Reality Check 6

Alright, fair warning on this one, folks. If you don’t like my speaking, or words coming from my particular point of view, then you may not care much for this update. I actually monologue.

Also, it has come up that it can be difficult to follow where I go with things. I suppose it’s a legitimate concern. I like making things unpredictable, even though I’ve noticed a tendency to weaponize fruit and to shove things up people’s rectums. Might as well see what I can do to let y’all in on the whole “planning stage” but remember that it isn’t all planned. Once again, there’s that improvised weapon tendency. It has even occurred to me, briefly and during a fit of megalomania, that it is one thing that makes me similar to a ninja. There’s also the tendency to disguise, though lately I’ve used that more to mess with people. Like many comparisons made in the grip of megalomania, it wasn’t a very good one. Besides, I think knowing about geography has something to do with Ninjutsu and I get by using a GPS.

So here, one on one, let’s take a trip through my head. I have not been very fair to these people I’ve attacked. I’ve shown up, I’ve wrecked the place, but I didn’t really work with them all that much. Ok, the cake people and the truckers, they were cool. But I didn’t get a chance to really hit the assholes that deserve it. The storage people and the pawn shop show. So I figured I’d do one last thing significant, probably something with hijacking TVs and making demands.

That’s why I set out to build the signal interceptor. Handy little device. Just have to find a way into the system, which meant I’d be heading to a TV studio. Connect it there and it overrides the signals, showing me on any TV around this city. Say a few words, make a few threats, shoot the guy with the censor button, then give a clue of some sort if I feel like it. That was the intent, but I got way into building this thing and I dare say the TV studio itself is going to be the reign of terror. Intercept a signal? This baby’ll do that while sending a pulse back along it that causes the TV to start running itself into the ground. Those things will overheat so much, they’ll fry themselves.

It sounds petty, but the problem with those shows with is that even bad publicity is publicity. So I simply eliminate all publicity. Also, it’s right here at the end of American Idol. See? Evil.

I got Moai all set up too. Had to make him look nice for TV, so I got him a giant fedora and a silk tie. Also, a fanny pack because he’s the one bringing the gun in.

Spent some more time getting everything else to readiness, including throwing together some stink bombs for crowd control and repairing my wonderful little laser potato peeler. Because truly the potato is mightier than the sword, and the potato peeler is mightier still. Then you add a frickin’ laser to it and the sword guy is toast.

So there we were, Psycho Gecko and Moai, ready to seriously hamper Memphis’s enjoyment of television for a few days.

It started easily enough. Had Moai’s music player pumping out “Video Killed the Radio Star” as I kicked the door in, hurt my foot, pulled the door so it swung out so I could walk in, and then, just because I was a little ticked off, slapped a guy across the face so hard he swallowed his cigarette. Remember kids, smoking is bad. There are much faster ways to kill yourself, like styling your eyebrows with a flamethrower. I’m helpful like that. Sometimes, I even take those kids that cut themselves and just toss them in the ocean during shark season. Some of them survive, but they lose that cutting habit sure enough.

Plus, I like to think I’m helping to feed starving sharks. For just 80 cents a day, you too could throw an angsty teenager to hungry endangered animals.

Ok, enough getting sidetracked. Bam! Receptionist goes in the trash can. Fump! I threw an intern over my shoulder as I make my way for the production control room. P-“Ow!” I took out security with an intern to the head. A couple more guys tried to jump me from behind, but Moai tripped them by rolling. He went a little far, so I jumped up and had to backpedal rapidly to stay on him. A crowd of people gathered at the far end of an L shaped hallway to see what was going on and were greeted by the sight of me running backward on a rolling Moai heading straight for them, gaining speed in spite of the threadbare brown carpet. The carpet was probably the most horrifying part up until I hopped off on the left branch of the hallway and Moai rolled a strike.

I poked my head in the production room to see what numbers I was dealing with. No hostiles, just a bunch of alarmed crew. I unstrapped the first of my stink bombs. It was a fish with a cylinder sticking out of its mouth, almost like a cigar. I pulled the pin out of the end of the cylinder and chucked it into the production room, then shut the door. After a three count, I heard a puffy bang. I pulled the door open and saw pink mist hanging in the air, all that was left of the fish. I couldn’t smell through my helmet, but I knew it smelled horrible because you have pink dead fish mist all over the place. The crew that were capable of standing and walking helped the ones who couldn’t do so evacuate the room.

Times like these, I wish I employed some thugs or something. Just some people in ski masks to gather everyone up and threaten them if they try to escape or call the cops. In the age of texting, however, that’s really not so viable a plan. Instead, I’d just have to do what I was going to do, fast.

That involved slipping the gloves off to help me connect my as yet unnamed device. What do you call something that just destroys every TV it can get its hands on, any ideas? The Rockstar 3000, maybe? I’m terrible at names.

Then it was all up and running. First thing’s first, the epic villain rant. The benefit of having a device that hijacks all the signals around and sends one back of its own is that it’s perfect for invading people’s TV screens.

“Greetings, citizens of Memphis. Do not adjust your sets. I control the vertical. I can leave you horizontal. I can delude you with a thousand images of two girls having some fun with one cup, or I can expand one image of a naked John Pinette to crystal clarity. Every. Inch.

Now you may be wondering why I’m addressing you today. Others might figure that due to my recent cameos on a few programs, I’m looking for a taste of stardom. I could have it too, if I wanted it.

Every day you watch as people get swindled, people rob others, go out and cause drunken mayhem, or you just laugh at the antics of one couple’s 17 children, kids raising kids without having a childhood of their own. Amish teenagers with inferior education who have not been taught how to survive on their own, having been kept dependent on the social structure they left. If I sound like I’m on a moral soapbox, then you got me. After all, I’m a murderer. I’ve tortured people. I’ve held a human heart in my hand and then shoved it up another human being’s rectum. So what right do I have to talk down to you for laughing at other people’s misery? Well, just think on that. Maybe you should ask what right you have to talk down to me for laughing at the misery of others just because I’m more hands-on.

You see, I am very clearly not the good guy here. You would expect a person like me, who will literally murder you for looking at me funny, to enjoy all that same stuff. Laughing at idiots and victims just because a screen separates us. Fine, but that’s because good people don’t do that. Good people don’t put human trash on a screen for their own enjoyment. You can hardly call yourselves better than me when you and nineteen of your best friends tune in all the more because I bent a guy over and took a kayak down his brown river rapids.

You no doubt wonder what I, a devious, mysterious, and handsome supervillain, am doing hijacking your TVs? After all, you people are truly beneath me. I just figured I needed to pound a lesson into you good and hard until you couldn’t help but go with it. I mean, you’ll probably scream your heads off at first, but once you’re done throwing a tantrum you’ll learn to just go with it.

You know, folks, it IS ok to have your kids leave the room during all this. Anyway, those with older model televisions might notice a smell right about now. I would just like to apologize to those people for the eggs I had for lunch. But seriously folks, I’m killing the signal. In a few minutes, those little boxes that you use to relax at the end of the day, or fixate to for the nearing finale of Dancing with the Stars or American Idol, or to watch the kids while you drag your husband’s best friend upstairs, or to enjoy cartoon ponies with your bronies, are going to die. Every last one of them within range. Bring in more, they go too.

I’m destroying your true American idols.”

I can really talk a lot of shit, can’t I? I couldn’t help myself with one final joke, though.

“Also, would the driver of a burgundy Toyota Tripwire please come up to the front desk. Your lights are on, but there’s nobody driving.”

I’m not sure if they got all of that either. The room’s sets started going down right there at the end. I turned around to find a curious onlooker from the crew checking over a computer at a work station behind me. “This is unbelievable,” he said.

“I believe it,” I said to him. Startled, he looked up at me, then pointed down to a computer monitor.

“Whatever you’re doing isn’t just messing with the locals. It’s causing problems for the satellites too. I don’t even want to think about how far this is reaching now, or what it’s going to eventually do to those satellites.”

“Cool, didn’t count on that. What’s your name?”

“Ricky.”

“Alright, Ricky. I’m pretty sure that before long we’re going to have law enforcement and superheroes showing up. When they get here, I’m going to be ready for them. To that end, I capture you as booty,” I said, and walked over to the door. Opening it up, I called out, “Hey Moai!” I heard a knock on the door I was holding open and turned to look. There was the Moai, having come up from behind. “You’ve been practicing your sneaking, that’s good. Hey, this guy back here is named Ricky. He tells me I’ve just knocked out at least a few states’ from watching American Idol wrap up, so I expect we’ll have lots of cops drop on us before long, as well as the Elvis impersonator and the Grape Ape. Bring this guy along. If he cooperates, then we get some help rigging traps. If he doesn’t, we get a hostage.”

I walked out the door, grinning under my helmet, and cracked my fingers. Come to me, my foes. I shall smite you down like a total smiter! Totally! Word to your momma!

 

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10 thoughts on “Reality Check 6

  1. Gnarker

    You know, I have the slight hunch that at least some people are going to celebrate you as hero for that stunt.

    Reply
    1. Psycho Gecko Post author

      At least until those people can no longer watch the shows they like. And the advertisers lose lots of money. And people can no longer get their news and weather! Bwahahahaha!

      Reply
      1. johnwedd

        you people would be forced to pirate shows on the internet until tv comes back?
        because i’m totally cool with that.

        Reply
        1. Psycho Gecko Post author

          I enjoy piracy too from time to time. I got no problems handling a Navy ship, but unfortunately the other guys on the boat couldn’t stop from losing their heads over it.

      2. farmerbob1

        Radio can do news and weather just fine.
        I enjoyed this episode a bit 🙂 I’m one of the oddballs that don’t watch TV. Haven’t had a TV hooked up as a TV for me to watch since 1989. ( I do have a TV set up as a computer monitor.)

        Every now and then, if I hear really good things from people I like, I’ll watch TV shows on the computer, using Hulu. I watched the Dresden Files this year, and Zatoichi a couple years ago.

        Reply
  2. yinyangorwuji

    Psycho Gecko needs a normal life tutor to learn how to fuck with people better. Tv? Nobody uses that anymore.

    -You know what? Maybe it’s NOT Zeta this time. Other people use this account, too, you know. Right? Right?
    …sob….
    It’s Zeta again….

    Reply
  3. Pingback: Reality Check 5 | World Domination in Retrospect

  4. Pingback: Reality Check 7 | World Domination in Retrospect

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