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Posted 03 April 2009 - 01:58 PM
IF Highway
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A beat-up white truck hurtled up the exit lane. Turning into the deserted highway, it knocked over a shiny green sign reading “THE CYCLE.” Small pellets were scattered all over the road, emitting foul odors and copious amounts of green steam. As the truck came to rest in front of a large plaque with the image of a dragon, the words on its side were clearly visible: “LOL I|\/| @\/\/3$0M3!!1one11!”
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Streams of exhaust flowed from the tailpipe of a black Prius, while inside the tinted windows, four people peered forward.
“Look,” said Hadha. “I can see the flames over there.” She wrinkled her nose at the pellets of spam that now covered the highway.
“He’s really mucking up the Cycle section. Although that’s where most of these guys get lost in anyway,” replied Ally from the second seat row. “Vincent, wanna go in there to arrest --”
“He’s using all caps, and leet is not permitted in these forums!” cried a high-pitched voice from the cargo area.
Simultaneously the staff in the seats turned around, with the exception of Charles, who was driving. They were met with the interesting sight of a scrawny boy in the cargo area, hanging out of the rear window – his armband read, “PALAGRIN.” He turned around to face the staff glaring at him.
“Oh – eh, sorry,” he squeaked, huddling in the corner.
The staff sighed, turning to face the front (of course with the exception of Charles, who was already facing the front, and turning the car towards the smoldering truck and the children running away from it.)
“Look at all those ten-year-olds running around that dumpy truck,” said Vincent, disgusted. “Probably did it for laughs. I’m gonna need a net to grab all of them.”
Hadha handed him the net she was carrying, and all watched him exit the car.
***********************
Vincent tromped alone towards the smoldering truck. “I hate those kinds of idiots. And they just have to come to the Cycle section most often. Yup, and then I have to get most of them. . . Why me? . . . Why ME?” He had to stop his ramblings at the moment, since he was nearly to the spam truck.
“Blechh . . .” he said, looking down at his feet. His shiny patent-leather shoes were covered in olive-colored mucus from the leaky spam pellets. Maybe he could get a brown-noser to lick it off later.
Coughing from the gasses, he strode right to the closest 10-year-old. The kid quickly glanced up, then, eyes wide, darted away and climbed up the truck to join his friends.
Vincent, cursing, yelled a warning up at them. “Hey, you kids! Get outta here now before I KIIIIIIIILL you!”
The children simply laughed. “Haha, monkey-dude. Why do you look like a ape with its butt on fire?” They tumbled around tauntingly, knocking more spam pellets out of their truck and causing them to shower down on Vincent’s head.
“All right then, I gave you a warning . . .” Vincent pressed a button on Hadha’s net, shooting out a length of sticky twine. It wrapped around the necks of the kids and, a moment later, yanked them back towards him. He detached the end of the twine from the handle, tossed the net over them, and smirked as they rolled off the road in an attempt to escape. The ball of 10-year-olds tumbled towards the edge of the road, the net catching on the spikes at the edge. Hanging suspended from the spikes, there was no way for them to return.
Vincent chuckled, then winced as he looked at the wreckage. “I’ll have to call Vae to clean that up . . . I’m tired,” he sighed, treading back towards the car.
***********************
As Vincent reached the car, Ally rolled down the window.
“Eeeyew,” she sniffed, glancing down at his shoes. “Can’t you clean those up before you get in here?”
“Sor-ry,” said Vincent. “Unless you happen to have a cleaning tool with you, I’m just gonna have to wait for a brown-noser to lick my shoes.”
Charles was getting impatient. “Can you guys hurry up a little? My car is getting dirtier by the second from all the spam floating around.”
“Just chuck your shoes on the road, Vincent” said Hadha from the front. “The cleanup team will get them, and you can always order new shoes.”
“Fine, fine!” sighed Vincent resignedly, kicking his shoes off and opening the car door. He got in next to Ally, wiggling his toes and admiring his rainbow-stripy toe-socks.
A beep was emitted from the radio, accompanied by a display showing “GENERAL DISCUSSION.”
“A report just came in,” sighed Charles once again. “I guess we’re off to General Discussion, since none of the AFI mods are around.”
“Yeah! That dude was being so rude!” piped the high voice from the back.
As one the staff turned around, even Charles this time, since the car was stopped.
“Oh – sorry,” whimpered Palagrin, his eyes wide.
The staff sighed again (their jobs seem to elicit much sighing) and returned to face forward.
“Maybe we should get a pickup truck or something,” commented Hadha.
“Sure, but he’d just stow away in the truckbed,” pointed out Ally.
“Are motorcycles a go?!” cried Vincent excitedly.
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No offense meant to any people in this story, especially Palagrin.
This whole metaphor sprouted from the phrase "backseat modding" so . . . . yeah.
This post has been edited by Quoth the Raven: 11 February 2010 - 12:36 AM
MultiQuote
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Too bad.
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