This Story Sucks

[Dleg]

Something had changed.

Dleg had been awake all night, watching the cable news channels from the basement command center under the White House. The crowds outside had turned to riot, and it was unsafe for anyone to be upstairs. Rocks, molotov cocktails, arrows, and even bullets were hitting the building from all directions. Most of the Cabinet was also hunkered down in the basement, for their safety, unable to leave the grounds.

Supe, Chairman of the National Sexual Exploits Reporting Board, approached the President cautiously. "Mr. President? Some of us are wondering why you don't order the Marines to fire back? They're destroying the White House!"

"Supe, if I did that, I'd be no better than them. Besides, Senator Beck would rake me over the coals for that. Remember the whole 'Hitler' thing last summer, after I invaded the Polish district in Chicago? No way. I'm not going through that again."

"Well, sir, if I may speak frankly, those Polocks deserv - "

"Wait! Look at that! There, on the Rush Channel! Do you see that?!"

Supe squinted at the monitor. It showed a large crowd of protesters, lit by the camera lights, with the burning White House behind them. As he watched, several of the more angry picket signs fell into the crowd, along with the people bearing them.

"What the... it looks like their heads are exploding! Did you tell the snipers to open fire?"

"No! Oh crap, look at Beck!"

Supe turned to face the monitor displaying the Beck Channel. Beck was clutching his hands to his ears in apparent agony, in front of a chalkboard that contained a diagram of a spectacled stick figure hanging from a noose with the word "Dleg" scrawled next to it, and some writing below the drawing that said "In My Opinion ..."

Beck's head exploded and covered the writing with gray matter and blood before Supe could finish reading the message.

 

[Dleg]

Dleg lunged for the wall of monitors and began hitting their power buttons. "Quick! Everyone! Turn off all the monitors, every computer, and every cell-phone in the room!"

Cabinet members and foreign heads of state began complying, reaching into their pockets and removing phones, blackberries, droids, and all manner of communication paraphernalia from their clothing.

Suddenly the Indian Prime Minister shouted "Oh My Goodness Gracious!" and fell to his knees, dropping his iPad and clutching his head.

"Get down!" shouted a Marine guard, as the Prime Minister's head exploded.

"People, do I really need to specify every possible form of personal communicator? Someone cover that iPad! If any of you reads what is on there, your heads will explode, too!"

"What's going on, President Dleg, I'm frightened!" said FAA Secretary csb, from under a nearby table.

"It's happening." replied Dleg, gravely. "Everyone calm down. As long as we do not communicate with the outside world, AT ALL, we should be fine. But only for the time being."

 

[Dleg]

The USS Clinton continued to make its way through the stormy Arctic Ocean, headed toward the northwestern islands of Russia. All communications equipment had inexplicably stopped working about thirty minutes ago. Admiral Captain Worley had called General Highway, Wolverine, and the Dark Knight to his quarters for an emergency meeting.

"Thank you for joining me, gentlemen" said Worley, as he handed each a glass of scotch. They were seated around the fireplace in the Admiral's lounge, facing the large picture window, which although mostly iced up, revealed yet another dark, windy, stormy day at sea.

"All communications with central command, Washington, and even the Dish Network was either cut off, or was disconnected by myself, about half an hour ago. But not after seeing ample evidence that The Three have gone on-line."

 

[Dleg]

The Dark Knight was first to speak. "What do they want?"

Worley shrugged and crossed his legs in the plush red velvet chair. "I do not believe they have made any formal appearance yet."

General Highway asked "Well, what have they done so far? What is happening?"

"We only caught brief glimpses before we cut everything off, but it appears that they have combined their forces, to the extent that their postings and even just their ideas have the capability to kill certain individuals through the simple outrage that their words seem to inspire."

"Good God! Is anyone safe?" The General leaned forward in his chair, deeply concerned.

"We simply don't know. We shut down all communications to protect the ship and the crew. Even then, we lost four communications officers, and two keyboards."

Wolverine looked troubled. "What is it, Wolvie?" asked the Admiral.

"Wouldn't Pay-per-View be OK?"

 

[Dleg]

The orange glow of burning cities on all horizons lit a large field full of British Churchill II tanks and Thatcher armored personnel carriers. A holographic projection of Queen Elizabeth II appeared in the command vehicle.

"General, the time has come. If you would be so kind as to move on New Orleans now, I would very much appreciate it."

The General snapped to attention. "Yes, your majesty!"

 

[Dleg]

Similar scenes played out at secret UN bases throughout the United States, as its cities, towns, and even farmyards erupted into anger-fueled chaos. The UN troopers were protected by secure communications systems that had no internet connection, and wore polarized goggles that prevented them from seeing anything displayed on an LCD screen.

French troops rolled over Denver and into Wyoming. Spain conquered New Mexico, Arizona, and California within a day. German troops took Wisconsin. And the Poles took Chicago. Of course, there wasn't much to take by the time their tanks rolled through. Most of the residents were dead by then, their heads blown apart from the internet-fueled rage which had consumed them so quickly. Cities burned, skyscrapers fell, and those who did not read the news, surf the net, or watch TV were either burned, crushed, or eaten by the small percentage of victims who, instead of exploding, became mindless zombies with an insatiable hunger for human brains. Until, that is, the invading troops gunned them down in the streets - zombies are never smart enough to avoid humans with guns, it seems. And this time there were just too many guns for the zombies to prevail.

There were a few exceptions to the destruction, however. A mountain cabin here and there. Some monasteries. A handful of offshore oil drilling platforms were cut off from all communication before the killer messages could reach them. A tribe of Havasupai Indians at the bottom of the Grand Canyon were also spared, because they remained completely cut off from the rest of the world. The USS Clinton had survived, primarily due to the foreknowledge of what was about to happen. And President Dleg, his cabinet members, and a few heads of state remained unharmed, deep beneath surface of Washington DC, in the network of secret tunnels and command bunkers.

A small neighborhood bar in a small alley in Boston also somehow evaded destruction.

 

[Dleg]

MA_PE and Big Ray sat at the bar, sipping $2 pints.

"Jesus Fudging Christ, that noise is annoying!" complained Ray.

"No ****!" replied MA_PE. "Did a water main break again, or something?"

 

[Dleg]

"Nah. Sounds like tanks in the streets again." Said Ray, not even looking up from the bar.

MA turned around and tried to see what was happening, but the windows were mostly blocked with stickers and other typical barroom decorations. A burst of machine gun fire sounded in the street outside. Shortly after, a severely wounded zombie burst through the door, saw the two at the bar, and moaned "braiiinssss!" But before it could move any farther into the bar, its head exploded from a short burst of 7.62mm NATO rounds.

"******* zombies!" MA_PE cursed.

A goggled British soldier leaned into the doorway, kicking at the zombie's no-longer-undead body. "Terribly sorry about the mess, chaps. Are you fellows all right?"

 

[Dleg]

Big Ray turned to look at the soldier. "I hope you *******s plan to clean this up!"

The soldier responded: "Yeah all right, we'll be coming along and removing all the bodies starting tomorrow. This ought to be the last zombie, so you fellows just keep drinking your beer, and we'll take care of everything outside." The soldier shouldered his rifle and stepped back over the zombie body, headed out the door.

MA_PE had walked over to a window and was looking out a small opening. "Say, what are you guys doing here anyway? Is that your tank outside?"

"Uh, right! That's my tank!"

"And why are there dead bodies everywhere? And why is the rest of the city on fire?! Holy ****!"

"Um, errrr, we're filming a movie outside. Very dangerous. I would just stay indoors for a while if I were you two." And with that, the soldier made his exit. The APC revved its engine and clanked further down the street.

MA_PE continued looking after it as it crawled over piles of rubble. A sudden burst of machine gun fire rang out from its turret, and a dead zombie fell from a second story window a block away.

"How long have we been in here drinking?" MA_PE asked Big Ray.

 

[Dleg]

"I don't know. When did VT say he was going to meet us?"

"Yesterday? I wonder why he never showed up?" MA continued looking out the window. If it was a movie set, it was pretty convincing. "Hey Ray, do you remember hearing anything about a movie being filmed here?"

"Well, my cousin Carlo shoots ****os out of his apartment two blocks from here."

"No, this isn't a ****o." MA_PE put his beer down. "I think you'd better come outside and see this."

 

[Dleg]

Big Ray reached over the bar and refilled his pint, and then followed MA_PE out the door, stepping carefully over the remains of the zombie. He stopped just outside the door and was taken aback by the scene. Many of the buildings around them had collapsed and were smoldering. Headless bodies littered the streets. The rest of Boston, in the distance, was a mess of burning buildings. Aside from the military traffic, there did not appear to be anyone else around.

"Whoa! I think you may be right, MA!"

A truck full of British soldiers turned onto their street. It stopped in front of them. An officer in the cab leaned out and addressed the two. "Bloody mess, isn't it? Sorry 'bout that. We'll have it cleaned up in a jiffy, though! Here, take one of these." He handed them a glossy brochure.

 

[Dleg]

The title of the brochure was:

[SIZE=24pt]PEACE, PROSPERITY, INTEGRITY [/SIZE]

The cover had a photograph of a man neither Big Ray nor MA_PE had ever seen.

MA unfolded the brochure. Across the top of the inside, it said, simply:

[SIZE=18pt]YOUR GOVERNMENT HAS FAILED. WE ARE HERE TO SAVE YOU. RELAX AND WE WILL CLEAN EVERYTHING UP.[/SIZE]

Below that was a short list. It read:

In the meantime, please cooperate with us by:- not using foul language

- not mentioning sex

- not mentioning bathroom activities

- not participating in juvenile behavior or humor

- not behaving unprofessionally

- not discussing your breakfast, lunch, or dinner

- not misrepresenting yourself as someone you are not

[SIZE=14pt]THANK YOU![/SIZE]

 

[Dleg]

Big Ray read it over, and finishing his pint, proclaimed it to be a "bunch of fudging ********!" MA_PE heartily agreed.

A British soldier walked out from a side alley and addressed them. "Pardon me, gentlemen, but I would be very careful not to use such language. I could personally not give a flying fudge, but if you look behind me down this alley, you will see that we are installing cameras and microphones throughout the city. If He hears you" the soldier paused and motioned at the brochure, "I'll probably be ordered to arrest you. Or worse. Anyhow, please do carry on." He ducked back into the alleyway.

"I don't get it" said Big Ray. "Did they reelect Palin or something?" :dunno:

 

[Dleg]

Top of page 76.

 

[Dleg]

"This.... this is all so wrong! Everything is so fudged up!" Exclaimed MA_PE. He seemed to be gradually comprehending the scale of the disaster whcih had occurred while he was drinking $2 pints with Big Ray.

"Yeah, no ****!" replied Ray. "Hey, maybe you should e-mail VT. Maybe he knows what's going on."

"Oh, yeah, good idea!" MA_PE pulled an ancient-looking Blackberry from his pocket and began typing the following message:

VT: Ray and I waited for you for two days at the pub. What the fudge! You still coming?
MA_PE

PS - Boston is fudged. Everyone is dead or are zombified. British soldiers are roaming the streets handing out brochures that say our government has been replaced. WTF? You out of work now?

MA pressed Send and put the Blackberry back in his pocket.

"Do you think your car still works, Ray?"

 

[Dleg]

The three headsets retracted into the ceiling with the whisper of high quality hydraulics. Tmack blinked a few times, then took his ever-present flask out of his coat pocket for a drink. rrpearso rubbed his bruised and swollen jaw.

Darth HVAC stood and said "Excellent work, gentlemen! I shall report our success to my master. skuhh-huhhhhh"

"So we're finished now?" asked Tmack.

"No, that was just the opening shot. The bigger battle lies ahead of us. Now, if you will excuse me..."

A female stormtrooper entered the room. "Lord HVAC! I regret to inform you that the Chucktown continues to hold out. We have been unable to recover the keys."

"What!? Do not make me relieve you! I want those keys, Commander! skuhh-huhhhh"

rrpearso rubbed his jaw and looked at Tmack. "man i dont no about you but this is ******** i didnt spend 12 years in engineer school to sit around with a lextrode stuck to my head typing messages on internet fourems all day. i mean $100 per hour sounded like fatty cash when this hole thing started but im thinking we need to negoateate for better money or at least some benefits. you no they wanted a $50 copay just to set my jaw. my lasst job they covered on the job accidents for free witch was good because i got hurt really bad making copies once and it wasnt a papercut like you mite think it was much worse. it got infeketed and had to be draned and my arm turned black for a while."

Tmack took another slug from the flask and rubbed his head, wondering what it was that they had just accomplished.

 

[Dleg]

The day had finally dawned and the rumbling coming from Lindor had subsided. The ash clouds still covered the sun, but were not as dark or as angry looking as they had been during the night and early morning. VTEnviro held onto Gordalff, riding behind him on the back of the white unicorn DVINNY. Goredalff had just finished explaining what was happening, for the fifteenth time so far that day. Sschell had flow ahead on his dragon, roadwreck, several hours ago.

"So, what you're saying is, the three who shall not be named, and working for the Evil One who shall not be named, and they are trying to destroy you and your version of the internet, so they can impose their own version of the internet on the whole world?"

Goredalff laughed. "LOL! Yes! In part, anyway. But it's not just the internet."

"Right, right ... The Evil One actually exists in the next universe above ours, where our universe is the internet for his universe, so what he really wants is to control .... um, the internet outside the internet, which is the real world?"

"Sort of."

"So, this guy is just a giant *******?"

A screech from an eagle interrupted their conversation. VT looked toward the sound, and saw the large bird just as its talons sank into his back.

 

[Dleg]

The enormous bird carried the hobbit off the side of the road nearly a hundred feet before slamming him to the ground in the weeds. VTEnviro managed to roll on his back and get his arms up to defend himself. He noticed that Goredalff was laughing his *** off on the Unicorn. The eagle then proceeded to regurgitate a long, slender tube onto his chest, along with a sizeable quantity of mucus and bile, before flying off again.

"Holy! Holy ****! Jesus, Goredalff! What the fudge was that?!"

"LLLOOOLLLL!!!! Eagle mail!"

 

[Dleg]

VT stood and opened the foul-smelling, slime-covered tube and pulled out a rolled paper message. He read for a moment.

"Aw crap! I missed $2 pints!"

 

[Dleg]

VTEnviro continued reading. "Oh my God! Oh no! Goredalff! Goredalff! Boston has been invaded by the British! And there are zombies everywhere! It's all over!" VT sobbed.

Goredalff rode over to where he was standing. "Yes, I am afraid He has already overwhelmed your world. This is now the only place we can fight him." Goredalff looked very old, but suddenly brightened. "The fact that we're still here is a good thing, though! He must not have the Mark 69!"