The story so far:
It was a week later, Ms. Otis had given assignments to teams of two.
"RECTAL PARASITE!" She called out to Shoegal, in a furious squawking voice. She was the only one in the office, slightly alone besides the strange gift of a delapidated looking stuffed animal, that belonged in the furnace than in the old, worn, hands of someone like herself.
"RECTAL PARASITE! WHERE ARE YOU!?" She called out once again. For a few minutes, she tapped her hands on the worn out pleather mat she used to steady her keyboard, waiting for Shoegal's voice to come answering. "Lazy bitch." She commented wisely, she somehow regretted hiring that woman on as a intern.
Ms. Otis slammed her hand on the intercom button, angered that she had to use the sound system that sounded like a fog horn being worked by a over sexed crankshaft worker.
"Attention anyone whose in here! I'm instating a set of new rules! The first one shall be that anyone who does not answer me within ten minutes, will be brick batted in the face till they are unable to answer me, then they MUST answer me, or the punishment shall be repeated!" She said as calmly as someone could in her situation.
Nesser T'nam had just walked through the stained glass doors, her stripper outfit not even bothering to stay on as she hung up her nun's cap, and tiny Super girl cape. The loud screeching sound erupted from the loud speaker just above the door, causing her some amount of discomfort. She knew what this meant, and she went to work as fast as she could.
"I approve of these rules." She yelled happily as Ms. Otis turned her head towards the sudden burst of sound.
"Yes, I suppose you should. Now get over here so I can brick bat you in the face." The elderly woman said as she held up the blood stained wool gimp's mask she always had on hand.
Happissa Zhere, Whatev Ver, and Greyeyed had been put on the same team. Not because they worked well together, but rather because someone always ended up getting shot in the knee caps and drug through acid and broken glass. They were in charge of tracing the Harpy Brigades movement. Plus, they had to use a dowsing rod to do it. Happissa was not pleased.
"So, how does it actually work?" He asked, slightly annoyed for two reasons, the first being that the stick kept breaking, the second because the broken shards kept being crammed into Whatev's sternum. "Do you also call them douche bags and tell them to 'Crotch Cactus Duel the **** up' when you have these disagreements?" he asked a slightly distracted Whatev as she pointed the remains of the shattered dowsing rod in the direction she thought the meeting place of the Harpies was.
Whatev shrugged in a not ladylike way, suggesting that she didn't want to know what the **** he was actually talking about. She had just healed up, and started walking in the direction that felt right.
"Well, Gavin, I don't have a treasure trove of saved threads from which to draw like you do, but I have had some heated exchanges with some of the girls around here. Since I don't have any threads as proof though, I'm sure you'll count this as a win for yourself." Whatev purposefully used air quotes for every third word she spoke, knowing that Happissa would try to start something.
"Actually, I don't think I've called anyone a douche bag other than you. You just seemed to get right on my nerves back then." Whatev called out fruitlessly as she got hit by a bus. "What the **** was that?!" She asked, perturbed that something as lowly as a bus would dare touch her, let alone assault her.
"OFF WITH ITS HEA-"
"BRICK BAT ****!" Happissa shouted happily as he slammed her head into the ground, positioned it just right, and curbed stomped her so hard that her head came off, the tongue waggling back and forth like a cracked out monkey tazering Ron Jeremy's desensitized penis with power caples.
"G.E.Q: Lemon bars?" She asked two minutes later as she became one of the infected and healed up. Happissa was not pleased.
"Funny... and I've never even spoken to you before! youre just the small mail girl that everyone whose boobs everyone tries to throw lawn darts at. I think I may have hit the left one a few times. Did it hurt when I ripped it out?" He asked the woman, who for some unknown reason, had decided to pick up a dead Tails doll.
"Can you feel-"
"The love tonight? BRICK BAT ****!" She shouted at the quivering creature. she knew full well the consequences ofletting one of these things out of sight, even for a second.
She'd heard a rumor going around about her brother in law, Youri, who had taken a walk down a hallway, heard those awful lyrics, and had been twisted into a knot and throat **** from behind with a broken wine bottle. She had seen the video on Youtube as well, though strangely enough, it was titled 'What really happened to Jimmy Neutron'. She marked it five stars.
Greyeyed snapped her fingers a few times to get her two team members back on track.
"We're out looking for the Harpy Brigade, so snap the **** out of it and-" There was something akin to a pop Greyeyed heard from within her own mind. She couldn't figure it out, but she had suddenly become stricken with the urge to talk about cooking and nothing else.
It seemed appropriate for the moment. Because apparently the bus that had run over Whatev had decided to make a sport of it. The driver was a fat, pudgey, smug looking black man with a preacher's collar on his wrist, a fire hose IV slammed into his chest, and to top off the whole weird fraction of creepiness he had going on around him, he was wearing half a Barney mask that looked as if it had suffered some serious fire damage.
"I love you, you love me, I'm going to paint these roads red with your kidneys! With a great big thump, and some tires screeching, won't you die to help me too!?"
Whatev looked at the man.
"Ooh. My mom has the best lemon bar recipe- more sour than sweet and so darn good. I think she might have copied it out for me." Greyeyed commented as it became a twisted mexican stand off. A hellish version of the border crossing game. She began to root around in the recipe file she had stored in her Galaxy S2, only to find out that the atom sized supermassive black hole had sucked her phone into a super dense singularity. And her warranty didn't cover acts of God.
Whatev smiled as she walking towards the oncoming bus, its driver smiling broadly as she brought a remote and pressed the bright red button.
"That's just how awesome you are at being annoying, Gavin!"
In two minutes, Robocop and his pet ED109 unit had appeared in a cloud of anus gas and Tom Petty riffs.
"OH **** YOU TO HELL!" Rodger scrreamed as he slammed the gas pedal down hard, the screech of the tires against the loose pavement and the intensely black smoke bursting from the bus's tail pipe made it look like a bat out of Hell, if the bat decided to get lazy and take the Grey Hound bus out of Hell.
"You know, I went back and read that thread you posted again." Whatev continued as the ED109 unit went into assualt mode, its hurricane class mini guns starting to building speed.
"you have twenty seeconds to comply." The giant metal death chicken belted out like some weird failed abortion of Swamp Thing and Where's Waldo.
"The "grow up" was in reference to you being a bit of a baby on the previous page. It was well-deserved, in my opinion." The trench coat wearing woman sighed.
The bus continued its raging bull path towards the metal death chicken.
"Fifteen seconds to comply." It burped out like some durnk hick falling down a well and getting raped by the Well Troll that dwelled within.
"And if you think that someone saying 'grow up' after you act like a petulant child is insulting or harsh, grow some thicker skin, dude." She yelled as the bus slammed full force into the ED109, Rodger laughing in slight moderation as the weaponry fired away, slamming Rodger's fat addled body full force through the rows of seats. His head, crashing through the metal grating that prevented anything from being thrown out the windows.
"It's time for me to administer my brand of JUSTICE. Now open that mouth wide so I can give you the Book." The cyborg said. And after a minute of contemplation, he added a little something. "By book, I mean penis. And by administer, I mean **** you in the throat so furiously that you'll catch on fire from the friction."
Happissa simply grunted in slight disgust as the unseen quelching noises from behind the bus told him all he needed to know.
"Well, I'm glad we established that you think it's okay to be rude to someone simply because you think they're annoying." Happissa concurred as he felt a buzzing in his pants pocket and pulled out the small walky talky.
"What's up Ms. Otis? You thinking about those lemon bars as well?" He asked as the metal death chicken romped and stomped all over Rodger McPedonig's bloated ferociously charred and bleeding body.
"Y-y-yes m-m-m-more!" It replied, dementedly dick slapping Rodger's face with the large minigun that dangled by its well oiled mount like some demon cock.
"Well, I'd even be willing to pay dues if you're making the lemon bars." Ms. Otis replied happily. "On a side note, have you seen my rectal parasite? Sheogal seems to have scampered off again. She messed up my Starbucks order and needs to be punished!"
Whatev, Greyeyed, and Happissa looked at each other with the same amount of disgusted interest. They simply had to ask what Shoegal screwed up this time.
"So... What'd she do this time around?" Whatev asked casually, needing more dirt one of her fellow Harpies.
"I asked for no sprinkles, lots of froth. I got no froth, lots of sprinkles. It's like all she did was go to the Barista, and ask for a cup of sprinkles and a dick drip of whip cream! WHERE ARE YOU RECTAL PARSITE!? What then?"
"What What in the butt."
"O... Kay?" Greyeyed completed the chain of irrelevant conversation.
Ms. Otis, seemingly returning to her senses, continued with the progress report. "Whatev, I'm pretty sure it's a fact that all the Harpies must totally be in agreement about every single thing. Dissension would spoil the groupie effect, and then there be more than one point of view, which would totally confuse the opposition." Whatev nodded in somewhat complete agreement with the leader of the investigative team.
"Opposition?" Happissa asked casually.
"Mostly the men. Complex thinking can be a little bit tricky for this group."
"I enjoy complex thinking! Who else is on that list!?" Happissa protested, angry that he was part of the so called opposition for the Harpies.
"Not All Men, but some. Names are being withheld to protect the simple minded."