posted on May, 14 2012 @ 04:15 PM
Running through several dark alleys, taking twists and turns until, gasping and limping, Beezzer stopped.
And threw up again.
The creature hovered just a few feet in front of Beezzer, and frowned in disgust and Beezzer’s digestive issues. “Must you do that?” the flying
“No”, Beezzer replied, “I’m just not in the habit of seeing a man die, talking to flying things or being here! Where is here?”
“You’re in Strongrock.” Said the flying thing.
Beezzer looked at it in confusion.
The flying thing sighed. “Imagine the worst, most horrifying, most disgusting place at your home.”
“Oh easy, New Jersey.” Replied Beezzer. ”Is that where we are?”
“Nope” replied the flying thing, “That’s where this populace would want to go to after they died.”
“Great. I’m stuck in Hell.”
The flying thing replied, “You should be so lucky.”
“Okay, Tinkerbell, how did I get here (OMG, am I dead?) And how do I get home?” Asked an angry Beezzer.
“First off, the name’s Gary. Yes, Gary. Go talk to my parents if you want answers. We all don’t have names like ‘Gablon Strongbow! Though
Gablon, Gabby to his friends, does make mean ale.”
“And getting home?” Asked Beezzer.
Gary replied, “RUN!” And took off again.
Beezzer didn’t have much run left in him. His left leg was screaming, the implants and artificial titanium joint just wasn’t made for running.
After a zig and two zags, Beezzer was done. Finished.
Limping into a new courtyard paved with dark red bricks, he searched for Gary, taking deep breaths and trying real hard not to barf again.
But Gary was gone. And the eerie voices, screams and howls were getting closer. Beezzer gave up. Leaning against a wall, letting the cool stone
wick away the sweat, he whispered, “Come and get it, bitches. I’m not ru-. . . “
A muscular forearm grabbed Beezzer around the throat and dragged him through the stone siding that made up the wall.
Beezzer landed with a quiet “Oooff” and heard a female voice say, “Oh don’t tell me that THIS is our savior.”