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darknation

Barry the Imp

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Barry was an Imp.

Barry was having a fly fag behind one of the computer terminals at work, being the UAC lab currently located 12 miles above the surface of Hell. He was listed under the “Cannon Fodder Department”. The hours sucked and there was a fair amount of getting shot at by crazy green motherfuckers running at a hundred miles an hour, but you know… it brought home the money.

Barry puffed away on his woodbine. His supervisor had caught a rocket last week and wouldn’t be getting out of hospital till they found his legs, so he could afford to take his time.

From his cloud of smoke in the corner, Barry became aware that there was a commotion going on down someplace downwind. He cautiously poked his little bald head around the corner and beheld a green blur barreling towards him. Lead rattled into the wall next to Barry’s skull and Barry’s poor woodbine hit the dirty deck.

That wasn’t very nice thought the Imp. He ruefully stared after his half woodie.. Barry spat out half a filter and vowed revenge. With an evil cackle, he reached for the Emergency Piano Wire and pulled it taught.

The piano wire had been Barry’s idea. Twenty feet long it was, tied head-height to a pillar at the opposite end of the corridor, running across the floor and rising again at Barry’s position.

There was a twang and Barry watched with some satisfaction as the headless corpse continued to pile down the corridor towards the main faculty.

Serves you right you bugger.

- - - - - - - -- - -

Lunchtime. Barry trotted off towards the canteen. There was a reasonably ripe smell wafting towards him. He hoped it wasn’t lunch.

In his meanderings he passed a few more corpses. One was an Imp he had known, a young lad called Cecil.

A few more corners in his meander and he found Cecil again. And again. In fact, Cecil was fairly spread out over a wide area.

Sucks to be Cecil, Barry thought whist taking a meander to the left and into the faculty canteen.

The canny was empty, devoid of life. It was also devoid of food.

Barry cursed in native Impish. This was the last straw! The union shall hear of this!

He sat down at one of the many empty tables and in his head he composed a strong worded letter to the management. Spider Mastermind… Mastermind my ass. Couldn’t mastermind a trip to the toilet without forgetting to bring his dick.

Ha, he’d use that in his letter. Oh yes he would!

45 minutes into his half-hour lunch break, Barry decided to do the crossword.

15 across… art deco wallpaper… 7 letters…

Barry thought about it for a while before writing CECILLL across the full page in nasty black magic marker. He paused a while more to draw a moustache on the Spider Mastermind fashion feature. After that the paper got launched into the bin and Barry started the long meander back to his corner.

- - - - - -- -

He had hardly sparked up his second fag when the alarm klaxon began to wail. More of those million-mile-an-hour snotters were probably on their way, the bastards. Barry retrieved his piano wire and hunkered down to work.

The first marine ended up like his earlier compatriot, his body landing in a bloody heap about three rooms away from his bouncing head.

His buddy did a bit of pattern recognition, noting the bloody demise of his friend and the twenty-five other marine heads lying scattered across the walkway. He approached the piano wire at well below decapitation speed.

SHIT thought Barry, time for plan B. He dived into a ventilation duct and made his way roof ward with a rusty old ladder.

- - - - -- - - - -- - -

The Mancubus’s name had been George. He was about five weeks dead and fairly stinking, crawling with little white maggoty things and currently decomposing atop a panel in the ceiling. All but two of the bolts holding the panel in place had been removed. The ceiling bulged dangerously into the room below.

Barry giggled in the vents, watching through a grill as the Marine approached the crude blood X drawn on the floor that marked ground zero for Barry’s Mancubus Bomb, also known as Plan B.

5

4

Barry’s long claws slowly did away with the penultimate bolt.

3

2

1

The panel snapped and George went on his way. The Marine screamed something unintelligible and probably rude before the Mancubus Bomb burst forth, crashing into the walkway and through it. When the dust and blue methane from George’s ruptured innards had cleared, the Marine was no more. Fifty feet down on engineering deck there was a faint green smear on a pipe that was vaguely Marine shaped, if you used your imagination and looked at it from a queer angle.

George on the other hand had exploded like a ripe tomato, spraying pus and guts and those little white maggoty things all over the un-bemused engineers.

Barry snickered to himself, sparked up his final woody for the day and decided to hide up in the vents till knocking off time.

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highly entertaining read.
Why do most $100 million movies have less creativity and quality than a darknation post?!
(edit: I have to learn to spell the word 'than' correctly)

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Opulent said:

Why do most $100 million movies have less creativity and quality than a darknation post?!

because the movies that do best in the box office are purposefully stupid so more people can get what's going on.

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The Merovingian said:

I wish I could have as much feedback on my own story... anyway... nice work there dn :)

I wish I could have as much feedback on my artwork... heh...

That was fun. Make a miniseries!

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*Applauds*

The Merovingian said:

I wish I could have as much feedback on my own story... anyway... nice work there dn :)

yeah, wtf?

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Good stuff indeed. I like the mancubus bomb. It might be an interesting idea for a new weapon, like the rancid cow's head in Postal 2.

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Baldy: heh, sorry for the unintentional plagiarism... I never read Fred Teh Imp, so either we have similar mind sickness or I'm a lying thieving shit.

Julez: Everyone read Julian's stories now and get some real fucking skill in you. Everything I know I stole from superior writers. And Baldy. Allegedly.

Railgunner: No, you couldn't make this into a zdoom movie because it would suck.

Everyone else: Thankyou.

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Trasher][ said:
Brilliant stuff! I join everyone else here in wanting more...

I misread that the first time as "wanking" and not "wanting." How could anybody around here possibly wank MORE?

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rofl.. /me gives Ultraviolet glasses or anti-dislectic (bash me if I spelled that incorrect) pills

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darknation said:

Baldy: heh, sorry for the unintentional plagiarism... I never read Fred Teh Imp, so either we have similar mind sickness or I'm a lying thieving shit.

heh it's more likely the first.

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Ultraviolet said:

I misread that the first time as "wanking" and not "wanting." How could anybody around here possibly wank MORE?

Outside help.

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