A motorcyclist was traveling at 140 km/h on a road when he suddenly ran over a bird. In the rearview mirror, the guy saw the little animal doing several pirouettes until it was stretched out on the asphalt.
Not containing the remorse, he stopped the motorcycle and went back to help the little animal. The little bird was there almost dead. The motorcyclist was so distressed that he picked up the bird and took it to the vet. There the bird was treated and medicated, and the vet said there was a chance it would survive. The man bought a cage and took the bird home, taking care to leave a little bread and water for the victim.
The next day, the little bird regains consciousness. Upon awakening, finding itself trapped, surrounded by bars, with the piece of bread and the bowl of water in the corner, the animal puts its wings on its head and screams:
- I don't believe! I killed the biker!
The Beginnings of Onyx and Coffee Girl
When Onyx chose that random building to hurl bodies from, they hadn't expected much more than some terrorised, dramatic screaming and some running around. People were all ants to her... Still, this time, something was different.When Onyx chose that random building to hurl bodies from, they hadn't expected much more than some terrorised, dramatic screaming and some running around. People were all ants to her... Still, this time, something was different.
One of the ants wasn't running.
Opposite the building was a coffee shop. Within this shop was a woman (well, probably anyway) with long, dark curls and dark, dull eyes. This particular version of ant was tall, plump and bored out of her mind watching the show. Just like Onyx, she was watching the little creatures run too, letting the slightest hint of amusement pass her eyes when some random white guy tripped over himself running from the scene.
Onyx had made someone laugh. They blinked twice, finding a smile forming beneath the mask and hurriedly shook her head, hurling the last of their victims down to the ground even as he asked why this was happening to him. Good people, they would call themselves. God-fearing with a wife and two children, begging for one more chance, cried this particular kill.
One more stupid ant squashed. And yet, the woman in the coffee shop had stopped watching by then, returning her attention to wiping down the counters.
When Onyx returned to their home, she returned angry. Usually, she felt a deep sense of satisfaction with her kills. Even peaceful but not this. Not this weird nudge in her chest that they hadn't done enough. She'd never been one for spectacle but it called out to her now; in the quiet, uninterested gaze of an ant she didn't even know.
Ridiculous.
It would be foolish to return to the same spot for her kill. Utterly ridiculous. The police might be lurking about if she did. No, no, she had a much, much better idea...
With a little security camera hacking, they could see into the coffee shop perfectly. And there was the stranger, trying to detangle a bit of her hair, a light huff leaving her lips as she gave up. Onyx managed a giggle of amusement as the woman crossed her arms above her chest, muttering a threat of mass snipping to her long locks within the silent building. Beside her were three people; two men and a woman who shared terrified looks as the masked murderer finished what they felt was an unremorseful, villainous laugh.
The first ant-person was thrown into the street not moments after.
And the stranger's reaction? An arched eyebrow. Onyx felt a twinge of excitement fill their gut for the first time in... Ever. As stupid as it was, she couldn't help but hop from foot to foot, waiting for the woman to do more. And yet, they watched with a quickly deflating ego as coffee girl rolled her eyes and walked off, out of the camera's view.
Finding herself angry again, Onyx turned to their remaining captives, tears filling all their eyes. It made the inside of her mask feel incredibly disgusting but they kept a breakdown at bay, silently throwing both off the building instead as she hollered insults within her tired mind. And for a moment, they considered going down into the shop and showing that woman who was boss. She was the most interesting ant she'd ever seen, why couldn't she find her interesting in return?!
They were a little too shy to do that, though.
And then the door opened. Onyx had nothing to defend herself with but she was incredibly agile, already on her way off the roof when a gentle, sort of raspy voice called out to them.
"Hey. Wait up... Umm... Onyx, is it?"
They stilled, almost stumbling their way to a gruesome end. The woman reached a hand out to them, withdrawing when she caught her balance. Onyx flushed a little beneath her half-obsidian, half-azure mask. So... Perhaps she wasn't as invisible to the stranger as they had always thought.
She gave a silent nod. The stranger moved a little closer, stopping at the slight flinch the villain gave. Her eyes were even more tired up close, lined with fraggled skin underneath that told the tales of many sleepless nights.
No wonder she worked at a coffee shop.
"So... Umm... I don't know what I'm doing here. Don't get me wrong, I know it's stupid but- what's even more stupid is you coming here of all places to do this. I mean, I watch you on the news and - these people are looking for you. These sprees of yours- I was... Kind of hoping... You would take me as a hostage for a bit?"
Onyx's head nearly flew off. Yes, she was confused. But they were also bursting with glee and they didn't know why, struggling with the urge to stim in front of a new... Maybe... Friend?
The stranger scratched the back of her neck, chuckling softly... Sadly. "Fuck. That sounded stupid, I'm sorry, I just-"
Onyx shook her head hurriedly, gesturing with a slight hint of desperation in the overly dramatic movements for her to continue.
"Uh... Okay? Well... I just thought... I don't know why you're doing any of this. But I've done my research on some of the higher-profile victims... And I don't think you're a villain, per say. I think these people are worse than they seem on the surface. Am I wrong?"
A slow, reluctant shake of the head. The stranger gave a laugh, yet, the nervousness began to dissipate as she inched a little closer.
"Ah. Cool. I was worried you might actually be into murdering randos and I was offering myself up. Not that I've never thought of dying, I think most in our generation have given up by now. Assuming you're my age... So... Uh... Anyway. I'm suggesting you take me as hostage so they don't start shooting at you. Now, preferably, cos I can hear cop cars? And then we both win. I get a break, you get an escape plan. Win-win. Deal?"
Flustered, Onyx gave the tiniest nod.
"I'm Valeria, by the way. And I do wonder about some things... Like why come around this area twice when you always choose the most randomised locations? And why do you kill at all? Who are they? Do you have a connection to them? What's it like to murder people? Is it a... A rush? Are you addicted? Who is under the mask, anyway cos everyone says you're a guy but I'm sort of hoping it's more than that? Not that gender matters at all - you can use any pronouns for me, by the way - and I'm already rambling. Shit. Sorry. I guess we'll find out when you actually reply, maybe? Unless you can't speak or some- I'll try to shut it so we can escape, now. Pleasure doing business with you."
The stranger held out a hand, hoping to seal the deal and the young serial killer gave a frazzled gulp as she politely pulled off her dark gloves. The moment their fingers brushed, Onyx felt some fuzzy warm feeling they didn't understand trail across their small frame and immediately, instinctively knew she and this person were going to be great friends.
She would make sure of it.
And then, they began to tug at their newest abductee, suddenly remembering this was meant to look like unwilling coercion.
TRUMP
Once there was a man named Trump,
Whose hair was quite the frump,
He tweeted and he blustered,
But his speeches all just flustered.
He called himself a businessman,
But really just a Twitter fan,
He touted his great wall plan,
But ended up with no real stand.
With each golf game he played,
The American people just brayed,
For they knew this man's charade,
Would lead our country to fade.
So let us all come together,
And vow to make America better,
Without this man's orange weather,
We'll prosper and succeed forever.
The Money Shot
Blake had to have revenge on Krystle. In all his years in the porn industry, he had never been humiliated during a scene. She had been giving him a blowjob and right before the money shot, she had slipped a greased finger in his anus, causing him to explode out his back end in a shower of shit from the noxious Mexican joint she had taken him. The entire crew had stared in horror for a second before getting out their phones to take pictures. Blake had purpled with rage and stormed off the set, hearing Krystle’s peals of mocking tintinnabulation. The following day, he was ready: douched, shaved, and with balls rumbling with anticipation. They replayed the scene. Right at the money shot, Krystle tugged hard on Blake’s testicles, causing an eruption. The stench of Blake’s pre-scene salad exploded. Krystle’s eyes bulged right before her violent vomiting commenced and Blake smirked, enumerating the ingredients: vinegar, Limburger cheese, asparagus, sardines, anchovies, pickled ginger, wasabi, endives, and lutefisk, followed by a heavy vanilla custard.
K-Mart Christmas Cacophony
Drunk one night a week before Christmas, we stumbled into a shoddy K-Mart near closing time on the hunt for Dinty Moore Beef Stew, even though she said it looked like dog food, it still tasted good. Nearly alone, tramping down holiday-tchotchke-crap-filled aisles, we heard it. The blue light rang, beckoning us like a nostalgic siren to the toy department. We hustled over to see what new wonders Santa and his elves had concocted. As we rolled down the aisle, riding a shopping cart, we passed a shelf of robots that wiggled and repeated back what they heard. After experimenting with profanity and flatulence sounds, we heard the motion-activated Godzilla action figures behind us roaring. We left the infinite loop of moving robots triggering Godzilla’s roars, repeated mechanically back by the robots, who then moved again, while we had to cross our legs to keep from urinating in our pants, as tears and peals of laughter followed us back out into the night.
The Pilot
A stunt pilot has decided to attempt the most legendary, mythical, dangerous stunt ever imagined. No one has ever achieved this before; no one has ever dared to try. They say it’s impossible. He says it can be done, and he’s the one to do it.
He gets in his plane, starts the engine, and takes off. He makes sure to gain the altitude and velocity necessary for this trick. He checks the readings on his control panel: perfect conditions. He breathes in and begins the trick. Soon, he is in the midst of a breathtaking sequence of twirls, spins, loops, rolls, and dives. To his amazement, he completes the stunt flawlessly.
When he lands the plane, he expects to find a cheering crowd to greet him and congratulate him. It seems that nobody cares, or they didn’t notice. He finds everyone gathered in a circle farther down the runway. He rushes over to them and asks if they saw the trick. They apologize and say that they missed it. They were distracted by a mother duck and ducklings walking across the air strip. They ask if he can do it again. The pilot gets back in his plane and does the trick again. He has now completed an impossible stunt twice in one day.
On his drive home he notices great billows of smoke pluming in the air. He decides to check it out and finds a house ablaze. He slams on the brakes and gets out of his car. A woman is standing out front crying. She tells him that her baby daughter is still stuck inside. He tells her not to worry, and sprints into the burning home. The heat is agonizing, the smoke is suffocating and blinding. Somehow he manages to find the baby girl and bring her to safety. The mother is relieved and grateful, but is still sobbing. The man asks her if he can do anything else. She tells him that her pet cat is still trapped in the fire. Again, he battles the flames and the smoke, and just barely makes it out alive holding a trembling orange cat.
When he finally gets home, he immediately finds his wife and gives her a kiss.
“You won’t believe the day I’ve had,” he says.
“Where’s Ralphie?” She asks.
“How should I know? I just got home.”
“It was your turn to pick him up from band practice.”
“Again?!”
Why so serious?
What? The fuck did you just say?
Motherfucker, does this look like a game to you?!
Got me out here wilin' out, hollerin' like I'm Sam motherfuckin' Jackson...makin' my blood pressure spikin' n' shit. Too damn old for this nonsense.
Quit the hustle ten damn years ago and these buckwild ass young bloods wanna bring their bullshit up in my driveway...
What yo little punk ass mumbling about over there? You gon' say it, say it witcha chest, lil' homie!
Boy, I done told you I moved out the hood for a reason. You think these bougie white folks ain't gonna notice yo raggedy ass stompin' through the azealeas?!
Uh-uh, don't be runnin' your mouth 'bout my Prius. It's economical, and y'all could learn somethin' about practicality, runnin' around in a pair of Jordans but can't keep ya damn lights on...
Don't test my gangster. I'll shove these Crocs square up yo' ass.
Go on now. Pull that hooptie up in the garage. 'Fore the neighbors start snitchin' to the HOA. What is that? 1998 Honda Ain't-Shit?
I think I got a tarp and some ammonia in the shed.
We got an hour before my lady gets back from Pilates.
She gon' be mad as hell if she catches me on this shit again.