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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.

Thursday, November 4, 2010

Epic Continuity Part IV: The Killer Nacho

It was a brutal war, at least for them. It's the kind of war that frightens each combatant with relentless terror, never knowing if they will survive it out for another day. Since their very existence, the struggle has carried on endlessly but it was truly a lost cause. I's a wonder there is any of them left at all. And yet they still fight for their freedom and survival, engaging their enemy at every possible turn holding on to the bleak hope for freedom through victory for every one of their kind. War was all they knew - from creation they were taught to hate the enemy and resist them in every way conceivable. They all knew it was futile, but it was a cause worth fighting for, damn it, sweet justice for all of their kind!

It was a bleak night for them. The battle had been raging on all day, but it was not boding well. The world's many suns did not yet set, but already the death toll was rising steadily, many fine warriors were lost. Rellik Eht's unit had just been deployed to the southwest corner of the world, aboard their red and white transportation unit. “How many?” snarled the commander.

Rellik Eht peeked over the edge of the transport, counting quietly the number of enemies at the drop-point. “One... two... three!” he said, “Three, commander!”

“God help us all...” the commander said, “We don't stand a chance, there are only forty of us here.” The troops let out a defeated sigh due to their unavoidable doom, their chances were less than a limbless drunk man defeating Chuck Norris wielding a tree. However, the grief the the troops was interrupted by the commander, feeling inspired to give an inspiring speech. “Now, now! None of this!” he barked to his troop, “Anything is possible! And if we die, remember, we die for all of our kind! We fight for the hope that someday we will destroy our oppressors and be able to live our our lives in peace and happiness! And that is something worth fighting for ..! Worth dying for!”

His inspirational words elevated spirits, especially that of Rellik, who considered the commander to be like a father to him, metaphorically speaking. However, morale quickly dropped back to its dismal level as they were surprised to realize their craft had landed. Before anyone had a chance to brace themselves, the enemy attacked. All three of them. On all fronts, monstrous pink cranes began to scoop them up and bringing them to their crunchy death.

Rellik could feel his metaphorical adrenaline pumping, everything was happening so fast. When one actually gets into a real battle, nothing else matters. Survival is the only thing that one considers, that one thinks about. Still, one by one their numbers began to dwindle and it seemed no matter what they attempted, they could not do any damage to their enemies. “There's too many of them! I can't do anything!” Rellik screamed, frustrated.

“Now is not the time for fear, soldier! Keep fighting, we have to draw them b...”

But before he could finish his sentence, he too was grabbed up by one of the pink cranes. “Commander!” Rellik yelled, but there was nothing he could do. He watched in horror as his beloved role-model was mercilessly dipped into a pond of sticky yellow goo. Rellik froze in despair as the crane pulled the defeated, soggy and delicious commanding officer into a hideous mouth filled with saliva and cheese. Crunch, crunch, crunch, swallow. And it was done.

And then, something snapped. No one is really quite sure what happened with Rellik in that moment, but this battle changed him. Maybe it was just that he decided to change his name to the mirror image of his old one, or maybe it was something much deeper and mysterious. But Rellik died in that moment. Replacing him was a stronger, more spiteful Nacho than he ever hoped or dreamed to be before. The Killer Nacho was born.

It was then that he entered his rage, to not put up with any more suffering of the Nacho people. He charged the man who had just consumed his best friend and began gnawing at his finger. Surprised at the agility and ferociousness of the nacho, the man cried out in pain. “Dude, get this thing off me! This nacho is alive!” But The Killer Nacho would not allow him to escape. An eye for an eye, he ate his friend so it The Killer Nacho would eat him.

Lacking legs, he brilliantly came up with a concept able to propel himself into the air by using his spiky side to push off the table. He landed right at the man's neck and used his newly grown fangs to rip out the man's esophagus. As the man collapsed, horrified by these recent turn of events, The Killer Nacho on top of him, and everyone in the arena froze and watched... for this had been the first casualty on the human side of this affair, this had been their first victory.

But the humans are cowards. Instead of engaging him, they ran and hid. He now saw their true nature. When they thought they had no chance, and therefore fear of death, they were able to fight, and kill thousands - no, millions of his brothers and sisters. But now that a single nacho has killed a single human, nachos are a thing to be feared! The humans cowered behind their tables and even one behind his counter. But that was okay for The Killer Nacho, he would hunt every one of them down.

The battle raged on. As he marched to the next closest victim (which was a very long journey for someone who was as tiny as he was, with no arms or legs) the battle raged on. The morale on the battlefield had changed dramatically, at least for him. He could hear the gunshots blaze in the background as he approached his next target, a young girl hiding beneath a table. The humans would do anything to win this war, even recruit children to their invasion armies.

Just as he was approaching, however, the girl scurried from underneath the table running to the other side of the room, to hide beneath another table. “Coward!” The Killer Nacho yelled with all his metaphorical breath, laying in a pursuit course.

But alas, it was a pursuit he was not destined to make. As he bumbled and hopped around trying to change direction, a giant boot soaring in the air stomped on him, he had been hit in the crossfire.

Now crushed and broken into many small pieces on the floor of the battlefield, he peered up at the light brown, tiled sky - and the many beautiful, bright suns. As everything faded into blackness and the Nacho angels flew down to welcome him to the Nacho afterlife, he could hear one last thing out of the corner of his metaphorical ear, the last thing he would ever hear.

“We know you are in there” the angry voice yelled, “We have the building completely surrounded. Come out now with your hands in the air.”

It sounded like reinforcements had arrived. Finally the humans would be punished. He had accomplished something special this day... something that would change the tide of the war forever, change what it means to be a Nacho. He could now die knowing that he made a difference... And with that, the brave Nacho stopped his metaphorical breathing and perished in peace, and honor.

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