AIM: Pancaek Beast | E-mail: shdwdde@gmail.com | Denny's House of Pancaeks
Solid Snake vs. Soma Crus (Points: 15/16 Matches: 15/16)
For you, "trekking" can consist of dragging your feet through the mud at less than a foot per second. But it can also mean endless boundless speed. The velocity at which you choose to trek lies somewhere between that of a slug and that of light, though the theory of relativity does seem to apply decently enough. Time is slowing all around you.
It therefore seems to take you six hours to get to the city, cause twelve car accidents, and find a hotel, when in fact in real life, it only takes ten minutes.
You lean over the counter at the hotel. It is a modern place with space age white aesthetics everywhere the eyes can roam. Everything is plastic, inorganic, professional, screaming out that it no longer belongs to the nineties. On the other side of the counter, a grizzled cigarette-toting agent lifts an eyebrow to your drooping lids. "You lookin' for a room?"
You nod drowsily, yawning, searching for enlightenment.
"You're gonna need to p -"
Your hand shoots out instinctively and wraps around the guy's neck.
"- please come on in. You're in room 213. Up the stairs."
Offended that anyone should want to force you, mother****ing Donkey Kong, to climb up a set of stairs, you do a somersault in the air, hover momentarily, and drive your rear end with all the forces of gravity and God into the ground. There is rumbling from behind the guy at the counter. A piece of the wall falls down, and you see with satisfaction that the entirety of the first floor has collapsed. The first door reads "210."
Drowsily, you lumber into your room and fall asleep instantly.
A solid fruity voice intervenes.
"Donkey!"
You do not respond. It sounds oddly familiar.
"Donkey!"
The sensation is interesting. You don't perceive the speaker to be a threat, per se... but you have the strange urge to strangle him.
Then you feel the tip of a sword lightly entering your rectum, and you snap awake, howling in anguish. A mosaic of tears shatters your vision, but the ugly color scheme ascertains the identity of your anal prodder.
"Good to have you with us again," says Alucard, as you soak up the tears with the fur on the back of your hand. He has an exceptionally grim expression on his face. You wonder idly if perhaps he has a genetic disorder that allows him to maintain that sexy "who peed on my couch" look all the time.
"I'm afraid there has been a problem. Another vampire is on the island."
Almost instantly, you begin to zone out, but Alucard actually gets to the point immediately, saving you from the pleasure of another long nap. "We're going to have to take out Soma Cruz."
A pause for dramatic effect. You begin to nod off, but a persistent pain in your rear cautions you against sleep.
"Anyway, we're going now. He's in the next room. I'll need your help."
The confusion on your face is ample invitation for Alucard to point, and you take his lead by clearing the wall with your cranium. Plaster and dust rain down upon you, staining your noble fur white and utterly blinding you. You hear the sound of a struggle but pay it no heed. You struggle to rub your eyes clear of the crud but are unsuccessful. Loud bangings, the sounds of swords being drawn, Alucard's voice yelling out fatalities...
Finally you are able to see again, but the fight has ended. Alucard is gasping slightly. A pile of bloody white robes lies at his feet.
"Thank you for your assistance," he says.
(A) Follow Alucard around. He seems to have a Plan.
(B) Go back to sleeping. You are mother****ing Donkey Kong, and you need your beauty rest.
(C) Flap your arms and try to turn into a bat. You never know where this type of awesomeness leads.
(D) Bid Alucard go on your unhappy way. This just... isn't the life for you.
SD
Thursday, September 28, 2006
Thursday, September 28, 2006
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