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“Would you like to know what you found, Doug?”
Doug was once again seated in darkness with nothing visible but a man sitting across from him. “Crap! Did I fall asleep? I was supposed to keep watch. It’s a really bad neighborhood Bryce brought us to — well, I guess not much worse than where I’m used to living, but if we could break into this building to steal a room, then anybody could break in. Someone right now could be about to slit my throat and steal my stuff… except I don’t have anything now except for that weird cube… which I kinda wish someone would take because it creeps me out. I mean, it just really creeps me out for some reason, and then we went near the wastelands which also creep me out and then to some apartment in the slums of some city I don’t know with creepy people around — I’m just very creeped out right now.” Doug looked around as if to try and see out of his dream. “I really hope no one is about to slit my throat.”
“Don’t worry; you’re fine for now,” the Devil said, and Doug did stop worrying a bit, because the Devil always seemed to know what he was talking about and was easy to trust. “It was busy day and you need sleep, anyway. And before you get rid of that cube, I think you should try to understand what it is.”
“Is it complicated? I’m guessing it’s complicated. I was thinking if this is something important to the Trans and they’re like already powerful enough to blow up mountains with their minds, then it has to be like super-duper powerful. Then again, I was thinking how I don’t understand anything about those guys and thus something interesting to them might not mean much to me.”
“I’d say it’s somewhere in between, Doug. The demons seek it not out of power but out of fear.”
“They’re scared of it too?”
“For different reasons. It’s not something in there that fills you with dread; it’s what it lacks.”
Doug thought about that. “It’s filled with emptiness?”
“Something like that. Now, one of the damned — the Hallowed as you call them — the humans who have submitted their souls to the demons in exchange for immortality and power — they would sense nothing were they to hold it. For that awful feeling you felt when you touched it is what they feel all the time.”
Doug frowned. “That’s horrible.”
The Devil laughed. “Your sympathy is misplaced; they made their choices.”
“Well, at least I know the more powerful people are these days; the crankier they seem.” This was some interesting information, but he remembered how his friends told him to be more skeptical. “So… um… Mr. Devil…”
“You can call me ‘Stan’ for simplicity.”
“Okay. Stan… do you have any ID that proves you’re the Devil?”
“I’m not going to be able to prove it to you, Doug. You’ll just have to see whether the things I say seem true or not and decide using that whether to trust me.” The Devil chuckled slightly. “It will be matter of faith in the end.”
“Okay… I guess that’s reasonable.”
“Back to point, the cube you found was made to prevent the contents from ever falling into the hands of a human. The mechanism to open it is located a spatial dimension you can’t even perceive.”
“And they don’t want someone like me to have what’s in there?”
“No. I doubt anyone would know what to do with its contents, but nonetheless the demons fear a human possessing it in case it might empower you against them.”
“So what is in it?”
“A key.”
Doug grimaced. He was hoping for something more interesting, like a jewel that would give him superpowers to fight evil. “What’s it unlock?”
“Wrong question, Doug. You should ask what it locks.”
NEXT
Archive of entries posted on 19th March 2008
A Story, Bit by Bit
In My World: Throw Grandma Under the Bus
Obama knelt by his maternal grandmother. “You just sit here while I give my speech.”
“You make me proud, little Barry.”
“I will, grandma.”
“Yes, I know, grandma. You hate Mexicans too.”
Obama walked to the microphone. One of the crowd shouted, “We love you Obama!”
“I love you too, press,” Obama said. “Now, it’s time to talk about the important issue of race. As you see, I have my grandmother with me…” He pointed to his grandmother behind him who smiled and waved to the press. “…a horrible ignorant white racist.”
“What! Why you little–”
“There she goes again.” Obama chuckled. “Probably about to say another racial epithet.”
“You little bastard! I–”
“Yes, we know, grandma,” Obama interrupted her. “Black people love to steal and rob. You told me a million times.” He looked back at the press. “Still I love her, and she showed her love to me in her own racist way, making sure she always had plenty of fried chicken and watermelon for my visits.”
“I raised you, you ungrateful–”
“It’s okay, grandma,” Obama told her. “Remember? It’s me; your grandson. I’m not going to steal your purse.” He turned back to the press. “You see, I can’t disown Jeremiah Wright anymore than I can disown my crazy racist grandma.”
“How dare you compare me with that insane preacher you decided to hang out with. I should–”
“Yes, I know, grandma. You hate Mexicans too.” He looked back to the press. “I want to create racial healing and understanding, so that’s why I want you to know that all black people are just like Wright and suspect you white people of making HIV to kill them. From that understanding, we can begin the healing.”
“I always knew you were a lying little–”
Obama laughed. “I better take my grandma home before she starts another ignorant, racist rant.”
“We’re all going to vote for you, Obama!” one of the reporters shouted.
“Thanks.” He then turned to his grandma. “Time to go home now.”
“I’m going to tell everyone how you–”
Obama looked to an aide. “Take her to a nursing home.”
“Which one?”
“I dunno; one with locks.”
His aides carted away his screaming grandma. Obama smiled to himself. “I love racial healing. Dumb crackers just eat that up.”
lolterizt! – Part 39: lolprotstrz! Edition
To celebrate the 5th anniversary of the start of the Iraq War, we’re poking fun at Code Pinks, commies, Cindy Sheehans and other loudmouth street-polluting liberals this week. Entries were voluminous, so you only get one token nugget from me.
Also, as a mercy to those on dial-up, I’m limiting the number of photos in this post. Since some obsessive-compulsive types sent in multiple entries, I’ll include some bonus links to their extra images so you don’t have to miss out.
As always, pass ’em around, spread the love, and if you make your own, don’t be shy about dropping a link to your pics in the comments. The more, the merrier.
NOTE TO READERS: Hovering your mouse over the picture activates closed captioning for the l33t-speak/txtmsg impaired.
NOTE 2: closed captioning for bonus pics is not available because my geek skills R teh suxxorz. If you’re not sure what a caption says, leave a comment, and I’m sure some gloating, smug-ass l33t will post the answer.
From Hart of That Hero
Bonus
From Cosmo:
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From Charles:
From Pam:
From Harvey:
From Bob:
From John:
[reference link]
Bonus
From Wendy:
From acrazymic:
Bonus
Bonus
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PRODUCTION NOTES:
#1: When creating lolterizt! pictures, please caption with either black or white text, as colors like red and yellow tend to blur badly when I compress the images.
#2: Standard image size for these posts is 350px wide by whatever high. If you can have your images 350px wide before you caption them, I won’t end up shrinking your captions into illegibility when I re-size the images.
STYLE NOTE: Short captions are usually better. Your goal is 10 words or less, with humor value tending to increase exponentially as the number of words approaches 1.
SOURCE NOTE: Snapped Shot is still making peace with the AP law-talking-guys, so he’s off the radar as a source for a while. However, try Googling “AP photo” and your favorite MSM euphemism for “terrorist”. You’ll find plenty of material.
Send your submissions to lolterizt-at-gmail.com and – if they aren’t obscene (IMAO is a PG-13 site) and don’t suck too terribly bad – I’ll post them for you. Remember to include your name (and blog URL, if applicable) so I know who to thank.
This post is dedicated to everyone who has pledged their lives, fortunes, and/or sacred honors toward winning this war.
In My World: Arguing the Second Amendment
“It’s time to begin oral arguments on District of Columbia vs. Heller,” Chief Justice Roberts said, “First, let’s–”
“I will kill you!” Justice Scalia brandished a gun at everyone in the room. “You try and take my gun, I will shoot you and you will die!”
“You think Kennedy is the deciding vote? The deciding vote is my gun!”
“Scalia has a gun!” Justice Bryer shrieked.
“Dude, calm down,” Justice Thomas told Scalia. “Now give me the gun.”
Scalia handed it over. “I was just telling everyone I was going to shoot them.”
“I know.”
“Anyway,” Roberts continued, “we will begin oral arguments by–”
“I will shoot you in the face and I will kill you!”
“Scalia has another gun!” Bryers shrieked.
“I will use this to put bullets in you! You think Kennedy is the deciding vote? The deciding vote is my gun!”
“Chill, man; come on,” Thomas told Scalia and slowly took the gun away. “Everything is going to turn out all right, okay?”
“Fine.”
“Let’s all keep cool heads,” Roberts said. “First arguments will be from–”
Scalia whispered to Justice Alito. “Can I see one of your guns?”
“You aren’t going to threaten everyone with it, are you?”
“No. I just want to see it.”
“Okay.” Alito handed Scalia a gun.
“I will kill you all! You try and take my guns, you will all be dead by me shooting you!”
“Scalia got yet another gun from Alito!” Bryers shrieked.
“I will extra kill the liberal Justices!”
“You need to calm down.” Thomas slowly took the gun from Scalia.
“Now let’s finally get started,” Roberts said. “The lawyer representing D.C. can begin his statement.”
“D.C.’s ban on handguns is perfectly constitutional. There is no right to–”
There were a number of gunshots, and the lawyers fell dead.
“Okay, who shot the lawyer?” Roberts asked.
“Well, Thomas has all the guns,” Souter said.
“Oh of course!” Thomas exclaimed. “If there is a shooting, blame the black man!”