04-28-2017, 10:40 PM
Quote:Channel >- The Angry Channel - Rageface Part II: Shlurnbees (Act 1, Scene 6/Scene 7)
A familiar middle aged man of indeterminate ethnicity, his build slight, his hair black, and his face contorted with apocalyptic rage is running pel-mel through the streets of a 90's-era American city. His suit is in disarray. His hair is a rats-nest. He is so angry that his jaw has locked and gone crooked. He is so angry that his eyes are almost bugging out of his head. He is so angry that a little muscle in his forehead is twitching in time with his pulse, and the veins on his neck are all standing out fit to burst.
He is no longer a mere man. He is Rageface.
As he runs through the streets, he stops for nothing. People blown off their feet at his merest touch. Cars slam on their breaks. Some stop in time, some don't. It doesn't matter - those that strike him crumble into masses of twisted metal against the unyielding barrier of his all consuming Rage. His anger defies the very laws of mass and inertia, of biology and stamina.
"SLURR-PEEESS!" he howls, exploding through the side of a semi-truck in a shower of Mountain Dew and shattered plastic bottles.
"SLURR-PEEEESS!" he screams, skidding to a halt and tearing apart an ice-cream stand with his bare hands in futile search for his one true icy treat.
Cut to an aerial view. Police cars screech to a halt around him and officers pile out onto the pavement, leveling their guns.
Cut to an officer's face as he crouches behind the hood of his car. "SIR!" he proclaims through a megaphone. "IF YOU DO NOT CALM DOWN WE WILL BE FORCED TO OPEN FIRE!"
Rageface does not calm down.
A hail of gunfire erupts from all directions, but the projectiles do nothing, clattering harmlessly to the ground. We zoom in on the bullets freezing in mid-air, cowed by Rageface's Rage-field. This man needs some goddamn artificially-flavored ground-ice smoothie-substitute, and if he doesn't get it the entire world is going to pay. What is a mere bullet compared to that?
Smash-cut to a view of Rage-face's rage-face from over a policeman's shoulder as he rushes the barricade.
"SHLURRRRRR-BEEEEEES!"
--Scene change --
A top down view, from just above the ceiling fan, of a dull office. There is a bald, portly man in general's uniform and glasses sitting at an institutional-green metal desk, reading reports. Cut to a frontal view of the desk. We can now see that there is a black-and-white 'VICTORY' Poster on the wall with a picture of a mushroom cloud on it on the wall behind the general, as well as a variety of framed pictures and medals.
There is a knock at the door.
"Come in," says the general.
Cut to a side-view. A pencil-necked analyst in full nerd regalia comes into the room with a sheaf of papers under one arm.
"General Cific? There's a problem sir. Codename: Rageface has relapsed."
The room is silent. The ceiling fan squeaks.
"My God," says the General, taking off his glasses, a stunned expression plastered on his jowly countenance.
"I'm afraid it gets worse sir," Says the analyst. "His trigger.... sir, this time..."
The analyst gulps.
"It was the Slurpees."
The general closes the report on his desk. "Get me the FDA, the Joint Chiefs of Staff, and the President of 7-11," he says. "We can only pray there's still time."