:: Unsafe Ideas ::
The Story of the Planet's Last Days
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~* Confucius say, "Don't put twinkies on your pizza." *~

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Chapter One: Purple Is An Icky Color

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    The messy haired teenager layed there. Asleep. This was a common thing to be doing, at 3 AM, after all. He dreamed wonderful dreams of CD Burners and Pamela Anderson. He dreamed beautiful dreams of burning schoolhouses and exploding squirrels. He experienced terrible nightmares of zits from Mars and saxaphone solos. He survived awful nightmares of vicious wind elves and that ugly girl three seats in front of him in English class. His name was Britt, and he was a normal, everyday teenager. Or, well, everything about him was normal except for his eyes. Those buggers were *scary*. Bloody scary. They were.. odd, to say the least. Especially how they always seemed to cause horrid things to happen to people when they locked on them. Oh well, freaky glowing eyes tend to do that. *shrug*

"It's not my fault that people inexplicably erupt in flame when I'm around. *shrug*" was how he'd once tried to explain it. The principal had expelled him anyway.

*~*

    Del Snizz snuck quietly down the stairs to the gun cabinet. His father, a former carpender, had tons of them. For some reason. But that is quite beside the point. At any rate, Del Snizz snuck. He was a bloody good sneaker. He once snuck past three high school teachers, a janitor, and the superintendant. They hadn't even noticed he as he walked by their houses. Now was a true test of his sneaking ability. His mission: sneak past the cat, to reach the gun cabinet. The cat, Snizz was convinced, was Satan itself. Or a close relative. One foot made it over the snoring cat easily, but the next was not so lucky. Accidently planting his foot directly in the rotound creature's mouth, Snizz ran for his life as the titan of a cat awoke from its sleep. Moving at the speed of continental drift, the enormus cat waddled after Snizz. Making a mad grab at the gun cabinet on his way out the door, Snizz secured a small blowgun. It was the best thing he could get his hands on fast enough. It would simple HAVE to do.

*~*

    Angela sat surrounded by her circle of candles at the foot of her bed. It was not uncommon to see Angela (or "Asorie" as we shall call her from now on, as I am picky.) awake at this insane hour. In fact, no one was certain Asorie ever slept at all. Worshipping the gods of death and famine took a lot of time, after all, and she'd been suspended 5 times for attempting it in study hall. Chanting her satanic lyrics, Asorie became aware of a presence outside her window. Finishing her spell of misfortune toward Britney Spears, she silently stood and walked to the window, finding herself face to face with one Del Snizz. Overjoyed to see her dear friend Snizz, Asorie prodded him harshly with a nearby sharp stick. Likewise, Snizz poked her viciously in greeting.
  "I see you are attempting global domination once again, Snizz?" she inquired as he climbed in the window and sat on the floor.
  "Indeed so, good Asorie." Snizz told her. "Tonight's plot is quite simple. I intend to poison Micheal Jackson's morning breakfast."
  Asorie tilted her head in pondering. "How exactly will that lead you to world domination?" she wondered.
  "Simple, my dear Asorie!" he exclaimed. "Without Michael Jackson, George W. Bush will have no head of the Department of Health and Human Services. Without him, Bush will be helpless. Somehow."
  "But Snizz. Tommy Thompson is the head of the Department of Health and Human Services." Asorie corrected.
  "Same difference, my friend. It will work, I assure you that."
  "Then may I help? You never know when chinese water torture would be useful."
  "I suppose so, but do hurry up." At that, Asorie gathered up her 12,000 piece torture instruments set and folded it neatly to fit into her pocket comfortably. Snizz never understood how exactly she did it, but didn't bother asking.

*~*

    Two little children sat on the floor. They were adorable little children. Everything about them was simply perfect. Save for their vocabulary.
  "Boogers aire kewlaire than yoop, dop!" one screamed.
  "At least I ams not an evail DDDDDDD!" the other retorted.
  "Pfft! Whatevaire, yoop. Moi tis' more edumashimicateded than yoop, and I am also veri unevail."
  "Whatevaire yoop say, evail insane Rinny-dop."
  "Kew'..." the one called Rinoa said. "At least moiy name has no "L" at the end, loike is propaire, Jojee."
  The one called Jojee (AKA TifaL) looked annoyed. "At least I can use cpas bettaire than yoop.."

*~*

    Rirse sat in his chair. It was a lovely chair. A lovely chair for a lovely hemidemisemi-god. Live was good. Waiting patiently, Rirse dew pictures of blobs while Rydia and Kawaii looked over his list of evil ideas.
  "I really don't think holding the Queen Mother for ransom is an effective idea, Rirse." Kawaii commented.
  "Same with the plan to make rabbits an endangered species." Rydia pointed out. Rirse frowned.
  "What about one to put rat poison in George Bush soup?" he asked anxiously.
  "That one has merit." Rydia agreed. "What do you think, Kawaii?" He did not answer. "Kawaii?"
  "Hush!" he called up from the floor behind Rydia. "I'm busy trying to get a picture of your arse." Rydia rolled her eyes.

*~*

Preview of Chapter Two:
"Somehow, this all makes sense. I'm sure it does."
"Hiyee, yoop!"
"Good god, he's almost as freaky as Greg Brady.."