Ver 11

I guess we are done with some side stories now, so let us continue with the lives of our main characters. Ver is in hospital due to broken bones, the commissioner is still arguing with the mayor concerning the funds for repair and maintenance of the Heudringottingenberger-und-Hzyepterzchwagenoftereich Police Headquarters Mecha, and the Stick is a millionaire who enjoys petty crime and thievery as a pastime; he is never arrested. Heroman, being some sort of cartoon, doesn’t exist until he is needed for a fun story. But don’t think I will forget that poor mugger; he has a good background just waiting to happen.

After two consecutive failed muggings, he felt like he needed a medical checkup. “I think I must have been drinking too much lately.” he said. So he went to the local clinic, where a kind nurse first thought to take his blood pressure, of all things. So the BP apparatus was set up, wound around his arm, and pumped. What the nurse saw surprised her. “Sir, you have impossibly, impossibly high blood pressure! You should be dead, i...” (Not very good a nurse, no?) But the mugger had enough, running away towards the local bar and drinking beer as if it were water or free Gatorade. In the next months after, he was manically depressed, and became emo. Until one day, he took his own life.

Well, not really. He did what emo people usually do other than listen to emo songs in some dark corner of the room: slash the wrists. So in the dark basement of his home, he took one of his skull knives and slashed his wrists with his ‘last words’: “Goodbye, cruel world.” Blood spurted, then flowed, then gushed like a red geyser, or a funneled reverse waterfall, or a continuous bloody sneeze. In fact, the wound was releasing that highly pressured blood that the black emo light bulb in the basement shattered when it was hit with the hemogoblinous liquid. Some thirty minutes later, with a puddle of blood about 4 inches in depth, his blood fountain weakening, and the mugger was still able to say “I think I am finally fainting, dying of blood loss. It’s better than to drown in my own blood.” And after a few more hours, the blood fountain finally squirted its last, which awakened the emo mugger. He looked at his wrist to squeeze out the last of his own blood in a last ditch emo suicide attempt, only to find a scar. He didn’t seem to notice the pool of blood reaching up to his knees.

“The blood fountain, it was all a dream. Whew. I’m hungry.” he said groggily (from sleep and not from blood loss), so he took a bath and went out of the house to buy a burger and coffee. When he was fully awake, he returned to the basement to continue his emo stuff, only to see that there is blood all over, with insects and creepy stuff in his basement being fed by blood.

The mugger freaked out.