Suicide Hotline

You work for a suicide hotline CYOA By assaultedmuffin It's your first day as a Suicide Hotline operator. You’re eager for your first caller. The phone rings. You pick up. "Hello, Suicide Hotline". "I've-...I've just been feeling so sad and stressed..." "Have you had thoughts of killing yourself?" "Yes...Many". "Well have you given any thought as to how you might do it?" "I've got a noose tied out of my bed sheets". "The knots in the bed sheet will never hold. You need some nice strong rope". "What?" "Oh, and don't use a chandelier or a ceiling fan. You'd be best off going with a nice, sturdy pipe. OK, thanks for calling sweetie". You hang up. This job was easy. And the pay wasn't half bad either. A few minutes later, a co-worker comes into your cubicle and says the boss wants to see you. The boss wants to see you after only answering one call. You know that call was pretty damn good, but you don't think they would promote you that fast. Then it hit you. You should have told them to use bungee cords. You're an idiot. You begin you pounding your head with your hands. You've got to avoid him. If he can't find you, he can't discipline you. You head for the bathroom. You go in a stall, pull down your pants, and take a seat. You quickly pull out your iPod from your pocket and begin playing solitaire. You've never beaten iPod solitare. Ever. Nobody can. An hour passes and you've gone through about 12 games of solitaire, each failed attempt increasing your frustration level. Your legs are very asleep. You try to get up, but end up tripping, breaking through the stall door and falling on the floor, pants around your ankles. You look to see if anyone is in the bathroom. The co-worker who told you to go see the boss is washing his hands and has a clear view of your unmentionables. You'll have to be very careful here. If you run out hastily and embarrassed, you'll be the "weird guy" in the office. If you try to strut your stuff, this guy is going to think you're making a pass at him. You'll have to make him laugh. "Ta-da". He still stands there looking appalled. You pull up your pants, but not too fast. You don't want to be the "weird guy". After you pull your pants up very slowly, you go to wash your hands. Your legs are still asleep, so you have a case of the "wobbly walks". You half-limb, half-stumble your way to the sink. You look your co-worker dead in the eyes and hold out your hand. "I'm the new guy".

"Yes, I know. Wh-What happened there?" "I fell". "Oh". Several silent, awkward seconds go by, and he still hasn't shaken your hand. He'll come around. He's going to shake your hand. You're stronger than him. Don't say anything. You've already said that you're the new guy. If you say it again, he's going to think you're proud of your new guy status. Just keep it outstretched and wait for him to clasp it. He is unflappable. He's just going to stare right back at you until you make a move. He's sorely mistaken. Your parents were mercilessly abusive. You can handle anything. A fly begins buzzing around in the room. It lands on his face. He does nothing. The fly becomes bored of his face and flies over to yours. You're in trouble. Your one fatal flaw is that you are incredibly ticklish. You can't laugh. Not now. The fly is not growing bored of your face. He's trod on just about every point of your face, and you can't hold in your laughter for much longer. There has to be something you can do that is not moving or talking. "Rhrhrhrhrh". The fly becomes startled and buzzes off. Your co-worker is not impressed. "Did you just purr at me? Because I know that something as small and insignificant as a fly couldn't bother a real man". "I was purring with approval. I love flies on my face. The fly was the one who was startled". "Oh really? Cause I'm not buying it!" "What?! I love flies! I want them on my face all day long!" "Oh really? Because I have a whole jar full of flies back in my cubicle and I'm sure they'd love to be on your face!" "Oh...you do?" "Yeah". He's staring at you with crazy eyes. You follow this unnamed and unfriendly co-worker back to his cubicle where, sure enough, there is a jar filled halfway with flies. "Are those alive?" you ask. "Most of them, I'm pretty sure". "May I ask why you have these flies?" "No. You may not". Damn it. You shouldn't have left it up to him. He unscrews the cap and several fly out and away. He quickly puts the lid back on. "OK. I should have thought this through. Do you have any honey? We're going to put honey on your face and then put your face over the jars as I open it". "They're not fucking bees".

"I KNOW THEY'RE NOT FUCKING BEES!" You find some honey in the break room, as the elderly staff like to put it in their tea, milk, cookies, and almost everything else. There is one elderly person stuck to the table as if she was glued there. You can't tell if she's moaning for help, or out of pleasure about the amount of honey that is on her skin. The co-worker smears the honey on your face, and you sit down at the break room table with your face over the jar. Your co-worker opens it, and close to twenty flies attach themselves to your face. You can't feel anything, as the flies are just stuck in the honey and not actually touching your face. This is awful. Your co-worker agrees. "This isn't working. The flies aren't really touching your face". "You mind if I go wash this off?" "No, go ahead. We'll think of something else". You go back to the bathroom and wash your face. Now that you have your affairs sorted out with that eccentric co-worker, you decide its finally time to go see the boss. You knock on Mr. Jenner's door and he tells you to come in. "Hello there". "Hello, sir". "Now I believe I called you almost two hours ago". "Well, sir, my phone has been ringing off the hook. This was the only time I could get away". "You do know these calls are monitored, right? We know you haven't answered a call in about two hours". "Oh. That's...ah..." "And that's why I called you to come see me. It's about your first caller". "Oh, don't worry, sir. I knew what I did wrong almost immediately after I hung up". "And what was that?" "Should've told them to use bungee cords". "You do know that we're actually trying to convince people not to kill themselves, right?" "What?" "Yeah. We're a Suicide Prevention Hotline". "...Get outta town". "No, I'm serious. Our job is to keep the person on the line alive until the proper authorities get there". "How do the Feds get there?" "There is a button on your phone that signals the police". "Huh". "Now as you have already seen, I run a pretty tight ship around here". "Sir, there is a man with a jar of flies on his desk, and an elderly woman is attached to a table in the break room". He ignores you. "Now I'll let you off with a warning this time, but try to make it through the day without getting fired". "When exactly does the day end?"

"Five-thirty". You go back to your cubicle and look at the clock. It's 11:30 right now. The phone rings again. You answer it. "Hello. Suicide Hotline". "Hello, I've had frequent thoughts of-" You slam down on the police button. "REMAIN WHERE YOU ARE! THE POLICE ARE GONNA BURN YOUR ASS!" "Wha- wha?" "AND DON'T YOU EVEN FUCKING THINK OF RUNNING BECAUSE WE WILL F-" You hear a shot ring out from the other line. You hang up. At twelve o'clock you find yourself sitting in the boss's office again. The boss is sitting there with his hands folded just staring at you. Ordinarily you would start the conversation, but the longer he sits there saying nothing, the closer you are to not being fired by the end of the day. The suspense would usually be killing you, but you huffed glue before you came back to his office, so you're calmer than usual. Mainly because there is a large moose next to Mr. Jenner. "Son, I really don't know what to do with you". The moose stands on two legs and mimics him while waving his hooves around. You begin to laugh, almost in tears. "Are you even listening to me? Do I really have to fire you?" Mr. Jenner asks. The moose gasps at this and then starts behaving. He sits down quietly with his hands in his lap. You were having fun with your hallucination moose. How dare he threaten firing you. Time to go on the offensive. "This whole thing is your fault Jenner!" "What? How?" "You never trained me properly". "We gave you 20 hours of training". "Well I was drunk when I did those hours! You really should have had a breathalyzer outside the training door". "Are you drunk right now". "No I am not". You pray to God that he doesn't ask if you're high. Mr. Jenner begins talking again. "Ok. Let's calm down. I just need to tell you that threatening the person will never help them". "Noted. Can I go back to work now? Work that I was improperly trained for". He shoots you a dark look and then tells you to go back to work.

You walk back to your cubicle, racking your brain for ideas. How in the hell are you supposed to prevent someone from killing themselves without threatening them? Oh, and without listening to them too, because that's boring. You sit down in your cubicle with your face in your hands, waiting to kill another person with your low morals. The phone rings. Damn it. "Hello. Suicide Hotline". "I'm gonna do it! I swear I'm going to do it! I'll finally be free!" "Do what?" "*BANG*" Oh what the fuck? You didn't even do anything that time. They were just calling to let you that they were killing themselves. Clearly nothing that you could do. For the first time in your life, you have a 100%, and it’s a bad thing. The phone rings again. "Hello. Suicide Hotline". "I'm going to do it!" "What the fuck? Is this the same guy?" "I'll do it! Don't mess with me here!" "Ok. Do you want me to call the police?" "Is that a threat?!" "'No! No! Just a suggestion!" "Well it sucks". "Hey, I'm just trying to do my job assbag". "You're a really shitty hotline operator". "I'm new". "Oh. Should I call back and try to get a different guy?" "Probably". "Alright, thanks". You hang up. Well, you didn't kill the guy. I suppose that amateurism does have its benefits. Your phone rings again. "Hello. Suicide Hotline". "Hi, how long have you been with the company? "Still me". "Dammit". "Ok. We can do this. We're two smart guys. We'll figure out a way not to kill you". "We just gotta slam right through this". "...Any ideas?" "You could tell me about all I have to live for". "But when you've called a Suicide Hotline, you really have probably already hit rock bottom...Have you tried huffing glue?" "Well, no. Does it work?" "OK. Go huff some glue and come back to the phone when you've done so. Promise me you won't kill yourself by then". "I promise". A few minutes go by, and you haven't heard anything gunshots or feet kicking the air. The guy comes back to the phone. "Ok. I've done it".

"Alright. How do we feel?" "Nothing really has happened. I guess- OH MY GOD. There's a moose in the room!" "It's OK. It's OK. He's a friend". "Haha, he's making sexual gestures". "Yeah. I know. He likes to do that. From now on, whenever you get lonely, just huff some glue and your friend the moose will come. He'll never hurt you". "OK. Will do. You weren't a half-bad operator after all". He hangs up. You feel nice. You helped save a young man's life for the first time. You feel quite warm inside. Is...Is this the feeling of doing a good deed? You feel proud of yourself. You've got to tell someone about this. But who to tell? Mr. Jenner? No, he'll tell you not to encourage drug abuse. The unfriendly fly obsessed co-worker? No, frankly you really don't like him that much. The elderly woman crusted into the break room table? She's probably not wholly conscious. A fantastic idea comes into your head. Why not tell the person who is this cause of this feeling? You'll tell the hallucination moose. You open your drawer and grab your glue and look around. Too many people around your cubicle. You take your glue back to the bathroom and sit back down on the cold porcelain. The deed is done. Now all you have to do is play the waiting game. As you know, the moose likes to make very discrete entrances. You hear someone in the stall next to you ask, "Hey, man, do you have any extra toilet paper over there?" "Ah, yeah sure". You're handing the toilet paper under the stall wall when you see a hoof grip the roll. "Oh you sly bastard!" you exclaim. The moose laughs and crawls under the stall and leans against the wall. He says, "I see you've taken the handicap stall". "More leg room". "You're not even going". "Listen, I've got to tell you something. I convinced some guy not to kill himself. And it made me feel...good". "Like feeling good huffing glue good?" "No, this was a different kind of good. I felt...uh...damn what's the word?" "Horny?" "Proud". "Man, that's some deep shit man". "I know". "Are you growing up on me?" "I think so. Hey, I've never actually asked your name". "Most people call me DMX". "What does that stand for?" "Discrete Moose X". "I feel that. DMX". "Haters be scared".

DMX is not going to be here forever. You've finally shared inner feelings with DMX, and you want to make this occurrence memorable. Moose and horses kind of look like they're related. Maybe a type of camel. Or maybe a deer. Moose are kind of just deer with antlers, right? You're getting sidetracked. Just ask him. "Hey DMX!" "Wassup, man?" "C-Can I ride you?" DMX gives you a great big smile and then wink. You wink back, it felt necessary. "Of course. Hop on". Delight beams from your face. You climb up on DMX's back and grab the fur on his neck. It feels nice. A meadow is in front of you. DMX prances through the meadow with you on his back. It's glorious. It's a summertime wonderland. Each gallop sends vibrations through your torso. Imagine Mr. Jenner's surprise when he walked into the bathroom and sees you sitting on top of a stall wall, making horse noises and inhaling deeply. You like the smell of the meadow flowers. "WHAT IS GOING ON?!?" Mr. Jenner's stern voice scares the hallucination right out of you and you fall backwards into the stall, screaming. Your back slams the ground and a loud thud. "Aaaaahhh". Your right foot feels wet. It's landed in the toilet. You try to stand up, but realize that your foot is stuck in the toilet. Mr. Jenner enters the stall and looks at you with rage. This is his fault. You're convinced of it. You just need to find some way to prove it. A short guy walks into the bathroom and over to the urinal. He looks over at Mr. Jenner, and says, "Mondays. Am I right?" Mr. Jenner looks at him with rage. "I swear to God, if you don't leave this bathroom within the next ten seconds, this day here will be your last". "But, sir! I'm mid-stream!" "OUT! OUT! OUT!" The short guy desperately tries to put himself away whilst stopping his urine flow. He's failing. He has a large stain on his front by the time he reaches the door and throws himself out of the bathroom. You have found your reasoning. Mr. Jenner looks at you and asks, "Is there an explanation for this?" "This is your fault". "WHAT?" "You've created such a high-stress environment, that normal people have to huff glue, collect flies, or slather themselves with honey". "What are you talking about?"

"You threatened to fire that man for using the restroom. Now he's got urine all over him. That's not sanitary". "You're right. That's a health code violation. Do you think I should fire him?" "No, you stupid shit". "What did you just call me?" "You're a stupid shit!" "No, you're the stupid shit!" "No you are!" "At least my foot isn't caught in a toilet. And I'm tired of your disrespect. You've killed 3 people, hide in stalls, and get high on your first day. You're through here". You are hit with a combination of shock and fury. You are temporarily speechless. Mr. Jenner takes advantage. "Yeah, and you see what I'm doing here? You see this?" He walks around the bathroom. "That's called walking. Yeah. You try it now. Oh wait. You can't, you stupid shit". He walks away. You can't let him escape while he's up on his pedestal. You gotta knock him down. "....You're a stupid shit!" Yeah. Mission accomplished. You've been fired. You know what you have to do. You were fired, unjustly in your mind. Death, drug abuse, and poor balance should not require job termination. Time to take this motherfucker down. And you know just the guy who loves to take down motherfuckers. You huff some more glue and await his arrival, curious as to how he will appear this time. You hear a noise above you. The vent grate falls down and hits the floor. DMX climbs out and into the stall. "Man, your foot is in the toilet". "I know. Help me out". DMX tries to put his hooves on your leg to pull your foot out, but his hands go through your leg. "shit. Forgot I'm not real". "You're real to me! Just try harder". "I can't pull your leg out because I don't exist". "You just gotta believe". "This is physically impossible". "You just gotta believe! You're not trying hard enough!" "You've had too much glue. Give it to me. I'm cutting you off". You hand him the glue and let go, but the glue just falls through his hoof. "shit! Fuck motherfucking god damn bitches!" "That kind of talk will not be tolerated. Get me out of here". "I'm gonna kill this bitch". You try to pull your own foot out and find it comes out surprisingly easy. "Wow".

"Dude, did you ever try lifting your foot out of the toilet, or did you just assume it was stuck?" "..." "Killing. This. Bitch". You and DMX gather your things from your cubicle and start to walk out when the short guy who pissed himself stops you. "You get fired?" "Yeah. I did. Now I'm taking down Jenner with an imaginary moose". "That's straight. Need some help? Because I can get plenty". "I'd like that very much". As it turns out, apparently the majority of the building hates Mr. Jenner and their ready to can his ass. The fly co-worker is among them. You all gather in the break room. You ask the group of workers, "So does anyone have any ideas?" No one says anything. Fly Guy opens his jar, whispers "Feed", and pours his flies over the honey-crusted elderly woman, whom you're pretty sure is dead. DMX stands with his arms crossed, leaning the wall. The short guy tries to reach for some lowfat sweetener for his coffee on the top shelf. You are suddenly struck with an idea. "We could just go to his office and beat the shit out of him". No one says anything. "And then trash his office". Everyone seems to agree with this. You and your group begin the walk to Mr. Jenner's office as a series of songs runs through your head. You want to start singing, but you're not sure which song to sing. Lord Give Me A Sign? Ruff Ryders? No, you know. Party Up. Y'all gonna make me lose my mind Up in here, up in here The rest of the group joins in. You're at his door. Now even though you're about to beat this man to within an inch of his life, that is no excuse to be rude. You stop the rapping and knock politely on the door. "Hello? Mr. Jenner?" "I'm a little busy. Could you come back later?" You turn and face the group. "Ok. He's a little busy right now. So...I guess we'll have to do this later." A moan goes through the posse. "We can regroup here in about an hour. This could work out pretty well. He never really planned this that well. Let's go find some things to hit him with." "I've a got a crowbar in my trunk!" "Easy, Janice. We're not trying to kill this man. Just want to beat some sense into this man." "I've got rat poison at my house." "Whoa, Bruce. Uncalled for. Apparently we don't know what's going on here. I'll repeat myself. WE ARE NOT KILLING MR.JENNER." "I've got guns at home in my closet." "Oh shit no."

What started as a good idea is now turning ugly. Your posse is now turning murderous towards their boss, and your hallucination is wearing off. DMX is already gone, and you don't feel good about this at all. You're freaking out. Your group of employees has turned murderous and is going to kill Mr. Jenner. You organized this group. You'll be to blame. You'll receive the brunt of the charges. You're panicking. What the fuck are you going to do? You think of what your grandfather told you to do in these situations. You just huff glue right in the middle of the aisle because, frankly, anyone who doesn't know by now is an idiot. Nothing yet. You're not feeling anything. Have you built up an immunity to glue? You huff some more and more after that. Then it hits you. The floot drops from beneath your feet. A wooden deck rushes up to replace the floor. You look around and no longer see the office. You turn around and on the wheel is DMX dressed like the captain of the ship. "Aye, ye scurvy dog! Git up 'ere an' let m 'ave a look at ye!" What the hell...The short guy is scrubbing the poopdeck. The fly co-worker is the lookout, up on the mast with a telescope. This is the most in-depth hallucination you've ever had. You walk up to DMX. "Aye! There's me first mate!" "..." "Well what's the matter me boy? 'As your tongue walked the plank, 'as it?" "DMX...Ever done, like...way too much glue?" "Glue? I don't know what that be, me lad, but I've 'ad a nasty case of the drunk from a wee bit o' too much rum!" "And what do you do to solve this problem...Captain?" "That be a question that must be answered at 'nother time, me boy. Right now I've got ter see me captive thrown off the plank! Har har!" You look over and see Mr. Jenner tied up in ropes being led to a plank, with shark infested waters below. You like rum. There's got to be rum somewhere on this boat. You run over to DMX and ask, "Captain X, where be this rum? I've got a mighty thirst in me belly! Har har!" "Aye, my good boy. I could go for a spot of rum meself." DMX turns to the other pirates and proclaims, "The wretch shan't be goin' anywhere! He can wait! To the rum!" All your other co-workers/pirate shipmates proclaim and agreeable "AYE!" and they leave Jenner on the deck as they go find the rum. As one of them walks by to go to the rum you hear one of them say, "Rum is flammable too isn't it?" Ooh. Are you going to do some flaming shots? Better hurry. You go below deck when there is a full bar with rum...everywhere. You run over and begin drinking straight from one of the bottles. Meanwhile, in reality, imagine the surprise of your co-workers when you run into the basement and begin drinking the cleaning supplies. They know that you're high out of your mind. One of them comes up to you and asks, "Dude, why are you drinking the chemicals?"

"Aye! You have it right matey! This be some good rum!" You continue drinking. Your co-workers came down to the basement to find some gasoline to burn down the building, starting the fire in the now tied-up Mr. Jenner's room. They go upstairs and one turns and asks another, "Should we bring him up?" "Nah, just leave him. Looks like he's going to get baked in two different ways. Hahaha." He's quite pleased with his own joke. "That wasn't funny at all. How long did that take you to come up with that gem? Get the shit upstairs and I don't want to hear another fucking word out of your mouth or I will punch it into tiny pieces". The "funny" co-worker is quite taken aback. They go upstairs and light the fire, igniting Mr. Jenner, and the rest of the building. Smoke begins pouring into the basement. Meanwhile, on the ship, you're enjoying as much rum as you can get your hands on, when the ship springs a leak. "She's takin' on water!" you scream to the others. It's time to panic. The ship is going down and there's not a single thing you can do about it. If you climb the mast, you'll at least have a shot at survival if the others can plug the leak. "AAAARGH! The ship be going to Davey Jones' locker!" You run to upstairs to the deck. It seems so hot up here. You look around and see that the sea is boiling. "What be the shit?!?!" It may have been all of the rum you drank, but you suddenly start to feel nauseous and vomit all over the deck and fall on your face. The deck is spinning, things start to fade to black. You still feel like your spinning, and the picture begins to come back into focus, but you see smoke all around you and feel extremely hot. You look around and see your office engulfed in flames and your stomach has an enormous burst of pain. You try to get up but you're still dizzy and nauseous, so you fall over into a cubicle wall that is engulfed in flames. You ignite. "AAAAAAHHHH!!!!" The burning is like no pain you've ever experienced. And you peeled yourself with a vegetable peeler to prove you were hardcore. You're burning. It's worked for everything else, so why not extinguishing fires? You pull glue out of your pocket and twist the little cone on the top. The flames are engulfing your entire body. "Oh my God! Oh my God! OhmyGodohmyGodohmyGod". That's what your screaming as you wait for the glue to come out. The glue is in no rush. Apparently, there are several things the glue has to do before exiting its bottle. We don't want to end someone's suffering on an empty stomach, do we? This may take awhile, so we should probably TiVo the things we want to watch tonight just in case this goes longer than expected. The glue feels it should go to the bathroom too, because we all know what happens when you leave the house without going beforehand. You get halfway to your destination and then you're like, "Oh shit. Should have gone before I left", and then you have to hold it until you get there. Holding it is not good for your kidneys, and could lead to complications later on in life.

You can't take it anymore. The glue is apparently not going to come on its own. You rip the cone off and shove your fingers into the bottle and rub the glue all over yourself. You do this repeatedly, and the glue feels nice, but is not dousing the flames. Eventually, your fingers get stuck in the bottle, and now you're aflame and sticky. You run to find something to put you out with, only intensifying the pain of the fire. You trip and fall against a wall, and when you try to get off the wall, you find you can't. You're stuck to the wall. You're burning. There's nothing you can do to stop it. Maybe this is not so bad after all. The pain of your burns healing will be a lot worse than just dying right here. You think of the things you have to live for and sort of slobber on yourself. It's not working. You put your flaming head against the wall and drool. There's not much hope now. Death is on your doorstep. You've accepted it. You're ready to die. The office door busts open. "Hello? Where are you?! I'm hear to save you!" "GET THE fuck OVER HERE!! I'M NOT READY TO DIE!!" You coward. You hear the voice of the fly co-worker search for you in the office. "Where are you? Am I hot or cold?" "Everywhere is fucking hot!" He spots you and runs towards you. "What in the world happened to you? Did they glue you to the wall?" "No! I did this to myself!" "That's not a very effective way to escape a fire." "JUST FUCKING HELP ME!" He finds a fire blanket, runs back, and beats the hell out of you with it. The blows to your burned body are immensely painful. The flames are extinguished, and you realize how badly burned you are as the air first touches what's left of you're skin. "AAAUUGHHH!!" The fly man has an idea. "Oh oh wait! I saw this on a show once! Urine is extremely effective at cleaning and healing severe burns!" "I'm pretty sure it's not!" "Yes! Yes it is!" "That's fucking snake bites, you idiot!" "I think its a universal thing". "NOOOO!!!" "You need to be quiet! I'm going to pee on you now and I can't go with a lot of noise!" "DON'T PEE ON ME! DON'T PEE ON ME!" A stinging, enormous pain erupts from your burns. He's pissing on you. The pain is excruciating. You pass out.

You wake up in a hospital. There aren't as many bandages as you thought there would be. You must be a superhero. Clearly that's the only explanation. A doctor walks in. "Ah, you're awake." "And I'm invincible." "Hardly. You've been in a coma for three months". "WHAT?!" "Yeah, you would have waken up sooner, but complications occured when infection sprung up. It was the oddest thing. Bacteria that is most commonly found in urine infiltrated your immune system." "Wh-What should I do now?" "Well, you're pretty much all healed, we were just waiting for you to wake up. You're free to go." That fly co-worker with the odd urinary bacteria stole three months of your life away from you. Who knows what you have missed? Time to return the favor, but before you leave the hospital, you have to ask the doctor something. "How was it that I managed to make it out of the flames?" "You were carried out by a brave young man by the name of T.I. His real name is Timothy Ingelberger, but he likes to be called by his initials." "Yeah, I know somebody else like that. Do you know where I could find this brave and noble man who saved me?" You're so good at hiding your true intentions. This doctor, however, is probably a psychic. "Why do you look like you want to punch something?" You flip over the table next to your hospital bed. "JUST TELL ME WHERE HE IS OR I'LL CUT YOU OPEN WITH YOUR STETHESCOPE!!" "They're not even sharp!" "We'll see about that!" After being restrained by several husky security guards and thrown out of the hospital, you decide that the best way to get to TI would be to make it publicly known that you wish to meet him. Since the fire, he has become a hero around the city, people giving him generous donations and giving him humanitarian awards. Basically, he's become prosperous off of your suffering. You decide that you need to get onto the news in order to make it known that you wish to meet him. You call for a cab to get to the center of the city where the local news station is. You walk through the front door and are greeted by a receptionist. "Hello there! Welcome to the Channel 9 news studio? How can I help you?" "I have to get on the air pronto, sister!" "Sir, there's a broadcast going on now, but I can't let you get on the air. I don't even know why you'd need to get on anyway." "Where is this broadcast being filmed?" "I'm not at liberty to tell. I'm calling security." Rather than explaining it to her, you decide that the best course of action is to sprint down the hallway in a desperate search for the broadcast. You take several turns, flights of stairs, and soon you hear security following you. Damn, there are cameras everywhere in

a news studio. You should have known this. Tired of stairs, you decide to take the elevator up a couple of stories. The door opens and a man walks in next to you. You see security down the hallway. "Hey! Hey! Hold that door!" You stare at your new companion. "You better not." He refrains and the door closes. Maybe a few more flights up. "Going up?" "No, I'm actually on my way home." "Not anymore you bastard." "Are you taking me hostage?" "No, actually I meant you were just going up a couple stories. You can go home afterwards." "Oh." "Should've worded that better. My bad." The door opens and you see cameras and a news desk. You've made it to your destination. You sprint over to the news desk before anyone can catch you. They're in the middle of a report. "We've got breaking news out of Granbury. A woman was-" "I've got your breaking news right here pal. My name is-*cuts to commercial*" After explaining your case, the news team actually thinks it would be a great story. A man wakes from a coma and reunites with his savior on primetime TV. They even call The Early Show, and they agree to hold the reunion right on their show. Now you're in a little deeper than you'd like to be. It's going to be hard stealing three months of a man's life away on national television. You've been flown to New York City. You have a seat in first-class, where the flight attendants are just a little more attractive and a lot more slutty. Unfortunately, you were unable to join the Mile High Club because your penis does not work well at high altitudes. The limo you get picked up in brings you to a wonderful hotel and puts you in the suite. After a wonderful of steak and pay-per-view pornography, you put on a nice shirt and some dress pants before your big TV appearance. You decide not to wear the tie, because it gives you more of a badass aura. You walk to the limo and get a ride to the studio. You meet Julie Chen, the Asian woman who will be giving the interview. When you get the signal, you walk over to the couch on the set and sit down. Apparently they want to ask you a few questions before bringing TI out. Julie seems friendly enough, she tells you, "I know all the cameras are pointed at us, but just pretend they're not there." "That's what they told me when I did amateur porn." "And how did that go?" "Well, the chick I was with was probably a solid 7/10, but I got to be on top so it worked out." "I meant did pretending the cameras weren't there work?" "I embraced the camera." "I don't know if that's a good thing. Just say what comes naturally to you, ok?" "You got it, Chen."

The cameraman begins counting down and when he hits zero, Julie begins talking. "Welcome back, we are here now with a very special guest. We're here with-" You begin a coughing spell. There must be dust in the air. Or maybe you don't want the public to know your name. These days, people can steal your identity with just your name or find where you live and steal your feet. You don't want that. "His story is remarkable. As many of you may recall, a man named TI pulled a man out of a burning building, but the man was in a coma for three months. That man is right here, and ready to meet his savior. How does it feel to know that you're going to finally meet the man who saved your life?" "I actually already knew this man. We were co-workers at a Suicide Hotline office. Saving lives is just how I get my kicks." You wink to the camera and continue, "I met him when I was dropping a huge deuce in a stall, playing solitiare on my iPod, when my legs fell asleep and I tripped and accidentally broke down the stall door." "You did not!" "I know, Julie! It's true. So I fall pantsless out of this stall, my little buddy flappin' everywhere like a ****ing kite, know what I'm saying?" "We are on TV, you can't use that language!" "Oh, I'm sorry Julie. Sorry America. But anyway, I'm on the ground with my junk hanging out, and I see him at the sink just staring at it. Then he takes out his cell phone to take a picture and I'm like-" Off the set you hear, "That's not true! Not true!" The fly co-worker comes running onto the screen. "That is completely false! It never happened!" "Did he tell you that he pissed all over me while he was saving me? He said is was helping. All I think it was helping was his weird fetishes, am I right Julie?" "That's not true!" "I bet TI isn't even his real name. It's probably like, Brad or something. Am I right Julie?" "You son of a-" The fly co-worker charges at you. You begin yelling, "He's got weird bacteria in his pee! He's not even human!" The fly co-worker leaps on you and begins trying to beat you with his fists. You shove him off and get some distance from him. "He's a pervert! A weirdo gay perv!" You know that the cameras are still on. Let's face it; this is just good television. You pretend like you're trying to get away from security, but let them keep control of you. "He was eyeballing since I fell out of that stall! He used my burns as a means to take advantage of me! He pissed all over me!" "It's not true! None of it is true!" "I'm thinking of pressing charges! It's just not right! The things he did to me!" "Liar!" He elbows one of the security guards in the ribs and manages to wriggle away from the other one and is charging at you again. Another security guard comes out from behind set

and levels the fly co-worker onto the table near the couch. The table collapses and they restrain him again. "You're a liar!" he yells. "Oh yeah? Let's see. We'll take a lie detector test, perv!" "This is ridiculous! We don't need to do that!" "Scared of the truth?" Hours later you and the fly co-worker have made a trip to the police station to use their lie detector system. You're hooked up to one and him to the other. You're both in the interrogation room with cameras pointed at you through the windows. The chief of police stands in the room and starts, "Now we're just going to ask you a couple of basic questions to make sure the detectors are accurate. With some people it can register lies as truths, y'know?" You speak up. "I know, chief. I've heard of that." You crane your neck to get a look at your line. Stable. As it should remain. The chief points at you. "We'll start with you." "OK. I'm ready." Still stable. "What is your name?" God damn. They just had to ask that question. But now you have to decide. What do you care more about? Embarassing your opponent, taking everything away from him? Or getting your feet cut off while being raped? "My...My name is...well...ah- It's Catfish." "Your name is Catfish?" "Catfish Johnson." Your line remains stable. And one day, a crazed maniac will own your feet, the feet of Catfish Johnson. "And where have you been for the last three months, Catfish?" "I've been in a coma." "And did this man to your left urinate on you?" "Yes he did." There are gasps from the crowd in the window as your line remains stable, still. The fly co-worker looks sweaty. The chief turns to him. "What is your name?" "T-Timothy Ingelberger." The line begins to quiver violently. More gasps from the spectators. The chief continues, "What is your real name?" The fly co-worker sighs. "It's Brad." "I knew it!" You knew it. Brad's line remains stable and the chief asks the question everyone has been waiting to hear. "Did you urinate on Catfish Johnson?" "No, I did not." The line begins to quiver again. More gasps from the crowd, along with shouts of "Perv!", "Freak!", and "Do me, Catfish!" Brad makes a last effort to preserve his newly elevated status. "Wait! Everyone wait! Ask him if he liked it?" "What?" "Just do it". The chief is confused, but asks you, "Aah...Did you like it when he urinated on you?"

"No." Your line remains stable. You look over and stare at Brad. He's looking at the floor. "What did you expect to happen?" "I...Can I go home now?" The chief nods. "Let us give you an escort though. After this news, there's going to be a lot of angry people out for you." The police lead the fly co-worker out of the police station. You walk out of the interrogation room and are greeted by a group of attractive females wit big, beautiful, bouncy breasts. One of them inquires, "Is it true? All those things that he did to you?" You turn your head at an angle to look at the ground, for a look of dramatic disturbance. "It's...It is- I'm sorry. It's too painful to talk about." "Oh you poor thing! I just want to take care of you!" "Well actually, I have nowhere to go. My landlord thought I would never wake up, so he threw all my things in a storage center and rented out my apartment to somebody else." "Oh no! That's horrible! You can come and stay with my roommates and me for awhile!" Two of the other beautiful women smile and wave. Attractive Girl #1 takes you back to their apartment in the nice part of the city. It's a very nice place, and the couch looks very comfortable. However, you hope you'll never actually have to know how comfortable the couch is. You suddenly begin to hold your head and hunch over a little bit. #1 runs over and asks, "Oh ****! Are you OK?" "Yeah. It's just the coma. It wants to rear its ugly head again, but I beat it down like I would that sick pervert's face." "You're so enduring." "And I didn't know you had a potty mouth." "Who do you think yelled 'Do me Catfish!'?" You two are really close now. You can smell the faint scent of the perfume she uses. Her hair is a beautiful river of raven tresses. She seems so passionate, the true embodiment of the perfect woman. However, you don't notice any of these things because your eyes are locked onto her big, beautiful, bouncy breasts. You two proceed to her bedroom and she pulls her shirt over her head. That's the ticket. After almost an hour of deep, unbroiled passion, she begins to get dressed. "I've got to go to work now, but I don't want you leaving until I get back." You're in too much shock to mutter out much more than a "Uh-huh". By her outfit, it looks like she's a secretary of some kind, but let's face it, you don't care. As Attractive Girl #1 walks out, Attractive Girl #2 walks in. She seems more down to earth. The kind of girl you'd like to have hot, steamy sex with. She asks, "So, did you guys have sex?" "Five times." "You got any more in the tank for me?" "You are all incredibly horny women, aren't you?" "I don't know. It's just nice to have a real penis in the house for once." "What?"

A week goes by. Attractive Girl #2 is rougher in bed and with Attractive Girl #3 you can last the longest. Meanwhile, in the news, you see that all of the sponsors and donators who gave the fly co-worker awards and money are furious about the new revelations. They technically cannot take back their money since there was no contract, but they still went after him. His house was burned down to almost nothing when he arrived home after the interrogation. He bought a small studio apartment and some furniture with the money he still had in his bank account. Nobody will hire him because everyone thinks he's a sicko. You look him up and decide to give him a visit. You sort of start to feel a little bit of guilt. Not guilty enough to give him a loan, but a little guilty nonetheless. You walk into the apartment building, and see that he lives on the top floor. As you climb the stairs, you can how the condition of the building worsens. When you reach his floor, you smell a combination of vomit and marijuana that is overwhelming. You run up another flight of stairs to the roof. You open the door and are relieved by a breath of fresh air, but standing on the side of the roof you see the fly co-worker getting ready to jump. How the mighty have fallen. This once publicly acclaimed hero has lost his home, income, and unless you can intervene, his life. Your days (actually, like 7 hours) at the Suicide Hotline are distant in your mind, but you must retrieve them to save this man's life. We'll start with something simple. Say his name. "Brad!" He turns around, startled and beginning to lose his balance. "Whoa, whooaaa!" "Oh****oh****oh****oh****!" He regains his balance and is standing on the ledge again, staring at you. "So, how're things?" "Are you trying to play it off like you weren't about to jump?" "Jump? I wasn't going to jump?" "Were you going to step, fall, or roll off the ledge?" "I don't see what that would accomplish." "Yeah..." He makes a quick jerk towards the open air, and you're heart feels like it just broke your ribcage. He didn't actually go anywhere, but the fake-out scared the living hell out of you. "Holy ****, dude....don't scare me like that..." He doesn't respond. You know that silence isn't good for convincing people not to kill themselves. You need to say something, anything. "So how're things?" "Ah..." "Are you going to kill yourself?" "What? Nah. I'd never do something like that. I'm not one of those people." "One of what people?" He makes another quick jerk. "OH MY GOD!!" You begin to breathe heavily. "Jesus..." "What's wrong, pal?" "I...I'm just so concerned for your safety." "It's OK, man. I'm not killing myself." "Alright...then can you come down from the ledge, please?" "Yeah, I guess I will." He doesn't make any move to get down from the ledge. He just keeps staring at you.

"Hey...ah...you coming down, bud?" "Why don't you go down to my apartment and I'll meet you there. I'm just gonna finish up out here." "Finish up what?" He makes another motion towards the open air and you're pretty sure you soiled yourself. "AH! Ah!" "So I'll meet you there in a couple minutes?" "I can't...This is mentally abusing." "Would you like to join me on the ledge?" "How about you join me off the ledge?" "Off the ledge? You want me off the ledge?" You pick your words very carefully. "I would like you off the ledge in this direction." "..." You begin to walk towards him. "I'll help you come off that ledge in this direction, friend." "No thank you, sir. I'm quite accustomed to getting down from ledges on my own. We wouldn't want to screw anything up, would we?" "That would be most unfortunate." There are several moments of silence and then you have to come clean. "Alright, look. I'm sorry. Alright? I didn't mean for this to happen and I feel really terrible for what I did. I...Let's try to fix this." "There is no fixing this. I can't get a job because people think I'm a creep, and my money is running out. My house was burned down and everybody hates me. What can you do?" This clearly isn't working. You tried being a reasonable adult, but your patience is wearing thin. Time to take the easy way out. Get this guy addicted to huffing glue. You don't have any glue on you right now, but if you go and get some, this guy is going to jump off the roof. "Hey Brad." "What?" "Do you have any glue in your apartment?" "What? Why?" "Well, one of the reasons I came over here was because I was making a macaroni heart for my mother, and I don't have any glue. Would you happen to have any?" "Yeah, it's in my-" "I need you to get it for me." "But then I wouldn't have this wonderful view of the crime-filled part of the city." "Ok, look. Get me the glue and you can come right back up and kill yourself." "Promise?" "I promise." He steps down off the ledge and walks by you, towards the door. He beckons for you to follow. You walk behind him, the scent of vomit refilling your nostrils. He reaches an apartment with 4B on the door. He passes it without looking at it. Evidently that is not his apartment. He stops in front of 4D and turns the knob. "Here we are." The apartment is

incredibly tidy. You expected that someone who was going through a stage of mental destabilization would have a horribly messy apartment, clothes all over the place, things growing off of things that are growing off of old food, the whole nine yards. But no, Brad has kept his apartment in tip-top shape. You've got to ask him, "So if you're going to kill yourself, why is your apartment so clean?" "Oh, so suicidal people are supposed to live in a pig sty? That's profiling and I won't have it." "This isn't your apartment is it?" "What is so hard to believe about a suicidal man being tidy? WHAT IS WRONG WITH THE WORLD TODAY?! WHAT?! WHAT?! WHAT!?" Just apologize and get this over with. "Ok. I'm sorry. That was profiling and I shouldn't have gone there." He seems to accept this, and goes to get the glue. He knew exactly where it was, so I guess this is his apartment. And you were profiling. He puts the glue in your hand and states, "Alright. Now can I kill myself?" "I'm sorry but that's just not going to happen." You sprint and dive at him, taking him to the floor. You struggle for awhile, but eventually you have him pinned. "What are you doing? You promised!" "I know I did, but I'm going to give you a reason to live. And my fingers were crossed, negating the promise." "What do I possibly have to live for?" "You're going to huff this glue, and then you'll know what you have to live for. Now I can either force you to do it, or you can do it yourself, and save you're life on your own. I'll even do it with you." He snatches the bottle out of your hand. "Fine." A few minutes later, you've both done enough to get the job done, and a state of calmness sets in. "You feel the calmness?" you ask Brad. "I'm feeling something." You both hear a toilet flush. "What was that? Is there someone in my apartment?" DMX walks out of the bathroom with a newspaper tucked under his arm. He looks at Brad. "Who's the new guy?" Brad flips his ****. "Oh! Oh! Oh! Holy mother of Hell! There's a ****ing moose in here! I'm jumping out the window!" "No no no no no no!" You restrain him and look at DMX. "Do it! Do it now!" DMX begins to pretend to pleasure himself. Brad cracks a smile. "Haha. Well played, sir." DMX continues. You and Brad are both laughing hysterically. Now it's time for the lesson. You turn to Brad and tell him, "Now whenever you get really depressed, before you go jump off the building, huff some more glue and DMX is gonna come and keep you company." "That's a deal." A couple of weeks go by. Brad hasn't killed himself, and the sex with the attractive chicks just keeps getting better. Right after some hot steamy intercourse with the secretary, your cell phone rings. You pick up. "Hello?"

"Dude! Get the **** over here! I need help!" "Brad? What's going on?!" "Ran outta glue! Used whiteout instead!" "What? No! Never use whiteout! What happened?" "Bats came! Lots and lots of bats!" "What're they doing?" "They're unfriendly! They're flapping around and sittin' on my shelves!" Brad is in trouble!...But you're really ****ing hungry! You go to the fridge to see what the girls have to eat. Everything is either soy or vegetables. You have a craving for a nice hot burger, but Burger King has become a hot spot for strange cult meetings, so you walk to McDonalds instead. You grab a Big Mac with large fries and a Coke. You sit down and eat your food, while looking at all the other people who are eating their food. You make eye contact with another guy, seemingly in his twenties. You begin scrafing down your food, trying to best him in this eating competition. You finish before him, and he tries to play it off like you did not just hand his ass to him. You walk by on your way to the exit and tell him, "You knew we were racing. And I won that ****." There was something you had to do. What was it? Go to the dry cleaner? Buy some of those 4 color pens so you can draw graphic cartoons? You remember feeling hungry. Maybe you were on your way to eat...Oh wait! Brad! He needs you!...But that's a long ass walk. You don't know the bus schedule either. Maybe you should hitch. Or maybe you should walk to the arts and crafts store to buy some whiteout. There's no point in helping Brad fight bats if you can't see them. You go to the local craft shop and ask for whiteout. The clerk asks, "Only whiteout?" "Yes. That will be all." "Are you going to get high with this?" "No ma'am." "Well we don't get many people coming in to buy just whiteout." "I can see why you'd think that. But I made an error which needs correcting." "Alright then." You pay her and she gives you the whiteout. You notice "Non-toxic" on the bottle. You turn around. "I was actually hoping you had the toxic kind. It's a really strong error, I feel that I'd need to poison it to fully exterminate it." "Get the hell out, stoner!" You stand outside the store, unsuccessful. You spot a bus in the parking lot. You run over and get on the bus. You ask the driver, "Does this bus go to the slums of the city?" You turn around and see an outstanding majority of minorities. "Well I guess that answers that question. Am I right? Who's with me?" You go for a high-five with the only other white person on the bus. He shakes with head violently with fear in his eyes. You sit next to an young black woman with the name of a local college on her sweatshirt. "Ah. Gotta love affirmative action, right?" She turns her head and stares at you with hatred, but you don't notice. You're drummin' a rhythm on the back of the seat in front of you. A wonderful idea comes into your head. You stand up. "Does anyone on this bus have any toxic whiteout? You know. The sniffing kind?" Another man stands up. "What makes you think that we would have drugs on us?"

"Ok, player. This is just a yes or no question, so don't go yammerin' on about your rights, a'ight?" The bus stops, and a group of people grab you by the shirt and throw you off the bus. You hit the pavement with a thud. You look up, and Brad's building is just a little way down the street. You walk to his building and soon are standing outside apartment 4B. You knock on the door. A young woman comes to the door. "Hello? May I help you?" You're confused. "Ah...I was looking for- Oh! Wait a minute. I have the wrong apartment. My mistake." "It's not a problem. Happens all the time." You try the knob on 4D. It's open and you walk in to see Brad on the couch, watching TV. "Hey Brad. What's up?" "Dude! I called you almost two hours ago! Where were you?" "Ah...some things. They came up." "You know, neglecting someone in a really ****ty way to keep them convinced not to kill themselves." "Yeah, sorry about that. Here, I got this for you." You toss him the non-toxic whiteout. "Wha-?" "So the bats are all gone?" "Yes. They're all gone, Catfish." "Alright. Good." That's settled. The last couple of weeks have been sort of mundane. You're conflict with Brad is pretty much over, you've had so much sex that it seems like breathing now. You need something new. You need something completely unrelated to anything you've done for the past few weeks. Hell, even before you went into your coma. Suddenly, you come up with a brilliant idea. You walk into the church. You walk up to a preacher. "How may I help you, my son?" "I'd like to find Jesus." "This can mean several things, my son. Do you want to learn of the greatness and wonder of the Lord? This can be accomplished through study and prayer-" "No, I mean I just want like a pamphlet or something. Something with symptoms or warning signs on it." "Symptoms? Warning signs? I'm afraid I don't understand." "Well, Jesus is supposed to come back or something like that, right? So I just want to know how I'd be able to tell if it was Jesus or not. Who knows? I could be Jesus. Even you." "I'm afraid you have a very strange misunderstanding of religion." "Well, he's gotta be like 2000 years old, right? He died in the year 0?" "Welll if he is reborn then-" "Oh. Reincarnation? But what if Jesus comes back as like a raccoon or some other animal?" "What?" "Ok. I think I got everything I need. Bless you, father. And Amen."

"You decide in order to find Jesus, you will have to ask the most knowledgable people on the subject." "What do you mean 'people'?" "Apparently you've been thinking out loud and are already on the bus, surrounded by many potentially helpful black people." "Is this fool narrating his life in second person? Who the **** uses second person anymore?" "You get up and asks the bus, 'Does anyone here know where I can find Jesus Christ? I'm in a desperate search to find him for reasons I have not configured yet.' Hopefully these people are more helpful than you think they are. A black man is beckoning you from the back of the bus, while his brothas and sistas look angrily at you. Perhaps it is time you kept these thoughts to yourself." Perhaps it's time to keep your thoughts to yourself. You quickly walk to the back of the bus and talk to the man. "Hey, I don't know where Jesus is, but there have been some strange things happening at churches around here. On all the pews, there have been notes. Things like, 'Jesus wants you to eat your fiber', 'Jesus wants you to know that nothing other than excrement and toilet paper goes in the toilet', and 'Jesus reminds you to check your hot water tank every now and then'. I don't know man. I think it's just pranksters, but I thought I'd let you know." "Sir, these are not just pranksters. You've broken my search wide open." You yank on the cord, alerting the bus driver of your URGENT need to exit the bus. You spot a phone book sitting outside someone's apartment. You rip open the outer covering and scamper through the yellow pages. You go to the "P" section, looking for plumbers. Any company that has something sounding faintly religious in their company name is a place you will look. You finally come upon "Heavenly Cross Plumbing". That seems like a name Jesus would call his plumbing company. And the strange thing about this is that there is no business address listed. It was an apartment building. You race to find "Memorial Hastings Apartments- Apartment BM" back near the center of the city. You open the door and see a woman coming out. You stop her. "Excuse me, can you tell me where Apartment BM is?" "BM? That stands for basement." Confused, you walk to the stairs and head down them. The basement door has a sign on it, "Heavenly Cross Plumbing". You open the door and see a balding, clean shaving Italian man sitting on a couch, eating cheese curls and watching the Jeffersons. He looks up, "You got a plumbing issue?" "Ah, sorry. I think this is a mistake." "Hold on. Are you here about the clues?" He gets up off the couch and walks towards you, one hand shaking. "C-Can you be the one?" "I better go." "Hey! I think I recognize you. Aren't you Catfish Johnson? I've seen you on TV." "Oh please don't cut my feet off!" "Quiet! For years I've waited for someone to discover my secret, but I never thought it'd be someone famous."

"I don't have any idea what you're talking about." "Catfish, you're in the presence of Jesus Christ." No you're not. This doesn't look like Jesus at all. This is a middle-aged balding Italian man. "I don't know what you're trying to pull, but-" "What? Did I have to look exactly like my former self when I was reborn? Just shoot out of the womb with a full beard, wearing white robes and sandals?" "I figured you would grow into them." "Well that's not how it works. And if you do not believe me, perhaps I have something that will. Follow me." You follow this man through the basement. Apparently he has the whole basement to himself to live in and operate his plumbing business out of. He stops in a room that resembles a kitchen. He picks up an orange. He looks at it and concentrates. The orange begins to transform, and soon it becomes a ball of bread. You shake your head, "Dude, the bread is supposed to be the body of Christ. You're not supposed to turn things into bread." "I'm sorry, are you the son of God?" "Who is your mother? Did Virgin Mary come back again too?" "My mother was a prostitute." "Clearly you're the son of God. Don't know how I could have questioned it now." "Ok. Ok. An understandable reaction, but my mother was on one of those daytime talk shows where they find out who the father is, and the two guys who the baby allegedly belonged to both came out negative." "Right, because it couldn't have been one of the other thirty guys she banged for a fiver." He throws the ball of bread at you. "Listen to me! I speak the truth!" "Ok, so if you are Jesus, isn't the world supposed to be ending? Jesus comes and kills the anti-Christ at the end of the world, correct?" "They just put that in there so it would sell better." "They put propaganda in the Bible, so it would sell better?" "Yes." "..." "..." "This is a load of horse ****." "Easy with the language, mister." "Is there even an anti-Christ?" "Yes there is. And I am destined to kill him, and rid the world of his treachery." "Where is he?" Jesus breaks out his Yellow Pages. He points at Holloway Plumbing. "He owns and runs that plumbing company." "So the anti-Christ is a rival plumber? Are you sure you're not just trying to kill him because he gets more business than you? I see his vans all over the place and-" "HE CHARGES OUTRAGEOUS PRICES!" "So he is the anti-Christ because of his supply and demand business schemes? Makes perfect sense." "Thank you for agreeing."

"I wasn't." "Nevertheless, I have a plan to take him out. I've been ruining his customers septic systems, so that he will eventually have to come and fix them, but so far I've only seen his henchmen. But he'll show up eventually. I can feel it." "You're a horrible messiah."

By assaultedmuffin