Then one day, he received a phone call. Some legal firm. Going on about copyright infringement or something or other. He shot a glance to the corner of his small, darkened room. His gun lay there, beckoning him. Imploring him to take it into his hands once more. “These mother**kers are crazy!” he shouted as he slammed the clip into the gun.
He hit the pipe one more time, slung his jacket over his shoulder, and strode purposefully toward the door. “Copyright infringement…” he grumbled. “I’ll give them infringement, alright!” he laughed as he slammed the door behind him.
I was “watching” the Retro Music Choice channel one night, and all the songs were Nirvana, Tool, Pearl Jam, and all that kind of stuff. Since when did we become retro?! That’s supposed to be 80’s stuff, right?!
Meanwhile, back in the prison, all the guards were either dead or enslaved by the prisoners. It was chaos. Some prisoners escaped during the confusion, while others who were more institutionalized began locking the place down, forming factions, and taking command of the different sections.
As he fell over, the guard’s hand slipped and accidentally hit the emergency cell door release button instead. Throughout the prison, all eyes turned upward toward the now open cells. The guards out in the prison struggled to maintain order, but their attempts were futile as they were attacked by the riotous prisoners—particularly those on deathrow. The prison became flooded with blood and screams.
Meanwhile, Jake Atchens, a guard who’s worked at the prison for 8 years, has just finished up his shift, and it was a bad one. The warden reprimanded him in front of the prisoners, and now he had only tv dinners and a VCR waiting for him at home, as he was broke and payday wasn’t for another week. He thought, “If I had a dog, I would go home and kick it!” But then a thought occurred to him: That douchebag in the hole!
He strode purposefully to his cell. “Sleeping!” he said to himself. “Well, we’ll see about that,” he muttered as he eased the door open as quietly as possible and slipped inside. The prisoner lay still—snuggled up and comfortable—likely dreaming of freedom and fast food. A good dream. Slowly, he pulled out his nightstick and raised it up over his head, having to stifle a bout of maniacal laughter. A grim smile crossed his lips and he brought the butt of the weapon down on the man’s kidney area. A loud, panicked, injured shriek escaped his lips as the frenzy began.
Jake had to stop himself. He could EASILY get carried away, so he looked down at his handiwork lying crumpled and cowering on the far edge of the cot, crying profusely and begging for mercy—and a smile came to his lips once more. “You know the deal—you ran into a wall,” he said with a laugh as he exited the cell, leaving the prisoner broken and unable to finish his dream.
Play video games, build stuff, or repair stuff. I hardly get to play games anymore, though…. I’ve got a wife with 2 teenage daughters, and believe it or not, they don’t think Resident Evil is as cool as I do! lol
Then one day, he received a phone call. Some legal firm. Going on about copyright infringement or something or other. He shot a glance to the corner of his small, darkened room. His gun lay there, beckoning him. Imploring him to take it into his hands once more. “These mother**kers are crazy!” he shouted as he slammed the clip into the gun.
He hit the pipe one more time, slung his jacket over his shoulder, and strode purposefully toward the door. “Copyright infringement…” he grumbled. “I’ll give them infringement, alright!” he laughed as he slammed the door behind him.