Thursday, January 9, 2014

Shonen Otaku's Diary of Frank West: Night 3

Sometimes life gives you a poopy hand, and I got a 2, 4, 10, get out of jail free, and Petit Dragon.  When that happens, the only thing to do with a bad hand is to turn them into weapons like that guy from X-men!

Following my little escapade with Ozzy Osbourne and Carlito’s computer, I found that what Jesse had to show me on the monitor.  It showed Carlito being dragged by a chain into an underground butcher shop by a large, bald, fat guy.  At the time I thought it was Brad, and he just took on some weight getting ready for a Brad-style smackdown.  I wanted in on the fun, so I followed him down there myself.

Whoah.  Dude.  What has Brad been EATING?
Only I didn’t find Brad down there.  I thought I did at first, but then he turned to look at me after hanging some meat on a giant hook and I saw that the man didn’t have his two front teeth!  Brad loves his front teeth!  Even if he had to forcefully pull them out he’d glue them back in!  Whoever this guy was, he was not Brad!  He just brought in some nice-looking meat though, so I didn’t want to make him mad and get me kicked out.

He offered to give it to me ground, but I prefer my meat tenderized.  Just as I was about to tell him that, he went off on a tangent blabbering about how zombies weren’t good meat.  I didn’t say zombies were good meat!  Just don’t make my meat into a man-wich!

You got to spray some Mr. Clean on it first.

The guy must not have heard me, possibly due to the excess fat clogging up his eardrums.  He started up his machine and my meat started moving toward his grinder on a conveyor belt.  It was just seconds away from not being the way I wanted it!  I had to save my meat!

No!  I want meat now!

That was harder than it sounded.  First I had to get to the control panel, and that meant getting fatass out of the way… Permanently.  I pumped the bastard full of lead at point blank range with my shotgun, but all the pellets sunk right into his fat!  He was hardly fazed!  That's what I call kevlard.  He had enough strength to lift me up, hang me on a filthy hook, and cut me like a cow while I screamed “eat mor chiken!”

Mercifully he didn't make the "hanging around" joke.
I ran out of super-shakes, but luckily fatso had some milk cartons lying around to fix me up.

Those commercials always say that milk helps build strong bones, but it’d be more effective to tell everyone that milk magically heals all wounds you may get from a crazy fat dude with a cleaver.  Then again, it seems to only do that when inside the Willamette mall, so I can see how the advert’s message would be skewed.

It was a fight of much blood, screaming, and break dancing that seemed to have lasted for hours.  That was the problem.
As the both of us were worn down, I glanced at my meat and saw that it was just inches away from the grinder!  My perfectly intact meal was about to be turned into a splintery bone-filled ground meat, no doubt to be sold at Mc Donalds on the dollar menu!

It was at that moment something awakened deep inside of me.  I felt as though my desire for my meat filled me with some sort of ethereal power and took full control of my body!  My leg lifted on its own, and


Hokuto!  Ju Hazan!

So that happened.

To my surprise, my meat turned out to actually be none other than Carlito!  He was quickly choking on his own blood, but not enough to interrupt his death speech.

He told me he did what he did to get revenge for what happened to Santa Cabeza, then told me about how zombies are great.
My response was this: 1. I didn’t do jack to Santa Cabeza.  I didn’t even know what the place was.  I thought something had happened to Santa Claus, so all this time he made me worry about nothing but some hobo land getting screwed!
2. If zombies are so great, why did he shoot that innocent zombie in the entrance plaza?!

And then he asked me why the people in Santa Cabeza had to die to feed us.

I didn’t even need to give him the answer to that one: it’s because meat tastes good.  Clearly he’s never tried any, the ignorant hippie.

In his parting words before tumbling down to that inferno in the ground, he gave me his locket, told me to give it to his sister, and said that his plans were not over.

But I’m not going to do him any favors.  I’m ready to make a fortune off of that thing!  Imagine all the meat and Twinkies I could buy!

It kinda... Floated in front of my hand.

But for now I’m content with just feasting on the meat I fought so hard for.  It’s not cannibalism if no one sees it, right?

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