Awful, Ohio
The contemplation rink adjourned. After listening to Wilsie McHickoryboob’s suggestions, Sammy Ammo concluded that the most likely location to locate Mad Ted would be in the eagle’s nest that rested inside of the hot sauce warehouse. Sammy informed Wilsie of the decision, sternly taking credit, leading the way from the abandoned warehouse. The information trickled down the hierarchal ladder, as Wilsie then informed Chuck Splatter like a golden fart plumbing into his face. Chuck was still discouraged for not receiving a more important duty, as he was left out of the contemplation rink, to keep an eye over Doink McTriggers from any abducting aliens. But regardless of his disapproval of inferiority, Chuck managed to cooperate, all for the sake of Sammy, as he motioned to Doink that it was time to get up from the floor of the abandoned warehouse and follow Sammy and Wilsie to the eagle’s nest in the hot sauce warehouse.
They left the abandoned building, entering into the baron streets. Sammy informed them all with the tip of his pistol that they needed to avoid being seen by the helicopters flying above. The three members readily obliged, as they dodged stealthily from one object to the next, hiding in the shadows from the Coercive Prevention Force. However, the helicopters flew over head, butchering the sky with blades of decadence, as their search lights danced in a theatrical show uncovering the shadows.
All of these sensations rattled reality from Doink McTriggers’ perception, causing him to have another out of body experience. He imagined the hamster aliens prodding his body with knives and forks, taste-testing his flesh, discovering that it was an adequate source of nutrition and flavor, thus, decidingly to process his body, pulverizing him into cans of food that would be distributed through extraterrestrial food market outlets. The active vision froze Doink’s body in the middle of an open street. The sun had spotted him like a watchman, exposing his flesh for all to see, coating his being with revealing light.
“Com’ on, Doink!” hollered Chuck Splatter, hiding in the shadows, trying to keep an eye on Doink as Sammy informed, listening to the helicopters over head, fearing that they would find them. But it was too late. Doink McTriggers was the only flesh baring entity posted in the center city streets of Awful, Ohio, making him easy to notice. A howling helicopter, operated by the Coercive Prevention Force, dropped its large spotlight over the four of them. A man, wearing black sunglasses, hanging from an opened side door, shouted from a megaphone, “stop where you are!”
Chuck Splatter ran to Doink, who was still frozen in the streets from his out of body experience. Chuck grabbed a hold of Doink, recognizing his duty, and fled from the scene with Doink as quickly as he could. Wilsie McHickoryboob thought running was a good idea and followed right behind Chuck and Doink, fearing that the helicopter would prevent them from making their way to the eagle’s nest, withholding her from discovering her conquest of revealing Mad Ted.
Chuck, Doink, and Wilsie all ran from the menacing, mechanical sky hawk that attempted to prey on their exposed bodies. But Sammy Ammo stood his ground. The helicopter recognized the challenge, ignoring the fleeing members, as it remained still, showing no signs of fear, embracing Sammy Ammo in the middle of the baron street for a duel.
The man in the helicopter raised his megaphone, lining its crosshairs directly over Sammy’s forehead, ready to announce his demands. His fingers tingled over the trigger of the megaphone, as his lips were ready to part, but before he could release the words from his mouth, Sammy Ammo raised his fin that bore the pistol. The chamber was loaded with heart shaped bullets targeted on the helicopter’s core. Sammy aimed, squinting both eyes, pulling the trigger before the man could release his demands. A fat bullet pushed from the chamber, splitting through the sky, searing the steel frame, lodging firmly in the helicopter’s core. The helicopter’s internal database permanently altered, as the heart shaped bullet rested comfortably into the helicopter, pumping life into its being, reprogramming its intentions. It was a moment of clarity. The black helicopter tilted to the side, pushing the man with the megaphone out of the door. The helicopter flew away, liberated from the demanding man, flying away from the sun, using its newly implanted heart to discover its own destiny. Chuck, Doink, and Wilsie had stopped running, watching the scene from a protective shadow. Sammy Ammo approached their abashed figures, with a trail of smoke swagging behind him from the barrel of his pistol like a tail of confidence, saying to his cohorts, “let’s go.”
They dashed from center city of Awful, Ohio, avoiding any more conflicting helicopters, hop-scotching from shadow to shadow, fleeing all the way to the city’s edge. The city’s edge was the hot sauce delta, as all the productivity and profit bled from the hot sauce warehouse and into the land that bloomed the thriving city of Awful, Ohio. They all stopped, looking up the canal, only too see the land parched with a dry gully, that lead to the curve of the earth. The surrounding terrain was sprinkled with sprouting communities and various warehouses, plantations, and factories that fed off arteries that connected to the dry gully. This evening they were dead.
“They must have shut down his production,” said Wilsie, digging her feet into the empty gully. “Mad Ted never shuts down. He must be preparing for his alien brethren to invade.”
Sammy Ammo remained silent. A breeze kicked up a clod of dirt that misted Sammy’s face, causing him to squint. Chuck Splatter watched the squinting, assuming that Sammy was becoming discouraged with their journey, and his destiny. Chuck remembered watching a trail-guide from a movie, sniffing and tasting all of his surroundings, to find which direction to pursue. Chuck Splatter decided to simulate the behavior to reassure Sammy of the validity of their journey, as he knelt down, scooping up some of the dry soil, placing it into his mouth, seeking answers. Chuck Splatter chewed the sediment, swooshing it through his teeth and over his tongue like mouth wash, hoping to stimulate the direction that would guide them to the hot sauce warehouse. Chuck intently convened the debris before swishing some more, as he uttered, “ok, the hot sauce factory is this way.”
But the other three members stood there, watching Chuck, unsure of why he was eating dirt. Chuck tried spitting out the soil, but it churned with his saliva, mixing into a thick mud that slowly dispensed from his mouth.
“The hot sauce factory is this way,” said Wilsie, pointing in the opposite direction. She turned towards the gully, dry from production and profit, using her experience to guide them to the hot sauce warehouse, as Sammy Ammo and Doink McTriggers readily followed. Chuck Splatter stood still, engulfing the chagrin, picking bits of dirt from the abut of his teeth, as he watched Sammy loyally following Wilsie, only to leave him behind.
“Wait for me!” hollered Chuck, as he departed from the hot sauce delta, running up the dry gully to catch up with the infantry that headed towards the hot sauce warehouse.