Interim summary report. Auxiliary position: Alpha site, Strong Island.
Harlem has fallen, crappy unplayable startup rap singles have taken over 60% of all street corners. This same group seem to be well entrenched. They
have an outpost in times square from which they launch barrage after barrage of quick enticing sales pitches. My people have confirmed it. If they do
it in the winter, then they are making bank baby.
The proliferation was worse than I thought. Far and wide. The Bronx has fallen, Bachata reigns supreme playing the same 2 songs by Romeo Santos.
Westchester has turned to the dark side. Preliminary reports are just coming in but it looks like the forces of slayer and pantera have been
obliterated.
They were lulled into a false sense of sobriety and after a long stink of drinking and exchanging shots, got up from a sitting position, consequently
losing balance and plummeting to their urine and spew soaked deaths. I am sure the forces of Westchester's metal heads would be proud to go out in
such a pathetically epic way.
The dark night however is left for us to face that many less and with fewer in metal.
My army is in disarray. Party rockers have broken my lines. Everybody shufflin.
My boom box is no more. The DD energy cells I slavaged were depleted. Apparently the hobby shop I found them in bought its supply of DDs during a fire
sale of a used sex toy shop. The energy cells were completely drained. They only just swapped them from bay to bay.
The boombox's spirit is broken. Everything it plays sounds like time is melting. You have to put your head real close if you want to hear it.
I have been betrayed. The Royal Canadian mounted Police captured our forces in mass and made them official royal mounties. They look so freaking
awesome with those sweet ass hats, riding those freaking awesome horses. Freaking jelly. And my head is cold. I am going to get one of those hats
before this struggle is over.
My crack team, the teenasian-ninjaturtle delivery riders were the first to trade in their BMX bikes for Canadian police horses.
The entire NYPD is now the Royal Canadian mounted cop Canadian York force. I hate to think of all the NYPD horses forced to eat maple syrup pancakes
everyday. Its stupid.
They can have a bagle or a snickers every now and again. Its fine. The Canadians do not mount their horses unless said officers of the mounted royal
law adhere to a strictly VEGAN diet.
I set a quest. I sought wisdom in this dark hour. I went to the hipster sages. I did not invite them, they came on their own. This time I came
boomboxless.
It turned out that they were total sell outs. Their parents were really dumb and got one of them named Dante a car on a whim which had an old CD stuck
in between the radio and the dash board, and when he went home to check it for porn he found an ancient form of meme called the "dancing baby" from a
bygone era.
Wait, I have a hunch. I think our only hope is to be really fake to derrick, infiltrate the hipster inner circle deep within the totally non
conformist section of the RECORD store, get the CD from Dantes computer, punch derrick, and get out of there.
I will track down any leads this Intel provides.
NY has fallen, but as I escape from NY, I head for the heart of my enemy whom I shall make fall harder. Like the Marlboro I stomp out on the heel of
my badass Harley boots, I will stomp out puppy monkey baby.
I also wear an eye patch now, my red headband I now wear like rambo. I look really hardcore bros. Like a rambo, nick furry, Billy idol.
This is the last survivng New York Puppy Monkey baby resistance fighter. Out.
edit on 2 10 2016 by tadaman because: (no reason given)