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Tuesday, June 1, 2004

God, I Hate my Stupid Brain
Hello, and welcome, my friends! It's Tuesday! The day when... stuff happens...? I usually get headaches on Tuesday. Just thought I'd add that.

Hey, guess what? Remember that last post I did? The one about the "New Gang"? Well, someone was foolish- shit, I mean COOL and GREAT enough to join! The Band of Merry Dudes welcomes Shanny into their merry ranks! She'll most likely be the first and only person to join. If so, we'll forever be known as the "Shanny-Flint Connection". And I'll start pulling sock puppets out of my pants.

I'm going through a bit of a posting dry spell as of late. The worst part is, when I DO come up with an idea, I pick at it until I no longer think it's such a good idea. Check these ideas out, and tell me if you like one.

-When I took a brief (like, one week) hiatus from myO, I read a comment someone had left on Molly's site, concerning a "Flint Marco Funeral". I thought, "Wouldn't it be HI-larious if I did the Funeral post?" I thought about it. And figured it was much too morbid.

-I wanted to leave a bogus "Will post" in which, in the case of my untimely myO demise, I would leave bogus objects to you, the reader. Again, much too morbid.

-I thought about doing another "News Post", where I and several historical figures reviewed "Shrek 2". First, It'd never work for the SOLE FACT that none of them had never seen "Shrek 2". Also, I think I'd done something like that several times.

See what I'm talkin' about? Dry spell city, population, your old buddy Flint. Do you guys have any good ideas I can use? Lay 'em on me!

That's all ya get from me. See ya later!


Comments (6) | Permalink

Saturday, May 29, 2004

   Saturday, Sweet Saturday
Hello again, dear friends! It's, again, Saturday. Saturday, BAY-BEE! I'm gonna go do stuff on this day! Like get my car inspected! By Inspector Gadget! Fun with a Purpose!

Now, we've all joined in a form of organized crime at one point in our lives, be it for wealth, power, or revenge. I myself am part of a local organized crime cyndicate, the motley crew of psychopaths called THAT. Gemmie and OWA have their own group, Co-Evil. It's a growing trend.

So, in the fashion of the growing trend, it's time that your old friend Flint jump on the gangland bandwagon. Yes, it's time to create Flint's great street gang!

First, I'll need a name. It's got to be something cool, iconic, and terrifying. It's got to strike fear into the hearts of the common man. And that's why I've chosen this name:

"The Band of Merry Dudes"!

Terrifying, huh? I like the "merry" part. Makes it sound soft, in a crazy-kinda way.

Now that "The Band of Merry Dudes" has a name, we need rules. First, all members must have cool-sounding code-names, prefferably with swear words in them. Next, all members must have some sort of cool-sounding job to uphold in the "BoMD". See where I'm going with this?

The next rule is a bit extreme. If you want to join the "BoMD", you must first get a "BoMD" symbol branded on your skull. Then, you must go solo into the biggest volcano you can find, wearing the cerimonial windbreaker and tear-away jogging shorts, and throw a bag of orphaned kittens into the molten lava. When you hear their screams of pain and horror, you are officially inducted into the Band of Merry Dudes. What follows is a crazy mixer party, where Hanna-Barbera characters can interact with Disney characters. Shaggy and Goofy, in the SAME ROOM?Comedy gold!

How's that for a group? Don't forget to buy your OFFICIAL BoMD merchandise! BoMD T-shirt! BoMD Drink Coozy! BoMD gay-ass Lanyard! LIMITED EDITION Flint Marco "BoMD" action figure! Much more! Buy this crap, huh?

That's it. NEW GROUP! I'll probably be the only member. Then I'll change the name to myOomac: My Otaku One-Man Army Corps.

Nap Time! See ya later!


Comments (9) | Permalink

Monday, May 24, 2004

   Monday, Again.
Welcome again, reader! It's Monday. It's been exactly a week since my last post. And I STILL don't have a funny idea! Talk about lazy!

Just thought I'd update for the sake of updating. I really have no idea what to post. Another dry spell, I guess.

Time to think about what to post...

Hey, guess who's number one at Marvel VS Capcom at not one, but TWO malls? You're friend and mine, Flint! I must say, to see your name at the top of the high score list is a great feeling. You must experience it. All who challenged me, human or computer, fell victim to my wrath! Of course, if they're human, they fell victim to the Five moves of Doom! Throwback! Five-Knuckle Shuffle! F-U! ...I think one of them's that shoe-pump thing...

Then again, fuck John Cena. He'll never make it out of the midcard.

Mabey I'll post something funny or original tomorrow, or something.

See ya then!


Comments (7) | Permalink

Monday, May 17, 2004

   Monday, mine Monday
Hey yo, wuddup doc? Welcome to another EXTREEEME edition of Flint's anti-establishment hip-hop post of the Nation!

(In that single intro paragraph, I've attracted the teenage, urban, gothic, and ECW fan demographics. Who says I ain't a marketing master?)

Hello, and welcome, readers and friends! It's another Monday. Another 2-hours of Pro Wrestling.

To tell you the truth, I have no idea what to post here. I just felt as if I should post something. Anything. Let me think of some stuff I can post...

I just barely picked up Soul Caliber 2 on Saturday, for 13 bucks. Flint's a crafty consumer, huh? Yep ,it's pretty cool. I'm still trying to unlock Lizardman. He's the ONLY reason I bought the game.

That last part was a joke, by the way, I don't want any SC fans biting my head off.

I went to this place called "Go Ballistic" on Saturday, with some friends of mine. It's this place where you pay them to play video games on a big screen for so many hours. There were so many fucking kids there, and on a Friday night, no less, so I felt like a dork. Everyone there played, like, a million rounds of "Halo" via the system link function, including me and my friends. Man, that was a blast! I lost most of the time, but I had fun just heckling everyone and shouting curse words at the top of my lungs. When I first started playing, I accidentally picked the default character, and it named me "Howard" for some reason. After the first round, I said, "Fuck this, I don't want to be goddamn 'Howard'.", so I created a new character, which I was temtped to name "Flint Marco". But, I noticed the kids there, so I named him "Buck Fitch", souley because it was more obcsene.

Okay, that's gotta be a pretty good-sized post. I'll leave it there. I'll do something funny next time.

See ya later!


Comments (8) | Permalink

Monday, May 10, 2004

   Who ya gonna call?
Good evening again, my friends, my cohorts, my conspirators! It's another friggin' Monday again. Yep, Sunday night has passed again. Where do they all go? Perhaps, to the next Sunday.

Okay, for this post, I decided to be serious. Very, very serious. Because the topic I speak of is not funny. It's happened to me once, and who knows, it might have happened to you. I wish I could erase these ugly memories out of my subconcious, but I can't.

I speak of Ghosts. Poltergeists. The restless spirits of the Dead, come back to make life harder for us living folk.

Yes, your old pal Flint has been haunted by a ghost. The site from which you read this is, in fact, haunted, by some bastard spectre, who refuses to leave, and wrecks the joint whenever I leave. Let me tell you, when a ghost decides to haunt something, he stays for the long haul. No amount of money, jewels, or fine liquor will sway him from painting the walls with blood, or hanging the family dog from his own intestines on the shower curtain. How do you get rid of him? Nothing from this world can hurt him! So, you call upon someone with experience in dealing with ghosts. You call...

The Terminator!



...not really. You call the excorsist, dummy.

EXORSIST: Yo, what seems to be the problem?

FLINT: Save me! There's a ghost in my computer! Killitkillitkillit!

EXORSIST: Hold up, man. First, let me examine the computer.

FLINT: Shut up and KILL IT, you goon!

EXORSIST: (glares at Flint)

FLINT: ...Mr. Goon, sir?

EXORSIST: (messes around with Flint's computer)

FLINT: Hey, don't click on that file.

EXORSIST: Why, is that where the ghost is?

FLINT: NO! Just don't click on it!

EXORSIST: (clicks on the file anyway, then stares in disgusted awe) You're a sick man, Flint.

FLINT: Midget clown pornography is a way of life, I ain't proud of it.

EXORSIST: Look, just tell me where the ghost is, exactly.

FLINT: It's on my otaku page.

EXORSIST: ...Oto...ka?

FLINT: No no no, O-TA-KU. It's Japanese. It's like saying "Fanboy".

EXORSIST: Oh, gawd, not another "japanime" dork. Why do you like that crap? The mouths just flap up and down!

FLINT: Well, it's-

EXORSIST: And all the women got huge boobs! And everyone flies around, yelling "Kamehameha"! It's stupid!

FLINT: No, you see-

EXORSIST: Why don't you check out something COOL from America, like Jughead comics?

FLINT: ...Jughead?

EXORSIST: Yeah, Jughead! Y'know, from those "Archie" comics?

FLINT: ...They gave fucking JUGHEAD his own comic? How much crack did they have to smoke to come up with that idea?

EXORSIST: Well, it's better than your stupid "Dragon's Ball" or "Moon Sailors", or whatever you do!

FLINT: There's more to anime than Dragon Ball and Sailor Moon!

EXORSIST: Well, that's all I see, ya stupid "Otaku" freak!

FLINT: Well...who's cooler, Yoshihiro Tajiri or Super Crazy?

EXORSIST: Are you crazy? SC's got more talent in his pinky toe than Tajiri's got in his whole body!

FLINT: God, would you stop shitting for once! Tajiri's kicked Crazy's ass before, and he'll continue to kick his ass forevermore!

EXORSIST: Yeah right, you don't even know the depths of Crazy's-

(suddenly, the computer glows, and a voice emits from it.)

VOICE: FOOLS! Neither is worthy enough to be in the same ring as Keiji Muto!

EXORSIST: ...What the Hell?

FLINT: It's the ghost! Kill it!

VOICE: Hahaha, foolish humans! I cannot be defeated by the likes of you! My celestial being is FAR more powerful than your silly magics!

EXORSISTS: Oh, yeah? Then, how about THIS!

(the exorsist pulls out his ghost-cappin' glock, and fires a few rounds into the computer. The Computer blows up, and the ghost flies out, to reveal...)

JOCKO: God dammit, you ruined my revenge!

FLINT: God almighty, JOCKO? Didn't I kill you a few posts back?

JOCKO: Yes! It's called "Post Continuity"! Look it up sometime!

FLINT: Where will you go now, Jocko?

JOCKO: I'll probably go haunt your toilet or something.

FLINT: Even after death, your still a bastard. Hey, let's all sing a song!

EXORSIST: Hell no, I ain't singin'.

FLINT: Aw, come on! When it comes crashin' down, and it hurts inside! (Air guitars, while humming guitar riff)

JOCKO: Ya gotta take a stand, it don't help ta hide! (Air guitars, while humming guitar riff)



FLINT: ...c'mon...

EXORSIST: ...i can't let it slide.

Yep, that's just one of many horrifying ghost-a-riffic adventures your's truly has had in his 18 years of existence. Pretty wild, huh?

Okay, I'm gone. See ya next time.


Comments (7) | Permalink

Tuesday, May 4, 2004

Good Evening to you, my fellow reader! Today is none other than Tuesday, when the new phone book arrives! I can't wait to look through it, and see how many number combinations are used!

But, wait! It's not just any Tuesday, is it? No, it's an extra-special day today! What day is it, you ask? Why, it's...




*Audience goes berzerk with excitement*

Yes, 'tis the good ol' Annual Fourth of May bash! This is the only holiday that the government refuses to look upon as one, because the PEOPLE created it, not some lowlife fat-cat greeting card company. Man, I friggin' LOVE this holiday! Presents, violence and booze, that's the true meaning of the Fourth of May!

But, lo, there are some who doubt us "Fourth-of-May'ers". They don't know the story behind this great holiday. Well, let me tell you kids how this holiday came to be.

About 130 years ago, during the big Soda Prohibition, a young man named Fritz McLullin worked at a local speak-easy, where illegal Mr. Pibb was always on tap. Customers from all over the country would come there, to partake of the caffienated goodness that was Minute Maid Orange Soda. Both life and buisness were good for ol' Fritz.

Then, one day, the police found out. At around midnight, when the speak-easy was at it's busiest, a swarm of pigs, armed to the teeth with Gatling guns and Rocket launchers, stormed into the place shooting holes into anything that got in their way, living or otherwise. Fifteen minutes after they left, Fritz arose from the table he hid under. Everyone in the place was either dead, or dying a slow, agonyzing death.

Fritz's rage then grew to climactic proportions. He new what he had to do. He packed thousands of shells of buckshot into a sachel, grabbed his rifel, and headed for the white house. When he arrived, the pigs were waiting for him. They ran at him, attempting to stop him from entering the White House. They were met with hot lead and fury. He blasted pig after pig, until he arrived in the oval office.

There he was, behind a desk. The mastermind behind the Soda Prohibition. Franklin Delanore Rosevelt.

"Rosevelt! This ends now! End the Soda Prohibition, or meet the same fate as your minions!", Fritz yelled.

FDR looked young Fritz over. "Foo, hoo, hoo. You are a strong one, you are. Getting through my elite guard. Unfortunately, I am not as feebile as you think!" he said.

FDR pressed a button on his wheelchair. The wheelchair expanded, then encased FDR's entire body in solid steel armor. He pulled out his presidential flamethrower.

"Now, young one, you will PARISH, along with any hope of the Soda Prohibition ending!", FDR cackled.

"Never! An entire country's dreams rest on my shoulders! I'll not let them down!", Frtiz said.

Fritz and FRD fought for all of one hour, in a bloody, grotesque superbattle. Finally, having been pierced in the heart by a ninja throwing star, FDR keeled over and died. Fritz assumed power, and ended the Soda Prohibition, and restored peace in America.

And that man turned out to be Ronald Regan.

...And that's the reason we celebrate this great holiday! Is there any particular reason why YOU, the reader, celebrate?

Yep, that's all you get. It's a holiday, what do you want? Have a good-ass Fourth of May, everyone!


Comments (4) | Permalink

Wednesday, April 28, 2004

   Questionable Content
Good day, reader! It's Wednsday again. Why do I always post on Wednsdays? That was a rhetorical question, by the way, I seriously have no idea why I post on Wednsdays.

Hey, guess what? MORE FUN WITH QUESTIONS! Man, if I could do this every post, I'd post every day. This is MUCH easier than thinking of a random topic!


1) If you had to live somewhere besides Texas, where would you go?

Wow, I never thought about that. Mabey New York City. That'd be cool.

Or mabey Uranus. HA!

2) If the world were going to end in a week, and you were the only one who knew about it, would you bother to warn anyone?

I would, but in a roundabout way. First, I'd do the "ranting madman" warning style, where I'd run around nude, screaming "Repent, sinners! God has fattened you for the slaughter!"

Next, I'd hire a team of shamans to put a hex on the highway. Cars would collide, in horrific crashes. The wreckage would spell, "The End is At Hand! You and this Entire Planet will become Nothing but Dust!"

Finally, I'd put on the old black robes, gather a team of druids, buy some TV time, and spill the beans, but only five minutes before the world would acually end, so the last feelings of humanity would be chaos and terror.

3) Thursday came and went, but the aliens never came... Did you lie to me about that?

Not at all, my gullable- shit, I mean LOVEABLE Molly! The aliens just missed their bus, but mark the words of Flint, THEY'LL BE HERE!

4) Where is my missing sock?

I ate it. I got hungry.

X and O: You a sick muthuh! You a sick, sick, sick, sick muthuh!

...Man, I miss Sifl and Olly.

5) If the draft were re-instated in a war against France, and you were drafted, would you go?

Yes and No. Here's what I'd do. I'd find a child. I'd sand off his whole face, then make him wear a mask resembling my face. I'd make him take a shitload of growth hormones. I'd then teach him how to fake injuries, and how to shoot things.

When the foolish American Army came knocking at my door, I'd send him in my place. Who's gonna know the difference?

But, it wouldn't end there. Id fly over to France, under a new name, Flinte Mearcue. I'd then join the French army. I'd quickly make my way up the ranks, until I became France's greatest warrior.

One rainy day, in a recently carpet-bombed Paris, I would meet the new "Flint". We would stare each other down. Then, we'd engage in the superbattle to end all superbattles. Finally, I'd fall over, dead, but not before taking the new "Flint's" right arm. He'd return to America, and pick up were I left off.

Yep, that was loads of fun, wasn't it? Easy, too! We gotta do this more often!

Okay, I'm so outta here.


Comments (5) | Permalink

Tuesday, April 27, 2004

   A Question has Been Asked
Good Eve, dear readers! It's Tuesday! The day of the week where... nothing happens. God, I hate Tuesdays.

Well, can't say I didn't try to do that whole "question" post everyone's doing, except better. God, what an uncooperative populace this is. I got two questions, at least.

By SJ:
Where do Babies come from?

and by Gemmei:
Who would win in a fight between Flint and Gemmei?

Well, Gemmei wanted me to dedicate an ENTIRE post to the question she ask, so it won't be this one. HAHAHA! So, here's your answer, SJ.

Where do babies come from, you ask?

Well, it all starts in Hell. Lucifer creates a caste for the child's form, forged with bone, blood and lava. After the caste is complete, and the form is finished, Shamans inject various drugs and venom into the form, which congeals into what humans call, "organs". Once the "organs" form, Lucifer takes the form into a summoning room, where the form's soul is created. For this event, he calls in his seven sons. They are as follows:

Bealsebub: Lord of pain and suffering, overlord of the body harvests in Hell.

Azreal: Brutish might and cunning mind become one, to create the gatekeeper of Hades, making sure not a soul escapes.

Damien: Considered the cruelest of the seven sons of Satan, Damien is in charge of torture, and thuroughly enjoys his job.

Jameson: Satan's youngest son, and resident high-powered attorney.

Frankie: Don of the Hades Mafia, Frankie runs the dealing, killings and gun-running.

Mr. Fuji: Considered to be Satan's favorite son, Fuji managed Yokozuna to the WWF title.

Bishamon: Finally, Satan's oldest son, a samurai demon who possesses the bodies of evil men, and wreaks havok upon the human world.

When all the sons are gathered, they release dark energy, which is mixed together. Finally, after hours, a soul is forged. The soul is placed in the body. A ninja is sent to the human world, where the baby is placed in the female's body, where is feeds on her body, until it bursts from her body, fully developed.

There you are. Another mystery explained, thanks to your old pal, Flint!

That's it. Later.


Comments (4) | Permalink

Monday, April 26, 2004

   Shin Ask Mr. Marco: Zankuro Musouken
Does anyone find that title familiar? Yeah, I've been playing WAY too much "Samurai Shodown".

Greetings again, dear reader! It's Monday, and wrestling starts in a few minutes. Can I just add something, before I do anything? The last post I did was, in my eyes, the best post I've ever done. Seriously.

Okay, post time! Yes, and it's time to steal someone else's ideas! I stole this one from ol' Dagger. She had this awesome post, where people would ask her questions via comment box, and she'd answer. It looked like fun, so I decided steal it! Here's the rules. Ask some questions in the comment box. I'll edit the post, with the answer to your question! Sounds fun? Sure it does! So ask away!


Comments (2) | Permalink

Sunday, April 25, 2004

   And Now, Fore Your Reading Pleasure...


Children of All Ages...

D-Generation X...

Proudly Brings to You....

It's myO...

(say this part out loud. I don't care where you are, just do it!)


The Road Dogg, Flint Marco!

The Bad Ass Billy Gunn!


...And if you made it through that, then you have truly won my respect. It was either that, or one of those old Dudley Boys intros Joel Gertner used to do. Come to think of it, that would've been funnier.

Greetings and salutations, mine friends. It's your old running mate, Flint Marco! It is, again, Sunday night. Did I watch WWE Heat? Hells, no. I got better things to do. Am I going to watch Adult Swim tonight? They took off Home Movies, so no. Again, better things to do, like video games, and typing things for you, the reader to view.

Your probably wondering why the intro to this post is much longer than most. Well, let me tell you. My old buddy, Shadow Jaganshi (SJ to me), came up with what she called, "The Longest Post" award, which she promptly awarded herself. It was a pretty long post, too. I respect her for setting the bar so high. For tonight, I, the Great and Powerful Flint Marco, will attempt to beat SJ's record of 1,549 words in a single post! I'm a competitive guy, what do you want?

Okay, so, here I am, in the middle of an attempt to break the "Earth's Longest Post" record. What do I write? What could possibly be so long that I have to use more than 1,549 words to summarize it? How the hell should I know? There is one man, though, who could help me. One man, whom is my ultimate hero. One man, who the world looks up to as the ultimate god of cool.

His name is Jocko.

So, now, I'll make the lonely trip to Texas (where I'm already at, but that's beyond the point), and speak with Jocko, the only man who can help me out right now!


(Flint arrives outside the Jocko Estate)

FLINT: Sweet Jesus in a redwood canoe! This estate is HUGE! Not to mention made of solid gold and the bones of infants!

GUARD: (pushes Flint) Can I help youz?

FLINT: Golly, you're a big fella... Hey, pal, I gotta see Jocko. He's the only man who can help me beat SJ's "longest post" record.

GUARD: (looks Flint over) I don't know. He hates losers.

FLINT: Oh...right...

GUARD: (Grabs walkie-talkie, and speaks) Yo, Mr. Jocko, dere's some kid outside. Says he needs ya help.

(long pause)

GUARD: ...What's ya name, kid?

FLINT: It's Flint. Flint Marco.

GUARD: (Into walkie-talkie) Says his name's Flint. (pause.) Understood. (puts up walkie-talkie) He says youz can go in. Don't touch anything.

FLINT: Right. Thanks, man!

GUARD: Piss off.

(Flint walks into Jocko's grand estate. The walls are covered in platinum and gold. Jocko is sitting on his solid gold throne, surrounded by beautiful women.)

FLINT: Jocko, my man! Wuzzup, man, wuzzup?

JOCKO: ...What the fuck do you want, Flint?

FLINT: (looks around nervously) Hey, man, I need some help wit' a project I'm do-

JOCKO: Do you want something to drink?

FLINT: Sure, man, if you're offering...got any Minute Maid?

JOCKO: Minute Maid?! The "Great" Flint Marco, drinking juice substitute?

FLINT: I like Minute Maid...

JOCKO: Whatever. YURI!

(A geisha walks out from behind some curtains.)

YURI: Yes, Mr. Jocko?

JOCKO: Get Mr. Marco here a Minute Maid Orange Juice, and get me a glass of my finest red wine, post waste.

YURI: At once, sir.

(Yuri dissapears behind the curtains, and suddenly reappears with said beverages.)

YURI: Here you are, sir.

JOCKO: Thanks, doll. (Drinks wine) ...What did you want again, Flint?

FLINT: I need some help with this project I've been doing.

JOCKO: Which is...?

FLINT: See, there's this title of the "Longest Post" on myO, right? And I gotta write the longest post, so I can win the award, right? So, can you help me...?

JOCKO: ...myO? "Longest Post"? What are you babbling about?

FLINT: See, I thought-

JOCKO: You DO realize that you're mearly a figment of my imagination, right? An extention of myself, if you will.

FLINT: Yeah, I know, but-

JOCKO: So, WHY should I help someone who doesn't exist?

FLINT: Yeah, but-


FLINT: Because... if you do, I'll give you my George Foreman grill?

JOCKO: ...Really?

FLINT: Yeah! (Breaks out a George Foreman grill, with burgers already sizzling inside.) See, how the grill seeps out all the fat?

JOCKO: I do, I do!

FLINT: It eliminates all the fat, and keeps in the delicious flavor!

JOCKO: I see, I see!

FLINT: So, it's a deal, then?

JOCKO: Come, Flint. We've a record to break!

(Later, at Flint's ratty apartment...)

JOCKO: Remind me again, Why I agreed to this, Flint.

FLINT: George Foreman Grill? Remember?

JOCKO: Does it cook eggs? 'Cause if I don't have an omlet in fifteen minute, I swear to GOD that I'll-

FLINT: Take a pill, Jock! We gotta focus on the post, man! The post!

JOCKO: ...Got any ideas?

FLINT: ...I got it! A fight post! Pitting Mike Tyson against Balrog from Street Fighter!

JOCKO: That's stupid. You're stupid.

FLINT: At least I'm trying!

JOCKO: Well, you suck at trying!

FLINT: Shaddap you face!

JOCKO: You shaddap you face!

(A fistfight breaks out between the two. After a few minutes, the two are on the ground, hurt and ashamed.)

FLINT: *Huff, puff*...Hey, J-Man. Truce?

JOCKO: ...*Weeze*...Go to Hell, Flint...*cough*

FLINT: ...Alright...

JOCKO: Furthermore, I fully intend on erasing you from my memory when I get home, that way, I'll never hear from your dumb ass again.


JOCKO: (Runs for the door) Goodbye, Flint Marco!

FLINT: NO! I can't die! Flint can't Die! (grabs Bowie Knife)

(Flint chases Jocko through the streets of Houston, hacking and slashing anything that got in his way, living or otherwise. Soon, the Houston Metro police get word.)

(Chief Gonzales gets word of the chase from Bob White, Mayor of Houston.)


(Officer Collins walks into Chief Gonzales' office.)

COLLINS: What'cha need, Chief? Make it quick, I'm on my lunch break.

GONZALES: Lunch just called it a day, Collins. Ther's two psycopaths running wild about Houston, giving anyone in their path Open-Heart surgery! Either you get out there and STOP THEM, or I assign you to TRASH DUTY again!

COLLINS: Lemme get this strait, boss. You want me to off two losers, while my Tendercrisp gets cold?

GONZALES: We got a microwave in the break room, Collins.

COLLINS: Fine, I'll do it. (loads gun)

(It's now Five in the afternoon. Most of south Houston now lies in ruin. Jocko is still running, and Flint is still chasing.)

FLINT: Give it up, Jocko!

JOCKO: Not until I get home! Then you'll be gone forever!

(Collins jumps from a helicopter, and kicks Flint in the head, launching him in some nearby rubble.)

COLLINS: What's going on here?!

JOCKO: (points at Flint) He's trying to kill me, officer!

FLINT: Am not! He's got cooties!

JOCKO: Do not!

COLLINS: Shut up, the both of you! Why shouldn't I blast the both of you to Hell?!

JOCKO: Because I-


COLLINS: Thanks a lot!

(Collins fires a few shots at Jocko, piercing his chest. Jocko dramaically falls to the ground.)

JOCKO: ...We'll meet again...Flint Marco...

(Flint looks relieved at Jocko's lifeless corpse. He then looks up at Collins, and pretends to die.)

FLINT: I'm melting! MELTING! Oh, what a world! Meellltiiinnnng... (falls dramatically to the ground, twitching.)

COLLINS: (looks up to the sky) Well, two more bad man fall before me. God'll forgive me.

(Collins slowly walks among the rubble, back to the police station. After a few minutes, Flint gets back up.)

FLINT: Stupid pigs! Never trust a raving lunatic! (Runs into the sunset.)

Okay, that had to be, like a whole bunch of words. I don't feel like counting them, so if someone else would, I'd really apreciate it. please?

If you're still reading this, your either very brave, or very silly. Perhaps both. Anyway, that's all I got. See ya next time.


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