This is my story if you don't like it you can go fuck yourself hard.
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The young man opened the brand new game disc, peeling the fresh new plastic off of the tight little plastic box. His eyes were a glossy yellow as the young man meticulously opened the box, examined if there were any scratches on the disc and just as carefully put the disc back in. The young man got up and examined his disheveled appearance, he noticed something he hadn't seen in years; a blemish. After scrounging around his small apartment for a bottle of rubbing alcohol he figured he would deal with it later.
The young man is now working. It is his job to build orders on pallets. Many people would come from churches and non - profit organizations and purchase canned good for a good price. He thought about his disposition as he loaded the pallet; He is a prisoner, working for The Clampdown.
His customer looked ridiculous, eyes wild and glazed, lips black from dehydration, feverishly smashing buttons on his controller while rhythmically cursing at every loss. He looked like he needed an intervention. "So do you like the game?" The young man asked. "Yeah, sure." the customer answered, "Then buy it, and get out of my house." the young man said. "Well technically…" The customer began as he pulled a thick wad of cash, "This isn't even a house….", "Don't start with that shit." The young man said as he took the cash away. The customer smiled took the game and left.
The young man was making money on the side from game discs that he would steal. That was the only way he was able to sell them at such a cheap price. He was tired, it was nearly 7:00 in the morning and he hadn't gone to sleep yet. He picked up a CD and began to look at the reflection of the sunrise.
Suddenly the disc popped in his face and sent tiny pieces of plastic into his eyes, the young man screamed and covered his face but it was too late. He opened his eyes and saw everything in a strange shade of pink. He looked at the CD in his hand and it looked like a broken mirror. Karma, the young man thought to himself.
The young man deprived of sleep sat in a chair as the hallucinations began to kick in.
He saw his broken CD fragment into a bunch of computer chips. He got up and made himself a cup of coffee. Flashes of reality began to melt into delusion. Like watercolor painting, things began to look washed pale. His perception of color began to dwindle into a black and white fuzz. His last memory was that he had spilled his coffee on his lap and began to shake uncontrollably.
There were three men in black suits standing over him. The young man although laying in his apartment building very twisted and contorted, still managed to examine their hideous and artificial appearance.
The first thing he noticed was that they were very tall, about 8 feet. Their pale faces looked comical with their painted red lips and red blush. Each of them had the same color of hair; the same skin tone, the tight collars… yet something looked different. He looked at the man in the center; he looked at his scalp. It looked like he was wearing a nasty toupee. Jet-black hair that smelled of strong sulfur and other chemicals the young man cannot define with his nose. The young man began to sit up. He looked at their clothes; pressed white business shirts, plain black ties and a plain black slacks and a plain black coat. They looked like they lived in the early 1950's.
"What the fuck do you want?" the young man asked. They wore white cotton gloves. The young man stared at these silent strangers with great suspicion. He was fearful. What did they want with him? Who were they? " I said what the fuck do yo-" the young man began.
The man in the center grabbed the boys head suddenly and smashed on the tile floor. The young man was kicking and screaming as he saw the face of the man. He looked at something that was slithering out of his nose. It looked like a little purple worm. The worm began to wiggle and come out. The face of the man looked dry and chapped in the light, it was… falling apart. Falling a part on the boy piece by piece as the worms began to multiply in nostrils the man. The young man began to scream, but he couldn't do anything because the man had his hand wrapped around his forehead hovering over him. He could only watch in horror as the final pieces of the mans nostrils began to break away revealing what looked like long thin tentacles. He heard a cracking sound as the head of the man exploded into a mass of jelly like flagellum. They are wearing human skin, it was like they were wearing a human costume…the young man thought.
"NOT DO YOU SLEEP SHEEP?" one of them screamed. It was a loud guttural voice that echoed inside of his head as he passed out.
The young man woke up on an old hospital bed. A bandage around his head the young man kept hearing a high pitched whine in his head and a strange echo.
A police officer walked in as the young man moaned. "What's happened" The boy said out loud instantly relieved. "Apparently you've had some kind of seizure… have you been using narcotics? " Damn those nosy neighbors the young man thought.
"No. I have not." young man replied.
"Alright then, everything is settled… I just need to fill out my report…by the way what was your name again?" The officer paused thoughtfully as he asked this.
He felt his bed begin to roll and the young man fell asleep.
They were touching his forehead with their white gloves, smearing his sweat off of him. The young man tried to look at these men. These men in black. He tried to look into their eyes… to see if there was anything human in them. They were wearing black wayfarer's, opaque, black; and they only reflected the terror in the young mans face. The young man was incapable of moving he felt as though he was strapped into his hospital bed. A cold liquid began to drip out of one of the mans mouth and fizzle on the boys forehead. It made the young mans eyes roll back in pain. He had screamed so hard he ran out of breath.
When the pain stopped he was in a kind of euphoria. All of the lights in the room looked like rainbows and the air conditioner felt like heaven. The smell of sulfur didn't seem to bother him as the young man felt himself begin to roll again. Slowly drifting in and out of consciousness.
He heard a loud crunching noise as he woke up on his kitchen floor.
The young man doesn't remember leaving work that afternoon; he only knows that he needs to sleep. He was suffering from a terrible migraine. The blemish he had didn't seem to help it. It looked bigger for some reason, larger. He examined it. It looked like it was moving. Disgusting the young man thought.
His blemish woke him up. He heard a whizzing noise and something crunch. He heard a bigger crunch and the young man bent over with pain. He felt his blemish pop as a little wire began to wriggle and writhe in the pus. The pain was so great that the young man was unable to scream. The shock of this foreign object coming out of his forehead only added to it. He panicked and thought about sticking the wire into an electrical socket, but that would only electrocute his brain. The only thing he could think of was the razor in his work jacket. Wide eyed he looked around, was he seriously still at work? The young man didn't care because of the wire was beginning to slowly make it's way back in his head. The young man went mad with his box cutter razor, using both hands and all off his strength to cut through the wire he wanted to open up his head and remove the wire. He felt it barbed deep inside his head.
The police officer was talking to him while he was in handcuffs, to the young man it was all-inaudible, he only wanted to know what was wrong with him; he knew he lost his job. "I'm taking you to a good friend of mine, he's a doctor and he'll make you feel better… you know your head is just as important as the rest of your body and you need a head doctor."
The young man woke up in a hospital building with no walls, no labels. He was in a wheel chair and was being pushed down a hallway. There was a thin plate of glass for every window. There were two police officers and one of them was carrying a shotgun. "I'm not that crazy!" the young man exclaimed. They went into a room that had no bed, no furniture only a steel folding chair in the center of the room. A familiar pale face and red lips looked back at him. The boy jumped up and tried to remove the heavy shotgun from one of the police officers but he was so strong he seemed to over power the young man despite his size. He managed to twist the shotgun in time. The young mans hospital gown was open and he struggled trying to cock the shotgun back. The police men looked like life sized statues, they were not moving or breathing, they were only looking. Looking at the pale man.
"SICK YOUR HEAD, REAL NOT I, A SHEEP BECOME WE AS A SHEPHERD. GAME IS ALL OURS!!!!" The pale man seemed to scream without moving his lips.
As he said this young man was already pulling the trigger.
But he realized that there was nobody in the room with him.
He was holding the shotgun and he remembered what the pale man in black said,
"SICK YOUR HEAD, REAL NOT I, A SHEEP BECOME WE AS A SHEPHERD. GAME IS ALL OURS!!!!"
He thought long and hard about this as the cold steel redemption tapped against his teeth.
Damn, he thought he chuckled Damn….
He pulled the trigger.
Fragments of unidentified metal lay in a puddle of brain, water and blood… a little thin wire dissolves into thin air.
Later that night a T.V softly announces…."Police say a young man was found dead in an closed military base. Sources say that the young man was mentally ill, no foul play has been suspected…."
The T.V screen flickers and reads: GAME OVER
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The young man opened the brand new game disc, peeling the fresh new plastic off of the tight little plastic box. His eyes were a glossy yellow as the young man meticulously opened the box, examined if there were any scratches on the disc and just as carefully put the disc back in. The young man got up and examined his disheveled appearance, he noticed something he hadn't seen in years; a blemish. After scrounging around his small apartment for a bottle of rubbing alcohol he figured he would deal with it later.
The young man is now working. It is his job to build orders on pallets. Many people would come from churches and non - profit organizations and purchase canned good for a good price. He thought about his disposition as he loaded the pallet; He is a prisoner, working for The Clampdown.
His customer looked ridiculous, eyes wild and glazed, lips black from dehydration, feverishly smashing buttons on his controller while rhythmically cursing at every loss. He looked like he needed an intervention. "So do you like the game?" The young man asked. "Yeah, sure." the customer answered, "Then buy it, and get out of my house." the young man said. "Well technically…" The customer began as he pulled a thick wad of cash, "This isn't even a house….", "Don't start with that shit." The young man said as he took the cash away. The customer smiled took the game and left.
The young man was making money on the side from game discs that he would steal. That was the only way he was able to sell them at such a cheap price. He was tired, it was nearly 7:00 in the morning and he hadn't gone to sleep yet. He picked up a CD and began to look at the reflection of the sunrise.
Suddenly the disc popped in his face and sent tiny pieces of plastic into his eyes, the young man screamed and covered his face but it was too late. He opened his eyes and saw everything in a strange shade of pink. He looked at the CD in his hand and it looked like a broken mirror. Karma, the young man thought to himself.
The young man deprived of sleep sat in a chair as the hallucinations began to kick in.
He saw his broken CD fragment into a bunch of computer chips. He got up and made himself a cup of coffee. Flashes of reality began to melt into delusion. Like watercolor painting, things began to look washed pale. His perception of color began to dwindle into a black and white fuzz. His last memory was that he had spilled his coffee on his lap and began to shake uncontrollably.
There were three men in black suits standing over him. The young man although laying in his apartment building very twisted and contorted, still managed to examine their hideous and artificial appearance.
The first thing he noticed was that they were very tall, about 8 feet. Their pale faces looked comical with their painted red lips and red blush. Each of them had the same color of hair; the same skin tone, the tight collars… yet something looked different. He looked at the man in the center; he looked at his scalp. It looked like he was wearing a nasty toupee. Jet-black hair that smelled of strong sulfur and other chemicals the young man cannot define with his nose. The young man began to sit up. He looked at their clothes; pressed white business shirts, plain black ties and a plain black slacks and a plain black coat. They looked like they lived in the early 1950's.
"What the fuck do you want?" the young man asked. They wore white cotton gloves. The young man stared at these silent strangers with great suspicion. He was fearful. What did they want with him? Who were they? " I said what the fuck do yo-" the young man began.
The man in the center grabbed the boys head suddenly and smashed on the tile floor. The young man was kicking and screaming as he saw the face of the man. He looked at something that was slithering out of his nose. It looked like a little purple worm. The worm began to wiggle and come out. The face of the man looked dry and chapped in the light, it was… falling apart. Falling a part on the boy piece by piece as the worms began to multiply in nostrils the man. The young man began to scream, but he couldn't do anything because the man had his hand wrapped around his forehead hovering over him. He could only watch in horror as the final pieces of the mans nostrils began to break away revealing what looked like long thin tentacles. He heard a cracking sound as the head of the man exploded into a mass of jelly like flagellum. They are wearing human skin, it was like they were wearing a human costume…the young man thought.
"NOT DO YOU SLEEP SHEEP?" one of them screamed. It was a loud guttural voice that echoed inside of his head as he passed out.
The young man woke up on an old hospital bed. A bandage around his head the young man kept hearing a high pitched whine in his head and a strange echo.
A police officer walked in as the young man moaned. "What's happened" The boy said out loud instantly relieved. "Apparently you've had some kind of seizure… have you been using narcotics? " Damn those nosy neighbors the young man thought.
"No. I have not." young man replied.
"Alright then, everything is settled… I just need to fill out my report…by the way what was your name again?" The officer paused thoughtfully as he asked this.
He felt his bed begin to roll and the young man fell asleep.
They were touching his forehead with their white gloves, smearing his sweat off of him. The young man tried to look at these men. These men in black. He tried to look into their eyes… to see if there was anything human in them. They were wearing black wayfarer's, opaque, black; and they only reflected the terror in the young mans face. The young man was incapable of moving he felt as though he was strapped into his hospital bed. A cold liquid began to drip out of one of the mans mouth and fizzle on the boys forehead. It made the young mans eyes roll back in pain. He had screamed so hard he ran out of breath.
When the pain stopped he was in a kind of euphoria. All of the lights in the room looked like rainbows and the air conditioner felt like heaven. The smell of sulfur didn't seem to bother him as the young man felt himself begin to roll again. Slowly drifting in and out of consciousness.
He heard a loud crunching noise as he woke up on his kitchen floor.
The young man doesn't remember leaving work that afternoon; he only knows that he needs to sleep. He was suffering from a terrible migraine. The blemish he had didn't seem to help it. It looked bigger for some reason, larger. He examined it. It looked like it was moving. Disgusting the young man thought.
His blemish woke him up. He heard a whizzing noise and something crunch. He heard a bigger crunch and the young man bent over with pain. He felt his blemish pop as a little wire began to wriggle and writhe in the pus. The pain was so great that the young man was unable to scream. The shock of this foreign object coming out of his forehead only added to it. He panicked and thought about sticking the wire into an electrical socket, but that would only electrocute his brain. The only thing he could think of was the razor in his work jacket. Wide eyed he looked around, was he seriously still at work? The young man didn't care because of the wire was beginning to slowly make it's way back in his head. The young man went mad with his box cutter razor, using both hands and all off his strength to cut through the wire he wanted to open up his head and remove the wire. He felt it barbed deep inside his head.
The police officer was talking to him while he was in handcuffs, to the young man it was all-inaudible, he only wanted to know what was wrong with him; he knew he lost his job. "I'm taking you to a good friend of mine, he's a doctor and he'll make you feel better… you know your head is just as important as the rest of your body and you need a head doctor."
The young man woke up in a hospital building with no walls, no labels. He was in a wheel chair and was being pushed down a hallway. There was a thin plate of glass for every window. There were two police officers and one of them was carrying a shotgun. "I'm not that crazy!" the young man exclaimed. They went into a room that had no bed, no furniture only a steel folding chair in the center of the room. A familiar pale face and red lips looked back at him. The boy jumped up and tried to remove the heavy shotgun from one of the police officers but he was so strong he seemed to over power the young man despite his size. He managed to twist the shotgun in time. The young mans hospital gown was open and he struggled trying to cock the shotgun back. The police men looked like life sized statues, they were not moving or breathing, they were only looking. Looking at the pale man.
"SICK YOUR HEAD, REAL NOT I, A SHEEP BECOME WE AS A SHEPHERD. GAME IS ALL OURS!!!!" The pale man seemed to scream without moving his lips.
As he said this young man was already pulling the trigger.
But he realized that there was nobody in the room with him.
He was holding the shotgun and he remembered what the pale man in black said,
"SICK YOUR HEAD, REAL NOT I, A SHEEP BECOME WE AS A SHEPHERD. GAME IS ALL OURS!!!!"
He thought long and hard about this as the cold steel redemption tapped against his teeth.
Damn, he thought he chuckled Damn….
He pulled the trigger.
Fragments of unidentified metal lay in a puddle of brain, water and blood… a little thin wire dissolves into thin air.
Later that night a T.V softly announces…."Police say a young man was found dead in an closed military base. Sources say that the young man was mentally ill, no foul play has been suspected…."
The T.V screen flickers and reads: GAME OVER
