Rhonda Needs Help & Sacrificing Virgins for Clouds - Part 2
Aug 10, 2016 20:24:59 GMT -5
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Post by Harry Hates Golf on Aug 10, 2016 20:24:59 GMT -5
The streets were clogged with cars.
All of them creeping about.
All of them farting blue exhaust.
All of them housing drivers that were taking their sweet ass time getting to where they were going.
I had been playing a round of miserable golf on the PS4's The Golf Club only about a half hour earlier, regretting every swing I had been taking. Now, I was regretting ever answering the phone and going to help Rhonda. But I had no choice. The death clouds were above me, and the streets were utter madness, but Rhonda was needing my help, and being my best friend, I had to be willing to lay my life on the line. That is what a man does when a chick is in trouble.
The sweat on from my forehead poured profusely. Yes, it had been a little over thirty minutes since I left my house to meet Rhonda at the Chi-Chi Lounge, and every minute of it had been a living hell. The streets were as clogged up as a fat man’s arteries.
I had been amped up not only by my crazed fear of the billowy clouds of death that hung above, but also from the angered tension that was building up inside of me for the traffic that seem to be plaguing my travel from the moment I pulled out onto the main thoroughfare. My eyes would sting at times from the sweat that got into them. It felt like I was wearing a crown of thorns, and blood trickled down my forehead. I just ignored the pain, only taking a moment when needed to wipe my forehead with the back of my hand.
I almost wanted to cry as I drove down the streets, evading the slower moving cars, blasting my horn, driving up and over the curbs and darting down the sidewalks before swinging back onto the street. How nice it must be to have the gift of ignorance that all of these fools had. Here they were, puttering about in their !&**ing Mini-Coops and SUVs, oblivious to the lightning bolts that where going to come from the clouds, the lightning bolts that were about to split their craniums wide open. Insipid bastards, all of them. All they cared about was their Starbucks Soy Milk Carmel Crunch Mocha Frenzy Chocolate Chip Latte and their Ipad. They deserved their horrible fates because of their self-centered attitudes, always acting depressed, always expecting someone to say they're sorry, always pointing their fingers at rational thought. They were all so superficial. Tell these fools that the clouds above were about to slaughter them, and they would giggle at you, but put a scratch in their Ikea furniture, and they would be cutting your throat like a butcher in a slaughter house. Then after bleeding you dry, they would started suing you. Stupid a##!0#ls. Vile buggers. The death clouds would take many victims, turning their bones to powder, before these idiots would wake up to the threats of the Illuminati and death clouds.
“Oh mächtig Gabriel der Engel,” I said. “Schenke uns euch Barmherzigkeit und zerstören die bösen Wolken, die über unseren Köpfen hängen. Ich flehe Sie an , oh Mächtiger .”
I came to a halt at an intersection, stopping behind a woman in a SUV. She looked like another suburban housewife on her way to the grocery store before picking up the kids from school. She, like the many of her kind, litter the streets with their vehicles, slowing traffic, and at times, endangering lives. The only proper way to stop at a four-way intersection was to do the “rolling stop”, going slow enough to slam on the brakes if there was any oncoming cars, but fast enough to gun the car into high speed if the coast was clear. Yet, this stupid housewife had come to a complete stop, and had even started looking both ways.
Then I saw the shadow of a cloud passing over her SUV.
My diaphragm pushed upwards, and I screamed in terror.
I pushed down on the horn on my steering wheel, blasting the hyper-annoying sound. I saw the housewife in front of me looking about inside of her car, checking her rearview mirror to see what I was doing. I screamed again, but more in frustration. She was completely ignorant of the impending danger she was in, this foolish woman. Her blissful ignorance would hopefully be plastered on my death certificate as the leading cause of death.
All of them creeping about.
All of them farting blue exhaust.
All of them housing drivers that were taking their sweet ass time getting to where they were going.
I had been playing a round of miserable golf on the PS4's The Golf Club only about a half hour earlier, regretting every swing I had been taking. Now, I was regretting ever answering the phone and going to help Rhonda. But I had no choice. The death clouds were above me, and the streets were utter madness, but Rhonda was needing my help, and being my best friend, I had to be willing to lay my life on the line. That is what a man does when a chick is in trouble.
The sweat on from my forehead poured profusely. Yes, it had been a little over thirty minutes since I left my house to meet Rhonda at the Chi-Chi Lounge, and every minute of it had been a living hell. The streets were as clogged up as a fat man’s arteries.
I had been amped up not only by my crazed fear of the billowy clouds of death that hung above, but also from the angered tension that was building up inside of me for the traffic that seem to be plaguing my travel from the moment I pulled out onto the main thoroughfare. My eyes would sting at times from the sweat that got into them. It felt like I was wearing a crown of thorns, and blood trickled down my forehead. I just ignored the pain, only taking a moment when needed to wipe my forehead with the back of my hand.
I almost wanted to cry as I drove down the streets, evading the slower moving cars, blasting my horn, driving up and over the curbs and darting down the sidewalks before swinging back onto the street. How nice it must be to have the gift of ignorance that all of these fools had. Here they were, puttering about in their !&**ing Mini-Coops and SUVs, oblivious to the lightning bolts that where going to come from the clouds, the lightning bolts that were about to split their craniums wide open. Insipid bastards, all of them. All they cared about was their Starbucks Soy Milk Carmel Crunch Mocha Frenzy Chocolate Chip Latte and their Ipad. They deserved their horrible fates because of their self-centered attitudes, always acting depressed, always expecting someone to say they're sorry, always pointing their fingers at rational thought. They were all so superficial. Tell these fools that the clouds above were about to slaughter them, and they would giggle at you, but put a scratch in their Ikea furniture, and they would be cutting your throat like a butcher in a slaughter house. Then after bleeding you dry, they would started suing you. Stupid a##!0#ls. Vile buggers. The death clouds would take many victims, turning their bones to powder, before these idiots would wake up to the threats of the Illuminati and death clouds.
I couldn’t be bothered with any of this, though. Not now. My assignment at the moment was to drive, to push this !&**ing gas guzzling machine down the road until I reached my destination. I needed to reach the Chi-Chi Lounge at all costs. Unlike the ignorant fools that surrounded me, I was well aware that lives depended on this. I began to speak in my rusted, broken German, calling for the protection of Gabriel.
“Oh mächtig Gabriel der Engel,” I said. “Schenke uns euch Barmherzigkeit und zerstören die bösen Wolken, die über unseren Köpfen hängen. Ich flehe Sie an , oh Mächtiger .”
I came to a halt at an intersection, stopping behind a woman in a SUV. She looked like another suburban housewife on her way to the grocery store before picking up the kids from school. She, like the many of her kind, litter the streets with their vehicles, slowing traffic, and at times, endangering lives. The only proper way to stop at a four-way intersection was to do the “rolling stop”, going slow enough to slam on the brakes if there was any oncoming cars, but fast enough to gun the car into high speed if the coast was clear. Yet, this stupid housewife had come to a complete stop, and had even started looking both ways.
Then I saw the shadow of a cloud passing over her SUV.
My diaphragm pushed upwards, and I screamed in terror.
I pushed down on the horn on my steering wheel, blasting the hyper-annoying sound. I saw the housewife in front of me looking about inside of her car, checking her rearview mirror to see what I was doing. I screamed again, but more in frustration. She was completely ignorant of the impending danger she was in, this foolish woman. Her blissful ignorance would hopefully be plastered on my death certificate as the leading cause of death.
Typical car of a butthole driver
I leaned over to the glove compartment. I knew that I might have a stick of dynamite in there from my last fishing trip. This stupid woman was going to get us both killed, so if she was going to take her sweet ass time getting out of my way, I would clear my path the best way I know how. Dynamite can bring down a building, and it sure in the hell can get me to the Chi-Chi Lounge quicker.
I rummaged through the glove compartment, but couldn’t find the dynamite. I remember that I had used the explosive the last time I had gone fishing. The bass that day had been wise to the ways of the lure, so I brought the stupid beasts to the surface with a little creativity. It’s the preferred method of fishing in the Philippines, and who was I to be judgmental on the mores of various societies. But I needed the dynamite now, but it was not here.
I sat back up in my seat, only to see the foolish female still stopped in front of me at the intersection, overly cautious about the traffic that was coming at her from both sides. She now seemed to have lost interest in me, and was starting to look both ways before proceeding into the intersection. The sight of her head turning back and forth, looking both ways, drove me into a fit of hysteria. I began screaming, which I knew was the only way to maintain my sanity. I pounded my clenched fist on the dashboard in front of me. I knew I had no other choice. I had to step out of my and proceed on foot, even with the threat of death clouds above me.
I opened the driver’s door and stepped out. The moment I did, I was greeted by the shadow of a passing cloud. I fell to the ground, covering my head, waiting for the death blow to begin, the ungodly pain that awaited me as a lightning bolt spilt my sternum in half. After a few sweaty moments, I looked up again. The death blow must have missed me. Perhaps there was another chance of moving this inept female off of my terrain before death was dealt to me from the clouds about. I got to my feet and stumbled over to the driver’s side of the woman’s SUV. The woman looked startled as I pounded my fist on the closed window. With her eyes wide, she rolled down the window.
“Oh my goodness,” she chirped like chubby bungie. “What’s wrong? Is everything all right?”
“North Korea probably just launched their missiles,” I bellowed loudly in her face. “You have to get home and protect your family and property at all costs!”
“What?” the bungie voice lady cried. “I haven’t heard anything on the radio about that! Shouldn’t the EBS be making an announcement!?!”
“You silly fool!” I yelled at her. “Has all the chocolate that you have shoved down your gullet all these years made your tiny brain mush!?! North Korean spies have taken over most radio and television station within our borders. They are tech geniuses! They are trying to keep the citizens of the United States in the dark!”
“Oh my goodness,” said the woman. She started to break out in a sweat, wetting her forehead and cheeks, giving her a greasy look. “If they took over all the news stations, how do you know about all this?”
I reached into my pocket, pulling out my MORTradio press pass, quickly flashing it in a blur in front of the woman’s eyes before stuffing it back into my pocket.
“I’m Agent Cowsills of the RNC and DNC. We’ve been expecting this horrible event for some time now. It looks like life as we know it is ending today!”
The bungie voice lady wailed out.
“Oh no! No! My children. What can I do!?! Help me! Please!”
“Calm down, you hysterical female! This isn’t a shoe sale!” I took hold of her hand, looking at her intensely. “I need you to remain calm. You are an American, and a productive member of the free world. Do exactly as I say, and you will survive this catastrophe and help build a new world.”
“What must I do?” the woman asked, her eyes brimming with prideful tears.
“Go home immediately,” I said to her. “Pick up your children, wherever they are, and go home. Do you have a Xbox One or Playstation 4 at home?”
“Yes. My oldest son has an Xbox One, and my youngest has a Playstation 4. They are always fighting about which one is better, and I tell them….”
“SHUT UP AND LISTEN, YOU CHUBBY HEN!”
“I’m sorry,” said the woman. “Please, tell me what I should do!?!”
“When you get home,” I began. “I want you to have your kids gone on the Xbox Store and Playstation Store and buy the digital downloads of HB Studios The Golf Club. You must do this immediately before Kim’s spies take over the internet. Having The Golf Club game will allow your children to remain calm during the national emergency, allowing you and your pathetic husband to finally take control of your lives and begin to prepare for the possible radioactive fallout that may occur.”
“I will,” the woman blurted out. “I will do exactly as you say. I fully agree with you. If my children are allowed to spend their finally moments on this earth playing a family orientated game like The Golf Club, then I could not ask for more.”
“I’m glad you hear you say that,” I said to the woman, taking her hand in mine. “Violent video games are needed to help children prepare for the real world, and yes, even for the apocalyptic world that we may be facing, but they also need family orientated games like The Golf Club as well.”
The woman began to weep. “I can’t believe that this will be the last day I spend with my children and my husband. If only we could have one more family night together, playing Scrabble or The Golf Club.”
“Be strong, you goddamn woman,” I said sternly. “Weakness will not be tolerated. Be strong and purchase The Golf Club game. Remember, there is still a chance that our satellites will be able to intercept the incoming warheads from Korea. If they do, then tomorrow we will see blue skies and the American flag waving in the wind! You and your children will be able to continue to play The Golf Game, creating a strong family unit.”
“Oh Good Lordie, I will pray for that,” the woman bellowed at the top of her lungs.
“Then do as I say,” I shouted at her face. “Move like the devil is pinching your ass and get home!”
The woman gave me a crazed, insane nod. With all her large, swollen body behind it, she planted her foot on the gas pedal of her car. Her car squealed and began to fishtail. She fought the steering wheel like a kid from Driver’s Ed, and shot out into the busy intersection, almost side-swiping a school bus. Within a matter of seconds, the woman’s car was out of my view, although I could hear horns blasting.
I looked up.
The death clouds were still above me.
With outstretched arms, I ran back to my car, getting inside of it and shutting the door. I revved the engine and put the car into drive, moving out into the intersection, my path finally cleared.
I hoped I would get to Rhonda in time.
And I prayed for her safety.
And mine.
A wonderful fishing aid
Sandra knows of the death clouds too
I opened the driver’s door and stepped out. The moment I did, I was greeted by the shadow of a passing cloud. I fell to the ground, covering my head, waiting for the death blow to begin, the ungodly pain that awaited me as a lightning bolt spilt my sternum in half. After a few sweaty moments, I looked up again. The death blow must have missed me. Perhaps there was another chance of moving this inept female off of my terrain before death was dealt to me from the clouds about. I got to my feet and stumbled over to the driver’s side of the woman’s SUV. The woman looked startled as I pounded my fist on the closed window. With her eyes wide, she rolled down the window.
“Oh my goodness,” she chirped like chubby bungie. “What’s wrong? Is everything all right?”
“North Korea probably just launched their missiles,” I bellowed loudly in her face. “You have to get home and protect your family and property at all costs!”
“What?” the bungie voice lady cried. “I haven’t heard anything on the radio about that! Shouldn’t the EBS be making an announcement!?!”
“You silly fool!” I yelled at her. “Has all the chocolate that you have shoved down your gullet all these years made your tiny brain mush!?! North Korean spies have taken over most radio and television station within our borders. They are tech geniuses! They are trying to keep the citizens of the United States in the dark!”
“Oh my goodness,” said the woman. She started to break out in a sweat, wetting her forehead and cheeks, giving her a greasy look. “If they took over all the news stations, how do you know about all this?”
I reached into my pocket, pulling out my MORTradio press pass, quickly flashing it in a blur in front of the woman’s eyes before stuffing it back into my pocket.
“I’m Agent Cowsills of the RNC and DNC. We’ve been expecting this horrible event for some time now. It looks like life as we know it is ending today!”
Agent Harry Cooper - Keeping the Commies at bay
The bungie voice lady wailed out.
“Oh no! No! My children. What can I do!?! Help me! Please!”
“Calm down, you hysterical female! This isn’t a shoe sale!” I took hold of her hand, looking at her intensely. “I need you to remain calm. You are an American, and a productive member of the free world. Do exactly as I say, and you will survive this catastrophe and help build a new world.”
“What must I do?” the woman asked, her eyes brimming with prideful tears.
“Go home immediately,” I said to her. “Pick up your children, wherever they are, and go home. Do you have a Xbox One or Playstation 4 at home?”
“Yes. My oldest son has an Xbox One, and my youngest has a Playstation 4. They are always fighting about which one is better, and I tell them….”
“SHUT UP AND LISTEN, YOU CHUBBY HEN!”
“I’m sorry,” said the woman. “Please, tell me what I should do!?!”
“When you get home,” I began. “I want you to have your kids gone on the Xbox Store and Playstation Store and buy the digital downloads of HB Studios The Golf Club. You must do this immediately before Kim’s spies take over the internet. Having The Golf Club game will allow your children to remain calm during the national emergency, allowing you and your pathetic husband to finally take control of your lives and begin to prepare for the possible radioactive fallout that may occur.”
“I will,” the woman blurted out. “I will do exactly as you say. I fully agree with you. If my children are allowed to spend their finally moments on this earth playing a family orientated game like The Golf Club, then I could not ask for more.”
“I’m glad you hear you say that,” I said to the woman, taking her hand in mine. “Violent video games are needed to help children prepare for the real world, and yes, even for the apocalyptic world that we may be facing, but they also need family orientated games like The Golf Club as well.”
The woman began to weep. “I can’t believe that this will be the last day I spend with my children and my husband. If only we could have one more family night together, playing Scrabble or The Golf Club.”
“Be strong, you goddamn woman,” I said sternly. “Weakness will not be tolerated. Be strong and purchase The Golf Club game. Remember, there is still a chance that our satellites will be able to intercept the incoming warheads from Korea. If they do, then tomorrow we will see blue skies and the American flag waving in the wind! You and your children will be able to continue to play The Golf Game, creating a strong family unit.”
“Oh Good Lordie, I will pray for that,” the woman bellowed at the top of her lungs.
“Then do as I say,” I shouted at her face. “Move like the devil is pinching your ass and get home!”
The woman gave me a crazed, insane nod. With all her large, swollen body behind it, she planted her foot on the gas pedal of her car. Her car squealed and began to fishtail. She fought the steering wheel like a kid from Driver’s Ed, and shot out into the busy intersection, almost side-swiping a school bus. Within a matter of seconds, the woman’s car was out of my view, although I could hear horns blasting.
I looked up.
The death clouds were still above me.
With outstretched arms, I ran back to my car, getting inside of it and shutting the door. I revved the engine and put the car into drive, moving out into the intersection, my path finally cleared.
I hoped I would get to Rhonda in time.
And I prayed for her safety.
And mine.
OUTTA MY WAY....DEATH CLOUDS ABOUND!!!!
WILL HARRY EVER SEE RHONDA AGAIN???
WILL RHONDA BE KILLED BY THE DEATH CLOUDS???
WILL THE CHI-CHI LOUNGE BE RAIDED???
WILL THERE BE ENOUGH WHISKEY???
WILL SOCIOLOGICAL THEORY REGARDING NURTURING AND NATURAL ROLES PREVAIL???
WILL TRAFFIC JAM CREATORS BELIEVE THAT A NUCLEAR WAR HAS BEGAN???
TUNE IN NEXT TIME FOR....
"RHONDA NEEDS HELP & SACRIFICING VIRGINS FOR CLOUDS - PART 3"