Picture if you will an orange. There is absolutely nothing special about what it is. What it will do is something entirely different.

Right now all you have to know about it is that it's going on a journey. It sits tittering on the very edge of the hill, a blue wind inching it along the transition of a moment between moving and not moving.

Dr. Head Exploder stumbled backwards and then suddenly disappeared. The policeman moved over cautiously.

"Where did he go?" said the corporal.

"He fell into a plot hole."

James turned and looked the man over. He appeared to be speaking gibberish.

"That's 13." said Rebbecca behind him. "He seems to talk in code."

She went on to explain that 13 was only capable of talking in code. He couldn't translate it, read it. But he spoke it. An entirely useless skill with no worth or fascinating value, so he was abandoned on the streets by the government.

"Vs lbh obgurerq gb genafyngr guvf, lbh'er n znffvir areq naq V fnyhgr lbh jubyrurnegrqyl sbe vg."

"What did he just say?"

"I'm not entirely certain but I think from his body language it's something like: "Hi nice to meet you, James, my name's 13.

"You know I found him wandering near Desolation Row?" said the girl. "Bastard insurance men" she muttered under her breathe.

The sergeant and corporal were laughing when the rookie came in. The temperature seemed to plummet as laughter stopped abruptly.

"Who are you?" asked the corporal.

"Err... New recruit, sir." Both sergeant and corporal turned to each other and smiled the smile of wolf howling at the sun.

"New recruit eh?" There was a certain emphasis on the "eh?" as if they regarded the rookie's presence nothing more then an annoyance or possible novelty.

"Well here's how it's going to work." said the sergeant. "You being the newbie, are gonna have to listen and find out how we do things. It doesn't matter what you've been trained at and what you know that's new. You do what we tell you."

"We on the other hand will make constant self-referential jokes, bemoan the fate of people you couldn't possibly know, complain about the changes you represent and disregard all that we teach you when it suits us. Got that?"

"Man I miss thefez." remarked the corporal.

"Who the fuck is thefez?".

"That young man is the problem with your generation..."

"Tact? What's that?"




"TROOOLLLL!! Trolls in the dungeon!" the straggly haired man with a towel rapped around his head, seemed to pause, as if he were tasting the shape of his own words.

"That's not right. Trolls! Coming from the east!"

He paused again as if he were being made to say these words.

"Just thought you aught to know." and then collapsed.

All eyes turned to the captain who seemed to think then move in less then a second.

"Sergent what's the day, today?"

"April 3rd."

"So it's not the Gods playing a joke." he turned around and cupped his hands around his mouth "MAURICE! GET THE COWBOY HATS AND THE BANANAS. WE'RE GOING TROLL HUNTING!"

"Accountants?" said Zimbob.

"No worse" said the girl. "Financiers. The accountants are dull, but they didn't hurt anyone. Sure they got into fights, who didn't? But when those Grey bastards showed up..."

"They came for the physicist's first. I still remember the day they led Einstein out in chains. He kept screaming he'd have his revenge on the Quantum Physicists. I did nothing for I was not a physicist."

"Then they came for the pirates. They force fed them their bandannas. I did nothing for I was not a pirate."

"Then they came for the ninjas. Oh gods I still remember the old days. When woman flew freely through the skies. When they were free to do feats that are beyond the realms of human comprehension." she looked up sadly. "All gone. I did nothing for I was not a ninja.

"Then they came for the trolls. They couldn't beat them but they practically made them extinct."

"But that's a good thing surely-"


These shouts echoed down the sewer pipes. There was a silence which seemed to envelop the entire length of the metal. After what seemed like several days Zimbob spoke.

"Then they came for you?"

"No. That's what you would expect, but no that's not what happened."

"BUTTERFINGER MCFLURRY, MU'DA FUCKERS!" manic laughter rang out in the courtyard as this insane cry shot through the silence.

"What was that all about Sarge?"

"Not sure. You stay here, rookie I'm gonna go find out."

The sergeant walked over towards the source of the words. The rookie couldn't hear everything that was being said but, the words "Butterfinger Mcflurry" came up several times. Eventually an agreement seemed to be reached and the two men turned away from each other, satisfied.

"I'm still not quite certain what that was all about. Just kept talking about McFlurry. Threatened to call me a euphemism for a female genitalia if I didn't leave.

"You didn't book him?"

"Nah you get called worse on this job. He's just a harmless nut. What do I care what he says?

I'm gonna pause the story here. Yes, yes I know it's a bit surprising, but it's my story I'll do as I like. Besides you and I never get enough time together.

I mean hey this is nice. Did I mention you look good? Did you lose some weight? Been working out?

Writers and readers might have a better relationship if more people did this you know? Just a thought.

Now... take a deep breathe. In... out... feeling good? Then I'll continue.

"Now sir I don't care what you say. This is not... I repeat this is not how we go about getting money from a bank."

The corporal tried to ignore the rookie dealing with the strange wiry haired Jewish man and instead set about questioning the bank manager.

"So this doctor just walks in you say. And he speaks for a while with one of your tellers who refused to give him any money. He muttered something underneath his breathe and then walked out".

"Sir, when someone asks for collateral you do not pull down your trousers!"

"That's right.

"And then if I've got this correct... the employee's head exploded?" The manager nodded in agreement. The corporals radio spit out white noise then several words. The corporals face turned white then spat out some words.

"I don't care if you were getting bail for Captain Arab. Throw him in the alley!"

The corporal thanked the bank manager for his time then pulled the rookie over.

"We have a problem. A riot has been started over the banning of the dead rat game.

Picture if you will a naked man sliding down a zip wire made out of nothing but washing line.

This has nothing to do with the story. I just liked the image.

"OK Frank explain this to me again." John was getting particularly upset over this movie. Start with here. The location.

"The refrigerator graveyard? That represents all that mankind has done to the Earth."

"The ostrich tears?"

"Lost innocence."

"The yellow traffic cone?"

"Man's inner struggle."

"What about the 9 string guitar?" that had been hard to acquire. "What pretentious, avant garde bullshit could it possible represent?"

"Nothing. I just like it."

"Okay let's just get this done. I don't want to be attacked by zombie refrigerators or anything."

"That's the riduclou- Suddenly the whole place exploded for no apparent reason (no I do not rely on implausible Deus Ex Machina thank you very much). They all survived although they swore they saw one of the fridges shoot off, flaming into the atmosphere.

"Meet Loony Tunes" said Rebbecca.

"Let me guess he's insane?"

No. He's somewhere in between. And that's even worse. He's not crazy enough to be put into a ward but he needs some care. Half a care. I mean read this thing he wrote.

James took the paper offered to him. He read it. Funnily enough it's exactly the same (down to the very letter) as the text you're reading now. Our heroes of course do not know this.

"You're right! This is only half insane and it's not even funny. It seems like he's trying too hard. I'm sorry Looney Tunes you don't have any disabling mental illnesses."

The orange continued to roll down the hill pushing ever further into incredulous speeds. It rolled past a blind camel, an ex-stripper and her snake and for some strange reason a flaming refrigerator.

It didn't care. It couldn't care. It was movement personified.

P.S.If you don't get this story I suggest you reread the title.

"Looks like we've tracked him down, corporal. Now how do we go about arresting a man who can make our heads explode?"

"I think... I think we don't try."

"Sounds like a good plan. What if he comes our way?"

"Then we run."

The orange hurtled faster and faster down the hill speeding it's way to a rather odd destiny.

Oranges don't have any precognition. They don't have any sense of what's to come. It can't. It's a fucking orange.

So it was not surprised when it hit the bottom of the hill and pushed up the smaller hill by it's own momentum. It was not surprised when it slingshot into the air, arced through the sky and was gone.

Dr. Head Exploder meanwhile was pacing about in the ripped up warehouse. He knew the police would be on him soon. He had to escape.

It's too bad for the good doctor that this would not be so. He choose a rather inappropriate time to look at the sky and an orange, moving at terminal velocity, hit him right between the eyes.

"My god!" said Zimbob as the girl revealed to him the exciting reveal about her past "they-"

"Yes!" said the girl "Those bastards-" It was at this point the accountant, who was reading this forbidden book, put it down and hid it away. He pretended to work as his boss came over checking on each and everyone of the cubicles. He pretended to work for his head was spinning.

An imagination? What an extraordinary concept!

"The refrigerator graveyard? That represents all that mankind has done to the Earth."

The year was 1978. Peter Fulken sat at the edge of his seat, furrowing his brow and sweating in a profuse and odorous manner. He was not asked to excuse himself; nor would heā€”there were much more pressing matters in the boardroom.

"Lieutenant, had you asked me at 6 PM what I thought of the incident, I'd have told you it was isolated, and that there was nothing to worry about. In fact, General Electric was already prepared to handle the situation with a recall of the entire model line. Unfortunately, that's exactly what they did, and we now believe that that is what has caused the rebellion."

"Continue, Professor Wilson" came the Lieutenant, face immutably neutral.

"Well, in the last few hours alone, reports of cooling units rejecting food placed inside of them have shot up 238%. Some have started discharging ice cubes without any sign of stopping; others have unplugged themselves and walked straight out of their respective homes, most of which have herded onto the streets and are currently holding up traffic, destroying government property and even physically harming private citizens."

"And all of this because of a recall?"

"Yes, it seems the refrigerators were unhappy with the thought of being replaced."

"Good Gods. What do you propose we do, Wilson?"

"Well sir, we believe an EMP would be most effective."

"An EMP?" stormed the Lieutenant. "And what, wipe out all of our own telecommunications in the process?!"

"With all due respect, considering the state of Kentucky is currently knee-deep in rotten tomatoes, melted ice cream, and uncooked peas, it's worth the ensuing blackout to take these monsters out of commission."

At this, the Lieutenant paused, and thought for a bit. Utilitarian by design, he exited the physical realm of the living and entered into the mental realm of the pragmatic. The office room around fell silent; tension visibly taut in the faces and postures of each colleague in attendance. For them, the moment he resumed speaking could not come soon enough:

"It's too risky. We can't logically carry out an assault without some way of conveying messages back and forth between the troops and HQ."

"And the alternative?"

The Lieutenant looked around the room, looking each member of his team in the eyes and nodding his head as if to brace them for the imminent shock of his decision.

"We nuke them."

"W-w-w-wh-WHAT?!?!" exclaimed Wilson. "B-but, you'll w-wipe out the country!!"

"If that's what it takes, so be it." He turned to Peter.

"Fulken!" The worried nuclear defense operative snapped to attention. "Load up the missile array. I want the streets of America to run clear with coolant."

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