What do you do with a Drunken Perther?
The wind and rain pelted the shutters as Drumm sat there pondering how he could cope with the news. What could he do? He didn't know how to be a father! These were the thoughts that were eating away at him as he noticed the whiskey bottle staring at him... One more night of fun might clear his mind...
A mind he lost. Must've dropped it in a well or something. Who's going to help him get it back? Preferably a close friend who is not too far away...
With shaking hands, he reached for the whisky bottle and craded it like a newborn baby.
"My old friend," he muttered.
Taking a cork screw, he removed the cork with a small pop.
...And placed it aside to add to the brim of his cricket hat later. A wombat ambled past the porch, sniffling at the ground. The bottle was almost empty. It was time to revisit to the shop.
Looking over at the wombat Drumm felt like he should be polite and invite the creature along. "Cem en Jeff. Jeff right? We're grab sum liker and celbrat my new kidt"
The wombat stared in total confusion, turned away, tucked in its head and limbs and rolled away down the road.
Then a Rolls-Royce came rolling down the road and bumped that wombat's sorry ass into a ditch. It was otherwise unhurt, but then George W. Bush stepped out from the car and looked directly at Drumm.
"...What da fuck are you doing here Georgie Boy? Ah well, I guess ya can stay if ya brought some grog."
"Pleasure", said Bush. "I, ah, also brought some weed. You, ah, you want some weed?" Drumm shook his head slowly. "Nah, mate. We've been over this. I don't touch the stuff".
And gaily they skipped to the liquor shop.
The wombat waddled along behind them, following the gaily skipping duo to the liquor store.
The trio was almost half way there when suddenly...
...Dirty Cop James funs assassinated Bush. "Bingo!" He shouted. It will probably cause another 'war on terror' but fuck it, it shall be fun. He then notices Drum and says "Oh shit! I hope he doesn't find me. "
Too late for James, however. The wombat, seeing the Dirty Cop, jumped up and attached its jaws to funs's shoulder.
Funs flailed about trying to dislodge Jeff from his shoulder, but to no avail. The wombat held on til Funs bleed out. Finally acknowledging something was amiss with all the reaction time you'd expect of a drunk, drumm looked around and noticed the bodies...
"Oh bloody hell Jeff, why'd ya go and do that for? Don't tell me ya had a thing for old Georgie did ya? Damn it, now I'm gonna have to pay for me own bloody booze ya stupid mutt!"
Turning towards Drumm Jeff suddenly and with no warning spoke! Her words gravelly and omnious, but in a cute anime kind of way. Like if Sovereign and Hinata had a kid... "Drumm! I'm here to..."
"... to warn you about the invasion!" Jeff screamed. "Someone kidnapped Funs, Barbas, Depry, and T0ad and used them to make an evil clone army!"
"Wait... wut?" The drunkard known as Drumm is really confused, he doesn't know if it is the booze's doing or that a wombat is really warning him about an evil clone invasion. "Explain again."
Jeff turned away, looking into the distance.
Then, turning towards Drumm, Jeff suddenly and with no warning spoke (again)! Her-yes, it was a girl-words gravelly and ominous:
"Drumm! I'm here to..."
..and then Jeff got shot in the knee with a crossbow bolt. "AAAHHH!" She screamed.
The drunkard known as Drum grabbed Jeff and starting running; this was clearly not a safe place.
And then...
He ran and ran and ran. It was almost 4:00 in the morning, but he kept on ranning... er running. He needed to make it to the liquor store. He needed coping juice for his new found pain. He didn't know what this business with the invasions or crossbow enthusiasts was, but he didn't like it and he needed relief... He needed... Ah! there! Just on the horizon! Like an oasis in the desert! The cornerstore! It was so tantalizingly close...
SirDerpy and Barbas walked out of the store as Drumm was ranning, each carrying what looked like ninety-nine bottles of alcohol each in their arms.
Catching sight of Drumm, SirDerpy called out: "Oi, mate, looking for booze? Sorry, me and Barbie here bought out every store from here to Edinburgh. We've got a party tonight, see."
"Hey weren't you kidnaped by illigal aliens or something. Any way wanna trade this beast for one of your bottles? Very tasty on the barbecue, for just one bottle it is yours." Drumm responded.
Barbas and SirDerpy were hungry and one bottle was a small price for such a delicacy.
"Drumm, what are you doing!" The wombat shouted. "Those are the clones I was talking about!" The wombat sighed, "Besides, you can't tell if it is really booze or just piss in a bottle."
"Don't believe her lies," Barbas laughed, taking hold of the wombat and passing over a bottle to Drumm, "These wombats will try anything to turn us against each other, pffh, clones. Enjoy!"
Drumm didn't know who to believe. The wombat was a stranger, but... what motive would Jeff have to lie to him? "She was a wombat! They don't have motives!" he thought. Before he could make a decision about who to trust though, his body made the choice for him. He spewed all over barbas causing him to recoil, fall over, and hit his head on the pavement, killing him...
All the bottles Barbas held shattered on the ground. And SirDerpy screamed like a little girl as Barbas's body dissolved. "See Drumm" said Jeff. "He gets dissolved in alcohol that's how you recognize a clone!" Then they both realized that some whisky spatters also landed on SirDerpy.
SirDerpy screamed again when he felt the whisky drip onto him. "MY GOD WE'RE WASTING GOOD BOOZE!"
"WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU WOMBAT?"
"Owww my head... Errybody stop yelling, you're making it worse!" Drumm complained.
"It's time to come clean," Jeff said quickly, turning to Drumm as SirDerpy melted into a pile of goo. "This may be hard to believe," the wombat started, "but I've come back from the future to warn you, this clone army will take over the world if you don't stop them!"
Drumm's facial expression resembled that of a man finding out that someone had peed in his soup after he already ate it. He rubbed his eyes and gave a frustrated sigh.
"I'm not drunk enough for this!" He grunted.
Jeff sighs. There's only one way to convince a drunkard, and that is with the elixir of hangovers! "Look, Drumm, if you stop the evil clone army I will give you a life-time supply of future booze, deal?" Jeff hopes Drumm accepts bargain, or else she and the future can kiss their ass goodbye.
"Fine," Drumm said "but I want half of it in advance."
"Half?!" Screamed Jeff in a whistling voice reminiscient of rabbit winnie the pooh (although no less ominous or gravelly). How do I know you won't just take all the firewater and then not help me? I'll give you 20 bottles of Scotch first... *jeff makes a whistling sound into an armband communicator of some sort*
There... It's been delivered to your abode... Will you help me now?
"Hold on I need to verify that first." and Drumm ran back to his abode. To his suprise the whisky was there. He uncorked one of the bottles and was preparing to drink himself into a coma.
"Oi!" the wombat shouted as she scampered through Drumm's door and into the kitchen and sat beside him, "Save the drink for later, we've got work to do. Now, how much do you know about clones?"
"I know jack and shit, does that count?" Drumm stuttered like a true drunk while delivering his awful joke. "But seriously," Drumm got serious for a bit, "the only thing I know 'bout the clones are the people they're based on, especially Funs. Ah, Funs... he always had the best wine..."
"They're genetically identical to the originals, but without the life experience," Jeff said sternly, "They may know bits and pieces but only from what they've been told. The cloning technology has yet to be perfected and their DNA is unstable, which is why they dissolve when they come into contact with alcohol. If we don't stop them soon though, the flaw will be patched and our only advantage lost!"
"Are there any other ways to stop them? Because I sure as hell aint using this whisky!" Drumm replied. "Other wise the future can go fuck itself."
Jeff thought to herself. "Well, I suppose if...wait for a second."
The wombat pressed her face to the screen, looking directly at the reader. "Is this a harem anime, by any chance?"
"I wish I had a clue what the bleeding Hell this is," I, the reader, said.
"Stop breaking the fourth wall!" Drumm shouted. "Bad stuff happens when you break it..." His eyes moves to left to right being all shifty and shit, yo.
"Fine!" Shouted Jeff! "I just thought that kind of thing would appeal to a broader demographic and increase sales!"
"Anyway, We'll need to break into a brewery of some sort, then steal the booze to use against the clones!"
"Let's go! I know where we can find one"
Jeff trotted off with her curly pig tail waggling adorably behind her. Still haven't looked up what a wombat is. She has a pig tail now
Drumm was about to question the tail on the normally almost tail-less wombat, but as he opened his mouth, he realized that everything stopped making sense hours ago and that he really didn't give a shit. Closing his mouth, he decided to just go along with the madness. After all, this just had to be a drunken hallucination...
He sniffed the air. Years of drinking had tuned his nose to instantly recognize any kind of alcohol in his vicinity.
"A rum distillery? Is that where we're going?" He asked Jeff.
"Yes," Jeff replied exasperatedly as the pair walked outside. The wombat quickly spoke into something on her wrist and a few moments later a helicopter descended from the sky, landing with a bump besides them. "Now get in Drumm," she said firmly, "there's no time to lose, this will take us straight to the distillery!"
They quickly got in and took off. As the brewery appeared Jeff shouted "We are almost there!" Only 250 meters to go when a UFO appeared and fired lasers at them. Thanks to their pilot they managed to evade all the beams, the chopper landed and everyone quickly got out. And just in time because the chopper exploded because it exploded like it was in a Michel Bay movie.
Drumm salivated slightly, drooling onto Jeff's waddling back. The sheer amount of rum around him was heavenly. Now these were the kinds of drunken hallucinations he could get behind.
Hmmm, I've always wanted to take a bath in rum... Drumm thought to himself just as he espied a gigantic vat.
Jeff turned around. "Now Drumm-DON'T YOU DARE YOU DUMBFU-"
*splash*
"What does it matter it will still kill the aliens right?" The voice came from the pilot (some guy calling himself colonel Danny) who had also survived the Micheal Bay explosion. "Come on Jeff let him have his fu-" "I peed in it!" shouted Drumm. "Why do you need him again?" Asked Col. Danny as his face expressed disgust.
Jeff shrugs and disinterestedly explains that it has to do with the Quantum decoherence of the clones being synced well with Drumm's brain patterns.
"I see" says Col. Danny. "I won't questi... Bwaarggh!"
With a flash he melts into a pool of plasma. Behind him standing a small cadre of Barbas clones. "We won't let you destroy our brethren. Our plans are too important for you to melt us all at our earth base!"
"Aww fucken hell, you're all dead ya cunts! No one interrupts me during me time in the tub!" Shouted Drumm
In his rage he tips a barrel over, spilling the contents on the floor.
"Ah, fuck!" Drumm wailed, as he desperately tried to drink the disappearing liquid. "My rum!"
"Your rum?!" Jeff shouted. "Whatever! Get your ass up from the ground and make yourself useful!"
She jumped out of the way of another plasma shot and glared at the clones.
"How did you find us so quickly?!" She growled and dodged three shots.
One Barbas clone pointed at the stumbling drunk.
"We die from that stuff, as you saw." It said. "So we can smell the stuff from far, far away. And where would our enemies go, if not to the place where they can get our weakness?"
Drumm fell, dodging a plasma shot and grabbing a bottle that he found beside him. He scrambled to his feet shakily.
"But...aren't you without armor?" He hiccuped and, after taking a swig, raised the opened bottle.
"...Ah shit!"
"Ah, I've been expecting you," a growling voice suddenly rang out over the distillery. The clones parted to reveal a cloaked figure sitting in a robotic chair, which crawled like an insect on it's six mechanical legs. Glowing eyes emanated from somewhere deep in the shadows of their hood, staring into Drumm like hot coals.
"We meet again," Jeff squinted at the figure, wagging her tail angrily, "JoJo!"
"No... Not Jojo" Jeff Furrows her brow as if trying to remember... "... Wait... T0ad?... No... Uhh... Hakkarin? Who are you again?"
"I have many names but it's just Timmy for friends. And I am the ruler," "future ruler" one of the clones corrected him "of this world!" Said Timmy as the Barbas clone who corrected him exploded.
Suddenly Drumm heard Jeff inside his mind. "Drumm Those clones must have some sort of destruction mechanism inside them in order for Timmy to do that!" "Wait" said Drumm "you can read my mind? How much do you know of my porn preferences you dirty animal!?"
Jeff winced. "Well now that you mention it, I know everything, Drumm."
Drumm paused in contemplation. Then he smiled widely. "Well, in that case, rate that chick in the one I watched yesterday out of 10. My friends tell me that she's like a 5, but I mean seriously, that's definitely 8 material right there. Well, but the best part of-"
The wombat covered her ears, forgetting that she and Drumm had a telepathic connection. "Please, just stop. I don't want to think about this any more than you're making me already!"
"Stop ignoring me, you cretins!" Timmy shouted angrily in the background.
"So, what did you do to JoJo, Timmy?" Jeff asked slowly, raising a wombat eyebrow at Drumm. He realised she was trying to stall for time whilst he found out more about the clone's self-destruct function but how? He started to walk sideways as the conversation continued.
"He was no-longer fit to lead us, I sent him for a swim with our rum sharks," Timmy smirked with a malevolent twinkle in his eyes, "And you and your human friend will join him, unless you give me one good reason not to in the next five seconds,"
"Because if you kill me a sextape of you will be posted on the internets." Screamed Jeff. "Whit who was I doing it on that tape?" A worried Timmy Asked. "Hey Timmy this is the chick I was talking about whit Jeff. What do you think definitely an 8 right?" said Drum. "Whit her!"screamed Jeff.
"Damn it." Timmy muttered. "I'll give ten seconds before killing you off, deal?"
"That doesn-" "Deal!" Timmy interrupted Jeff, forcing her to take his crappy deal.
"What? That's not fair!" Jeff shouted. Drumm, on the other hand, was too wasted to care.
"Don't waste your time, hohohoho!" Timmy taunted Jeff, giving a little effeminate and somewhat generic evil chuckle.
"1, 2, 3, 4, 5....6, 7, eigh-" Just when lil' ol' Timmy reached eight, somebody blasted a hole on the wall, probably with a bazooka.
The smokes fade and reveal...
"Jesus Christ, is that you Michael Bay?" asked Drumm excitedly
"What? No! It's Chaucer... Are you drunk drumm? ...Anyway..."
"Silence!" Timmy screamed angrily, shaking in his chair, "I won't have any more interlopers ruining this story! Now clones, send them to the sharks before I explode you too!"
"Forgive me, I came as soon as I heard," Chaucer hissed as he came alongside Drumm and Jeff, reloading the grenade launcher he carried with him. "There is no time, you must find the self-destruct switch before it's too late! All I know is that it's disguised as something innocuous..."
"Wait a minute... First..." In a moment of cleverness unbecoming of a drunk, Drumm splashed some rum all over Chaucer's face.
Chaucer screamed in pain...
"Aww! You dick! It burns!... I had a papercut on my cheek and you basically just poured rubbing alcohol on it. Thanks mom... What the hell was that for? God. Whatever, Where were we?"
"S-sorry!" Drumm scratched his head. "Thought yer one of dem clones."
Chaucer just stared at drum, rising one of his eyebrows angrily. "If I were one of those clones, I wouldn't try to save you, dumbass." He thought to himself.
"Aren't you all ignoring someone?!?!" Timmy screamed like an impotent, attention-whoring man-child. He's sick of people just ignoring him. What? Is he not evil or scary enough for them? Is it because his name is Timmy? He knew he should have legally changed it to Bill Scarface!
"Shut up." Chauncer just fired his grenade launcher backwards in response to Timmy's whining, like a total boss. That grenade would do quite the number on our little boy Timmy.
"Nooooo!" Timmy cried in a final shout of desperation as he was blown into tiny pieces by Chaucer's grenade, fragments of cloak and metal showering down a moment later on the group.
"Well, that was a blast," Jeff muttered. The clones looked at each other and then down at the smouldering crater where their leader formally stood, staring blankly at one another in confusion. They then turned on the trio of heroes, a burning inhuman anger in their eyes as they swept towards them as a wave.
"DIIIEEE!"
With Drumm trips Chaucer and flees
"Later cunts, I'm outta here!"
Drumm gathered as many bottles of rum as he could while running away, all the while badly singing everything is awesome from the lego movie.
"Wait! Drumm! Come back!" Screamed jeff, but it was to no avail. Drumm was already gone, off to...
... the playboy mansion. Leaving behind his responsibilities as a future father and as the savior of this world.
Jeff started chasing after him while calling in an airstrike that conveniently killed all the surviving clones. "If he isn't a good father to his kid all of this will have been for nothing." She thought.
And then somebody teleported in front of Drumm. The person resembles what happens if you mix Drum and Funs and put the result in a snazzy suit. He points his shiny future gun at Drum and then takes a big puff from his cigar. "Well, how are things going for ya, fatha?" His accent is a strange mix of Britishness, Irishness, and Aussie-ness, with a little Ebonics to mix things up.
Drumm, caught in the stride of a drunkard who won't let anything stop in, barrelled right into the strange man. They both fell over, and the mysterious man found himself buried in an alcohol-soaked chest.
Drumm blinked hazily.
"Oh, sorry fella. Didn't see you there." He said and burped. "In a bit of a rush."
"Not see me? How in the feck you ain't see me! I'm your son and I'm here to kill you in revenge! I am a revenger!"
Drumm looked at the man in drunken bewilderment "My what? And what? Wha'd I do?"
"You ran off to live with Hugh Hefner and his playgirls at the playboy mansion!" Said the future man. "But why travel back in time for that?" asked Drumm.
"I would have killed you in the future but by the time my mom told me about you, you already died of alcohol poisoning." Drumm didn't know what to say to that so he just asked for his son's name. At this moment Jeff finally caught up.
"It's Steve."
"Well Steve," Drumm said, pulling out his pistol. "Nice meeting you!"
*BANG*
*BANG*
fin.
The wind and rain pelted the shutters as Drumm sat there pondering how he could cope with the news. What could he do? He didn't know how to be a father! These were the thoughts that were eating away at him as he noticed the whiskey bottle staring at him... One more night of fun might clear his mind...
A mind he lost. Must've dropped it in a well or something. Who's going to help him get it back? Preferably a close friend who is not too far away...
With shaking hands, he reached for the whisky bottle and craded it like a newborn baby.
"My old friend," he muttered.
Taking a cork screw, he removed the cork with a small pop.
...And placed it aside to add to the brim of his cricket hat later. A wombat ambled past the porch, sniffling at the ground. The bottle was almost empty. It was time to revisit to the shop.
Looking over at the wombat Drumm felt like he should be polite and invite the creature along. "Cem en Jeff. Jeff right? We're grab sum liker and celbrat my new kidt"
The wombat stared in total confusion, turned away, tucked in its head and limbs and rolled away down the road.
Then a Rolls-Royce came rolling down the road and bumped that wombat's sorry ass into a ditch. It was otherwise unhurt, but then George W. Bush stepped out from the car and looked directly at Drumm.
"...What da fuck are you doing here Georgie Boy? Ah well, I guess ya can stay if ya brought some grog."
"Pleasure", said Bush. "I, ah, also brought some weed. You, ah, you want some weed?" Drumm shook his head slowly. "Nah, mate. We've been over this. I don't touch the stuff".
And gaily they skipped to the liquor shop.
The wombat waddled along behind them, following the gaily skipping duo to the liquor store.
The trio was almost half way there when suddenly...
...Dirty Cop James funs assassinated Bush. "Bingo!" He shouted. It will probably cause another 'war on terror' but fuck it, it shall be fun. He then notices Drum and says "Oh shit! I hope he doesn't find me. "
Too late for James, however. The wombat, seeing the Dirty Cop, jumped up and attached its jaws to funs's shoulder.
Funs flailed about trying to dislodge Jeff from his shoulder, but to no avail. The wombat held on til Funs bleed out. Finally acknowledging something was amiss with all the reaction time you'd expect of a drunk, drumm looked around and noticed the bodies...
"Oh bloody hell Jeff, why'd ya go and do that for? Don't tell me ya had a thing for old Georgie did ya? Damn it, now I'm gonna have to pay for me own bloody booze ya stupid mutt!"
Turning towards Drumm Jeff suddenly and with no warning spoke! Her words gravelly and omnious, but in a cute anime kind of way. Like if Sovereign and Hinata had a kid... "Drumm! I'm here to..."
"... to warn you about the invasion!" Jeff screamed. "Someone kidnapped Funs, Barbas, Depry, and T0ad and used them to make an evil clone army!"
"Wait... wut?" The drunkard known as Drumm is really confused, he doesn't know if it is the booze's doing or that a wombat is really warning him about an evil clone invasion. "Explain again."
Jeff turned away, looking into the distance.
Then, turning towards Drumm, Jeff suddenly and with no warning spoke (again)! Her-yes, it was a girl-words gravelly and ominous:
"Drumm! I'm here to..."
..and then Jeff got shot in the knee with a crossbow bolt. "AAAHHH!" She screamed.
The drunkard known as Drum grabbed Jeff and starting running; this was clearly not a safe place.
And then...
He ran and ran and ran. It was almost 4:00 in the morning, but he kept on ranning... er running. He needed to make it to the liquor store. He needed coping juice for his new found pain. He didn't know what this business with the invasions or crossbow enthusiasts was, but he didn't like it and he needed relief... He needed... Ah! there! Just on the horizon! Like an oasis in the desert! The cornerstore! It was so tantalizingly close...
SirDerpy and Barbas walked out of the store as Drumm was ranning, each carrying what looked like ninety-nine bottles of alcohol each in their arms.
Catching sight of Drumm, SirDerpy called out: "Oi, mate, looking for booze? Sorry, me and Barbie here bought out every store from here to Edinburgh. We've got a party tonight, see."
"Hey weren't you kidnaped by illigal aliens or something. Any way wanna trade this beast for one of your bottles? Very tasty on the barbecue, for just one bottle it is yours." Drumm responded.
Barbas and SirDerpy were hungry and one bottle was a small price for such a delicacy.
"Drumm, what are you doing!" The wombat shouted. "Those are the clones I was talking about!" The wombat sighed, "Besides, you can't tell if it is really booze or just piss in a bottle."
"Don't believe her lies," Barbas laughed, taking hold of the wombat and passing over a bottle to Drumm, "These wombats will try anything to turn us against each other, pffh, clones. Enjoy!"
Drumm didn't know who to believe. The wombat was a stranger, but... what motive would Jeff have to lie to him? "She was a wombat! They don't have motives!" he thought. Before he could make a decision about who to trust though, his body made the choice for him. He spewed all over barbas causing him to recoil, fall over, and hit his head on the pavement, killing him...
All the bottles Barbas held shattered on the ground. And SirDerpy screamed like a little girl as Barbas's body dissolved. "See Drumm" said Jeff. "He gets dissolved in alcohol that's how you recognize a clone!" Then they both realized that some whisky spatters also landed on SirDerpy.
SirDerpy screamed again when he felt the whisky drip onto him. "MY GOD WE'RE WASTING GOOD BOOZE!"
"WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU WOMBAT?"
"Owww my head... Errybody stop yelling, you're making it worse!" Drumm complained.
"It's time to come clean," Jeff said quickly, turning to Drumm as SirDerpy melted into a pile of goo. "This may be hard to believe," the wombat started, "but I've come back from the future to warn you, this clone army will take over the world if you don't stop them!"
Drumm's facial expression resembled that of a man finding out that someone had peed in his soup after he already ate it. He rubbed his eyes and gave a frustrated sigh.
"I'm not drunk enough for this!" He grunted.
Jeff sighs. There's only one way to convince a drunkard, and that is with the elixir of hangovers! "Look, Drumm, if you stop the evil clone army I will give you a life-time supply of future booze, deal?" Jeff hopes Drumm accepts bargain, or else she and the future can kiss their ass goodbye.
"Fine," Drumm said "but I want half of it in advance."
"Half?!" Screamed Jeff in a whistling voice reminiscient of rabbit winnie the pooh (although no less ominous or gravelly). How do I know you won't just take all the firewater and then not help me? I'll give you 20 bottles of Scotch first... *jeff makes a whistling sound into an armband communicator of some sort*
There... It's been delivered to your abode... Will you help me now?
"Hold on I need to verify that first." and Drumm ran back to his abode. To his suprise the whisky was there. He uncorked one of the bottles and was preparing to drink himself into a coma.
"Oi!" the wombat shouted as she scampered through Drumm's door and into the kitchen and sat beside him, "Save the drink for later, we've got work to do. Now, how much do you know about clones?"
"I know jack and shit, does that count?" Drumm stuttered like a true drunk while delivering his awful joke. "But seriously," Drumm got serious for a bit, "the only thing I know 'bout the clones are the people they're based on, especially Funs. Ah, Funs... he always had the best wine..."
"They're genetically identical to the originals, but without the life experience," Jeff said sternly, "They may know bits and pieces but only from what they've been told. The cloning technology has yet to be perfected and their DNA is unstable, which is why they dissolve when they come into contact with alcohol. If we don't stop them soon though, the flaw will be patched and our only advantage lost!"
"Are there any other ways to stop them? Because I sure as hell aint using this whisky!" Drumm replied. "Other wise the future can go fuck itself."
Jeff thought to herself. "Well, I suppose if...wait for a second."
The wombat pressed her face to the screen, looking directly at the reader. "Is this a harem anime, by any chance?"
"I wish I had a clue what the bleeding Hell this is," I, the reader, said.
"Stop breaking the fourth wall!" Drumm shouted. "Bad stuff happens when you break it..." His eyes moves to left to right being all shifty and shit, yo.
"Fine!" Shouted Jeff! "I just thought that kind of thing would appeal to a broader demographic and increase sales!"
"Anyway, We'll need to break into a brewery of some sort, then steal the booze to use against the clones!"
"Let's go! I know where we can find one"
Jeff trotted off with her curly pig tail waggling adorably behind her. Still haven't looked up what a wombat is. She has a pig tail now
Drumm was about to question the tail on the normally almost tail-less wombat, but as he opened his mouth, he realized that everything stopped making sense hours ago and that he really didn't give a shit. Closing his mouth, he decided to just go along with the madness. After all, this just had to be a drunken hallucination...
He sniffed the air. Years of drinking had tuned his nose to instantly recognize any kind of alcohol in his vicinity.
"A rum distillery? Is that where we're going?" He asked Jeff.
"Yes," Jeff replied exasperatedly as the pair walked outside. The wombat quickly spoke into something on her wrist and a few moments later a helicopter descended from the sky, landing with a bump besides them. "Now get in Drumm," she said firmly, "there's no time to lose, this will take us straight to the distillery!"
They quickly got in and took off. As the brewery appeared Jeff shouted "We are almost there!" Only 250 meters to go when a UFO appeared and fired lasers at them. Thanks to their pilot they managed to evade all the beams, the chopper landed and everyone quickly got out. And just in time because the chopper exploded because it exploded like it was in a Michel Bay movie.
Drumm salivated slightly, drooling onto Jeff's waddling back. The sheer amount of rum around him was heavenly. Now these were the kinds of drunken hallucinations he could get behind.
Hmmm, I've always wanted to take a bath in rum... Drumm thought to himself just as he espied a gigantic vat.
Jeff turned around. "Now Drumm-DON'T YOU DARE YOU DUMBFU-"
*splash*
"What does it matter it will still kill the aliens right?" The voice came from the pilot (some guy calling himself colonel Danny) who had also survived the Micheal Bay explosion. "Come on Jeff let him have his fu-" "I peed in it!" shouted Drumm. "Why do you need him again?" Asked Col. Danny as his face expressed disgust.
Jeff shrugs and disinterestedly explains that it has to do with the Quantum decoherence of the clones being synced well with Drumm's brain patterns.
"I see" says Col. Danny. "I won't questi... Bwaarggh!"
With a flash he melts into a pool of plasma. Behind him standing a small cadre of Barbas clones. "We won't let you destroy our brethren. Our plans are too important for you to melt us all at our earth base!"
"Aww fucken hell, you're all dead ya cunts! No one interrupts me during me time in the tub!" Shouted Drumm
In his rage he tips a barrel over, spilling the contents on the floor.
"Ah, fuck!" Drumm wailed, as he desperately tried to drink the disappearing liquid. "My rum!"
"Your rum?!" Jeff shouted. "Whatever! Get your ass up from the ground and make yourself useful!"
She jumped out of the way of another plasma shot and glared at the clones.
"How did you find us so quickly?!" She growled and dodged three shots.
One Barbas clone pointed at the stumbling drunk.
"We die from that stuff, as you saw." It said. "So we can smell the stuff from far, far away. And where would our enemies go, if not to the place where they can get our weakness?"
Drumm fell, dodging a plasma shot and grabbing a bottle that he found beside him. He scrambled to his feet shakily.
"But...aren't you without armor?" He hiccuped and, after taking a swig, raised the opened bottle.
"...Ah shit!"
"Ah, I've been expecting you," a growling voice suddenly rang out over the distillery. The clones parted to reveal a cloaked figure sitting in a robotic chair, which crawled like an insect on it's six mechanical legs. Glowing eyes emanated from somewhere deep in the shadows of their hood, staring into Drumm like hot coals.
"We meet again," Jeff squinted at the figure, wagging her tail angrily, "JoJo!"
"No... Not Jojo" Jeff Furrows her brow as if trying to remember... "... Wait... T0ad?... No... Uhh... Hakkarin? Who are you again?"
"I have many names but it's just Timmy for friends. And I am the ruler," "future ruler" one of the clones corrected him "of this world!" Said Timmy as the Barbas clone who corrected him exploded.
Suddenly Drumm heard Jeff inside his mind. "Drumm Those clones must have some sort of destruction mechanism inside them in order for Timmy to do that!" "Wait" said Drumm "you can read my mind? How much do you know of my porn preferences you dirty animal!?"
Jeff winced. "Well now that you mention it, I know everything, Drumm."
Drumm paused in contemplation. Then he smiled widely. "Well, in that case, rate that chick in the one I watched yesterday out of 10. My friends tell me that she's like a 5, but I mean seriously, that's definitely 8 material right there. Well, but the best part of-"
The wombat covered her ears, forgetting that she and Drumm had a telepathic connection. "Please, just stop. I don't want to think about this any more than you're making me already!"
"Stop ignoring me, you cretins!" Timmy shouted angrily in the background.
"So, what did you do to JoJo, Timmy?" Jeff asked slowly, raising a wombat eyebrow at Drumm. He realised she was trying to stall for time whilst he found out more about the clone's self-destruct function but how? He started to walk sideways as the conversation continued.
"He was no-longer fit to lead us, I sent him for a swim with our rum sharks," Timmy smirked with a malevolent twinkle in his eyes, "And you and your human friend will join him, unless you give me one good reason not to in the next five seconds,"
"Because if you kill me a sextape of you will be posted on the internets." Screamed Jeff. "Whit who was I doing it on that tape?" A worried Timmy Asked. "Hey Timmy this is the chick I was talking about whit Jeff. What do you think definitely an 8 right?" said Drum. "Whit her!"screamed Jeff.
"Damn it." Timmy muttered. "I'll give ten seconds before killing you off, deal?"
"That doesn-" "Deal!" Timmy interrupted Jeff, forcing her to take his crappy deal.
"What? That's not fair!" Jeff shouted. Drumm, on the other hand, was too wasted to care.
"Don't waste your time, hohohoho!" Timmy taunted Jeff, giving a little effeminate and somewhat generic evil chuckle.
"1, 2, 3, 4, 5....6, 7, eigh-" Just when lil' ol' Timmy reached eight, somebody blasted a hole on the wall, probably with a bazooka.
The smokes fade and reveal...
"Jesus Christ, is that you Michael Bay?" asked Drumm excitedly
"What? No! It's Chaucer... Are you drunk drumm? ...Anyway..."
"Silence!" Timmy screamed angrily, shaking in his chair, "I won't have any more interlopers ruining this story! Now clones, send them to the sharks before I explode you too!"
"Forgive me, I came as soon as I heard," Chaucer hissed as he came alongside Drumm and Jeff, reloading the grenade launcher he carried with him. "There is no time, you must find the self-destruct switch before it's too late! All I know is that it's disguised as something innocuous..."
"Wait a minute... First..." In a moment of cleverness unbecoming of a drunk, Drumm splashed some rum all over Chaucer's face.
Chaucer screamed in pain...
"Aww! You dick! It burns!... I had a papercut on my cheek and you basically just poured rubbing alcohol on it. Thanks mom... What the hell was that for? God. Whatever, Where were we?"
"S-sorry!" Drumm scratched his head. "Thought yer one of dem clones."
Chaucer just stared at drum, rising one of his eyebrows angrily. "If I were one of those clones, I wouldn't try to save you, dumbass." He thought to himself.
"Aren't you all ignoring someone?!?!" Timmy screamed like an impotent, attention-whoring man-child. He's sick of people just ignoring him. What? Is he not evil or scary enough for them? Is it because his name is Timmy? He knew he should have legally changed it to Bill Scarface!
"Shut up." Chauncer just fired his grenade launcher backwards in response to Timmy's whining, like a total boss. That grenade would do quite the number on our little boy Timmy.
"Nooooo!" Timmy cried in a final shout of desperation as he was blown into tiny pieces by Chaucer's grenade, fragments of cloak and metal showering down a moment later on the group.
"Well, that was a blast," Jeff muttered. The clones looked at each other and then down at the smouldering crater where their leader formally stood, staring blankly at one another in confusion. They then turned on the trio of heroes, a burning inhuman anger in their eyes as they swept towards them as a wave.
"DIIIEEE!"
With Drumm trips Chaucer and flees
"Later cunts, I'm outta here!"
Drumm gathered as many bottles of rum as he could while running away, all the while badly singing everything is awesome from the lego movie.
"Wait! Drumm! Come back!" Screamed jeff, but it was to no avail. Drumm was already gone, off to...
... the playboy mansion. Leaving behind his responsibilities as a future father and as the savior of this world.
Jeff started chasing after him while calling in an airstrike that conveniently killed all the surviving clones. "If he isn't a good father to his kid all of this will have been for nothing." She thought.
And then somebody teleported in front of Drumm. The person resembles what happens if you mix Drum and Funs and put the result in a snazzy suit. He points his shiny future gun at Drum and then takes a big puff from his cigar. "Well, how are things going for ya, fatha?" His accent is a strange mix of Britishness, Irishness, and Aussie-ness, with a little Ebonics to mix things up.
Drumm, caught in the stride of a drunkard who won't let anything stop in, barrelled right into the strange man. They both fell over, and the mysterious man found himself buried in an alcohol-soaked chest.
Drumm blinked hazily.
"Oh, sorry fella. Didn't see you there." He said and burped. "In a bit of a rush."
"Not see me? How in the feck you ain't see me! I'm your son and I'm here to kill you in revenge! I am a revenger!"
Drumm looked at the man in drunken bewilderment "My what? And what? Wha'd I do?"
"You ran off to live with Hugh Hefner and his playgirls at the playboy mansion!" Said the future man. "But why travel back in time for that?" asked Drumm.
"I would have killed you in the future but by the time my mom told me about you, you already died of alcohol poisoning." Drumm didn't know what to say to that so he just asked for his son's name. At this moment Jeff finally caught up.
"It's Steve."
"Well Steve," Drumm said, pulling out his pistol. "Nice meeting you!"
*BANG*
*BANG*
fin.
Ok! So last round went pretty well. Drumm went out a hero by murdering his son and somehow dooming the future because of it. I don't really know how, we weren't clear on that bit. Anyway, here's the next Round as promised.
This OP's theme will be about a guy that has a grudge.
Each person writes roughly 343 characters max then posts it. The OP gets twice that to set things up a bit. At the end of page 2 the story will end and we'll post the whole thing together at the beginning of the next thread.
OT: The room was dark as Tizzy sat at his computer sipping Dr. Pepper. The light from the monitor casting his shadow on the wall behind him. Clickety Clack Clickety Click went his keyboard as he furiously typed up responses to an arrogant escapist who "knew" they were better than everyone else. The dick had even called one piece and Baccano terrible! They needed to be taken down a peg and Tizzy "Cornrows" Tormentor was the one that needed to do it. Even if it ultimately meant... Challenging them to a real life duel... But that was far off and before he could do so he needed to find...
