What is the Frequency, Kenneth?
The Never Ending Quest - Episode 83526
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The Living End realized that there was only one conceivable course of action to take. "They have to die," said the Living End slowly to himself, as one receiving a revelation from the divine would. "They have to die. People who write Predator slash fanfiction have to die, and they have to die and they have to die and they have to die--" He chanted this for nearly a quarter of an hour, before trailing off into silence. "Yes," agreed his dog, Angel, who by an amazing coincidence WAS actually an angel. "Yes," said the talking paintings on the wall. Many formerly silent things in his vicinity had begun talking again some months ago, at about the same time that he'd stopped taking the meds the doctors had prescribed. They had always made him feel sludgy-sick when he took them, and it had been so hard to think, and after the twilight state he'd been forced to endure since his Freshman year at college, the clarity of his mind now was truly staggering. The aluminum foil he'd hung on every wall of his house was evidence of that--the dog had told him that the people next door were Reptilloids keeping him under surveillance, and had advised him to cover the inside of his home in metal to obviate their infrascopic scanners and block their mind-jamming software. He'd lined every piece of clothing he owned with a liner made of the same stuff, and while it made it less comfortable in warm weather, he realized he was far safer than any of the other poor sods he saw on the streets.In fact, his new clarity of purpose and thought had given him marvelous powers--or given them back to him, rather--including the ability to see through the facades the monsters wore to make themselves look like people or animals, and, just recently, the ability to travel through time by will alone. Why, he could look at a clock at 4:20 PM, and then glance back a few seconds later to see that he'd moved forward through time to midnight, or even dawn the next day! He hadn't quite gotten the hang of moving backwards through time yet, but he was confident that in the near future, he'd be able to go back to see the signing of the Declaration of Independence or the building of the pyramids, as well as forward to the day when Jesus Christ came back at the head of the Reticulan Star Armada to rapture the faithful, and then sterilize the Earth. Slowly and painfully, or quickly and mercifully, it made no difference--both of these people had to die, as soon as possible. He giggled softly as he packed away the rifle, and stepped carefully over the piles of dead demons filling the room. The rifle had been a gift from his father, back before he'd stopped hunting. He hadn't known the secret wisdom of animals then, hadn't understood that many of them were angels incarnated here to experience life in Fourfold Space. All of the others were demonic--he'd regained the ability to differentiate them a few weeks ago, and had been going out nights to the woods to cull the demons' numbers, and he'd been bringing the dead ones back to seal them in confinement in the room he'd prepared for the purpose by scrawling sigils and words of power on the walls with a crayon. They had been foul things in life, and their demonic corruption had been so great that it had actually continued to increase after their death. He sometimes worried that the Reptilloid teams keeping him under surveillance next door might be able to smell the rank stench of their wickedness and know that he was secretly slaying their allies, but his own personal angel assured him that they could not detect them past the wards. But the room was fast filling up. He'd have to clear out his bedroom soon to create an Auxilliary Containment Unit, or else move to new quarters. He tripped and nearly fell. He stopped and looked down at the pale arm that had tripped him, lying under the pile of demon bodies. How had that gotten there? He recognized the ring on the finger as one he'd seen worn by one of the Reptilloids, but he couldn't quite remember how this one had gotten here into his Primary Containment Unit. He stared at it for a few seconds. He finally looked away and chided himself on letting himself become distracted by trivialities--when he did, he always lost his lock on the present and moved forward in time, and according to the clock on the wall, this time, he'd lost nearly an hour and a half in the seeconds he'd consider the dead Reptilloid. It didn't matter anyway. He'd engraved the names of his targets on each bullet of the .300 Weatherby Magnum, knowing that it would help each round find its mark. Knowing their targets, the bullets would be able to curve around innocent bystanders and angels, if such were to found near the two Evil Ones, and would be able to pass through walls and other obstacles on their way to do their duty. He stopped long enough to watch a few minutes of television and await final confirmation. He had cancelled his cable service several weeks ago, as the angels had told him that demons would sometimes ride the signals into peoples' homes, but the rabbit ears were more than sufficient to do what he needed them to do. Pat Sajak was talking to Vanna White and smiling at him. He felt a surge of excitement as Vanna White nodded. It was confirmed. He was to remove the targets as soon as possible. He grabbed his suitcase, the rifle, and the bag of wards he kept by the door and left the house. He locked the door behind him. Pat had told him that his first target was to be Nicholas Kane of Mason City, Iowa. He could strike down Otis Young on the way home. He would be able to bring both of them back and put their bodies in his Containment Unit within a day at most.
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The Living End (damn this was fun to write!)
12/28/2008 4:00:45 PM
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