Welcome to the Cheesiest Blog on the Web

Welcome to the blog of The Killer Nacho, known to most mortals as Timothy J. Sharpe, a Computer Science graduate of Messiah College and currently a Systems Analyst for Sunoco Logistics. Within this tome of pages, one will find my innermost thoughts about various things concerning things that I enjoy. These subjects include, but are not limited to, roleplaying, gaming, American Football (the NFL), things to do with computers, philosophy, movies that are awesome, TV shows that are awesome, my own writings and creative works, and dangerous Mexican snacks.

Monday, October 4, 2010

Epic Continuity Part I: Crazed-Badger Pete

The blazing sound of gunshots engulfed the empty corridors of the local Applebee's bar and grill. It was the one located off of Route 66-W, right across the street from the old 7-11 with the one-handed gasoline attendant. The frightened peons within the hallowed building were cowering in fear under the booths, bar-stools, and chairs, all providing little to no cover or peace of mind. But like a mindless flock they hid anyway, not knowing what else to do. They had never witnessed such terror in their entire meaningless existences, the kind of terror that was commonplace only a few centuries before.

Crazed-Badger Pete smirked as he heard the gunshots firing in his direction cease. He knew this meant that the two blue-shirt men had completely wasted their clips firing at the dirt mound that he improvised as cover. While those advanced majestic weapons were powerful, they were no substitute for actual skill. Hastily he drew his antique weapon, an 6-round revolver he called Virginia, and opened fire. Two shots, that's all he required. Even with the inaccuracies associated with a propulsion firearm of his day, the bullets traveled perfectly, without flaw, towards their target's chest. The blue-dressed men were wearing bullet-proof vests, but the sheer momentum of the bullets and shock of the man's accuracy bulldozed them backwards, causing them to tumble helplessly, their bodies slamming to the ground with a decisive thud. Like a crazed badger, shifty and chaotic, Pete approached his prey, drawing Rape, a single minuscule 3 inch knife from his boot. The blue-dressed men could not even blink before their necks were slit open in several directions.

“And that is what happens when you mess with Crazed-Badger Pete, sheriff” he chuckled as he tightly re-fashioned Virginia to his belt, and Rape in his boot. Casually, he marched back into the bar.

“BARKEEP!” he screamed, noticing there was no longer a man behind the counter. The beady-eyed, terrified bartender slowly peeked his eyes above the counter. Pete's red blood-shot eyes stared into his soul like a million pastors would stare at a man burning two thousand bibles tied to the virgin Mary. Pete's smile opened wide, revealing the small amount of teeth he had left, all sharpened while looking like they were corroded by fluoroantimonic acid. “My money, barkeep,” he reminded him.

“Yes, yes, it's right here!” he squeemed, handing him the ridiculously colossal bag full of cash, gold, and gems. Pete snatched the bag forcefully and hung it over his shoulder. This was his pride, his legacy, his Joy, the valuables from almost every bank, museum, temple, jeweler, church, elderly household, and hospital in the county. It had only been a mere 24 hours since that fateful moment that he came into contact with the strange ruby that melted the world around him into this twisted reality. And ever since arriving in this bizarre and comical world of metal and brick he knew that it was all his to rape and pillage. No matter how hard the foolish men in blue would endeavor to capture him, he would never be caught. He would always be free.

But for now, he could feel the prolonged hours of sleeplessness catching up to him. He glanced around, quickly identifying the nearest table and advanced upon it slowly, giving a chance to the whimpering civilians hiding underneath to retreat from it and hide themselves elsewhere. As they scattered to find new shelter, Pete violently ripped the chair from its resting place, relaxing upon it. He slammed his Joy on the chair adjacent to his and quickly devoured the small bits and pieces of food that foolishly laid before him. After consuming every crumb, he pushed the plates on the floor. The shattering sound of breaking glass was all that could be heard in the silent Applebee's.

“Beer, barkeep, Now.” he demanded, tilting back in his chair while shamelessly lifting dirty, bloody cowboy boots onto the table. The bartender was powerless to resist him, he was a slave of his own relentless undying fear. Quickly and carefully, he poured a glass from the finest beer he could find and walked it over. Pete grabbed it from the bartender's hands and began gulping it down. The bartender's small beady eyes grew as wide as the moon while witnessing the rather large glass's contents vanish within only a few seconds. He then withdrew a cigar from his front ammo pouch, the only one that remained. Just as he was finally getting comfortable and was a moment away from lighting his cigar with Virginia, a booming obnoxiously loud sound bellowed from outside the bar.

“WE KNOW YOU ARE IN THERE” the annoyingly loud voice boomed, “WE HAVE THE BUILDING COMPLETELY SURROUNDED. COME OUT NOW WITH YOUR HANDS IN THE AIR.”

Pete contemplated his situation for a moment, casually looking over to the far corner of the establishment, where a puny, terrorized girl was using her puny muscles to cling to a support of a table, trying her hardest, with much failure, to turn invisible. Her eyes were frozen in his direction, filled with pure uncanny fear. He could not stop his face from forming a sharp smirk, then giving into the irresistible urge to laugh maniacally. How foolish are these blue-shirts, he thought to himself, were they trying to make this ludicrously easy on him? With a building full of hostages, did they really think they had limited his options by surrounding the well-fortified building? They had obviously never heard of the infamous (and famous) Crazed-Badger Pete, the wildest, craziest, most ridiculous, least mentally stable half-clown gun-slinging maniac, thief and murderer with the sharpest teeth in the Wild West. It was as if he had never existed...

No comments:

Post a Comment