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| Catch 22 on Cloud 9 |
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11.20.2007
"Hey, wait, biatch - I'm on your side!" Deacon Jones (not the football player) crossed his fingers repeatedly, hoping that the ray gun was as substandard as everything else around here. "I said 'I'm on your side'" he pleaded, as he turned to face both the music, and the weirdo who had taken aim at his innards. But there was no longer anyone there; only a trail of radioactive dust which reminded him of something. Before beginning his hike back to wherever he had come from, he re-evaluated his orders. The scotch tape keeping the plan intact yellowed and cracked with each neuron that bombarded it. Those infomercial people would answer for what they done, sending him on this errand of fools. He considered how they had deceived everyone on the squad, and he hated the idea of becoming one of them. The next time he encountered his prey, he would come clean. "I lied. I'm not on your side." Jones rehearsed this over and over until he forgot why he was walking, what he was wearing, and how awful space food was. "Biatch."
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