Crack City (part 12)

story by Norm and Paul
music by Dave

We were passing through a burned out ghetto near the train yards--Vast rusty warehouses of corrugated iron and seedy, crack monkey infested tenements.... Suddenly a filthy bum leaps out into the street and I come within 2 seconds of splattering him all over the christing asphalt. The half nude bum leaps onto my hood, smearing fingerless melted hands across the windshield. I'm rolling down my window and pointing my Glock to blow his brains out when I recognize Chuck's crooked toothed grin.
"Vimps! Man, I'm so fuckin glad you didn't kill me--Twice!"
"Yeah, man--So where the fuck have you been?"
Chuck spasmed.
"They got me, man. I'm a fucking snake!" his eyes looked damned. I didn't understand.
"But you still seem.... "
"I know, man--But they GOT me--Chopped my cock off, my fingers!--I got one of them THINGS in my head!.... I'm fightin it, you dig?--But they see you now through me eyes."
"Mine too."
"WHAT???!!!" Chuck gasped, eyes lighting up with some species of hope.
"I work for the resistance--But not like your Dad. Obama's small potatoes--We're going after the Aliens themselves, and we aint afraid to smoke a few hits of their crack like those fuckin Cleans neither--YOU HEAR THAT???"--I'd grabbed Chuck's head and was savagely squeezing it--"WE KNOW EVERYTHING, AND WE'RE COMING FOR YOUR ASSES!!!!!"
"Ow!!!!!" Chuck screamed.
"Sorry," I let him go. "I forgot you still have a soul."
"Yeah, man, it's all right--Less and less every day, you know.... I don't even smoke crack anymore--I just scan for information like some cheapjack robot son of a biiitch!!!" he broke down, blubbering, his burnt-off finger stumps clutching his miserable face.
"Christ," I said, gently put the Glock 9mm to Chuck's head and made one more statement to the Alien Grey fucks before I blew his brain out.
"You fucked with the wrong planet, assholes. This aint Disney World."
The semi-automatic kicked and Chuck's alien-implanted coke fried brains spattered the cracked street like egg yolk. Suddenly my cellphone was bleeping. It was that worthless fuckhead Kid Rock. "Heeey, man--I GOT somethin you wanna SEE." I told him I'd be down soon as I found a manhole. "And you better not be fucking with me." I got Wacko Jacko's head out of the trunk and took a small hit of my telepathic blend. the eyes started glowing and I got Mr Shit on the brain-line--Told him I was heading into a meeting with a known scuzz bag and I might need back up--Rock and his posse of burned out wiggers had moved into Tree's old tent, making it their acid trip crash pad. I knew my crew of punk ass crackheads would only get me killed down there. Shit said they'd be down as soon as possible, and asked me for details on the situation. i started to tell him to expect an ambush, but the King of Pop started electrocuting me again and I had to cut the call short. Six minutes later I was back down in the sewer. "What the fuck you want you cheapjack fuck?" I asked, keeping my Glock at the ready. Kid had a small cardboard box between his boots--He lifted it and held it up to the light. Inside, in a nest of shredded newspapers, was some kind of hideous head of Tom Cruise trailing twin sticky pieces of ectoplasmic gunk for its loathesome body. I writhed as the thing in the box twitched, giving me the evil eye.
"Holy Jesus Fuck!" I gasped. A piece of duct tape was pasted across its mouth.
"Fuckin' thing wouldn't quit singin' "Hound Dog', Rock said with a shudder. "I mean, I love the King as much as anybody, but Christ--"
"Shut up," I snapped. "Where did you get this?"
"Hey, man, don't be a prick--"
I seized Kid Rock by the collar and stuffed the Glock's barrel deep into his scrawny tattooed neck.
"You listen to me you little slimy chickenshit scumsucker--This whole shit house is coming down on our heads if we don't strike soon--Very soon." Now tell me where you got this?!" I bellowed. Rock's pupils looked the size of dimes. I slammed my fist into his scrotal sack for good measure. Rock just let out a pathetic cough and whimpered drooling in a heap on the cement....
One of his thugs--A seven foot ape with a shaven scalp--Stepped forwad, drawing a billy club.
"Take one more god damn step, fat boy, and they'll be peeling your ass skin off the ceiling with a razor blade for twelve weeks."
He stopped, frowned.
"That's good." I kicked Kid in his guts one more time and screamed--"Where'd you get it?"
Rock blubbered, vomiting blood--"My gloooouuugh!!--My girlfriend--She--she shlooouuugh!!!!!--She shit--uuunnnngh--shit it out!"
I stopped kicking his ribcage and internal organs for a second and got on my knees. "WHERE IS SHE????!!!!" I bellowed. "TELL ME!!!!""I'm right here," a metallic hell-bitch voice spoke from behind me. I spun around but it was too late--A sharp-nailed hand whipped out, slashing my face and sending me flying with the force of a horsekick.

Category:

Comedy

Tags:

• michael
• jackson