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Truth In Lies 4: Between these walls, Inside the lies


Truth In Lies 4: Between these walls, Inside the lies
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Rules: There are none really, just keep it as it has been before. Although I ask whenever you introduce each other prisoner, you tell of there crime to make things a little interesting in TIL4.


The first post will come in a matter of days. emoticon
[b/]

---
"We're the middle children of history, man. No purpose or place. We have no Great War. No Great Depression. Our Great War's a spiritual war... our Great Depression is our lives." - Tyler Durden, Fight Club
8/11/2006, 4:04 am Link to this post Send Email to knights   Send PM to knights
 
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Re: Truth In Lies 4: Between these walls, Inside the lies


Part 1 of 2
“Shut Down!” Screamed a Correctional Officer (CO). Then the lights went out and our cell doors bolted simultaneously. I drifted to sleep for a second but then awoke for thoughts on what had happened and why I was here in the place we called ‘Zog’.

Derek wasn’t with me and I felt so alone. A warden known to us as ‘shylock’ had separated us on the first day and placed us both with two other criminals; three to a cell. I was okay; the guys in my cell were good people, although slightly unbalanced. One was Eli Poloski, who had the face of a child but wasn’t all that innocent. He’d killed his family with a meat cleaver at some Baptist church. In the middle of his christening as a ‘born again’ Christian he jumped out of the pool in front the alter, pulled out a meat cleaver hidden in his clothing and struck the priest. His family were hysterical, and so was he. To stop then from crying he murdered each of them one by one. The other guy in my cell is a member of ‘The Gays’, a prison clique here in Zog. He was Suze, a man imprisoned for viciously assaulting numerous homosexual men. First he would pleasure them and then at the climax he’d bite the tips of their penis off. “Meat and cream,” he told me, “best feast you could ever have.” I kept my back to the wall when he was around. Despite this he recognized I would be a “major player” in Zog and remained cool in my books. He said I should start my own group and call ourselves (me and Derek) ‘The New Age Outlaws. He told me, the name was once used by a wrestling duo in late 90’s WWF action. “They were one of the best tag-tag teams around in that era; no-one could ever beat them. They used all manner of techniques to pin an opponent from mystical crystals to scented sticks.” He said aloud just as I arrived in ‘September Suite’.
I saw no comparison with this hellish and moronic wrestling duo because myself and Derek weren’t New Age, and were certainly not Outlaws. However, the name stuck.
One thing was for sure, Me and Derek need to get out before we become the victims of one of these prison cliques which made prison, especially Zog, a very dangerous place. First thing we need to do is make sure all charges our dropped, the charges which meant we could well be spending upwards of 3 years in Zog, as well as being extradited to the UK to face the courts in regards of the conspiracy involving us and this fellow, Jean-Paul Henge. He’d blamed us for his attack on Blair and told the police in the UK that we put him up to it. This wasn’t true. What was true in some regard is our involvement in the attack on Oliver Stone. Well, I say attack but me and Derek didn’t do anything. Dr Bloodsteve battered Oliver Stone to a pulp and then blamed us for the crime. He fled the country to film another movie (Shildler’s List 2) and we stood up in court and pleaded guilty to assault with a deadly weapon (A stair banister). We didn’t touch Mr. Stone but the judge had something against us from the beginning. In his closing statement, he told us “You’re two conmen who both went to the home of Oliver Stone and conspired to kill him. Although he did not die and you say the attack was carried out by your friend, a German gentlemen named Uwe Boll, you stood by and did nothing. I believe, however, you, David Pike and Derek Okra perpetrated this sickening crime. I sentence both of you to 3 Years in the Zogby Maximum Security Penitentiary, New York. To me you are fools. It is with hope that you learn from was the horror that awaits you at Zogby, America’s most dangerous prison for fiends such as you, David Pike, and you, Derek Okra.”
Horror, indeed.
Derek, although I could see him as I think these thoughts looks lost. He wasn’t so lucky. The warden moved him into a cell with two men named Tom Hanks and a fellow called James Jowell, both of the Aryan Brotherhood, a neo-nazi group of white supremacists from the Southern States.

As I went one way, he went another. He got caught out though. At first, he been in a cell with two other men, who’d abused him over the course of the first day in Zog. Desperate as he was, Derek fell into the clutches of the Nazi’s who’d come across as nice at first, saying they’d protect him from his cell mates. This was just an act. Once, removed from his original cell to that of the two Aryans, their true colours shun through, as they made him up as woman and then later that night forced him into ‘acts between men’. I saw all and was worried for my friend, the foolish man who believed he could talk to the dead. As I walked past him today he did glance back at me, but to avoid the same fate as him I just kept on walking, as far as I could, away, far away from the Nazi’s. The Nazi’s ran the prison, the drug trade, pornography, everything. I had to do my best on those first two days to not cross paths with these brutes. However, in Zog, that’s quite impossible. Every other cell houses a Nazi. Derek was now known as Barbara, and if I wasn’t too careful I’d be known as Davina or Audrey sooner or later. That frightens me most. The days in here are long, every other of person you pass is a member of some clique, whether Nazi, spic, homeboys, or even psychopaths. The others, that’s me, that’s my clique at the moment- The nobodies, the ones who don’t belong and won’t survive. This is how I feel, like the end is nigh. Although, hope will pull me through.
The unit we’re in is called September Suite. Compared to the other prison units we probably have it easy as this place was very special. The work of a liberal called Tony Lindt, it was designed unlike any other unit. For example, there were no bars. Instead of bars we have transparent cells covered with some kind of unbreakable glass. It meant freedom apparently, but you couldn’t go for a !@#$ in your cell without one of the gays peeping in. All the cells are like this in September Suite; one toilet, a mirror and sink with toiletries, a bunk-bed and a single. That was it really, but for most of time we had we were allowed to freely move around our unit, or sit and play card games, watch Television or go to the library near-by. It is our home from home, but we still want out. Everyone wants out though, this is the problem. Luckily I have help on the outside. My minions would begin tonight, operation ‘Freedom, Freedom, Freedom and more Freedom, Freedom, Freedom’. It won’t be your traditional prison break or anything like that, but blackmail of the worst kind. Except our demands and you’ll get ‘it’ back.
A break from my thoughts, I’m interrupted by Suze, who looks angry. Was he about to approach and molest me? I didn’t know.
“Hey Dave,” He whispered as he lifts himself up from the single bed, frowning. “..Dave, I have this. Tom Hanks asked me to give it to you.”
He passed me a slip of paper, I held it up in the little bit of light available in such darkness. ‘Invitation’ it read, ‘See David Pike’ in a lecture ‘and how he’ll bring about a forth Reich’. My jaw dropped. I sat and gawped at the picture of the Derek, as ‘Barbara’ and the picture of me in the corner with a swastika on my hand. I really don’t want to do this I’m thinking to myself, but it all seems set. They didn’t even tell me I was going to do a lecture.
‘Survival,’ that word that had been repeated to me and Derek on the first day. One man said, “You may have to do many things which you don’t like to do in Zog, but you MUST to survive.” So to I HAD to.
“Thanks, Suze. I guess I’ll have to survive this one.”
“Use it to your advantage,” he replies.
“How?”
“Go along with it, it’s best to have allies in Zog. If you don’t, you’re a dead man. Plus you can save your friend, Derek. Just do it and use it to your advantage”
“Okay, Suze” I tell him quietly as he pulls back his covers for sleep.
I do the same, pulling the covers of over my head, hoping to drift off soon.
“Goodnight” I mumble to my cellmates.
“Goodnight, girlfriend” Suze says camply.
“Night-night” Eli whispers.
SLEEP
--
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Last edited by knights, 10/2/2006, 8:55 pm


---
"We're the middle children of history, man. No purpose or place. We have no Great War. No Great Depression. Our Great War's a spiritual war... our Great Depression is our lives." - Tyler Durden, Fight Club
9/27/2006, 9:20 pm Link to this post Send Email to knights   Send PM to knights
 
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Re: Truth In Lies 4: Between these walls, Inside the lies


Part 2 of 2
In a break room for the CO’s, two males CO’s sit relaxing, sipping coffee from plastic cups and smoking cigarettes, feet up, around a table. The TV is on, Fox News Channel blares out.
“Christ! More cumstains for Zog tonight I bet” The large black CO tells the puny white CO.
“Oh yeah, they’ll be more. This is a high security prison. We only get the scumf11cks you see on the news here, dude.”
“I bet yah that tonight, they’ll be a few on the news who’ll be coming here chap. 50 bucks!”
“Bet on, dude. 50 bucks it is.”
“50 bucks you lose asshole!”
They both slump back in their chairs as the news plays out.

“This is breaking news” the TV sounds out.
“Ha, I win!” yells the betting CO to the other.
“Maybe, just wait and see”

“Yes. This is breaking news. Well, this double breaking news” Tells the talking head from the Fox news studio, a heavily made-up, model-like beauty. “Two stories, tonight. Both are shocking, absolutely shocking. One from here in America and the other from England where a heinous crime has taken place. The first involves Mel Gibson and his friend Michael Morris in Malibu. This evening it has emerged both men went on what has been called a ‘Jew-Bashing’ marathon. It’s alleged that Mel Gibson, the actor and Hollywood superstar and his friend Michael Morris, a grandson of a KKK leader and hard-of-hearing gun fanatic went around Malibu this evening, beating up several members of the Jewish community and burned two synagogues to cinder, leaving many, many dead. Both were arrested after be tailed to a Roman Catholic chapel on the Mel Gibson estate by both police and members of the Jewish community. The escapade started after the two, freshly drunk from an all-night drinking session jumped into Mel Gibson’s sports car and drove about yelling from a bullhorn speaker, telling residents of Malibu about a conspiracy involving the Jewish community in Malibu. “The Jews of Malibu are plotting a grand conspiracy against us white folks” yelled Morris, of South Carolina. “The Jews are using chemtrails from jumbo jets in the sky poison us all…the white folk. The chemtrails don’t harm the Jews, as they are immune-but us, no! We are at threat people of Malibu, from an enemy which constantly yells the words ‘anti-semite’. We must stand up! We must fight the Jewish threat and cull them into oblivion!” It emerged that sometime later, members of the Malibu Jewish community confronted the two, who had parked outside the Westside synagogue in Park Square, Malibu. After the two groups exchanged words, a scuffle occurred, with one witness telling us that Michael Morris, knifed a one Jewish man in the neck while Mel Gibson, stood by, arms folder and smiling. “A dead Jew is a good Jew. Sugartits!” he is said to have told Michael Morris, the crazed killer of a man who died sometime later at Malibu General. After knifing the man, the two then ordered the remaining Jews to go back into the synagogue at gunpoint as Morris wielded his family heirloom shotgun at the jews, and seconds later the two set ablaze the building with the remaining jews inside. All are said to have died. Sometime later, the incident repeated itself when the two ordered more jews into another Malibu Synagogue, which like before was set alight with the jews inside. Mel Gibson is said to danced away, singing the neo-nazi metal song ‘Death to the Christ-killers’ while Morris punched and attacked more jews outside the burning synagogue. Sometime after, more and more people from the Jewish community came to the scene as Mel Gibson and Michael Morris cheered “Aryan brothers, white pride-death to the Jews!” As the crowd of jews gathered in strong numbers, so did the police and then a high speed chase occurred on the 56 Highway which leads to the Mel Gibson estate. Mob mentality came forth as a chase on foot then happened on Mel Gibson’s estate. It has emerged that the lynch mob of jews who were out for revenge captured the two, then set about torturing them inside Mel Gibson’s Roman Catholic Chapel. They first tattooed ‘anti-semite’ on both Mel Gibson’s and Michael Morris’ forehead, but police are said to have separated the jews assault just as the two were about to be crucified on crosses. As the police pulled the pair from the estate, Michael Morris is said to have yelled to reporters “I’m a pasty! I’ve been set up! I’m innocent! This is a false flag! An inside job!” Mel Gibson was then dragged off by police in drunken stupor, hurling abuse at all jews, “All jews will die. The next holocaust is coming! The real holocaust! All you bastards will be wiped of the face of the earth! You cause all the wars and for that you will pay”. The two men are now being transferred Zogby prison in New York by plane. The two should arrive in the morning.”
The talking head pauses, wiping the sweat from her forehead. “And now onto another shocking crime. She was known as the people’s princess and tonight the body of Lady Princess Diana has been stolen by a militant group of New Agers who preach of peace and love by day and at night go on rampages of late, asking for the release of a man named David Pike. More amazingly, the known holocaust denier, Pike, is said to have conducted and interview with Michael Morris, the confederate neo-nazi racist involved in the previous story on a video entitled ‘Revelations of a phallic rock survivor’. It is not known whether the two stories are linked, but in the meantime, the royal family of Great Britain is said to be in great distress over the theft of the body of Lady Diana Spencer.”
Once again, the talking head pauses, wiping the sweat from her forehead. “Yes, yes. This just in, we have a tape from the militant group demanding the release of David Pike from Zogby Prison, New York.
*Tape Plays*
Two men wearing balaclavas are shown, the tape is in poor quality, shaking as the men talk, both holding what appears to be a skeleton, the skeleton of Lady Diana. The men don’t sound American or English. “My name is Miquel, I am demanding the release of our superior General David Pike from the infidels in America. You destroyed our town of Piketown and entrapped our leader when he did no wrong.” The men hold the skeleton up to the camera. “This is your reptilian princess and now in return we ask for the, [sign in to see URL] of David Pike. We aren’t too concerned for the man named Derek Okra and in retaliation for his involvement in the arrest of David Pike we have executed the man known as Bloodsteve under the orders of David Pike, godhead turquoise allah! Unless David Pike isn’t freed within one month, we shall burn the skeletal remains of Diana. Signing off…..”
*Tape Ends*

“Guess I win the bet then?” Tells the CO to the other.
“Yep, 50 bucks. Yah Bastard!” The losing CO hands over 50 dollars to the winning better.

Back in his cell, David sits up, knowing somehow his plan has succeeded. He has a glint in his eyes and smiles like never before. “The morning shall be interesting, and by tomorrow I will control this prison and by next month be out.” He whispers softly to himself.

Suddenly from the corner of the cell a light appears. Not a normal light, but a sort of heavenly orb-like light, large, its brightness filling only the cell in which David sits on his bed. The other two prisoners are oblivious to it and just sleep on but David is aware of it and scrambles to the corners of the cell shaking as if knowing that something bad from lost in the past has again returned.
“This is a friend!” A voice shouts out from the now paranormal light. “Please, superior David Pike, Godhead turquoise allah! I have a message.”
“You’re not real!” David shouts to the light, pointing and staring at it. “The psychic cured me.”
“But I am David” The light replies. “I am me, as you are you, as we are free! Let me be, accept me, please.”
“No!”
“Okay, have it your way. However, this message may help in your release. You see a film director is right at this very moment planning to document your illegal imprisonment. He is Michael Moore, a man who just came out of the closet.”
“Closet? Gay?”
“Sort of….he’s just joined up to the 9/11 truth movement and plans to come here tomorrow as you give your speech to the nazi’s. In fact, chances are he’ll film you as you give your speech. He’s making a new film called Fahrenheit 9/11: Conspiracies and Whack-jobs. The problem is he’s a turncoat, a faker; his intentions hidden. One of you must shank him.’
‘Shank?!?!’
‘A shank is a home-made knife, or prison knife. When you shank, you stab essentially’
‘Arrghhhh’
‘Oh boy! But…..HELLO!?’
Suddenly the light dissipates and then vanishes completely.
Dave heads back to bed…
SLEEP


---
"We're the middle children of history, man. No purpose or place. We have no Great War. No Great Depression. Our Great War's a spiritual war... our Great Depression is our lives." - Tyler Durden, Fight Club
9/27/2006, 9:31 pm Link to this post Send Email to knights   Send PM to knights
 
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---My First 2 Days By Derik Okra(p2 of 1)---
(based on a short story by Derik Okra and Derik Okra and Thom Hanks)

"Fahrenheit I Don't Think The Disembowled Gentleman Will Be Needing That Camera Anymore" said I, Derik Okra, to my friend Pike. My friend was to shank the Ohcraponme Award Winner Michael Moore. "I could imagine that guy trying to discredit me. ME! So let's remove his stomach staples with a sharp object."

"Derik, this chap is mainstream" said David. "I've never been this close to the American market." Apparently, the Canada debacle had hurt David deeply. Being boycotted in Canada, a nation that accepts Quebec as it's own, can be a deep embarassment, especially if one considers the eyes of America watching very closely. Without finding a way to amplify his message, David would likely fade long before our sixth month parole. His publishing empire was crumbling. The deskjet was dangerously low on ink. Something would need to change before David speaks to the citizens of Oklahoma.

"What if he debunks you?"

David recoiled and spat: "impossible!" Then a thin smile spread on his face. "I'll simply focus my rhetoric on America's corporations and the CEO-In-Chief."

"Ah", I said. "And is that the ghost of Franklin Roosevelt I hear? TARANTINO HAS THE BODY OF A MANNEQUIN!!!"

David frowned. "Save it for the customers, mate."

---
"Dancing is forbidden."
10/5/2006, 11:08 pm Link to this post Send Email to abaddon1215   Send PM to abaddon1215 MSN Yahoo Blog
 
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---My First 2 Days By Derik Okra(p1 of 2)---
(an excerpt from the journal of Derik Okra with slight abridgement by Thom Hanks, Suze, Guards Quilt Hackenbush and Phil Rottenteaux)

I was a girly man in a bad, bad place.

It was difficult to put things into perspective at first because the beatings came so quickly. There were rapings, and sometimes both happened at once. However, the two activies were, on my end, indistinguishable.

But they got tired eventually, and fell unconscious to the floor.

I had intended to kill the sleeping brutes with a shard of but one of my now broken teeth, but, as I crept towards them, I realized that this was my new existence. This aquarium was not pretty, but I would learn to accept it, at least for a short time.

Then my new spirit guide came to me. Sam Jackson 2 was actually standing in my cell! I felt that the large and always angry man would help me, despite his betrayal in the Bloodsteve-ravaged future.

Sam 2 proceeded to reassure me that he would help, that the future would be prosperous for both of us(I assume he referred to his living clones rather than himself..). He also told me that he had entered the scene earlier, while my fellow prisoners were attacking my landmarks, but he was so disgusted that he had turned away, waiting for the attrocity to cease before he spoke with me.

At last he told me something very interesting: "This is a hardcore enviroment. You'll need allies. A gang."

"Oh" I said.

"Yeah" Sam continued, "you work on that on your own for the next few days. I've got other business in the meantime."

---
"Dancing is forbidden."
10/5/2006, 11:33 pm Link to this post Send Email to abaddon1215   Send PM to abaddon1215 MSN Yahoo Blog
 
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It seems as though a year has passed in the blink of my eye, but then again, the days are longer here. A day feels like a year, not knowing what’ll happen next.

A week had passed with much to tell of. Myself and Derek are back together again (partly, that is), but the prison now resides in anarchy and chaos. Not because of the actions of anyone in here, but the bloody Iranians, launching their nukes at the United States.
In all honesty, I had totally forgotten my dealings with these people, and on Thursday last week awoke to a shudder, a loud thump, a rumbling vibration, and a huge bang. It was then I remembered that the Iranians had told me of their plans weeks previously while we were still in Pikestown... Nukes had hit New York. And I could only suspect that Washington, Chicago, and LA, had been hit too. We had been lucky though. Just outside the major impact zone and safe inside a fortified prison.
I guess the biggest problem with all this was the lack of order, and as the prison CO’s left, along with the warden, there was no rules to follow. This problem persists with the fact that we have been locked in the confines of the prison with no means of escape (as yet to discover anyway). We were still prisoners, as when the officials here left, they still kept us under lock and key, by means of the main door and several barred gates within the prison. Everyone isn’t caged up though, we can move freely, and food stocks, as well as the water supply remain stable for the time being.
As for cliques, there is none. Well, two. The good and the bad? I don’t know. This remains to be seen. The Nazis, amassed to around about 20, are one group. Then, there’s the rest, me, Derek and around 10 others, mixed up from those other cliques. Things are diplomatic though. We have discussions and for the time being, there is less chaos and more control. Things have a habit of going to !@#$ on me though.

Derek is a whimpering wreck of a human being. His experience at the hands of Hanks and Jowell has left him in turmoil. Over the past week since the nukes fell and order was lost there has been numerous times where I have seem him burst in to tears, and blurt out crazyness amongst the riots and orgies on floor one. Although he wasn’t their !@#$ anymore and things had calmed down, Derek, wasn’t himself in control. He still wore a dress and make-up, frowned whenever he saw me, and may be taking drugs. I’m not sure though.
 
“Derek, mate. What’s up?” I call across as I notice him in a fit of crazyness on floor one.
“Shut it, you filth. Your residual energy is evil!” He replies, angrily.
I move nearer as he moves more distant, stumbling. I place my hand on his shoulder, but he shrugs to the side. All the other prisoners look on, as I confront him.
“LEAVE ME ALONE!” He cries, as if some angst ridden teenager.
“Yeah. You leave him alone, you.” Says a figure that steps in my way.
“Who the hell are you?” I reply.
“Names, Morris. Michael Morris. And I’ll say again, you leave him alone, you wench. He doesn’t want you near him no more. He’s had it with your theories. And your madness.”
“But, Derek is my friend!!” I shout to him as I walk away.

As I turn once more, I see Derek waltz away, arms flailing into a corner. He looks like a crack-whore. My words had somehow distressed him. I then see him snort a substance of somekind. Then he turned around and passionately kissed Michael Morris. A rapture of applause fills the air from the Nazis.
I turn away in disgust. Mags, is there, parked on the steps. He looks up at me and shrugs his shoulders.

This is classic mind control.
 



---

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(Dave continued)

The demise of that treasonous swine Michael Morris and the beginning of the end of the end of the world, in the greatest TIL post ever.

Mags looked up at me, with a confused look on his face, as if not know how to respond to such an utterly surreal scene before him. I knew how he felt. “I know, Mags, chaos. Utter chaos, mate.”
I sat beside Mags, on the steps that led to level 2.
We surveyed in silence all that was before us, the Nazis deviously talking away, Derek and Michael cannoodling, and the others, wandering there own way, mostly towards me and Mags. Soon enough all of them ‘The Others’ stood around us by the steps. The Nazis on one side of Level 1 and us here by the steps opposite, with Derek and Michael in between. By this point, the two of them were nearly going hardcore. Michael forced his hand into Derek’s knickers, but Derek himself wasn’t haven’t any of it. All of a sudden, Derek pushed Michael away. Michael fell down into a heap and Derek ran off into an open cell near-by, visibly disturbed, weeping with his arms flailing about. It left Michael alone, between us, both clans of the Nazi’s and The Others. We both stood our ground. Michael Morris was alone. In fear he sobbed, crying the cries of a man doomed. He somehow sensed the end was indeed, nigh. Then all fell silent, the sobbing of the crazed Michael Morris stopped. You could hear a pin drop. He bowed his head towards the ground, to gather his thoughts, and then returned his gaze towards Derek, who hid away in a cell. Then, without warning he struck. Turning his head in our direction and running crazed, he tore off his remaining clothing in rage. All of us moved back, fearing this monster, this demonic spawn of Satan. We ran aside, and huddled away. All except Mags. Everyone was in panic of the beast, high pitch screams filled the air as we all feared the monster as he looked for his prey, and then…
“Arghhh!!!” came a god-awful scream from Mags, still sat out on the steps. I refused to look at first, but then forced myself to see what this beast had done. What I saw shocked me and made me realised that there is evil in the world and Michael Morris was indeed evil. A stream of blood emanating from the groin area sprayed into the air, covering everyone around in blood had followed as Michael Morris tempted by the sight of Mags’ manhood sticking out through crotchless panties delved his teeth into a place where teeth should never delve at all. This was made all the more worse as in the throws of death Mags began to fall about spastically, making the spray of blood seem like a fancy hose pipe that sprayed all around. Carnage followed, and lots of slipping. Blood covered everywhere. The place was painted red. Then it died down, the blood stopped flowing and quiet returned. Michael Morris was still in his fit of crazed insanity though. Naked, covered in blood, arms stretched, he looked towards the ceiling, as if to heaven itself.
“Take me,” He cried, as though to god “Take me to your garden, your Eden, the place of [sign in to see URL] I not earnt my place, by killing the abomination of god known as Mags.”
“No you haven’t” Mags gasped in his final breathe, blood spluttering from his mouth, a tear rolling from his eye. With that Mags was gone, succumbed by death at the teeth of the vicious, evil entity, Michael Morris.
 I cut, moving just feet away from him “Shut up goblin! There’s no place for you there. You will go below, Michael. Below into the fiery pits.”
As Michael spoke, a rumble was coming, a vibration felt by everyone in the room. The source of it unknown but apparent to everyone, perhaps unconsciously, as all was focused on the beast in his rage. “Your wrong, so wrong, I killed the abomination! He told me so, Derek Okra. He said if I were to kill any of you I would earn my place in paradise. Each of you an abomination, by all accounts. I however, not. I tell thee now, as Derek told me, this place of Zog in over, and soon we will all be gone from here. It was a bad mistake, an error. Zog is over!”
“Very well then” I replied. “Perhaps soon, we will get out. Sooner or later we will, and what then? There’s bound to be far from clean air out there to breathe with nukes going off -The fallout?! What about that, hey? It can be left poisoning the earth for years after the initial blasts, for centuries, perhaps. The only way we can ever live is to stay and live out our days here. We’d be safer here.”
“Safer?!” Came a muffled screech, its location unknown.
“It’s god!” screamed Michael, pointing his finger towards the ceiling, as the rumbling vibration got louder…then stopped. Then a wonderful thing happened, the ceiling fell away, just above where Michael Morris was standing, and to him it must have been as if god was taken him, as a beautiful streak of light hit him, followed by the ceiling. Then Michael Morris was no more, as the rubble falling from the ceiling, well and truly brained him, killing him almost instantly.
Seconds seemed like minutes as all of the others stepped into the light, over the rubble, looking at the whole. The Nazis hid away, but we walked into the light, expecting something. Maybe god would peer out and take us to Morris’ Eden. But…nothing.
“This is bound to be damage caused to the structure by the nuclear blasts. This is dangerous. We should vacate this area immediately.” Said a bemused man called Poodle.
“Yeah, he’s right..” Said a figure emerging from the dark. It was Derek, but the Derek I knew; turned out in a flash suit, gel on his hair and a smile on his face. “This is structural damage for sure, this building has probably been falling apart for weeks. Plus, this air cannot be safe to breathe. My friends, we should move. Do as the Nazi’s do, and hide.”
“How can you be a sure?” Came a quiet and unassuming reply from little Joe Oakley. “Are you dying? Feeling the ill effects of Nuclear toxins, in the air? No, I don’t. So…”
“So what little man,” Cut in an angry response from Lord Voltron, resident loon. “This is poison, death air. It’s killing us, right now, I bet.”
“What [sign in to see URL] is to say they even dropped nuclear bombs on us. They could have used smaller none-nuclear bombs, for the impact. Yah know, they did it in London during WW2.” Joe replied menacingly, pointing up repeatedly.
“Okay!” I squawked. “Just shut up. Enough. If you want to hide, hide. If you want to get out of this prison you’ll help me. We need to find someway of getting out of here through that whole up there. Right, who’s with me?”
As I said asked who’s with me, I saw Derek look up. I followed his eyes at first, then turned, looking up. A rope ladder unfurled, falling from the whole. Then a mass of familiar faces loomed in, looking down at us.
Melvin Gibsons, Michael Morris (The Cheraw, SC one), Alex Knights, Alvarez, Miguel, BloodSteve RYF, Courtland Elliot and Yoko (The baboon).
“Eh, look, it is turquoise godhead allah, Dave Pike, and his baboon loving friend, Derek Okra.” Squealed Alvarez “We have found them!”
“Just climb up friends, we come in peace. We have come for Derek Okra and Dave Pike, but all of you are welcome to come with us.” Yelled an excited Miguel.
“Yes, my friends, up you come!” replied the hero of revelations of a phallic rock survivor, Michael Morris.
“Yes, do join us. We need as much man power as possible right now. Climb up, it’s quite safe.” Yelped Cort.
“Two days ago, I saw a rig that’d haul that tanker.” Melvin added.
“Shut up!” Everyone above replied. Melvin then jerked backwards away from the whole with a look of disgust on his face. Derek then signalled towards Yoko with a hand gesture and frown, and Yoko slapped Melvin. Everyone above cheered.
“Okay, yah boll, snell, snell, come up. Let us go, right now. Up! Up!” Commanded Bloodsteve RYH.
One-by-one, we climbed the rope ladder, straight to freedom above, leaving the nazi’s and zog behind. Then came the revelation. The zombie revelation. Together my friends had come stocked to max with all manner of weaponry, as well as a huge military helicopter, and for a reason. As the helicopter lifted from the roof of the prison, the pilot, the brilliant genius, and fantastic TIL writer Michael Morris told us of what had really happened. As I turned my gaze towards the outside world, which I hadn’t seen, for many, many a week, my jaw dropped.

Last edited by knights, 11/25/2007, 7:38 pm


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11/25/2007, 7:22 pm Link to this post Send Email to knights   Send PM to knights
 
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Re: Truth In Lies 4: Between these walls, Inside the lies


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(Dave)
We had been in the air for a few hours, we were travelling south from Zogby, New York State, not knowing where to stop, as everywhere was the same. They were there in their thousands. Below was instant death. Derek sat with a hanky, dabbing the tears from his eyes. He knew, as well as I, that life would never be the same again. Our families were most likely all dead. This thought alone brought my Ihio Jungle, to the forefront of my mind. My love. Gone. On the bright side though, I was free again, we were free, free of the bars, free of the nazi-rape, free of the hell of Zog. This was the beginning of a brave new world, of brave men, faced with the real threat of death. It is now I say to myself I must stop playing the fool. A man reborn. Or men; All of us were changed. Even Derek, sat in the corner of my eye, sobbing the day away. Seeing Derek in distress, Yoko released Melvin from a strangle-hold and perched herself up on Derek’s lap, promptly hugging him. The tears flowed even more, but these were more tears of joy. He still had someone close to him, someone to love. In all of this !@#$, love had prevailed, I thought to myself.
Michael Morris got himself comfortable and then began to explain how it had begun, the carnage, the zombies. He rolled a fresh cigarette, lit it up and whilst controlling his helicopter told of a revelation that in the back of my mind knew involved me.
“I hate to be the one to tell you this but the world, particularly North America is overrun by; zombies. On October 15th 2007, a device was detonated on a small island called the Isle of Man, part of the English commonwealth. For whatever reason, god knows, but this device exploded upon the entry of house in the Isle of Man. At first the only casualty, or fatality was that of the police officer who first entered the house. The force of the blast blew him to smithereens, and was followed by some kind of chemical burst, that subsequently filled the air. The police at the scene believed that was all they had to deal with, but moments after the device went off, a horde of marauding, spotty, vest and hot pant wearing teenagers appeared out of nowhere and launched the first assault. The hot-pant wearing geeks began attacking the police at the scene, their home, it is believed. Then, according to one of the police who survived, one of the twisted hot-pant wearing geeks came forth wearing a suicide belt. The violence stopped, and all paused at the geek stood there looking to the heavens, neither knowing what on earth this idiot was about to do. ‘In the name of the Turquoise God-head Allah, I sacrifice all to thee.’ The geek then pulled some sort of string and the place went up like Hiroshima; all that were there, bar this one police officer, died. The police didn’t dare venture until a day later, and when they got there the place was deserted. No bodies, nothing! Then moments later they attacked. All the dead that were killed the day before, police and geek, alike, attacked the police. Yet, this was no normal attack; they were tearing the flesh of the investigating officers, and then eating it. Numerous witnesses then recalled seeing those attacked become like the attackers- Zombies! It has since spread from there. Or so I have been led to believe.”
“We believed it was a nuclear explosion.” Derek chirped in.
“The bombs came afterwards, Derek. The infection spread over a period of a week, after its inception on the Isle of Man. It was the world’s last hope, but as you can see, looking out the windows – it didn’t do all that well, did it. One hundred megatons, and one hundred megatons, too late.” Michael replied glumly.
“So this house in The Isle of Man, who did it belong too? What caused this reaction?” I asked.
Michael continued, lighting another cigarette and occasionally looking back at me from his pilot’s seat as he spoke. “Well, truth is, no one knows. You can only speculate, or in your case, theorize. Some say it rained green droplets of water. The chemicals from the following burst, dissipated into the heavens above and; the bodies below regenerated when it rained. That is the most sensible theory. Yet, others like Alex Cones were chanting ‘Inside Job!’ in the days after, issuing collected evidence linking the whole thing to, well, you. He even stated you controlled some remote controlled planes that he says were seen flying into the Isle of Man’s very own ground zero. Saying the whole thing is a way for you to lead your Nazi troops from Zog into a fourth Reich, with a zombie army, subservient only to you and your nazi cohorts. Of course, this is crap though. So, don’t think we believe any of that junk, or suspect you.”
At first, a creeping fear was felt all of my body as the guilt set in. As I knew that I was responsible for all this !@#$. I had set the device, a dirty bomb, packed with some unknown soviet chemical or another, at my home away from homes, Pike Manor, my beach-mansion retreat.
My initial intentions were that if the place was raided, it would kill the raiders, with the failsafe option of my loyal turquoise warriors, set to pounce following the blast. And lastly, if all else fails, Errol, would come out and set off his suicide belt. Problem was, he was mildly retarded. I didn’t ask him to sacrifice any of my teenage turquoise army. I guess this is sods law in action. You can’t have it your way all the time. It’s just a shame that as a result, the world is now plagued by zombies. Bloody dirty bomb, !@#$.
Although, as Michael brought in Alex Cones’ ‘crap theory’ I knew I was safe. I subtly sighed with relief. Derek looked back at me. He knew. Only he could. He warned me against ever dealing with the soviets and was totally against the dirty bomb. I raised my brow, and gave him that puppy-dog look. A moment later, he began sobbing again. This time, hysterically. He pushed Yoko off his lap, stood up, and surveyed the horror of what was below though a window behind his seat. And knowing that I alone was responsible, albeit, unknowingly.
The problem with the dirty bomb was, that as much as the media went on about, with news reports and even documentaries, not even one dirty bomb had ever been used by any terrorist, ever. Until mine. Zombies, unfortunately, came about because of its use.
“Yes, Michael… Just crap.” I responded to Alex Cones’ claims. Derek turned back round, frowning. A fury like I had never seen before stood there looking back at me. The atmosphere was tense, and everything froze briefly.
Smack. Commanded by Derek, Yoko, began a furious assault, punching me and then all hell let loose as Melvin punched Derek. Everyone on board got involved, in what appeared to be a barroom brawl in air.
“This is your captain speaking. Stop it, stop it now.” Michael blurted out through his speaker system, heard amidst the fight. “Right! I hate to do this, but as we are near, I must stop at my lakeside condo on my acres of land, so we can stop this thing before we !@#$ crash.”
Unawares, after minutes of brawling, we had stopped. The helicopter landing atop a helipad, on Michael Morris’ condo.
Once down on the ground, the fighting continued, as the last few punches were thrown and then bodies dropped to the floor of the deck in pain and fatigue. Michael emerged, standing above us. “Right, Mr Pike. You can come we me. This is a brief landing, where I need to collect some essentials just before we can head any further south.”
“Y-es” I groaned, lifting myself up, but feeling as though I had done 12-rounds with a heavyweight.
“And you, you, and you” Michael continued, signalling towards Derek, Joe, and Bloodsteve, “I want you to hold our position. I need firepower aimed at those bastards, if they appear. If not, we all perish. And the rest of you assist them. Dr Bloodsteve, fill the bird up using the pump, please. Okay, me and Dave are gonna pick up some essentials.”
Myself and Michael, then head inside the condo. As we enter, we hear gunfire from above, brief but rapid. “Okay, Dave, it’s essential that I find my shotgun. It’s priceless, an heirloom, passed down through the generations of Michael Morris’. I am the XIII, the thirteenth Michael Morris. I also need to find my dance gear, the clothing I wear for my go-go routine, which these past years have paid for my luxurious lifestyle here.”
“What the hell do you want your dance gear for, Michael?” I asked bemused.
“I feel naked without it. I feel the need to embrace the one piece male thong and novelty bow tie strip.”
“What!? You’re going to change from army camo, to go-go homo. Now!?”
“Don’t be disrespectful. But yes, I am. I care not for the ignorant opinions of turquoise wearing nuts.”
“Okay then.” I reply, despondent, looking down at his hideous pink carpets.


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12/18/2007, 12:30 pm Link to this post Send Email to knights   Send PM to knights
 
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Re: Truth In Lies 4: Between these walls, Inside the lies


(Michael Morris)
The liar, and the lie of his life. A new revelation and a shift in the paradigm of power. This week, read the shocking true story of Michael Morris; monster, liar, nutjob, and aspiring go-go dancer.

I didn’t know whether they’d bought my story yet, the lie of my life as they had seen it and as I had told it. To them I was a king, but in reality, this whole deal I had put forth was a fraud. This was not my condo, with sprawling acres of freshly cut grass, and the luxury-sized-premium, mile-long swimming pool. Not forgetting the private boating and fishing lake. Or even, the underground dance arena. And I emphasise the word arena, because this thing could easily squeeze in 40, 000 people. However, those 40, 000 people will never come, nor will it ever stage any huge concerts of any kind. Its existence is all but a secret to a select few. Me being one of the holders of ‘the secret’. In fact, this whole estate seems shrouded in secrecy. David Pike, I’m sure would be intrigued by my tales or knowledge of the unknown of this unsuspecting Michael Morris bachelor pad. I did have a hand in running the place though, my position in keeping the place in somekind of order. At the top of all this order however, was the woman who brought about much dis-order. She was and probably still is the most evil and vile woman you could ever come a across. Rosie Mcdonald – TV chat-show host, sit-com actress, and all round evil doer (behind closed doors). She also had a high-ranking role within the 9/11 truth movement, disseminating the usual lies and propaganda to the morons and layabouts who watch morning television chatshows, and buy what they’re being sold, almost always. In person and outside the gates of the ‘Rosie Cheek’ estate it was all smiles, but inside, within the parameters of this hell, all the staff, at all levels had to bear the brunt of their tyrannical employer. If it was a good day she’d greet you with a frown, a bad and you’d be liable to be whipped or beaten as if you were some kind of Roman slave. Yet, as the only work in Cheraw was wall-mart, this ‘Rosie Cheek’ hellhole was the only place where you could opt for and get a decent annual wage and perhaps a little jobs satisfaction (whenever the beast wasn’t there that is). I was the handyman. I came here 8 months ago, after Wall-mart terminated my employment after the incident with an extra-large condom and a stallion. At first it was okay, but as I settled after just a few weeks, the tyranny began. It all started one day when I was cutting the grass on a beautiful spring morning as the sun came up. Then…crack. I don’t know what happened next, but I was told by two other employees that Rosie had struck me across the head with a baseball bat, which knocked me and felled me to the floor, then continued to rant at me while kicking me in the head. I lost all consciousness and was lucky to be alive. I awoke 10 hours later, in a hospital bed from a state of complete comatose. The !@#$ had nearly killed me. The reason – I was cutting the grass wrong and had a funny walk.
Any normal person would have immediately have tried to have her in a court of law for attempted murder, but as I lay in bed recovering, two great, burly and deviant looking fellows came in and advised me not to. They also passed me an A4-sized envelope, which inside contained a signed photo of Rosie and a ‘Shut-up’ cheque of a few grand. The envelope also contained note, Hello Michael. Head hurt much? HAHA. Anyway, we should sweep all this silly bother under the rug, and if not I will broadcast the tapes of you I have using that pole in my private arena. Like most arenas we have security cameras, and you have been captured numerous times at the end of your shift dancing (sometimes naked) to an invisible crowd. If you want to stay alive, shame-free and in work, please forget the real reason you are in that bed at Cheraw General. Phil and Grant, my loyal man-meat will have had threatened you by now so you get the idea. Please return to work next week, Wednesday – My dildos need waxing! GOODBYE.
A week later I returned to work at the ‘Rosie Cheek’ estate. Yet, in contempt. I knew one day I would have my revenge and that day would draw near, soon. I wasn’t alone either, as many others had been through what I had suffered, and worse. One was run over by Rosie while he was sweeping the drive-way. He wasn’t so lucky though, dying moments after being struck by a crazed and drunk Rosie Mcdonald in her huge 4x4. She ordered us to bury him immediately, and then changed her mind, forcing us to tie a weight to his body and a throw him into the boating lake.
Some weeks later, while out on a fishing expedition on the lake with Rosie on her luxury yacht, we patrolled the lake at some great speed and then hit something. Or someone. It was that poor man. His body didn’t quite sink and he’d turned up in shallower waters. Angry because the lake was visible to the public, albeit through an electrified fence, Rosie let rip on us and in an angry rage grabbed a machine gun and began shooting indiscriminately at anyone in sight. As soon as I heard the sound of that weapon and the hellish scream of the satan-like beast I leaped from the yacht along with everyone else. At the end of the crazed shooting she turned the boat around, ordered us to ‘cleanse’ the lake, then went back into her condo and retired to watch the filmed titanic with a large bowl of crisps and a family-sized bottle of cola. By days end, we pulled 10 bodies from the lake, including that of the driveway man. The next morning, she ordered us to dig a pit for the mass burial of all those who had died. As we dug, she would look over and down at us from the balcony in the condo, and we knew something else was coming soon. She’d done this numerous times throughout the day, and at around about mid-evening, came out with a digger and one-by-one lifted the lifeless bodies into the pit with the machine. With each victim being dropped into the pit however came an evil cackle, a poisonous laugh that made me shield my ears with the palms of my hand. Once over, she pulled out a bottle of cola and toasted her ‘hard’ work, all whilst around five of us had been digging and digging in toil and sweat, the whole day. She was truly something, and something very wrong and evil. Her comeuppance would come moments later.
“Oh !@#$, who the hell is that in there” She screamed, looking down at the pit.
“Their dead, they’re all messed up. Most probably a muscular spasm, a death throw. Everyone of those people in there were dead, Miss McDonald” Phil reassured. One of the burly bastards.
“Yeah, dead.” Grant added.
“What in gods name is that then?! And that?!” She said, pointing out a hand and then a head emerging from the shallow grave.
“Oh my.” I said softly, looking down.
“The driveway man!” Rosie screeched, before hastily heading back towards the condo with Phil and Grant.
After a few seconds more round the pit, looking down, I wisely chose to exit, and fast. Each of the others went in different directions, just as far away from that pit as was possible. My choice – Air. I had cleaned Rosie’s Grade 1, military death machine just days before. And had gone on trips with her before too. Ones where she would unleash hell on some unsuspecting trailer park, launching rockets and creating havoc, leaving destruction. Her connections with TV news producers would always keep her in the clear of any wrongdoing though. Remember all those clips you see on TV news of the destruction of some trailer park or small town, in the wake of some hurricane. Well, go figure.
Could I fly it was the real test however, but gradually I fought any fears by saying ‘What the hell.’ And with that I was up and away. Easy.
This was a 1billion dollar dream, with everything I’d need to survive, for a while at least. I even have a working internet connection, which has proved handy. Using [sign in to see URL] to get the whole gang together. I also used my blog for a bit and played the greatest roleplay of all, The Lies in Truth, if only for a while. My dearest friend Alex, has been begging me to come back to it, but with things how they are at the moment, the silly (but great) roleplay is far from my mind at the moment. I think he assumes I’m dead because of my lack of correspondence with him online, and has been mourning me with Michael Morris [sign in to see URL]. posts for a while.
I’m not sure why I came back here now, perhaps it will be a great mistake. Or perhaps not.


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12/18/2007, 12:33 pm Link to this post Send Email to knights   Send PM to knights
 
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Re: Truth In Lies 4: Between these walls, Inside the lies


(Dave)
A liar revealed. And ouch, you burly c*nt.
As Michael returned, waltzing in, wearing only a glitzy-silver male thong, and holding a very old shotgun to his side, I knew I had to speak my mind, sort truth from fiction. The painting on the wall in the living room seemed a giveaway, one of many, of that bint Rosie Mcdonald. Yet, further proof was the fact that in somekind of staff photo of around 50 or so people, taken in front of the condo, Michael is seen to side, dressed in a boiler suit. Rosie Mcdonald is seen central, looking scarily sexy and plush. She was a hero of mine too. And on one occasion she attended one of the many Pikestown for Children’s Charity events at the okracobana.
“You are a liar and a bad man, Michael Morris! You expect me believe you are a multi-millionaire and that your job as a go-go dancer pays for this luxury. What bunkum! If I were a betting man, I would say this house belongs to my friend Rosie Mcdonald. Well, sorta-friend. And, that you are a handyman.”
“Well” He replied, red-faced. “If I didn’t say that you have thought I was a bum or something, that’s why I why assumed this identity of multi-millionaire go-go dancer. I do like go-go dancing though, but it’s just a dream, just a silly dream. But you have to dream, right?”
“Right…” I replied in a peaceful manner, whilst coming towards him and giving him a hug. The tears then streamed from his eyes. “Don’t worry son, it’s alright mate. You’re right; you do have to dream sometimes.”
 “Thank you” He replied, sobbing.
“Don’t worry, to them above, you are king of Cheraw and this place is your manor. This secret will remain between us.” I retort, a tear falling from my eye as he meets my gaze. At this moment, I think back to my darling lover Ohio Jungle, and as I look at Michael, I see her. Wanting to kiss her again, I force myself forward onto Michael, clutching his buttock and going for a kiss, to his disgust.
“Whoa... What the hell. NO! NO! What the hell are you doing Dave, you dirty pervert. I’m not a homosexual.” He rages. At this moment, he turns and exits the room, back up some steps towards the helipad.
“No, No, Michael. I’m sorry.” I mumble to myself, realising my great error.
I would have gone on mumbling to myself as a deep feeling of depression hit me, but a muffled scream and several cries caught my attention in the room. They were coming from a painting, and as I got nearer to it, the cries got clearer.
“Help us” Came one call.
“For god’s sake we’re trapped. Help us. The panic room has malfunctioned on this side. Please help, we’re dying in here.” Came another, a higher-pitched voice, a female voice. “Press the big red button to the side of the painting.” She continued.
Without a seconds thought, I’d pressed it, and anticipated meeting my friend Rosie. Or ‘smiling Rosie’ as I liked to call her. After a few moments something began to sound, the mechanics of the door opening. The large portrait painting of a rather smug looking Rosie in front of me split apart from the middle and then as I moved back both sides were flung open. I saw Rosie briefly, she was frowning and stormed out in a devilish rage, push me aside, not even greeting me. The other two were more welcoming it seemed though. All eyes were on me as these two burly men came out, both sporting very fake smiles. I knew something very bad might then happen.
“Hello there, my friend, my names Grant and his names Phil, and your name is deadman.”
“Oh Okay…deadman” I replied.
To the side of my vision, Rosie looked on, goading the two burly men to do me in.
“Go on, waste him.” She demanded.
And then suddenly, one of them held me from behind and the other proceeded to pull out a huge knife. I knew what would come next, as he extended his arm, ready to plunge deep inside of me with his huge knife. I tilted my head back, gritted my teeth and expected the worst. BANG!!!
A deafening bang sounded and to the side of my vision Michael Morris stormed back into the room, wearing ear-muffs and letting all guns blazing. He’d shot Rosie in the head, from behind, and as he moved forward she slumped towards the ground still frowning. He walked over her body and then gave all hell to Grant and Phil. The two of them just stood there for a second, looking bemused at Michael and each other. I slumped, ducking the fire as with deafening round after round he let the two burly sh*ts have it.
“You never. Never. Ever. Do that. You dirty f*cking c*nts! He cried, firing shot after shot into the two infidels.
Eventually, he stopped, but the room was a bloody mess and there were bit of human flesh and tissue all around the place.
“Come on, Mr Pike. Time to go. I have too many bad memories from this place. Sheila (the helicopter) should be all full up now, and we can head further south, perhaps Mexico.” Michael bellowed, lifting me up.
“I think you’ve bloody deafened me, you bloody git.” I reply, jokingly. I pat him on the back, thanking him.
“Yeah, this weapon is something I always cherish. Not the handgun. The shotgun. The !@#$ stole it, after ransacking my apartment while I was in hospital. It got her back though, as did I. An heirloom, Dave. A Precious heirloom. Just a shame I couldn’t find the other. She stole my screener copy of Night of the Living Dead 1990. The remake that is.”
“Ah.” I Reply, surveying Rosies immense video library. “Is that it.”
“By god, it is. Thanks Dave” He replies, thankful.
I hand it to him, wiping the brain matter off it as I do so.
“Right, up we go!” I sound out cheerfully, smiling back at my friend Michael.

Back up upon the helipad, all eyes turn on us in anguish.
“What one earth was all the racket about? The gunshots?!” Screamed a mad Derek.
“Er…we just killed Rosie Mcdonald.” Michael replied, smiling awkwardly.
“Oh.” Responds a confused Derek.
“…And what about the shooting up here? Have our zombie friends shown an appearance and have you kindly greeted them?” I ask, referring to the obvious.
“Oh yes, lots of zombies. A right royal mess, sir. Nasty blue buggers. Very slow, mind you. Not much of a fight.” squawks little Joe Oakley
“Then again, we’re up here and they’re down there. What if this fire-fight was down there?” Asked a little fat man called Peter Benchley, with a serious look on his face.
“Good question” I reply, moving forward, my presence dominating everyone “Very good question, indeed. We may have a serious fight on our hands, if ever that is the case.”


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12/18/2007, 12:34 pm Link to this post Send Email to knights   Send PM to knights
 


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