http://www.votemayor.com/?p=212April Fool’s! Check the next entry for the true continuation!“Hire someone just to frame them. Swell plan, Boss.” hisses Sammy. “Make the new guy the fall guy, yeah?”
Craven begins chuckling to himself.
“They were right about’cha, Sammy. Glad to have ya aboard!” grins Craven, crooked smile reaching from ear to crooked ear. “April Fool’s, ya dumb kid!”
“Oh, no way!” questioningly exclaims Sammy, eyes going wide.
“What good is a lookout if they’re as blind as a no-eyed hooker?” laughs Craven. “You’ll be a fine edition to our family… Hey, do you hear somethin’?”
Just as the query finishes escaping the crooked lips of Craven, the doors of Bar Nun explode open. Wooden splinters and metal hinges fly every which way, as The Mayor rides in. Sitting atop a battered Bigboy motorcycle, highlands stogie clenched between his flawless teeth, half drank bottle of Jay Walker bourbon whisky held in one bloodied hand, and a broad metal chain wrapped around the other. Four mafia soldiers are held in chokeholds between his tree trunk sized arms.
“Moorehead! We meet again.” mutters The Mayor.
“No! Impossible! We buried you!” spits Craven, skin beginning to rapidly crawl. Stainless steel tendons burst forth from his frame, as his flesh flops to the charred floor like a cheap suit. Dripping in synthetic blood, Craven’s true form seethes… That of a Cybernetic T-Rexodactyl! Leathery wings outstretched, an atomic cannon begins to emerge from his crooked mouth.
With honed reflexes, and in one fluid motion, The Mayor flexes his triceps, causing the heads of the soldiers to spin clean off their necks, fountains of red fluid wildly jetting from each. Lashing out the metal chain, Craven’s puny robo-dino neck becomes quickly entangled. Popping a radical wheelie, The Mayor burns rubber, accelerates, and lands the front wheel directly down into Craven’s throat.
“Come Sammy, adventure awaits us!” announces The Mayor, picking up the petrified young man by the collar, and plopping him down onto the Bigboy’s backseat. “Craven… You’re extinct.”
“Too! Awesome!” utters Craven, before The Mayor sends the front wheel spinning; ripping the dinobots’ steel head messily apart. The Bigboy motorcycle tears out of Bar Nun, as the damaged atomic cannon misfires. A bright, glowing mushroom cloud trails in the bikes’ path.
“Where are you taking me!?” screams Sammy, eyes bugged out, trying not to notice the assortment of mafia entrails caught in the motorcycles’ spokes.
“Onto the campaign trail!” hollers back The Mayor, sucking down the last of his bourbon whiskey. “Now let’s grab ourselves some flapjacks!”
The Bigboy rides off into the rising sun, where adventure can be discovered one dive bar at a time.
Commands: 1. Continue writing The Mayor drunken, as seen here.
2. Continue writing The Mayor sober, as before.
3. End The Mayor now.
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Topic: The Mayor - Chapter X - Flapjacks (Read 2080 times)