alive, and it makes a great centerpiece." Hodgins said.
They all ate chicken wings and put scented crystal rocks under Hannah's dripping blood and enjoyed a candle lit dinner while she died slowly, occasionally cauterizing her to make her death slower. Run faster, jump higher. Fuh dah bitch and teach me how to dig-dug.
a/n Thanks for keeping up with my bullshit. I WILL get to 50.