THE ATMOIC KAIJU
Dec 11, 2020 16:42:37 GMT -6
Conrad Dukes, Punished Von Brandt, and 4 more like this
Post by ZMAC on Dec 11, 2020 16:42:37 GMT -6
NAVADA TESTING GROUNDS
Once a place where the U.S. tested nuclear bombs, long ago when you could see the phantom glow and mushroom fireball from the strip -> it is now long since abandoned. A rotten husk of chain link, barbwire and plywood houses to "simulate" the destruction. Yah, cool. Go ask a Zippah Pippah about plywood shadows on the concrete. You aint gone see nuttin' but the nuttin' a goose egg of the human condition.
As the world was build up and the walls closed in around the great and beautiful city of SIN, gold plated steel slats could only mask what was going on but beyond its boarder - beyond the electric fencing, machine gun turrets and toxic waste moats, trenched 10 - NO! 15 feet wide and 15 feet deep - 65 miles out in the NAVADA TESTING GROUNDS was Zombie McMorris.
THE ATOMIC KAIJU
Zombie McMorris, a man out of time. He awakens on a roll out camp mat laid across a collapsed wooden bed frame. the veins on the side of his head throbbed visually with pulsing vigor. He had just awoke from another trip into a past life, as he does upon death, only to return to the present 2 days later. 48 hours? Nah son, we tradin places. He wakes but realizes this aint Beverly Hills, it looked more like Pluto, Nash. His LIFE really got Shreked this time. And if you wakin up in the Navada Testing Ground, you know it aint gone be no Wonder World.
All that aside, The AYE-TOM-MIC BOM-BAS-TIK KAY-JEW-OOOUU-OUU-OUUUH that some shit just pray tell just wasnt pray tell proppah!
"Hmp, 5G really does give you cancer. I'll have to make note of that."
ZMAC looks around, realizing where he was and the last time he was there as a coyote laughs in the distance.
* AAAWWOOOOOOOOOOO *
Thankfully, ZMAC spent a good year converting a small shack in a base of operations. And by base of Operations, we mean a hot plate, a dedicated place to SMACK up and that Coleman roll up camp mat. However, this means that since ZMAC has slept here he created a little auto save of sorts and all those 5G towers going up are getting the singals lost.
No blackberry. No advanced cybernetics. Just flesh and bone sans crack pipe.
ZMAC walks out of the shack and sees the glinting red strobes of the guard towers that now dot the Sin City sky-scape.
ZMAC locates his coke mirror and shuffles around his lice ridden hair to read the back of his neck
" NEW EARTH
DIRECTIVE-51"
ZMAC often kept track of his time lines and centuries with various tattoos.
"God Damn it, Trump. You Orange cock sucker. "
tacked to the wooden threshold of the shack was a flyer promoting a wrestling ad:
( Ramses Sports & Entertainment Round Robin Tournament $1,000,000.00 )
"Well, at least I had a plan last time." ZMAC thinks for a moment, looking down his shirt and seeing pronounced burn scars. "Oh, thats right. The toxic waste. Well, it could kill me once. But I got a 65 mile trip back."
ZMAC heads outside to see a dirtbike with a black leather backpack hanging off the handle bars.
"Wow, I'm awfully nice to myself in this life."
ZMAC looks in the bag to see a note to himself from himself.
Once a place where the U.S. tested nuclear bombs, long ago when you could see the phantom glow and mushroom fireball from the strip -> it is now long since abandoned. A rotten husk of chain link, barbwire and plywood houses to "simulate" the destruction. Yah, cool. Go ask a Zippah Pippah about plywood shadows on the concrete. You aint gone see nuttin' but the nuttin' a goose egg of the human condition.
As the world was build up and the walls closed in around the great and beautiful city of SIN, gold plated steel slats could only mask what was going on but beyond its boarder - beyond the electric fencing, machine gun turrets and toxic waste moats, trenched 10 - NO! 15 feet wide and 15 feet deep - 65 miles out in the NAVADA TESTING GROUNDS was Zombie McMorris.
THE ATOMIC KAIJU
Zombie McMorris, a man out of time. He awakens on a roll out camp mat laid across a collapsed wooden bed frame. the veins on the side of his head throbbed visually with pulsing vigor. He had just awoke from another trip into a past life, as he does upon death, only to return to the present 2 days later. 48 hours? Nah son, we tradin places. He wakes but realizes this aint Beverly Hills, it looked more like Pluto, Nash. His LIFE really got Shreked this time. And if you wakin up in the Navada Testing Ground, you know it aint gone be no Wonder World.
All that aside, The AYE-TOM-MIC BOM-BAS-TIK KAY-JEW-OOOUU-OUU-OUUUH that some shit just pray tell just wasnt pray tell proppah!
"Hmp, 5G really does give you cancer. I'll have to make note of that."
ZMAC looks around, realizing where he was and the last time he was there as a coyote laughs in the distance.
* AAAWWOOOOOOOOOOO *
Thankfully, ZMAC spent a good year converting a small shack in a base of operations. And by base of Operations, we mean a hot plate, a dedicated place to SMACK up and that Coleman roll up camp mat. However, this means that since ZMAC has slept here he created a little auto save of sorts and all those 5G towers going up are getting the singals lost.
No blackberry. No advanced cybernetics. Just flesh and bone sans crack pipe.
ZMAC walks out of the shack and sees the glinting red strobes of the guard towers that now dot the Sin City sky-scape.
ZMAC locates his coke mirror and shuffles around his lice ridden hair to read the back of his neck
" NEW EARTH
DIRECTIVE-51"
ZMAC often kept track of his time lines and centuries with various tattoos.
"God Damn it, Trump. You Orange cock sucker. "
tacked to the wooden threshold of the shack was a flyer promoting a wrestling ad:
( Ramses Sports & Entertainment Round Robin Tournament $1,000,000.00 )
"Well, at least I had a plan last time." ZMAC thinks for a moment, looking down his shirt and seeing pronounced burn scars. "Oh, thats right. The toxic waste. Well, it could kill me once. But I got a 65 mile trip back."
ZMAC heads outside to see a dirtbike with a black leather backpack hanging off the handle bars.
"Wow, I'm awfully nice to myself in this life."
ZMAC looks in the bag to see a note to himself from himself.
OH SHIT! ITS YA BOI, OL'Z! AND IF IM READING THIS GO GET CHO SELVE SUM K-K-K-ASH MONEY, BRUDDAH JACK
PS. ITS PIMPIN ->PIMPIN
PS->S -> DON'T GET HIGH ON THE FUEL. YOU'LL NEED THE TANK TO GET TO VEGAS
PS. ITS PIMPIN ->PIMPIN
PS->S -> DON'T GET HIGH ON THE FUEL. YOU'LL NEED THE TANK TO GET TO VEGAS
