McFuck It16 August 2018
“He went this way! I want all units braced at the northern perimeter!”
Kevin isn’t the best at trespassing which explains why he is being chased through the S.U.S.S. Research Facility by numerous security guards.
“Shit! How is this happening? Oh god, what do I do?”
Hang on, Kevin may very well procure a sensational solution which could see his heavily armed opponents subdued, the exit located, and a getaway secured.
“Okay! My hands are up. No need to shoot. If you could just direct me to the nearest exit or, I dunno, do you guys have those info screen thingies? Like at Westfield?”
Evidently, Kevin, master of sensational ideas, will not be making an appearance today.
“Oh, those Yeah, yeah, yeah! Real helpful, right? See guys, I told you we need some of them info things. How am I supposed to clock in on time if I can’t find where I’m meant to be every time the stations change? So really, logically, it’s the company’s fault that I’m late to my post all the time. You get me?”
If you’re quite done just standing around, Kevin, perhaps you could spare a thought for the predicament you’re in? Breaking and entering an aptly abbreviated compound? Peeking at classified experiments that would put your beloved sci-fi novels to shame? Alerting the test subjects of your presence because you forgot to turn your phone on vibrate? Ring any bells, Kevin?
“You know what, I’ll be fine without directions! In fact, I’ll be outta here in no time. And I didn’t see anything! Cross my heart, mate. Yeah nah, just saw some scientists doing… science. Nothing weird! Not that there would be anything weird going— ”
“Sir, there’s been an explosion.”
Because everyone in the office, from your boss to the janitor emptying the bin in the corner, couldn’t have concluded that for themselves from the deafening bang.
“Yes that’s quite apparent, Dr Evans. Just tell me, are the creatures in Lab 3A secure?”
If by secure you mean, have they mauled all your nameless scientists before blasting the doors with their fiery breath and forcing their way out? Then, yes, they’re secure.
“No sir. They’ve escaped.”
“Peters! Hoffson! Find out what lab that came from. You there! Put your hands behind your head and—”
“What in the— ?”
Kevin, if you would be so kind, stop wasting time and get out of there.
“Hey! Get back here—AAAHHH!”
Well, would you look at that? The world’s taken pity on you, Kevin. Your opponents swarmed by the laboratory escapees and the exit located. Now if you could stop pulling at a door that says push…
“Finally! Jesus, this place is a nightmare! Okay, just get to the car. Wait, what’s that?”
Kevin, everyone knows not to look behind them if there’s a weird noise.
“Oh my god! It’s those bird slash reptile thingies from before! Why are they following me? WHY ARE YOU FOLLOWING ME?”
Yes, expect a literate answer from these creatures. Oh, and Kevin? Have you calculated a countermove for when the creatures catch up and stream into the car once you open the door?
“Wait, no! What are you doing?! Get out of my car!”
That’s a no, then. Furthermore, Kevin apparently thinks he can assert himself over these frenzied, fireball-spewing animals. He’ll come to his senses soon enough. Wait for it…
“Ah, screw it! Let’s just go!”
“Why hasn’t anyone from S.U.S.S. followed me? I accidently stole their bird-reptiles. Beptiles? Rirds? Nah, beptiles sounds better.”
Kevin would’ve figured out what to do about the creatures and S.U.S.S. if he hadn’t been preoccupied coming up with that innovative name.
“Is that a—? Oh my god, of-fucking-course! Even when the only thing around here is a shady research facility, of course there’s a nearby Macca’s.”
“You gotta be kidding me? You guys are hungry? Okay, okay! If I feed you, will you be quiet? But you gotta stay in the car.”
Feed an animal even once and you sign a lifelong contract with them. Don’t feed them, Kevin. It’s that simple, just—
“Can’t believe I’m gonna buy Macca’s for thirty beptiles.”
Well then, congrats on becoming a mother of thirty inhuman children. There’s a chance, Kevin, that your future will see no complications. But something, not even that deep down really, tells me not to get my hopes up.
“Okay, it’s fine. It’s Macca’s, they won’t question my order…uh, hi. Can I get three-hundred and sixty nuggets?”