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Viewing Single Post From: The 8-Ball Knows
Unknown Kadath
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I'm a wizard and that looks fucked up.
[ *  * ]
Saul. Saul! Get off the couch and sleep in your room! And turn off the TV, too! You'll rot your brain staying up to watch that tripe!

"Yeah... yeah... you stupid bi-"

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Boy 141: Fetteralf, Saul - START


Saul's eyes darted open. Before him stood the base of a fairly large sized mountain. He then squinted, the early morning light peeking over the mountainside. He closed his lids, the darkness soothing his eyesight. He felt the rough bark of the tree he was leaning against digging into his back.

A tree? Why am I outside? Weren't we on the bus to...

His eyes shot open, the memories seeping back. He was on the bus, when suddenly...

The dam in his mind collapsed, the memories flooding back in a torrent. He stood up quickly, intending to get a move on and cover some ground before anyone came.

"SHIT!" he yelped as his sudden action send the top of his head crashing into a low hanging branch. He sunk to his knees, reaching his right hand to his head and leaning forward on his left. But, his left hand landed on the corner of a fabric bag, slipping at a weird angle. He looked, seeing a pack where his hand was.

He narrowed his lids, shooting the bag a mean glare. They said there's a weapon in there. A weapon I have to use... to kill my friends?

He hit the bag aside, moving it about a foot and a half. He removed his toque, the black, familiar stitching almost comforting. He clenched his hand around it. I won't be going home. Not unless I... kill everyone...

The thought disgusted him to no end. Saul was by no means a pacifist, but the thought of taking another life appalled him. Surely, everyone must be thinking the same. He knew it. Unless...

Unless they're willing to kill me, too.

He mulled over the concept. This WAS Survival of the Fittest. And maybe some of the... less desirable types would take advantage over youth of today's avoidance of violence. Only the fittest survive. Only the ones with the will to live. Only...

"The predators."

He thought back to his science classes. In the animal kingdom, the carnivores usually hunted the weaker, more peaceful herbivores. But some herbivores have defense mechanisms. The gazelle's speed, the turtles shell, and the butterfly's wings.

I'm not a predator, but I'm sure as fuck not going to be a fucking defenseless herbivore.

He looked to the bag to his left. He clenched his teeth, taking a hold of the strap and pulling it towards himself.

Let's see my defense mechanism.

Digging past the food, map, and other contents, he finally wrapped his hand around a solid, circular object.

A baseball? What kind of...

Then, he noticed a flat point in the otherwise flawless sphere. He gulped, "Don't tell me..." he muttered as he pulled his hand out.

He found himself holding an 8-ball. Not any 8-ball, but one of the novelty fortune-telling 8-balls you find in joke shops. "Fuck me sideways." he grumbled, his resolve damaged severely.

He turned it over, peering into the opaque purple fluid on the inside. He saw the corner of the most important piece pressing against the small plastic window. Suddenly, he began shaking it. "Magic 8-ball. Am I fucked?"

He stopped and peered back into the depths of the sphere. Soon, the middle bit slid into place, the words becoming clear.

SIGNS POINT TO YES

His eye twitched. He stood up, holding the ball in his shaking hand. Then, he gripped it mightily, and flung it to the ground, sending it to the earth with a THUMP! He clenched his now empty hands into a fist, as tears began to slowly cloud his vision.

"F-f-ffffuuuck..."



DrRoy: UPDATE THAT SPREADSHEET LIKE A RED HEADED STEPCHILD

(9:08:15 PM) Acidic: I vomited on my cat when he pissed me off once

Little Boy: THE MOST INTERGALACTIC OF TERRORBONERS.
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