AIM: Pancaek Beast | E-mail: shdwdde@gmail.com | Denny's House of Pancaeks
Aeris vs. KOS-MOS, Yuna vs. Joanna, Chun Li vs. Lara Croft (Points: 44/48 Matches: 36/40)
The white light surrounds and blinds you, but you fight back, rebel that you are. Ki runs rampant through your mighty arms, and you flap them regally. Light disperses around you like little air molecules. You rise in the sky like a majestic raptor of the skies. Suddenly, as you realize the uselessness of this simile, the light vaporizes once again. Your arms continue to undulate and fight the air.
Bearings flow to your senses. The sky is endless about you, the island a small speck beneath you. A hundred yards above where you hover, limbs beating the air mattresses for support, a GIANT ROBOT is also floating, seemingly without effort. The Earth is blue, but there is no God.
With an air speed of twenty meters per second, she skydives you, a package of mecha, cleavage, and blue hair. Her head smashes into your face in a decisively inorganic crunch, and you howl in pain. Her acceleration combines with that of gravity and pushes down on you, but you beat your limbs ever harder and stay afloat. Her cyborg but life-like eyes bear down upon yours, her nose pressed hard up on yours.
"Succumb, being of flesh," she says, but you only flap harder, now kicking your feet as well. Were you anyone else, you might marvel at the ease with which you rise in the sky with tons of robotic steel pressing on your forehead. There is no legitimate way in which you should be able to withstand the almighty force that is capable of crushing multiple universes. But your cranium holds its own remarkably against the galaxy-crushing power of the KOS-MOS. You are mother****ing Donkey Kong, and flying with weights on your skull has long been one of your "closet talents," as they say.
Finally, you decided to stop flapping. The drilling pressure above you continues, but you ease your head out of the way and, for all the great justice in the world, do a barrel roll. KOS-MOS crashes straight into the island at a speed much greater than the initial velocity of twenty meters per second and makes a mile-wide crater. The good earth promptly swallows her up, and you gravitate mildly toward the center of the pit, your arms now forming a makeshift parachute.
At the heart of the wreckage, there is a narrow and bottomless well that you are absolutely sure leads to the planet's core. You do not know why you hold this belief with such strong conviction, but you are mother****ing Donkey Kong, and the last time you were wrong was in the Nixon administration, and even that was only a "further" and "farther" error.
Landing is a pleasant sensation. Your upward acceleration has resulted in a very feasible final velocity, and your feet contact the earth rhythmically. You tap dance a little to steady yourself, slightly drunk with high altitude air, and staggeringly scale the walls of the crater. But just as you pull yourself over the edge, you hear the familiar voice.
"Hold it right there!"
You freeze, knowing somehow exactly what lines follow.
"Now turn around and lower your arms, real slow."
And as you turn around, you look down into the pit and see a redhead, blue and shiny like a NASCAR racer. Both of her hands are wrapped tightly around an American goverment-issued handgun. Her stance is absolutely flawless and professional. "Where I can see them!"
Just as your fingers wrap tightly around your weapon, the woman speaks again. "And if you bust out that Coconut Gun, I promise you that you will not live this day d -"
Her words bore you quickly, and her accurate guess of your course of action is rather insulting, you find, so you kick her gently in the face. Her gun goes off, but her aim is totally lost, and you casually disarm her and drop her down the narrow hole through which KOS-MOS met her fate. You tire quickly of deja vu experiences.
This in mind, you also pay no heed to the next slut with guns attempts to bullet-rape you from behind. Attached to a blockily protuding chest and hardly clothed body is an androgynous, repulsive face that appears to have been hit by a train. You decide to give it an equivalent treatment and thrust your fist in it. The twin guns drop unhurriedly to the ground, and the owner of the guns flies up and out of the pit, far from the island. Its flapping skirt affords you a glance between its legs, and you queasily ascertain that it is a male with breast implants.
But this "development" is totally inconsequential. You drop it from mind and allow the familiar white light to cascade upon you.
(A) Swim through it, because you can.
(B) Take a nap. You are getting damn tired.
(C) Mold the light into a banana and eat it.
(D) Yell really loudly. Pointless? Yes. Totally mother****ing Donkey Kong? Hell yes.
SD
Sunday, October 22, 2006
Sunday, October 22, 2006
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