Wednesday, April 8, 2009

April 08, 2009: Mission City Visit

LOLSCHACH's JOURNAL: April 8, 2009

Awoke to darkness. Light from window obscured by unseen object. Dreiberg blocking the window? Went outside and found ominous poster was the culprit.

Ehh. Revenge is coming. First suspicions go towards endless list of enemies planning retributive attack. Realize the concept is silly: most of them are dead. No, this is something much worse. Glowing red eyes on page and jagged metal visage only shed hint of light as to who the attacker is. Then it occurs to me.

Summer of 2007. All over the news. Personally went to investigate. No leads at that time. All makes sense now. Spend two hours going around apartment hunting for loose change, run to nearest bus station. Stupid, stupid. Why did it not occur to me sooner? Small letters under poster signed "Bay." Always thought it was clue for possible attack on San Francisco. But San Francisco attack came and went, summer of 1996. Terrorists took over Alcatraz. Threatened biological attack on San Francisco. Foiled by Ghost Rider. Two years later, mysterious posters appeared labelled "Armageddon." Also signed "Bay". World nearly ended. Major cities destroyed to the tune of Aerosmith. Strangely entertaining, yet stupid.

Then May 21, 2001. Day which will live in infamy. "Bay" attacks Pearl Harbor. Countless dollars wasted. Battleships sunk. Tears from realization of hours wasted. Must not be allowed again. Potential alien invasion must be thwarted at all costs.

Took bus to Mission City. Did not want to associate attack of 2007 with possible involvement by Veidt, due to unpleasantness of yesterday's visit. However, high level technology and government involvement is not outside Veidt's grasp. Must seek clues.

Arrive in Mission City. Recall the summer of 2007.

It is July. Mid-day. The sun sets three times in 24 hours. Suddenly, explosions rock the downtown area. Reports of strange, bio-mechanical automatons fighting in the streets. More explosions. Linkin Park music heard everywhere, source unknown. Amidst the chaos, a man tries to buy a refreshing caffeinated beverage from a Mountain Dew machine. The machine turns into a horrific steel shoggoth, its arms the dispensers of aluminum death bullets. Man does the Dew as the beverage punches through his stomach, green fizz mixed with bile and entrails. Chaos. Explosions. The sun sets again. More explosions. Somewhere, a fat boy eating Cheetos laments the deviation from this alien invasion to ones he has seen in his past. Complains of flames painted on a truck. The sun sets.

It is April. The sun screams at me like a sun full of retarded children. There are no Mountain Dew machines to be found. Crewmen are hard at work repairing the damaged buildings, perhaps preparing for the next invasion due this June 24, 2009. Production values seem much higher. The streets resonate with the sound of sweaty fat virgins living in their mothers' basements, protesting the chaotic encore. "Truck not monkey" heard between screams.

A scantily clad girl walks by. The yellow Camaro parked close by squirts motor oil as she passes. "American Woman" blasts forth from its speakers, relevantly punctuating the awkward situation. Curious, car has no driver. Modern technology is amazing, scary.

Suddenly, onlookers look down Main Street, up at the sky. A squadron of fighter jets flies directly overhead as a sleek, pink sports car comes towards us from the vanishing point.

Too stunned to speak. Had no idea Veidt owned a transforming robot.

Just then, feel something sneaking up behind me. Turn around, only to face Lovecraftian abomination breathing into my face.


Reverted back to extreme vending machine, leaving LOLSCHACH alone. Difficult to contemplate strange message. Attempt to decipher complexities of transforming creatures is beyond LOLSCHACH's field of expertise.

Only knowledge of aliens is the illegal type. Must return home to catch a few, send them back to home planet of Mexico.

1 comment:

  1. HA! It finally happened.
    A crossover of Watchmen and Transformers.