risawn’s taken her carnival of carnage into the alps–and this time she has accomplices!
Archive of entries posted on 7th October 2005
Because I Was Bored
Coming Home
A good friend of my brother, Lance Cpl. Joe Lowe, finally returned home to Boise yesterday after recovering enough from the injuries he received in Iraq that have left him paralyzed. My mother was there at the airport for it, and said it was a huge reception.
My brother is probably in Kuwait right now, should return to the states this weekend, and should hopefully get back to Boise with the rest of his Marine reserve unit on the fifteenth. Joe Lowe really wanted to be back home for that and got his wish.
A Story, Bit-by-Bit
Superego: Part 41 – D-Day
BEGINNING OF STORY
PREVIOUS (PART 40)
I snatched my gun, pointed it at the intruder, and was halfway through the trigger pull when I remembered where I was.
I put the gun back down and told the stunned silent Diane, “Sorry, I’m not used to waking up with someone else in the room.”
Diane seemed to recover her nerves. She was still fully-clothed and sitting on the blanket I gave her. “Apparently you trained for it, though.”
“Were you talking when I woke up?”
“Diane and I have been communicating all night,” Dip interjected, “She has been trying to convince me that the best way to serve you would be to betray and do what she tells me. She’s probably right, but the idea is too much in violation of my programming.”
Diane smiled weakly. “Can’t blame a girl for trying.”
“I still don’t understand what you expect to do by fighting against me, Diane. The violence is coming, and not even I can stop that now.”
“So why be another lamb for the slaughter?”
I stood up from the bed, grabbing the holster for my two main guns. “Do I look like a lamb?”
She stood up too. “Sometimes.”
I laughed. “What is your deal, Blondie? I was hoping over the night you’d come to embrace the idea of the crime syndicates getting caught in a huge slaughter. I’ve seen your disdain for your people’s own bureaucratic rules in your detective work, and you know all of this is beyond you silly little police force.”
“It’s true, I will skirt the rules when lives are at stake, but our system is all we have to keep us from being some version of your criminal chaos.” She grabbed my arm and stared me in the eyes. “Rico, in weaker moments, I want nothing more than to stand at your side and blow away the scum of the universe, but I know that won’t accomplish anything. As many criminals as we kill, more will rise to take their place. The only way we can defeat the powerful, criminal groups out there is to make an even more powerful group of the honest people – a Galactic Alliance covering as many as possible and freed from corruption. As much as you want this coming slaughter, it is nothing more than one man’s vengeance… vengeance for things you probably can’t even put into words.”
What did she expect from me? Gee, Diane, you’re right! I’m going to work towards non-violence from now on and love Jesus and make macaroni paintings! I pushed Diane away and smiled. “Whatever the reasons for this coming massacre, it’s gonna be a hoot.”
“It can be stopped.”
I walked away from her. “Not by you.”
“Do you really want this, Rico?”
“It will be my Christmas.”
Diane was silent for a moment. “Are you going to take your pills for good luck beforehand?”
She was reaching now. I walked over to my jacket and took out the old bottle of pills. “I don’t think so.”
“What do they do?”
“Not sure; never taken one.”
“Why not?”
“Well, if I run out, I can’t get a refill since I killed who prescribed them.” I laughed. “He was so surprised when I stabbed him, and he was the one who first called me a ‘psychopath.'”
Diane just stared at me. I guess she wanted more information. Fine.
“Some with the syndicate have always been worried about my stability. They made me see a psychiatrist. He prescribed me some drugs that would supposedly make me more susceptible to normal human emotions. My thoughts were what worth was all that if it could be made by a couple of pills.”
“You were scared to take them.”
Too smart for her own good again. “Yes, Diane. If I gave you a pill and said that taking it would change who you are, wouldn’t you be scared? If you destroy your current self, that’s like suicide. And I am not desperate enough for suicide.” I smiled. “I prefer homicide. Anyway, it became apparent that the good doctor was going to force me to get ‘better,’ so I killed him and a few others and got out of there.”
“Weren’t there some repercussion from the Corlonis for that?”
“No, they wisely realized that was their mistake that time. There going to realize they’re handling of me this time was a mistake, too, but I’m going to have to spell it out for them.”
“So why do you keep the pills with you?”
I didn’t know, but I wasn’t going to tell her that. I tossed her the bottle. “There, now they’re yours. Be careful, they may cause nausea… and they’re probably expired. I don’t know if we’ll ever see each other again after this, so consider it a souvenir. Now, I have to get ready for today’s festivities.”
“Does that mean you’ll finally stop prancing around this hotel room naked?”
“I’m wearing boxers.” I then chuckled. “Oh yeah, I forgot you’re a prude.” I flexed my muscles. “So, was I what you expected?”
“I honestly thought you’d have more scars.”
“Well, I’m a quicker learn than most. I’m going to take a shower now; if you want one, you’ll have to take it with me so you can be supervised to make sure you don’t try anything.”
She just scowled at me.
I smiled. “Can’t blame a guy for trying. Diane, you sit back in the corner. Dip, you tell me if she moves so I can come out and kill her.”
“Certainly, Rico.”
I took a quick shower, my guns hanging next to me. A human being can smell quite foul if not cleaned everyday; it probably was some natural defense way back when. Humans might have actually made an interesting subject for a nature show before technology defined their existence.
After the shower, I found Diane was playing twenty-questions with Dip. Apparently, she had calmed down. I set my guns down on the nightstand and began to put my pants on. There was then a sudden movement towards me ending it a strong blow to the side of my head, knocking me to the ground.
“She moved,” Dip said in my ear.
Attacking a man with his pants half on – that was low. I tried to roll out of the way as I fully pulled up my pants, but I caught another blow to my side.
It was now clear I should have killed Diane last night; she was not going to see reason. Well, now it was decided for certain: it was time for us to end our relationship.
NEXT
Friday Catblogging
Since it’s Friday, I thought I’d spread the joy of humor-free, apolitical Friday Catblogging to IMAO (aka “I-MEOW”).
Today, it’s Frisky the Fluffball showing off his Devil costume:
Doesn’t he look happy?
If you’re not sure how this absurd scene pertains to IMAO, since IMAO is famous for that “political humor” thing, it doesn’t. If you must have some semblance of politics or humor in everything you read here, just assume that Frisky is… um…
Help me out here. Make your suggestions in the comments how this scene is, in fact, a political allegory.
(For more animal goodness, try Friday Ark today and Carnival of the Cats on Sundays.)
What to Do with a Problem Like V.I. Lenin?
The Russians are trying to figure out what to do with the body of Lenin. I have a few ideas:
* Chuck him in the river. It’s highly economical. Just do it the middle of the night and leave a note in the glass case saying, “Lenin was here.”
* Russia is always in need of cash, so sell him on eBay.
* If there’s something I don’t have a need for anymore, I like firing it out of a cannon. If they aim the cannon at a wall, he’ll go all splat and people will be like, “Yay!”
* I also like blowing things up. He could have explosives planted inside him, be suspended in the air, and then blown up surrounded by a crowd. Then everyone will scramble to get their own piece of Lenin.
* Instead of a boring display, why not tie strings to Lenin limbs and have him do a marionette show once a day called the “Old Time Commie Puppet Theater.” He could dance and sing songs about a dictatorship of the proletariat.
Well, those are my ideas. Any others?

