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The Misadventures of Dr. Junkee (part 8)
By JPJunkee
THE GODS ARE CRAZY
Part I : THE "PLOT" THICKENS
It was cold. It was wet. It was smelly. It was windy. But above all else, it was cold. The streets of Charger City (yes, Charger City, as in that other series) were a dangerous place. People died there (mainly from the cold). People worked here (and complained about the cold). And People lived here (they must have been immune to the cold).
Dark Hunter yawned and lifted up his head from the wet, smelly, and above all else, cold sidewalk. He scratched his dirty hair, and then smiled.
"Time to eat!" he shouted. Then he got to his feet, and skipped down the street to The BURGER PIT.
* * *
Dark Hunter skipped through the entrance of the BURGER PIT, and walked up to the counter. Behind the register, a woman frowned as she stuck two ketchup packets up her nostrils to block out DH's smell.
"Can I take your order?" the woman said in a funny voice.
DH looked took some change out of his pocket and asked, "What can I get with one dollar?"
The woman rolled her eyes, "The same thing that you always get, Dark. The Sloppy Burger."
DH smiled, "Hmmm. . . . Okay, sounds good, I'll have that!"
Moments later, DH had his Sloppy Burger, and was sitting at a booth eating it.
"Dark Hunter?!" A voice said at the other side of the booth.
DH wiped some of the Sloppy Burger off his chin, and looked up. A big man, with silver and gray hair, and sun burnt skin was smiling and looking down at him. "CeratosPit! You're back!" DH grinned.
CeratosPit smiled. The BURGER PIT was his restaurant. . . it was named after his name. . . kinda clever, eh?
"Yep, I'm back. Three weeks in Costa Rica. . . ahh. . . my skin feels like I was walking on the sun."
"Was it fun?" DH asked, between chewing his Sloppy Burger.
"You bet it was! Probably the best vacation I've ever been on."
"Cool."
"So. . . how are you? Are you still homeless?"
"Damn straight!"
"Still got amnesia?"
"Yep! Still can't remember a thing between the age of 14 and 30," DH frowned slightly.
"How old are you, again?"
"34."
"That must suck. . . say! Why don't I buy you a drink? You look thirsty," CeratosPit offered.
"Thanks, I am kinda thirsty," DH said.
CeratosPit smiled and walked away. Moments later he returned with a cup of Pepsi for Dark Hunter (Pepsi is better than Coke). Dark Hunter smiled as he drank the Pepsi, and then began to chew on the ice cubes.
"So, how's business on the streets?" CeratosPit asked.
"It's okay," DH said, chewing on the ice. "It could be worse. It could be really hot outside. . . I don't know what I would do if it was hot outside---" Dark Hunter began to choke on the ice.
"Dark Hunter? Dark are you okay?" CeratosPit asked.
DH continued to choke on the ice.
CeratosPit began slapping DH's back. "Come on, Dark. Spit it up."
DH's face began to shake violently, his eyes zig-zagged like a friggin tornado during a caffeine overload. Then, all was quiet, and he stopped shaking and choking. He looked up at CeratosPit.
"Are you okay?" CeratosPit asked, his voice full of concern.
"Yes. . . I. . . I think so," DH said.
"Of course you're okay!" a distinctively English sounding voice said in the back of DH's head.
"What the hell was that?" DH said, as he looked around the restaurant for speakers in the ceiling.
"Now, now, don't swear, that's not a nice thing to do," the voice in his head said.
DH froze. "Are you in my head?"
"Yes, indeed."
"Holy crap! CeratosPit, Prime Minister Tony Blair is in my head!" DH screamed.
CeratosPit laughed, "Ha! You're a funny hobo!"
DH screamed. This was crazy! He threw the rest of his Sloppy Burger at CeratosPit's face, then ran screaming from the restaurant. He screamed all the way to his cardboard box by the side of the road.
"Why are you screaming?" the English voice asked in the back of his head.
"Ahhh! Please Tony Blair! I'm sorry!"
"I'm not Tony Blair."
"Oh. . . okay then. . . who are you?"
"Brace yourself."
DH grabbed onto the edges of his cardboard box.
"I am---"
"Oh God, that's horrible!" DH screamed.
"Hush you. . . I haven't finished yet."
"Oh, sorry."
"My name is---"
"Oh God! Please spare me!"
"Shut up you! Let me finish! . . . My name is. . . DAN!!!! Bralmamamamahh!"
DH looked disappointed. "Dan? What kind of lame name is that?"
"I'm not finished yet! I am DAN the Light God!"
"Oh."
There was a long silence.
"Don't you want to know how I got in your head?" Dan asked.
DH shrugged, "No, not really."
"Too bad. I'm going to tell you. I, DAN the Light God, entered your mind. . . because you ate an ice cube! Bralmamamamamahhh!!!"
"Ooooo. . . freaky."
"Yes, quite. But, that's just the half of it. . . . I need your help, Dark Hunter."
"Gah! How do you know my name?!" DH screamed.
"I'm. . . in your head."
"Oh God! That's terrible!"
"Ehh. Okay listen DH, I need your help. The Dark God BOB has possessed the mind of a mortal. . . much like I am possessing your mind. And Bob will use the mortal to destroy the world! I can't let that happen! I need you to help me destroy Bob!"
"Hmm. . . sounds cool and all. . . but I'm kinda busy with other things," DH said as he began to spit at bugs on the sidewalk.
"Yes. . . well. . . hmm. What if I offered you something in return for your help?"
"Hmm. . . like what?"
"I will give you, the memory you have lost."
"Really? Hot diggity! Fine, I'd be happy to help ya for me memory!" DH smiled.
"Good. . . good. . . but that will come at a later time. But now, I need you to be focused at the task at hand," Dan said.
"Okay, so what first?"
"Steal a car."
* * *
Dr. Junkee sat behind his desk, a note pad in hand. On the opposite side of the desk, sat Shwa. After Martin Randle was taken to prison for unlawful use of Windex, Dr. Junkee decided he needed to find a replacement. But, instead of having to pay a replacement. . . he thought it'd be just as good to hire a loony to be the janitor. . . it's not that hard of a job after all.
Shwa had been the first, among many, who requested the job. And so, Junkee decided to interview all of the people. . . and decide on who would be the best candidate for the janitorial position.
"Why do you think that you, would be the best choice for janitor, among all of the other loonies?" Junkee asked Shwa.
Shwa smiled, "Because I'm not insane."
Junkee started to laugh. . . until he saw Shwa's stern face. "You're serious?" Junkee asked.
"Yes, I am not crazy. You just think I'm crazy because I come from the planet Pluto. . . but you know, not all Plutonians are crazy---"
A block of cheese hit Shwa directly in the nose, knocking him out of his chair.
"Okay, next!" Junkee said with a kind and deceiving smile.
* * *
Martin Randle opened his eyes. He was laying on a stiff cot in a jail cell. It smelled in here. The floor was sticky, and the walls were dirty. He wondered how long it had been since a janitor had cleaned the cell.
"Hey muffin man! I'm gonna turn you into a muffin stew!" a voice said to his left.
Martin slowly turned his head, and saw a muscular, bald, tattoo covered, bearded man.
"Sorry?" Martin said.
"Ha! Just playing with ya. How ya doin? My name is Violater!" the muscular man exclaimed as he extended his hand.
Martin stared at the man's hand for a long time, then said, "Forgive me if I don't shake hands."
"Ha! You some kind of fairy or something? Too afraid you'll get your hands dirty?"
Martin tried not to be angered by the comment. "No, I am Martin, wielder of the Mop of Magical Majesty."
"Gee wiz man. . . that's a pretty cool name. Why do they call you that?"
"Because I wield the Mop of Magical Majesty."
"Oh."
"Why are you named Violater?" Martin teased.
"Because I violated a lot of laws," Violater stated.
"Oh."
* * *
Yvonne struggled in her straight jacket. To prevent Yvonne from calling for more help, Junkee had demanded that she be put in a straight jacket for the next couple of days. And because Junkee was rather superstitous, and feared people with telekinesis, he also had Vader watch over Yvonne so that she couldn't close her eyes and send a message to the outside world.
Yvonne's eyes were, needless to say, quite bloodshot from being awake for 24 hours straight. Her eyelids began to grow heavy. . . and they began to close.
"Hey!" Vader yelled.
Yvonne's eyes opened, and she looked up at Vader. "I wasn't going to use any psychic powers! I'm just sleepy."
Vader leaned in close to Yvonne and whispered, "Don't give me that crap. We know of your powers. Now. . . tell me. . . where is the Rebel Base?"
"What?"
"Don't play games with me, missy!"
"Can I have a Pepsi?" Yvonne asked.
Vader rubbed his chin, contemplating over the question, finally he said, "No, but you can have a Coke."
"Bleh! I want a Pepsi!"
"No, you cannot have a Pepsi."
"But I'm tired!"
"Then go to sleep!" Vader said.
"Really?"
"Yes. . . that's what you do when you're tired. . . . loony."
Yvonne smiled, and she began to close her eyes.
"Hey! What do you think you're doing?!" Vader shouted.
"You said I could go to sleep!"
"Yes. . . but I never said you could close your eyes."
"Your worse than Dr. Junkee," Yvonne whined.
Vader smiled, "Thank you."
* * *
A white Ford Mustang pulled to a stop at a red light. Inside the car, Carnotaur3 listened to hard rock music, and tapped his hands on the steering wheel. All the while, he sang along with the tune, "Cuz I'm a hot, hot woman!!!! Whoa! Yeah, I'm a hot, hot woman!!! Oh Lord! Yeah!"
"That's a peculiar song for someone like you to be singing," Dark Hunter said, sticking his head inside the window.
"Gah! What are you doing?" Canotaur3 screamed.
"Oh, yes, um, ever heard of the game Grand Theft Auto?" Dark Hunter asked.
"Um, yes, I think so. But, what does that have to do with---"
Dark Hunter punched Carnotaur3 in the jaw, and then pushed him over into the passenger's seat. Dark Hunter got into the driver's seat, and began to drive away.
Carnotaur3 rubbed his jaw. "Jeez dude, I would have just given you the car, you didn't need to get all mean and crap."
"Oh, sorry about that. Are you okay?" DH asked as he turned at a street corner.
"I don't know. . . I think I've got some internal bleeding going on here."
"In your jaw?"
Carnotaur3 shrugged, "There are weirder things in the world."
"You’re telling me," DH laughed, "I've got a God named Dan inside my head."
"Ha! That is weird!"
Carnotaur3 and DH laughed. Dark Hunter was now driving well over the speed limit.
"So where ya headed?" Carnotaur3 asked.
"I don't know. Hey Dan, where are we going?"
"We are now going to Kevy Mac's Pet Paradise," Dan said.
"Hot diggity! Are we going to see the puppies?" DH asked.
"No. . . we're going to go get a bug. . . and then we are going to destroy Bob."
"Woohoo!"
* * *
Dac smiled as he entered Dr. Junkee's office. As always, Dac had the lighter in his hand.
"Ah, here for the janitor job, Dac?" Junkee asked politely.
"Umm, no. . . I don't think so. I can't remember," Dac said with a confused expression.
"Ugh, then stop wasting my time, and get out of my office."
Dac frowned, and turned to leave.
"Wait, don't make him go!" Bob said in Junkee's head.
"Wait a sec, Dac. Don't leave just yet," Junkee said.
"BURN him first!"
Junkee smiled, "Hey Dac, think fast!" Junkee threw a bottle of wine at Dac. The bottle broke, spilling the wine all over Dac's body.
Dac giggled, "Hehehe. . . I'm wet."
"Hey, Dac, why do you have a lighter in your hand?" Junkee asked pointing at the lighter in Dac's wet hand.
Dac looked at the lighter and frowned, "What the hell is a lighter?" Dac pushed the button, and instead of a one inch flame, his entire body turned into a giant fireball. "Gahhh!!!! I think I vaguely remember this pain!! Oh, so hot! HOT!" Dac screamed as he ran around the office on fire.
"Quick, the window!" Junkee yelled.
Dac screamed as he ran at the window, and broke through the glass.
"Nicely done, Junkee. You're quite the natural at this evil business."
"Thanks, I try."
* * *
Martin rocked back in forth on the cot in the jail cell. The smell of the cell was starting to get to him. He had the horrible feeling the fumes would cause brain damage or something.
He looked outside the cell, and saw Rick Arnold, the police chief walking by. Martin shrugged and asked, "Excuse me, Mr. Arnold? Could you possibly tell me the last time this cell was cleaned by a janitor that had been licensed by the Janitorial Council of the United Stat System Alliance AKA Earth?"
Rick Arnold looked at Martin, and said, "What?!"
Martin groaned, "When was my cell cleaned last?"
Arnold shrugged, "A few years or so. . . why?"
"A few years?!" Martin screamed.
"I guess, so. But, I could be wrong."
Martin began spazing out, "I can't take this. . . smell. . . this grime. . . not clean. . . so dirty! Ahhhh!!!!"
Violater looked at Arnold and said, "This guy's kinda freaky."
Martin's face was bright red. "Where is my mop?!" he demanded.
Arnold slowly nodded his head, slightly frightened by the enraged man. "Um, they took it to the Impound."
"You impound mops?" Violater asked.
"I want my mop now!!!" Martin shouted.
"Well, you can't have your mop," Arnold said. "That mop is a lethal weapon. . . and weapons are bad for your health."
"Give me Moppy now!" Martin roared.
"No, you can never see your mop again."
Martin's skin stopped turning red. . . and then began to change into a green color. Veins began popping out of his neck, and his muscles began to grow.
"Holy crap!" Violater yelled. "This is just like that one movie!"
"MARTIN MASH!" he yelled as he jumped at the bars of the cage. In one swipe of his big hand, Martin knocked the bars over.
"Hooahh! Go Mop Man! Kick some copper ass, woohoo!" Violater cheered.
Rick Arnold dodged the bars, and then drew his gun, and aimed at Martin's head. "That--- that was a Federal offense. . . which is bad! Mr. Randle, I'm placing you under arrest. . . again."
The big green muscular Martin opened his mouth and roared. The blast of breath sent Arnold flying into a wall, knocking him unconscious.
"Oh yeah! Jail break! Lets go!" Violater shouted.
Martin turned around and shook his big finger at Violater, "No. You stay here. You bad man." Martin then picked up the bars, and ceiled Violater back into the cell.
"Aww man, shucks! I promised the judge I wouldn't kill any more monkeys," Violater protested.
Martin simply shook his head, then punched one of the brick walls of the prison. He smelled the fresh air. He was free!
* * *
Dark Hunter pulled the Mustang into a parking space outside Kevy Mac's Pet Paradise. DH put the car in park, and then turned to Carnotaur3 and said, "Can I trust you not to steal my car?"
"But this is my car," Carnotaur3 reminded him.
"No it isn't."
"It's not?"
"Nope, it's my car," DH said.
"Oh yeah? Prove it."
"It's a 99' white Ford Mustang."
"Wow, it is your car!" Carnotaur3 said. "I'm sorry I ever doubted you. It's just I've had this car for three years and---"
"Yeah, yeah, yeah, quit blabbering. Are you coming in with me, or not?" DH asked.
"Sure why not. I need to get a new leash for my pet penguin, anyway."
Dark Hunter and Carnotaur3 stepped out of the car, and walked towards the entrance of the pet store.
"So what is it we're looking for?" DH asked Dan the Light God.
"A rare, West African beetle. I have discovered, that Kevy Mac's Pet Paradise actually has one of the beetles in stock," Dan replied.
"What's the beetle called?"
"The Gorblat. Kevy Mac will more than likely be holding the Gorblat in the back of the shop. I must warn you though, it is rather expensive."
"Expensive?! I'm homeless! I only have fifty cents in my pocket. Hey, Carnotaur3, how much money do you have on you?" DH said.
Carnotaur3 looked in his wallet, "Oh, I'd say about three thousand--"
"Yay!" DH screamed with joy.
"--- in Denmarkian credits," Carnotaur3 continued.
"Oh."
"Hmm, that won't do any good," Dan said grimly.
"What do you propose we do then?"
"Hmm, ever seen the movie, A Simple Plan?"
"Yeah, it was about a couple of guys that had a simple plan to steal something, but in the end, everything went wrong."
"Exactly."
Dark Hunter looked perplexed. "Umm. . . . wait. . . I'm sorry, did I miss something?"
* * *
On the front lawn of a big white house, a big fat penguin was running back and forth.
"CRAW!" the penguin said.
Around the penguin's neck, was a rope of licorice, that kept the penguin from flying away.
"CRAW!" the penguin said again, as it fought against the restraints of the licorice rope.
It longed to be free. It had other places to be right now. Three days ago, while flying by the forest, a man named Carnotaur3 had ambushed the penguin, and taken it as a pet. The penguin was not meant to be a pet. It was not a normal penguin (normal penguins are perfect pets). It needed to warn the do-gooders of the things to come. It needed to. It NEEDED TO!!!!
"CRAWWW!!!!" the penguin wailed.
Finally, a thought occurred to the penguin. Turning to its licorice rope around its neck, it began to peck away at it.
Within seconds, the penguin was free. And then with one final CRAW, the penguin began to flap its wings and fly up into the sky.
* * *
Dr. Junkee walked out of his office with a scowl on his face. It was only three o'clock in the afternoon, and he had already interviewed nearly twenty different loonies for the job as janitor. Why hadn't he hired any of them? Simple, they were all insane. Junkee cursed his plan. It wasn't one of his bests, that's for sure.
"How come you only set three of the loonies on fire?" Bob asked in the back of Junkee's head.
Junkee shrugged, "Fire gets boring after a while."
"Oh my--- you certainly are deranged."
"What? Deranged? Me? Bah! Hardly," Junkee said.
"Oh come on, Doc. You can't hide anything from me. I know how messed up you truly are."
"You're comfortable enough to label me as insane, but have you ever tried to analyze yourself?"
"Of course I have. I've found I'm quite the evil being," Bob said.
Dr. Junkee rolled his eyes.
"So, what's the next order of business, Doc?"
"Well, as much as I hate to do it. . . I'm going to pay for Martin Randle's release," Junkee said.
"Wow. . . that's a kind thing to do. . . .In other words. . . .NO! DON'T DO IT! You must remain as EVIL as possible!!! Bob screamed.
"Bah! I'm still in control of my body, so whatever I say goes; goes."
* * *
The big muscular, green skinned, Martin Randle ran down the middle of a street. Cars and people all tried their best to avoid him, as he looked quite pissed, to say the least. Finally, Martin came to a four way intersection, and stopped. Lifting his arms into the air he shouted, "IMPOUND! WHERE IS IT?!"
A young man stepped up to him, and pointed down a street. "First, you go that way, then take a left on 14th street, then once you meet the clown with the flash nose you take a left at the blue bird that shits on the cake of happiness, then you go straight until you get to the cornfield, then---"
Martin roared, and grabbed the man with his massive hands. "Who are you?!" Martin demanded.
The young man smiled, despite the terrible pain of being squeezed around the waist by Martin. "I am Darth Chicken!"
"Why do you know so much?"
"Well it all started when I was but a small boy---"
"Short answer, or I will squeeze you like a lemon!" Martin boomed.
"Oh, um, I guess it's because I have nothing better to do, except memorize road maps," Darth Chicken smiled.
Martin seemed to consider this, "Okay, fine. You can come with me."
"I never said I wanted to come with you, but if you want me to come with, I'll come with, I'm aways interested to find new friends, will you be my friend?" Darth Chicken said.
Martin's face grew angry. "I will let you live, as long as you show me the way to the impound, only by pointing."
Darth Chicken swiftly nodded his head, then pointed in the direction to go.
Martin smiled, and began running again. Soon, the Mop of Magical Majesty would be in his possession once again.
END OF PART I
Wow. . . you took the time to read all that jibberish? You must be insane! Oy.
Errr. . . what I mean to say is. . . thanks, I hope you enjoyed, and please comment!
:)
Oh, and next week, we will continue the story. . . and kinda see. . . what else happens. . . . yeah. :-\
As for new characters next week. . . umm. . . well. . . maybe you might see. . . oh hell, I haven't
written next week's episode. . . all I know is that it'll be odd. . . so. . . see ya then!
-- Dr. Junkee
5/1/2003 1:07:41 AM
(Updated: 5/1/2003 1:15:47 AM)
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