//------------------------------// // Two Birds With One Device // Story: Dude, What the FFFF!! // by Vallis //------------------------------// POV: Chris I stared at Joel from the corner of my eye as we raced to finish our mugs of beer. He slammed his mug onto the table, immediately throwing a fist in the air. I slammed mine a few late seconds after, and smacked the table in defeat. "Shit! Fuck, I don't know how you do it." I shook my head as I wiped my mouth with my sleeve. Joel laughed, and pointed a finger at me. "Hey, I say the same about your driving. You have to teach me your skills man!" He poked my chest. I moved his hand away from my chest, chuckling as I did. "Right, and you show me how to chug drinks down? Worst trade of skills ever, pft." I joked. I looked around the bar, scoping out the place to see who could be our next victim of my genius friend's divine little invention. Man, we stuck out like sore thumbs in this crowd of southerners. I then gave a subliminal point towards a husky man who wore a flannel shirt. He had a thick beard, wore a winter cap; just your average trucker stopping in the bar for a few drinks. Or maybe logger? Ah who gives a fuck, we were about to mess with the guy, that's the point. "You call the shot, I already set it to your mind." Joel said as he signaled for the waiter to bring two more drinks. I responded by rubbing my hands together. "Alrighty." I gave a sinister grin. I already scoped out the trucker for a while, and it seemed like he had quite a few drinks, judging from his almost-drunk appearance. He should be heading to the bathroom within a minute or so, if my gut wasn't wrong. I waited for a few minutes, the waiter bringing our drinks meanwhile, and just as I was about to give up, he got up and headed towards the bathroom. 'Oo-haha, bad choice buddy.' I imagined his underwear being teleported to the urinal. If he isn't aware enough from the alcohol poisoning his attention, he'll piss on his own underwear. Actually, now that I think about it, that's a bit too much. It sounded funny just a minute ago to me? Well! I guess it's safe to say the poison is beginning to sink into my system. Just like most people, my humor becomes a buzzkill when I start to have a bit too much. "Shit, I think I've had my fair share of drinks for the night Joe. I can already sense my judgment being clouded." I laughed. He simply gave me a faux look of disappointment as he sipped his freshly refilled mug. "D'aww, for a second there I thought you could hold a candle to me." He teased. Oh. HEEEEEEEEELL nah. So it's gonna be like dat? Aight dawg, it gunna B LIKE DAT. "Oh, oh? We got a badass here hm? Ok, well uhh..." I fixed my imaginary tie, and cleared my throat. "WAITERRR!" I shouted at the top of my lungs, cupping my hands around my mouth to add to the effect. Everyone within the bar turned to look at us. Joel froze, the mug still in his hand as he was in the middle of his sip. Good, now I got everyone's attention. Alright Joe, just remember this is all thanks to you. "How can I help?" The waiter came with a bit of a look of irritation. "Give me and my friend here the nastiest cocktail you can make. I don't care what you put it in, just make sure it OOZES with alcohol. No fancy tastes or any shit like that." I stated flatly. Everyone must've shut up for a second, because I could only hear the sound of the flatscreen on the corner wall blaring its commercials. I gave a quick look around the bar, simply giving a smirk to everyone who stared. I began to lean the chair back as I laid my hands crossed with each other across my stomach. I began to play the 'hotshot'. Now, normally, I wouldn't be this loud and obnoxious. Bright, funny, happy, witty. That's usually how most would put me in a nutshell. But when I bring out the 'hotshot'... well. Shit. Let's just say I was right when I said: 'I had my fair share of drinks for the night' Joe placed his mug down, giving me a quick glance as he viewed the small crowd that now was looking at us. "Hm." He gave a nod, as if he accepted the situation. He then leaned in towards my direction with nothing but a grin. "I'll win." He whispered. "Pft." Was all I responded with. The waiter brought in two glasses that had a dull grey tint in it. Looked sickly to drink. Perfect. Without a moment to spare, we both swiped the glasses, and took a whiff of the toxic waste that was within. We both immediately changed to an expression of disgust, causing the small crowd to laugh. "What's wrong? Gonna be a pussy at the last second?" One of them shouted with a grainy voice. I pointed back and forth aimlessly across the crowd trying to single him out as I regained my composure. I spotted him, and pointed directly at his middle-aged ass. "You'll be the first to lick my pussy, you tranny-fucking-fetishist bastard." I responded with my wit. This caused an ooo to stir within the crowd. "Alright then, drink it tough guy!" Another piped up. Many began to utter 'yeah' and 'do it!' as the crowd's volume rose. I motioned my arms to them in a way that said 'calm down'. "Alright alright! Don't get your panties in a twist, okay?!" I smiled, getting the crowd warmed up. Many of them began to chuckle as some threw small rolls of napkins at me. "Ok, how about this. You all countdown from 10 and as soon as you all hit 0, we drink? Sound fair?" I questioned them all. They all began to howl as they started a parade of drumrolls on the tables and ground. Ha, easy crowd. I like that. I gave a glance to Joel who was smiling the entire time. I slapped his shoulder to get his attention. "Get ready broski." I picked up my glass. "Been ready already." He picked up his. "10!" The crowd began the countdown. "WOO!!" I shouted to get myself pumped up. "9!" "YEAH!" "8!" "HEY!" "7!" "HO!" "6!" "LET'S GO!!" "5!" "ASS!!" "4!" "AND TITS!!" "3!" "FOR THE WIIIINNN!!!" "2!" I stared down my drink, preparing to kill myself. "1!" Ah, fuck cakes. POV: 3rd Person About half an hour later, just outside of the bar... A shady man walking with his partner stopped and tugged his friend's hoodie to stop aswell. "What?" The other responded, his tone being clearly annoyed. "Dude, look." The shady man pointed at the formula car that was sitting by the crotch rocket. They both stared for a few moments, in awe and surprise. "Sick." The second man whispered. They both walked over to the formula car, giving it a quick look around. "Sick doesn't cut it. This is a one of a kind." The first man mumbled as he gave a look inside the cockpit. "Shit, do you know how to drive stick?" He asked his partner. "Yeah, why?" His partner responded, much to the man's delight. "Great! Hop in man, hotwire that shit. It's as good as ours!" He pushed his partner towards the car. "Wait! Hey- stop shoving damnit!" He smacked the man's arms away from his back. "Do you really think I can hotwire this fucking thing? I don't even know what the fuck it is for Christ sake." The man flinged his arm in the air, rolling his eyes. "Fan fucking tastic." He grumbled. As the man began to walk away, his partner gave a quick glance at the superbike as he began to follow his friend. The secondman then did a double take, stopping in his tracks right away. A smile crept onto his face. "Pst! Michael!" The partner motioned for the man to come. "What?!" Michael hissed. "SSHSHSHS!" The partner hushed. He then pointed at the superbike, leaning into Michael's eyesight more closely. "See it?" The partner couldn't hold his snickering. "Holy shit, what a dumbass." Michael began to snicker aswell. They walked over to the bike, the secondman checking out the bike as Michael began smacking the keys that were left on the ignition back and forth. "Kawasaki. ZX6r holy shit!! We hit a jackpot!" The secondman quietly shouted. He hopped onto the seat of the bike, kicking up the kickstand. "Get on, what are you waiting for?" Michael gave a quick glance around the area, making sure nobody was watching. "Nah, you go. I'm sure whoever owns this bike will come straight out from the bar as soon as he hears this loud as fuck engine turn on. I'll take care of him and catch you later." Michael then signaled for his friend to turn it on and go. POV: Chris Just a few moments back before the grand theft auto occurs... I took one more shot of vodka, gagging in the middle of the process. I gave a very loud grunt, holding my fist against my mouth so I wouldn't regurgitate all the hard work I put into all the drinks. Joel gave up practically 20 minutes ago already, slouching on his barstool as he covered his eyes. "Eugh-... Hey, J. Furfag." I began to snap my fingers to get his attention, trying my best focus on standing up without toppling over. I was pretty much drunk. Now all it would take was one more shot, and I probably would blackout for the rest of the night. "Wwwwwwwwwhat." He sluggishly replied. "I-... I won. Ha. Bitc-" I burped in midsentence, and fuck did it smell like death. "Bitch. Suck these tits." I slapped my chest, giving an immature high pitched laugh afterwards. Joel grunted, laying his head onto his arms on the bar countertop, sticking a middle finger up. The small crowd bursted into a loud cheer, many patting my back and some pulled me into a hug. I simply smiled as I waddled back and forth, being tossed about from person to person. "Now... who wants to see a fancy party trick?!" I blurted. Everyone cheered. I took it as a yes. "Ok... WAITER!! BEER!!" I slammed the bar counter. The waiter tossed an annoyed glance as he slid a mug of beer towards my direction. Miraculously, I caught it in my disoriented state, and held it up in my hand. "ALRIGHT! Now, everybody, see that table over there?" I pointed behind everybody, and they all turned to look. I hope the PTU is still synchronized to my mind. Otherwise, I'm going to make an ass out of myself. I had to time this perfectly. "Ok, now look back here!" As they were in midturn, I thought about the mug of beer going to the very table I pointed earlier. It was gone by the very moment they turned and looked at me. I wiggled my fingers. Some cocked their eyebrows quizzically, their expressions saying '...okay? So?'. "Now look back at the table ya turds!" I shouted. Some looked at each other, curious as to what I was doing. Once they all turned and saw the mug of beer on the table, many did a touble take, looking at my empty hand, and back at the mug of beer that appeared on the table through divine intervention. Many continued to look back and forth as some began to talk to each other, trying to explain how it was illusion or what not. The bartender however, was looking at me as if he saw a ghost. It didn't take long for me to figure out that he just witnessed what happened. Then, the sound that i'm all too familiar with of my bike turning on echoed from the outside into the bar. That sobered me up a bit. "Hey-... HEY!! WHAT THE FUCK!" I shouted, grabbing Joel from his barstool. I ran outside as quickly as possible, only to see the guy on my bike making his way down the other street already. "FUCK NO-" I was cut off by what felt like an elbow smashing into the rear of my head, sending me into a stumble as I clutched my head with my arms. Gees, everything has been attacking my head lately. I turned to take a glimpse at who did it, and saw a man with rugged short grey hair staring at me with his arms up, ready for combat. Bad idea. I snapped for the second time this night. "YOU PIECE OF FUCKING SHIT!!" I caught him off guard by tackling him the hardest that I could, sending the both of us flying down to the ground. As soon as I got my bearings together, I mounted on top of him and prepared to give this guy the slugging of his life. I then felt someone pull me off and began to be dragged into the parking lot. I stood up right away, and saw that it was Joel, who had already hopped into the cockpit of the F2000. "Hop on dude, we can catch him!" He shouted as he strapped on the racing harness. One problem with that idea though. "Dude- WHERE THE FUCK DO I HOP ON?!" I held on for dear life on the inside of the cockpit with one arm, the other arm holding the right intake vent of the car as my body laid on the side of the car. We sped down behind the thief at breakneck speeds. Probably 140 or so, judging by the face blistering wind I was receiving. I began to feel all the alcohol stir in my stomach. I guess hanging on to the side of a race car while practically drunk isn't a good idea. Speaking of good ideas though, I just had one! "Joel!" I shouted as loud as I could over the deafening wind. I realized it was pointless, but the idea I had was a bit risky. I didn't know if he tested the PTU with live people yet. Although, here comes cloud filled judgement from alcohol to save the day! I literally couldn't hear myself think over the sound of the wind, along with the fact that I was in half-panic mode from hanging onto the side of a formula car for my life. So, I squinted to look ahead as the wind blasted against my face, targeting the thief on my bike with my vision. I wondered if visual aid could possibly help. "Alright! Now, Chris, focus!!" I screamed to myself. "The thief will switch with me, and I will be on the bike!! Now!!!" I waited for it to happen, but it didn't. I tried again. "Okay!! The THIEF will switch with ME!! Then I WILL be on the bi-" I stopped in midsentence as I felt a demon practically making its way up through my esophagus. Then, what felt like hell itself came out of my mouth, spraying to my side allover on the road, being flung and spread merciless and aimlessly throughout the air by the insane headwind. Fucking. NASTY. I felt weakened, my grip on the car beginning to slip. Fuck, this is not how I ever imagined myself going out. I looked ahead at the thief on my bike once more, and finally took the time to notice that we were on the freeway. Then, I noticed the road that awaited us ahead. There was no, fucking way that either of us were going to make that sharp turn of the road. The bike thief, or this car. Nope. We were going too fast to even corner properly through that turn. Adrenaline really began to kick in, as the sound of the wind blasting my ears went silent, my eyes being shot completely wide. I felt like a deer in the headlights. Couldn't do shit about this situation at all. Then, our final moment approached as the car and bike were flung over the side rail of the road, jolting the thief and I in midair as Joel stayed in the hurling car. We were heading for direct impact into the thick forest of trees at speeds that would not hesitate to turn us all to scrap. For the last few seconds, everything felt as if it slowed down for me to bullet time. It's true, what they say about your life flashing before your eyes before moments like these. I saw myself play with my childhood friend in the park, competing with race karts, my entire school life, the first time going to six flags as a kid and being mad for not being tall enough to ride King Da Ka, having my first sip of beer by accident as a prank from my dad, my mom disappointed that I failed 8th grade. Everything. Oddly enough, the very last thought I had, as I span like a ragdoll in midair, was of My Little Pony. Of all the moments, I know, but it happened. I wasn't surprised though, that this was my last dying thought. I admit, I've grown pretty fond with the show. Sometimes, I had short moments where I would wonder what it would be like to live in Equestria for a day. The way how everyone was just happy and bright overall seemed a bit like paradise, compared to the world today where nobody bothers saying 'Hi' to their neighbors anymore. Let alone smile to people anymore. It's a bit depressing to think of, yes. But life isn't so bad, y'know? You just need to find out how to make it good for yourself. It isn't hard at all, but the only person who makes it hard is yourself. I learned that a while back already. Although, I still wasn't surprised that Equestria was my dying thought. Not at all. Then there was black.