What are you doing?
Telling my story.
To whom?
Whomever is smart enough to listen.
Why?
Seriously? They need to be warned. They better get ready for some alien, zombie, super pussy apocalypse shit that's gonna go down if we fail.
I think you're being a little melodramatic.
Listen, Caesar ain't got shit on me.
Planet of the Apes Caesar?
Planet of the Pussy.
You're more like Koba.
No, Ghasm is Koba.
Well, then Plato is Caesar.
Well, then I'm f***in' Brutus. And hey.
Yeah?
Can you please shut your f***in mind so I can continue my story?
Sorry.
You're my bitch.
Did you at least tell them it wasn't my fault? I mean...you made me have to keep doing it.
I just go to that part. I'll let you listen if you can shut your frontal lobe.
Yes sir.
Better be sir.
Sorry about that. His malignant guilt will, I fear, be the undoing of us all. God, I wish I was like before in that respect. It's a f***in' hoot to live your life without guilt. Now that same shit is starting to get to me...just a little.
Where was I? Oh yeah, pitter, patter, critter, splatter! That car messed me up, and didn't even f***ing stop. My mangled body bubbled from the cold pavement. I could feel my life drain from me as I drifted in and out of consciousness. Take that, master. Ow.
My recollection of the next few hours is that of a waking night terror; flashes of perception detonating amidst an ocean of dark pain. I could feel my master throw his sweatshirt over me, scoop me off the road, and carry me straight to his car.
"Oh, no. Oh, Jesus." He kept repeating as he cried. "Please don't die. Please don't leave me." But that was entirely up to him.
That particular car ride wasn't so bad as I recall. Maybe because I was a bloody heap in the back seat and I knew what was about to happen would...could fix everything. Of course I didn't know where we were going, but I knew it was where he had been going. I knew whatever he did there, he'd do to me, but this time, I'd make sure it worked.
On the way over, I could hear my master get on the phone. I don't remember everything he said, but it sounded like he was calling for someone to meet him...wherever.
"I need you. I'm ready to show you what I've been doing. I'm ready to show you everything."
About that time, I could feel myself going into shock. My body was conserving resources, diverting all life essence to the brain. I was cold. I was trembling. I was really f***ing thirsty. My mortality so pronounced, I finally actually thought, Are you sure this is a good idea? Thanks, instinct.
The car stopped. The surroundings were dark, not the slightest trace of urban light pollution. My master cradled me out of the back seat, held me gently in one arm, and walked to an abandoned medical supply warehouse. Ironically, he had card key access. Wait a minute, aren't you a backup teachy thingy guy? A definitely shouldn't be allowed access to a place like this guy?
He strapped a hiking headlamp around his noggin, turned it on, and shuttled me down a long, narrow portal. He then used his card to pop open an unassuming door at the end of the hall and slipped us through. I began making out images in the dark, but the dim, windowless room still commandeered most detail. I could see the outlines of a small operating table, an apparatus stand, and lot and lots of tubing, enough for a thousand catheters.
It wasn't until the master flipped on the lights that my optimism shattered. I finally saw what he'd been up to and it made me a little sick. Check that, it made me a lot sick, right all over my master's arm and cheap shoes. Blood...everywhere. Orange buckets filled with...remnants. A huge chest freezer with crimson plastic peeking from its icy seal. What the f*** have you been doing? Why? What the hell have I done? Can I go home now?
How he was granted access to this makeshift, but well appointed, laboratory is another story entirely, but I think you'll be able to put it together, being the brilliant Homo sapiens that you are. ....kill you all.
My surgeon placed me on the cold, steel operating table. He then pulled a small vial from one of the cabinets and squeezed a couple drops of happy juice into my mouth. I think it was the first time since my unfortunate jaywalking incident he looked me in the eyes. He was in as much pain as I, only his was the pain of regret, and sorrow, and a thousand bad decision compounded by a thousand more. He was never gonna dig out of this hole without my help.
His look turned momentarily quizzical. He reached towards my face with his forefinger and thumb plier-like. I felt a gentle tug on my lower lip, but it wasn't my lower lip he was pinching. Something else was lodged down there. I could feel him slide it through my pierced skin. Hey, I may have been able to see my own back for a minute, but I'll never be able to see my own lip, unless my eyeballs squirt out of my head, and let's hope that never happens.
He finally dislodged the foreign object and held it in front of my eyes. Is that my f***ing fang? I tongued around the inside of my mouth to make sure. Yep, a big, bloody gap in my gums. That was my f***ing fang he just pulled from my lower lip. I'm gonna need that back...eventually.
The happy juice was taking quick effect. The master put me in traction on my back and fed a line of dialysis tubing directly into an open wound in my armpit. For all his presumed practice in this matter, he wasn't a very good surgeon. Blood sprayed everywhere. I was too doped up to really care, just as long as most of the transfusion found its way into my veins, I was...happy? Never mind contamination. Remember what I told you about my immune system? Comes in really handy during back alley amputations. Still, he was gonna need help. He better have called for help. Oh, please God, somebody help him.
Just then, I heard the card reader signal entry. I still had enough consciousness to flop my head to the side. The door flew open. Out of the hallway darkness, a backpack slid across the floor and came to rest at my master's feet. Then a burly, wraith-like form stepped into the rendering plant of a room. Dressed in all black, including a long, sleeveless lab coat, the man stood like an anti-savior. A wide, drug influenced smile burst forth from under tinted lab goggles...and Mohawk.
"Suup."
F***in Xeno.
Alright, suck it, I'm priming a book.
Smoaggabole?
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