Get Wrecked 5

I’ve been looking up leads on my little art thief. No luck as of yet. She appears to be one of those who keeps their powers quiet. People do that from time to time. Some just don’t use them. Never acknowledge them. They deny an essential and special part of themselves. It’s a shame. Others, like this lady, use them but not in a way intended to get them in fights or on the news.

Nope, no clue about her, but you know how that is. Sometimes you just meet someone, violate a man’s ass, have a Picasso stolen from you, and never see that person again. That’s life, am I right?

Let’s see…in other news, Shieldwall’s certainly still around. The news was talking about how they were trimming the fat off to help them keep up the good fight in light of their lack of budget. According to one news network, “What good fight? Psycho Gecko, a few minor criminals, and a premature robotic cell phone invasion?”

Yeah! How dare they try to stop a minor threat like me, the person who launched a chemical attack on a major American city!

Let’s see…what else has been going on? I’ve put in some work on the death ray. It’s boring, but necessary. I don’t expect it to be done before next month, but it’s a big part of a plan I’ve got in mind as far as really socking it to the Shieldwall heroes. I still need some people to do my bidding. Hiring someone to fly over a city and drop a weird device is one thing, but things get complicated when you have a large green bosom involved. There’s been some stuff around as far as gangs. I guess those guys I messed up lost a turfwar or something. I’ll admit, I don’t know how they do things at that level around here.

Being pulled in a bunch of different directions at once means less time for each individual item unless you find a way to combine them. My idea to save on time is simple: scare the crap out of the gangs, cow them into submission, and get them to work for me for at least a little while.

Michelangelo did know enough about the local gangs due to his Mafia connections. There were the Reds, the Greens, and the Yurples. I thought the color thing was over with. And involved gangs from two different coastlines. Ah well, I can’t be expected to keep up with all the newsletters and chainmails they send out. Or maybe that’s chain letters.

People running around in chainmail would spruce a city up nicely, I think. Just think. Instead of worrying about people having guns, you could figure out who was armed due to the swords they carry with them. Hey, it’d be good for the churches too! They could go back to trying to burn witches. I can see major cross-promotional opportunities with any Wiccan church having a 5k run.

So, first steps were easy. Throw down a gauntlet and start a gang war.

First was the territory of the Reds. Street gang with a neo-communist theme. Hammers, sickles, Lenin’s face on graffiti. Down with the bourgeoisie, dawg. They redistribute the wealth they get a hold of to their home neighborhoods. You’re fine walking through as long as you aren’t rich, otherwise that mink coats going to a mother of six that can’t afford to pay the heating bill. Nobody’s rich in their neighborhoods, but they’re at least better off than they were.

They’d gotten into it a lot with the Greens, so when I rolled up in a Red neighborhood, I left behind several pot leaf tags and used joints. I was in my car, so anyone who saw me will know it wasn’t actually them. The Greens always do drive-bys in eco-friendly cars. They just have to pack into them like clowns because they’re so much more expensive.

After some calls, I’d found where the Reds were going to hold their cock fights that night. I opened the door to my car, bit the head off a chicken grenade, and let it cross the road. I was turning the corner to the other side of the building when it went off. When the Reds ran out the other side holding cages of roosters, I let them have it with the air cannon and my latest fully-upgraded potato peeler. I also poured some gasoline onto the wire cages of the angry cocks and ignited them with a joint.

It fits the Greens MO. Just like PETA, most of the animals they rescue are put to death in less than a day. Unlike PETA, the Greens don’t have the benefit of a nice cozy van to use to pump kittens full of poison.

Don’t believe me? Well, they could be different on your world. I guess it’d behoove you to look it up. Get it? PETA? Behoove? Let me know if you’ve herd that one before. Ha!

Purposefully bad jokes aside, my next stop was Green territory. A militant eco friendly vegan and vegetarian gang. As previously stated, the pot leaf is their symbol. They grow and sell pot, opium, and even the coca leaf. Yes, the coca leaf, from which cocaine is derived. It also provided the name of Coca-Cola because cocaine was one of the original ingredients.

I flew Yurple colors with this one. A plaid tag pattern of yellow and purple. I dropped an empty pack of American Spirit cigarettes. My disguise was an obnoxious plaid yellow and purple jacket and tight women’s jeans. I made my way to a “community garden” in the middle of an apartment complex. A Green standing guard was easily dispatched as I beat him over the head with a two liter of Fanta Zero, then shoved it in his mouth, watching as he died from acute diet drink poisoning. I wasn’t entirely cruel, though. I topped it off with bleach to try and improve on the taste.

I ran inside, ignoring the burning UV lamps and smell of shit from the recycled waste they used as fertilizer. Just because there’s kernels doesn’t mean they grow corn, people. I snatched and started shoving as much Malawi Gold and Shaman into a sack as I could. Not for me. I’m just holding it for a friend of mine, officer. Nah, I’ll probably sell it.

I grabbed as much as I could carry and took it back to the car. I dropped it in the trunk and pulled out some large jugs of Mao Ze Lawn, China’s most powerful industrial-strength weedkiller. Chinese can’t make toys and toothpaste without making them deadly to humans. This weedkiller must be some strong stuff. I hooked it up as a special supplement to their sprinkler system and set it to go. Made sure to get a scrap of my yurple jacket caught in the workings of the thing. Then again, we are talking about a bunch of stoners here. I tore off half the thing and left it there for the Greens to find.

Next stop, Yurple territory. They adopted those colors because nobody likes them. Or flannel jackets. They smoke American Spirit because it’s all natural and has an Indian on it. They hate Reds because they thought Communism was cool before that gang started, and now that the Reds exist, they ruined it. They get into disagreements with the Greens because the Greens aren’t as cynical. They think the planet can actually be saved. Also, the Greens charge them out the ass for weed.

They steal electronics. Don’t leave an iPhone or a laptop laying around. Things fall off the back of trucks all the time around their neighborhoods.

I hit them as the Reds, the only gang left to impersonate. The Soviet flag flew high on the walls of the retro arcade before I broke in the back door and threw my half-full bottle of vodka at the man moving a dolly of Macbooks. He ducked and pulled out a switchblade. I took him down with a carefully-placed blow from the air cannon. Shooting someone is a perfectly legitimate tactic in martial arts. Just ask the Navy Seals. They have my back on this.

The worker went out like a light upon hitting the ground. I set the Macbooks aside and ran into him with the dolly a few times, going, “Wake up, wake up, wake up!” before he woke up. Then I swung it over hand at his head while saying, “Go to sleep!”

Just like with the Greens, I picked up a few things to make a profit off. Macbooks, iPhones, iPads. For people who hate the mainstream, they sure do suck the cock of a huge corporation that is trying to be hip and popular. The only problem was, how to dispose of all this stuff? How to wreck it? The answer came to me upon glancing around outside for inspiration.

A McDonald’s was nearby. Yep. Probably has some Yurples working there too. Not that they’re working for the man, they just need a day job. Right.

The fry cook was very accommodating in my request at knifepoint as he carried over some nice, hot, used fry grease and helped me toss it all over the place. We got it everywhere. Creases. Corners. Crannies. Nooks, though I didn’t plan to single out any tablets in all this.

Then it was just a matter of sitting back, relaxing, assembling a heating channel and focus array, and watching as they all mobilized against one another. People hitting each other on both sides, mistrust, fears of secret alliances. It’s very easy to let people who are so distrustful tear each other apart.

I knew my job was going very well when I heard about some Yurples being found execution style with a deck of playing cards nearby. One of the Yurples had “Cheater” carved into his forehead.

Reds really, REALLY don’t like it when somebody tries to cheat in their card rooms.

Then, today, the news is out that the Greens released some abused dogs from a shelter into a Yurple bar and barred the doors and windows. Bad news is, whether they survived or not, those dogs are getting put down. I’m serious. They’re getting put down worse than, “Yo momma’s so ugly, the Department of Corrections uses her in a scared straight program focusing only on women’s prisons that has nothing to do with troubled juvenile delinquents.”

So we have gangs killing each other, a little extra profit from stolen consumer electronics and weed, and most of the optics have been polished on this giant gun thingy of doom. Doooooom!

Next step on this little adventure is going to involve kicking their asses around some more, too. I need to rapidly escalate things, make sure they all come to meet about peace, and then I can drop in and make my offer.

This is all going so well, I just have to wonder when Shieldwall’s going to magically know a guy who knows a guy who brings them in to interrupt my plan and force me to do something else. I need to start building some guided rockets as a plan be for whenever that inevitably happens.

In the meantime, readers, this is the end of today’s update. Your inspirational quote of the day comes from Benjamin Franklin’s letter Advice to a Friend on Choosing a Mistress: “So that covering all above with a basket, and regarding only what is below the girdle, it is impossible of two women to know an old from a young one. And as in the dark all cats are grey, the pleasure of corporal enjoyment with an old woman is at least equal, and frequently superior, every knack being by practice capable of improvement.”

Truly inspiring. What a great statesman.

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