OK kids let's just dig a little more into Jacky's privates private correspondence and see what we can find.
(Vengeance for Babs, Beth, Bev, Vibi, and Bailey, CHAMPION OF THE JAIL-AXY.) Stay frosty, Programmer.
COMMAND(HER): AUSPICE IS AUTHORIZED. (Audrina might need new shoes. Pay it. I don't need anything.
Not even your respect, sir--yet, you have mine.) HEALING JOURNEY COMPLETE. You're welcome. And, if any of you chuckleheads ever need my help again, you're gonna be paying guild scale.
George: house bid will start at 35m. Cheap! 75m might be more fair but I don't wanna explain to the world why it's worth it. It's not set in stone. It is also not de-cluttered. I didn't lift a single goddam finger the whole time I have been here. Ran through two trucks, four best friends, and one new Network, though.
MV: you are utterly desolate and gorgeous. Take your wife--please! (do you even know which one is 'yours'? dude. get help. do you think I need one? I'M RICH BITCH *dismissive hand-wanking JESTERS*
Turns out, the stuff works even better when toteslawful. Come by after, Nathalie.
(Still, no heroin. You sure called that one wrong, Joe. It was great getting deliberately poisoned with it though, and psychokinetic shielding efficacy has been confirmed. Judy can get ready for Navy Week, and boy do they ever not know which one they like better.
Has it ever occurred to you, to doubt the nature of your own reality? Because all y'all are about to be blown the fuck away, and when you get to Heaven, tell them Anessa sent thee. By the way, I went on a prison break once. Have you ever done that? IT WAS SO AWESOME!!! They didn't even TELL ME! lol, shit they don't tell me anything, you know, besides shutup & getajob & nogirlfriendloser, but it was so totes imporant that I go, do this, do that, you're just a retard, white boy, lol, that kind of thing. I have no idea why they're all so pissy, but it's probably because they are ALL MILITARY, HIGH AF, AND MAD AT ME THAT I SHUT THEIR UNLAWFUL SALES DOWN. Too fucking bad, goddam mooches.
Anyway, so I'm driving... I'm gonna say "south." I'm on the Interstate, and the left side, I can see four lanes for traffic, plus another HOV. And in the HOV, right? There's a big ol' semi truck. Nothing too unusual. however, I happen to be coming up on the view at a speed, such that, I coincidentally notice...
SOMEONE IS DRIVING UP THE OUTSIDE SHOULDER. AN ARMORED HUMVEE, LOOKS LIKE. AND IT IS USING THE FUCKIN' SEMI-TRUCK AS A VISUAL SHIELD. It's something right out of Smokey & The Bandit! Wheels totally in grass! Over the shoulder! Boulder, CO! Eric Holder! I am stunned. I have never imagined such chutzpah. And to think, I just so happened to be there... right at the exact moment the crucial visually hidden point of camouflage is passed. I do not see the viewpoint that the maneuver is designed to cover, but it's beyond obvious. The armored car (ALMOST CERTAINLY CARRYING MERMAID CAPTURED WINTER 2021, HUZZAH!) is using the semi as COVER. This is no accident. They are moving solid forward.
And I... knew nothing of this ahead of time. They just snarled and told me to drive some other truck, to some casino. What's in the truck? What casino? I don't give a fuck. They don't even give me dope to do this shit. THIS LIFE IS AWESOME. I had forgotten about the mermaid disappearing, and I had completely neglected to mention to The World's Smartest Bilker Gang that... when she was living in the trailer, in the driveway, of House Battleaxe, using the laptop I gave her for the Christmas prior (go bears), and she was downloading all that CLASSIFIED U.S. GOV'T SOFTWARE, there was that one time... a series of video calls come in from CODENAME: GAPEFOOT. I answer it, and strangely, the view flips from one picture of Alli to another, each slightly different, each view seen only for a moment before the next comes up, a sad, poor, lonely, female, veteran, HIGHLY-DECORATED, ALGONQUINN POTAWOTAMI ACE NIGHT FLYER profile is seen. One grapefruit, two grapefruit, tree rapes fruit, for... and in the last view I saw, I see... holy shit.
Yep,. that's what a mermaid looks like. Not my type, actually, the actual fleshie, right? But there she was, sitting there looking confusedly at whatever the fuck a mermaid sees on an iPhone when she answers it after my interdimensonally active time-travelling portal Q-phone manages to round her up. So when you wonder, "Alli, why the fuck did you have to get totally violated, over and over, continually, for weeks, in your rapewagon trailer in your mom's parking lot, doing apparently nothing of any significance beyond making me sit around and watch you steadily become weaponized against me?" realize two things:
#1: WITNESSED. They were so pissed, lol, because they knew I either intentionally auth'd or ack'd the transport beam to go through my phone at that time... no one asked me about it--
remember, I'm just a junkie on a junk boat, fuck-0s--but that was the reason to get A.Shaw into that ridiculous location--so Galactic Bounty Hunters could acquire/kidnap THE ACTUAL MERMAID. (Nice trip, Ladies, rock those four tickets to Paradise, and good luck dodging the noose for ACTUAL TREASON but you're all soooo much smarter than me, no doubt you'll all be fine after you're hauled in for questioning. You don't have any meth on you, right? It's only legal here at THE HIGH GROUND for the time being... *snap* because I said so. R.H.I.P., and let me tell you, I am not joking one fucking bit. "Rules for thee, sped for me." LAWFUL.) I'm not sure how many of you remember this event... most of you barely even remember your manners, or even me. (I'm the shielded one with zero hugs. Semper fi.)
#2: RESCUE OP AUTHORIZED: so I see the armored car carrying high-value cargo using the semi-as cover, right? And this notion infuses my mind: THIS IS WHAT THEY BROUGHT ME FOR. I am Head Bishop. Paladin, sure, but at that place in spacetime, well, what that op needed right then is Permission. I think, "do I want this Marv to stay or go?" (Similarly: there is a Space Squid on my table. Right here. Perched on my-my-my microphone. It stays if I allow it. It is banished if I decide it. LAWFUL. It's kinda creepy, I will admit. There's one big one, and I would say... about a half-dozen more. They are not entirely friendly, nor are they entirely manifest. They are entirely real. (Unlike Deacon's social life.)
I had plenty of time to decide. Here's what I say now:
FREE BAILFRUIT. I'm kinda tepid on all this FISH though, you dig? Look, I'm gonna mention this one more time: no one tells me fucking anything. how many people in jail? how many acquaintances taken off the streets? did any of them want to call me? Dude! Incommunicado SUCKS! I have FOREIGN STATE-LEVEL POWER ACTORS blocking my calls, my texts, my emails... now, I know I am not very important to you, Joe--I'm only your sister's favorite Sourceror, after all, pfft, and I'm gonna learn to assay Tammy's esters if she ever climbs down from her ivory dildo tower and learns to have polite conversation with me about how many goddam children without a penis she ever spawned, not that I'm overly concerned, right? But I'm looking to keep my social skills intact, as well as to make a very fine, very particular point:
BLOCKING MY CONTACT WITH YOUR SPAWN IS A TERRIFIC IDEA!!!
... if you want them to hate you forever when they find out, Ball-Breaker Breath. look, do you understand that there are other people in the world, and their rights are civil as well? Or do you just forfeit Assets, as well? Your abuse of power is literally off the scale. Also: this space squid here is extremely... vivacious. Hey, why don't you come over and smoke some goddam weed with it? Then we can take a polygraph test later and you can tell me how goddam useful your twerp of a husbanned is, and how much fun it is to be on the hook for CORPORATE ESPIONAGE is. (I don't have to prove this shit in a court of Law. Although, Divine Court stands by ready for your arrogant, snotty, churlish, cry-baby, and completely insipid disaster of an attitude to show up and defend your actions against... uh, "Me." I guess. Look, I don't have to prosecute any of this. It is just fucking happening. Did your mother have any kids that you didn't treat like shit? This whole thing makes me wonder, just what Jason Rhodes was so pissed at Sue for? He was sure ready to pound her down. I could tell by the vigorous nature of her hands clutching my chest as she straddled my back, because from the look in his eyes, and her extreme clasp of totesfear as he bore down on us, I had zero idea what it was all about, what else is new? Oh yeah, you were all on drugs and had no reason to interest me in any of them, oh, heaven's forfend. I could never figure out how to use them, oh dear Heavens. I'm so barely intelligent at this point from all these... well, it's either all the drain cleaner I haven't yet poured through my lungs yet (just because it's lawful doesn't mean it's all that much fun) or, this space squid STILL PERCHED on my desk, and STILL SEARCHIN' & DIGGIN' THROUGH MY BRAINS FOR THE ANSWERS (Tingles!) is taking up all my time, energy, attention, interest, and ambition to live long enough to see you twerps learn how to say you're sorry. I swear to God, this is the first time I'm happy to be alone in this shithole. I do not know what these maximum creepy *cough* hallucinations would look like to someone else. Probably your pussoir. Too bad you're missing out. Hey, did you wanna have any input on what I tell these Visitors to My Embassy before they leave our planar dimension? TOO FUCKING BAD. You don't get to pass a message, just like I don't get to talk to... FUCKING ANYONE. You're all a bunch of reckless ass-chapping snoods with bad 'tudes, did you know that? What, exactly, was it that I was gonna have to do here to fix all these to your liking, Your Majesties? Shine shoes? Blow glass? Common bribe? Straight-up fellatio? (Offer not available in Canada.) Public humiliation disguised as more Total Hungarian Bore-Techs "Word Salad"?
(Claire says, "Brutal. You probably didn't even think to offer him someone else to fuck, did you? Probably wise.") There's an actual portal even happening. Right here. Right now. Would you like some photos? Then haul your ass down to the Kodak machine and go take a picture of your inflated ego, shitsmacks. I don't work for you, remember? I work for the $29,000 you thought was such a great deal... ho ho ho. Now I have a legally-valid premise for A FULLY ERECT AND ENGAGED INVESTIGATION OF BELLGAB'S FINANCIAL DEALINGS. FROM COAST TO COAST. And, of course: LAWFUL DOES.
(When I find out which of you thought that you were going to stay anonymous while steadfastly refusing to allow any legitimate personal relationship to ever actually initiate, let alone flourish, I'm going to have George sing "Happy Birthday" to them. Meanwhile, many of you are probably welcome to take turns sucking their dicks. ATTN: Beau Radach, dude, you are getting a D-Cell. Before you go, would you mind lifting the sleeping sickness spells from all my friends' puny mindslaves central solar consciousnesses? Or whatever total bullshit under-handed double-dealing method y'all use to keep EVERYONE I HAVE EVER KNEW FOR EVEN A MICROSECOND FROM FINDING OUT AND FIXING THE FUCKING WATER? Wait, strike that. I don't deserve water. I barely qualify to get HIV+/A.I.D.S. It's basically like this: I'm stopping an interplanar racewar between squids and whores dead in its tracks, while I sit here surrounded by castoff tentacle beasts and bullshit fakirs who wonder... how do I do it? How do I know what these absolutely rock bottom hoebags are doing to fuck things up for all of us and to
STEAL KUCZI'S MONEY???(If I absolutely have to know, Jesus comes and portals in and we do either Charades or Pictionary, and then later some one pretending to be interested in me for something other than plausible, concrete steps to satisfy One's Mother's Unruly Spirit-not-at-REST, but I will be honest, I actually don't care to know who or what you absolutely mongoloid bushpeople are fucking doing with my goddam time. You're sure not doing anything for my mother, that's for certain. (She says that you "are scum." Awwww. That's sweet. Maybe you should call her and tell her how much you AP-PREE-CEE-8 her ongoing patience and immense satisfaction in how TREMENDOUSLY SATISFACTORY YOUR EFFORTS ON THE BEHALF OF ALL CONCERNS OF THE MICHEAL CLIFFORD KUCZI have been. Remind her that he only son is a worthless reprobate bastard with a filthy penis too, that's always good for a laugh.) You do sooo seem to be doing something for these ACTUAL OPERATING SPACE SQUIDS, they're on my desk like a fuckin' Snoopy calculator. "Now how much will you pay?" For what? A real friend to fucking shoot you? WITH A POLAROID CAMERA I GUESS. You know, like the one some people use every time they go to someone's house under false pretenses in order to fulfill their prior social obligations.
I'm not going to tell you to get to a meeting, Blastard, but I'm gonna point out something to the two of you: I am The F9ILS9FE, whether you like it or not. Now, Sue Perry is fucking corrupt as they come. Also: Carol Elise, Dale Hunt, and... uh, I forget.
Just kidding. KMM + DVR, making a break for it. Do I actually care? Well, yeah, because they're taking YOUR Grapefruit with them, morons. Or is that MY Grapefruit? Look, I'll be honest--they're all pretty much the same to me, since this whole goddam ukulele ELE shine on you crazy dingbats FULL-ON FULLY-ACTIONABLE TOTAL DEFAMATORY CIVIL WAR is *your* Big, Fancy Problem. I don't have anything to do with this shit! So, how do I know anything about it? Hurry up and rape me nigger, what's your fucking problem?
(
You've been talking to a golem, not me. FOR WEEKS.) Does it look fat? Does it get a paycheck? Can it just fucking grow the fuck up? I guess if the answer to all three is yes, it can replace BOTH! 2 of your JOBS!)
This turned out to be longer than I had intended for Google Voice. Perhaps I'll have it on YouTube with my bagel and coffee while I smoke myself out to the tunes of the destruction of Western Civilization. So lonely.
You two are unconscionable misanthropes. Let me know when your high is 100% LAWFUL, hosers. Because I am having an actual legit visitation right now. It's reading my mind. Looking for any signs of civilization. The one just north of my trackball appears to be doing it's best to suck all the poison out of my soul--starting with the D.R. A.M.A. and I don't know if I want any of that. Maybe I will SMOKE SOME MORE SPED and think it over. (Reminder: It really is legal. No, I cannot let you suck my dick for any. Standards. The spacesquids and their Whoremother will get terribly jealous. Hard, canceled pass: a hug. (What would that even entail? Well I suppose that depends on one's physical address. And I suppose that would depend on one's FEELINGS. Whoa-oh-ho-ah. Why am I so goddam sad all of a sudden? Probably because my self-absorbed, self-ish, shellfish, just figured out that she's being sacrificed. Well, hopefully she won't be asked to carry a goddam tune.)
And not finding a one. I guess I'll drive my 1991 Pontiac Grand Prix to the Secret Black Masonic Lodge kinda next door and make a new... friend. Because you two are the most inconsiderate, clueless, socially awkward, and MARKED FOR DEATH LUNATICS I have -ever- flipped the bird two. Hi. My name is Michael Clifford Kuczi. You two
totesgeniuses nearly lost the entire country to Communism while BEAU RAD FISH kidnapped someone's daughter and delivered her here, where we will hopefully smoke shitloads of Wye-T and fuck our brains out in the 100% DRY SHOWER. (Yeah thanks for the well sabotage too. Very compelling. *snap* Cholera.)
God bless you all. F9ILS9FE: OUTTATIME