Went So Wrong

            “Oh shit!” Clint exclaimed as he stood up and finished examining his briefcase bomb. “This is where I went wrong, you see that, Sean? I should have put this wire right here… and… wait, Sean, that’s a zero on the ti-“ and the bomb promptly blew the fuck up, eradicating Clint, Sean, their buddy Fae, and the park in which they were testing their little contraption.

            Meanwhile, in the underground Lair of Doom (a.k.a. Clint’s basement), Chris rubbed his hands with glee as he watched his idiot cohorts blow the fuck up. He had warned them that bad shit would happen to them if they continued to avoid paying their taxes, but did they listen? No, they didn’t. This is what they got. Chris would not settle for being caught by the Feds because his dumbass associates were being investigated for tax evasion. That’s what most of the good ones were caught for, though. He was better than that; he had planned too well for something as piddly as that to trip him up. I guess I get to keep the basement now, Chris thought to himself. To the victor go the spoils, right? 

            But what should he do now? He needed to recruit, and that was a delicate operation when looking for pissed off citizens willing to terrorize their localities to scare politicians straight. One couldn’t just go into the nearest trailer park anymore and get some help for an angry speech and a six-pack. It required more tact than that now. People would go around, calling him a terrorist if he wasn’t careful, and he didn’t need that kind of attention. He was a patriot, damn it! The American people were fraught with laziness and apathy while their politicians raped their rights. Something had to be done, and if he didn’t step up to the plate, who would? He wasn’t a lobbyist, so he didn’t have the politicians’ ears yet. He would fix that whole system, but now he needed new people. The crew he was familiar with had blown themselves up to bits in a park somewhere in Wisconsin. It would make the news tomorrow, but it was a sideways movement, rather than the forward march he wanted.

            He tapped a pen on Clint’s keyboard as he thought to himself. Craigslist? Facebook? Both of those could turn up good people, but they easily caught attention from the authorities. Should he go to the Tea Party? The conventions for that group were like a farm for discontented white people with money, exactly what he wanted. That’s the plan, then, he thought. Wait for a local convention, and set up shop there. For now, though, he needed to go back upstairs. Jerry Springer was on, and he didn’t want to miss that.

Sparky

            Sparky plodded around the family home, thinking to himself.  Everyone else was away doing whatever it was that occupied the rest of his or her day.  He wasn’t sure if he was happy or distressed that he was the only one left alone in the house.  He was the only one that didn’t walk around on his back legs, and it seemed like this building hadn’t been built with canine operations in mind.  No matter, though.  He couldn’t remember the last time their abode had been invaded.  He could have justified relaxing, if that wasn’t exactly what an enemy might have wanted.

            Still, as he looked through the skylight in the billiards room, he couldn’t help but feel a twinge of nostalgia for his old home, his friends, his old life.  The plushness of the oddly tasteful green carpet (and they thought he was color blind, pah) clashed sadly with the hollow, lonely feeling in his soul.  He flopped on his back, rubbing himself all over the carpet between one of the game tables and a bar stool, but that didn’t make him feel any better.

            How had it come to be that he had been marooned on this planet ruled by bipods?  There had been some sort of mix up in the commission report. He wasn’t trained for these observe-and-report type missions. He hadn’t even been given any equipment.  They just dropped him off on the corner of Vickers St and Oak Blvd, and took off, hoping for the best. But that had been years ago, and they had all been so young back then.  To think any of them actually had a good grip on the world was almost laughable.

            Still, all he had now was a faux family adopted under false pretenses.  They couldn’t know that he was not a native to their world. That would only complicate matters.  So, he sighed and licked his ass with quiet resolve.  He would keep up this lie as long as he had to, and never lose hope that his friends would come back for him.

Girl Disappointed

Oh, little girl on the curb,

I don’t mean to disturb

You, but I can’t help but

Wonder exactly what

Gave you that disturb

Ed visage. Absurd,

You say? Well, I

Don’t mean to pry,

But take a look

Away from your book

And at yourself and explain

What cause to complain

You might have. Surely,

A child like you, so purely

Consisting of innocence

Knows not of pestilence

Yet this look of yours

Persists, and encores

Yet again for your

Audience, poor

As they may be.

She turns to glare

At my inquisitive stare,

And I don’t dare

To misconstrue

The “Fuck you”

That shoots through

Her disappointed little face.

Zounds!

“Wee-oooo wee-oooo wee-oooo wee-”

            “SHUT THE FUCK UP!!! Seriously, why do you have to do the siren sound right now? What are we, children? No, we’re morticians, dumbass. Act like it.” Jerry screamed at his friend, Jordan, who was running in with a fresh new corpse while doing her infamous stupid-fucking-siren-thing. It was 3:00 in the morning, and Jerry was not in the mood for such antics. The time never seemed to matter, though. Jerry was rarely ever up for such antics. He wasn’t much fun, and Jordan made sure he knew that.

            “You aren’t much fun, you know? I’m just trying to lighten up the mood around here. It’s dark, it smells like formaldehyde (which sticks to me and is hell on my perfume when I try to go out afterwards, I’ll have you know), and we work with dead bodies all the time. There has to be something in here that isn’t gloomy, so why not have some fun? The corpses won’t tell on you, just relax a little. Wouldn’t kill you.” Jordan said with a subtle smirk.  She hoped he’d eventually learn to have some fun around the morgue, otherwise she’d just pester him and have fun by herself. It’s his blood pressure, fuck it, she thought to herself as she wheeled the new ‘guest’ into its appropriate spot.

            “My ass is on the line for this job. If I screw up, I’m gone! You’re in the same situation, I don’t understand how you can be so carefree about your future, or even your present situation. What are you doing with your life?” Jerry scorned Jordan as he prepped the new corpse for an autopsy. Truth be told, he had been bored out of his mind before she had run and grabbed this new body, but he’d be damned if he let her know that.