CHAPTER 1

"DONT DO IT PEARL" steven exclamed

"IM GONNA DO IT I MISS ROSE SO MUCH" she said knifingly with her hand

"PLEASE PEARL YOURE LIKE MY MOM I LOVE YOU"

"ITS TOO LATE STEVEN" pearl squawked in anguish

pearl turned her hand into a knuife and slit her own throat wide open and then poofed into a gem

"NO PEARL WHY" steven cried with those stars in his eyes

amethist comes into the room and says to steven "ha ha what a dumb idiot" "why did she do this again" asks steven sullenly. "She does this because she wants attention"
says amathest slylyl. She picks up pearls gem and throws it across the room. "ha ha dumb idiot" she starts dancing and banging sullenly on her ass going "wimp wimp"

at dinner time steven says to garnet "garnet was mom really even that cool? I mean she seemed pretty lame to me from that video i saw inside of the lion. Actually I didnt
watch it inside of the lion i took it out of the lion and then watched it outside of the lion." "She was very cool" garnet says sullenly. No one says a word
ebcause they are praying to god to bring rose back. Pearl reappears and kills herls f again because she's a dumb idiot. No one evenc ares anymore.

CHAPTER 2

perdiot sits quietly in the bath room while the crystal gems are eating a bountiful thank giving feast. "Why are all of these gems so bad and i am the only good one i
dont get it why do people like these dumb idiots" she exclaims as she fishes a turd out of the toilet bowl. "look at this clod" she exlaims as she examines the poop.
just then pearl breaks down the door and exlaims "i miss rose SO MUCH" and then cuts her throat again. Steven comes in and apologizes for her. "she does this all the time
it's just a phase." pearl poofs back with cool black trip pants and storms off exlcaiming "IM NEVER COMING BACK." "she'll be back that dumb idiot" says amehtis

greg is minding his own business at his nice car wash when perl shows up and exclaimes "I AHTE YOU GREG YOU RUINED MY LIFE I HATE STEVEN TOO HE RUINED MY LIFE AS WELL"
she kills her self in front of greg. Greg cries. pearl comes back out of her gem and looks like rose and says "gimme a kiss big boy" and greg sullenly kills her again.
"YOU WENT TOO FAR" greg exclaimes to the dead gem. But pearl cant hear anythnig because shes in her gem listening to like Nick Derake or Elliot Smith or Nine Inc Nails?

CHAPTER 3

pearl wakes up in the bathroom. in the bath tub is a giant mound of steve dung. It does not smell good so pearl makes her nose go away. peridot is there and says
"hey pearl its me peridat i have constructed a time machine for you out of excrement and i can fix all of your problems. Just get inside!" Pearl hesistewntly enters
the time machine. It is sticky inside of the time machine. The poop is sticking to her clothes and she vomits but gains compusure. "teach me how to fly this thing!"
she excalims.

minutes later steven feels him self begin to disappear. "oh no!" garnet exclaims" steen is disappeering. "oh no garnet youre right" says amathest. They fuse into nicky
minaj but its too late, steven is gone. No one even remembers he existed.

CHAPTER 4

Beach City, 1932. The gems are sitting around wearing old timey clothes because thats what they were like the pilgrims with the buckle hats. Rose gets up to go get
something to eat because she does that every 5 minutes. Paerl enters the kitchen in future clothes. "Hello rose its been so long" pearl says sulleny. i came from the
future to fuse with you" drool oozing from her dumb idiot face. "thats gross and also rape" rose exclaims. Pearl tries to force fuse wth rose but rose fights back.
pearl hits rose over the head with the toaster oven and she poofs into her gem. pearl picks up the gem and starts trying to danc e with it like some kind of crazy
person. when they dont fuse pearl exlaims "IF I CANT HAVE YOU NO ONE CAN" and smashes her gem into the wall. It breaks intoa billion pieces and pearl storms sullenyl
to the warp pad, never to return

CHAPTER 5

GERMANY

pearl is at the pub or whatever its called in germany and meets a dashing young man who is also very atteracted to her. they hit it off real well. They go back to his
place and because she thinks its going to impress him or something she just like shoots herself with a gun and poofs back in the shape of a beautiful german woman
and the young man is just astonished. They begin a long term romance and bang a lot. The young man becomes president of germany and they both live luxurious lives and
bang a lot.

one day pearl hears her husband talking about how he doesnt like jews. pearl doesnt really know much about jews but she knows that greg was definitely one and that she
hated them all. she tells him that maybe they should just kill them? He thinks this is a wonderful idea and guess what it turns out he was actially adolph HITLER
and we all know how that story ended!!

CHAPTER 6

BRAZIL, 1950

the war has ended. pearl managed to escape by faking a suicide on that fate full day in 1945. She changed her appearance again too look like a jewish person (trigger
warning: racist joke) (big change am i right fellas? can i get a high five?) and escaped germany with some refugees. pearl has just received a package from her
boys back in the US. This package is what will comeplet her plans. she now toils away in her lab. a jar of bones lies open on her work table. the lid, heart drawn on
the top with sharpie (were those around then?) sat beside several other bones ,far too big for jars, in various states of powderization.

"Ive done it!" pearl excliams. She adds some black stuff to the blue stuff and whatever and mixes it around. when she is done she unlocks her safe and removes
the small cardboard box labeled "fragile". she stares sullenly at it for a few moments before taking a deep breath and carefully cutting the tape with her pen knife.
it is full of packing peanuts. she shuffles them aroudn for a bit, savoring this moment. she thinks she will feel relief when she sees that first glimmer of pink
but what catches her in the gut instead wis pure dread. this was wrong. she shouldn't be doing this. she shouldn't have done any of this. but she has come too far
to turn back and is too lonely to go any further without being loved. she removes the shards from the box and places them in the mixture. it begins to bubble
and a giant figure emerges in a pink flash.

CHAPTER 7

BEACH CITY, PRESENT TIME

the crystal gems return to the gem house after a mission to rose's grave site. it had been over 80 years since rose was murdered and pearl tossed her dumb idiot
self into a volcano. ever since the site was disturbed years ago they had made annual visits to pay their respects and get a delicious coffee and egg sandwich on pretzel
roll bread for only $5.99 at the dunkin donuts in the area. This was an amazing deal and the gems could not resist. The gems hated the big donut. Their coffee is
terrible and they don't even have bagels. I know donut shops are donut shops and not bagel shops but I personally feel the two are close enough that having bagels
is just common courtesy. Who even eats donuts anyway? Donuts are garbage food for garbage people. It's not even about calorie count, it's about having good enough
taste to realize that a mouth full of sugar is disgusting. I can respect a fat guy who eats bagels. that's classy. you think a chocolate covered cake ring is going to
taste anyhwere near as good as a nice marble bagle with a bit of cream cheese? Absolutely not. Amethysts is laughing at a funny joke peridot just told.
"ha aha wow peri dot you are hilarious and the jokes are so high brow I really aprpreciate your wit you remind me of bill hicks if he were still around and not part
of a forced fusion with alex jones. Really smart. You are like the only pearl I am aware of who killed herself except you are much cooler and funnier and we all like
hanging out with you a lot more. thanks for joining the team" "yes i agree" said garnet.

"HEY" exclaims amethesit
"Let's go laugh at dead pearl in the volcano"
"hilarious idea!" exclaimed peridot
"let's do it" said garnet

CHAPTER 8

the gems arrive at the volcano where pearl met her tragic end.

"wow I can't believe she really did it what a moron" snickers peridot
"she was very desperate" says garnet
"big dumb idiot ha ha womp womp" exclaims amethyst.

while they crack their wise at pearl's expense, peridot notices some weird bird like movement coming from the trees across the volcano plains. But this was too big
to be a bird. A flash of white. "Pearl?" she asks aloud. "dead as hell" says amethyst "yes very dead" gernet agrees. Peridot looks back and exlclaims "NO I THINK I JUST
SAW HER." "Impossible" explains garnet "she would never be able to regenerate inside of a goddamn volcano you dumb idiot" "what the hell did you just call me you big
piece of trash" demands peridot. "You heard me, dumb idiot" garnet days dryly because that's how she talks. "I don't have to take this shit you guys are the actual worst
I'm gonna go look for Pearl or whatever I saw over there because that's more fun than sitting here taking flack from a bunch of garbage dump dumbshit rocks who don't
even have any personality fuck you and fuck this I'm done." Sullenly she storms off to the woods.

CHAPTER 9

peridot stomps through the woods just mad as shit. she sees a bunch of broken twigs or whatever and follows the trail made out of the broken twigs or whatever for what
seems like hours. she is tracking her prey like one of those magical indians from the movies. she finally comes to some sort of like tree house thing. she listens for
any sounds coming from inside but was met with silence. she carefully climbs the tree ladder i guess and enters. there are a bunch of those watermelon guys
running around doing melon shit. they ignore peridot as she looks around the room. there's a door to another room. quietly she opens the door and peeks inside. sleeping
on a bed is a great pink beast. it has the body of a big fat woman, 4 meaty, bloated arms, and a funny mustache under her 4 resting eyes. peridot recognized that
mustache from a character in a really boring, drawn out tarantino film. That was Adolph Hitler's mustache. But why did he have rose quartz's gem? she hears the
tree house door creak open behind her and turns around in surprise. it's pearl. she's holding her own gem in some oven mitts because it is hot because she got it out
of the volcano i feel like id idn't have to explain that part but I am anyway. it's done and there's no coming back from it. editing is for the weak. I don't make
mistakes. pearl drops her gem in a panic. a water melon man hands her her shot gun. without thinking she unloads a round into peridot's head, shattering her gem and
ending her life. the beast emerges from her room, eyes still heavy with sleep. "ROAAODDSKFMDKSKAMKDMSKSDSM", she growls at pearl. "don't worry, Roseler sweety,
it's nothing, I'll get this cleaned up for us right now." It gives a low moan and returns back to bed. Pearl cleans up the shards with a dust pan and drops them
into the tree toilet.

CHAPTER 10

at the gem house, amethuist and garnet are playing a rousing game of carcassonne. garnet slams a princess onto amethysis big castle and just totally fucks her out of it.
"this game is terrible I quit eat shit garnet you goddamn cheater" amrthsyt screams, scattering the tiles across the room. garnet smiles and says "you just think it's
a bad game because you suck at it this game is objectively great everyone loves carcassonne i defy you to find me a better board game that isn't something obvious like
fucking chess you know-nothing moron go play your video games or whatever you jackass. by the way where is peridot we have not seen her in days" "probably banging
dead pearl in the woods" amythest exclaimed. "that is not funny how do you bang a broken ass gem that doesn't make sense" "don't think about it gar net. don't think about
it it doesn't matter. None of it matters. Who cares where she is or where pearl is? What if she got herself killed? What does it matter to us? Aren't other people
just there to serve our needs? We can find someone to replace Peridot in our social circle, just as we replaced Pearl. What does she really do for us? You may think it
selfish or even sociopathic but I don't believe in friendship. What are friends other than people to share your interests and further your goals? what happens
when someone stops being of service to you? Peridot has not done a thing for me in months and frankly I don't care if she is alive or dead." "that's fucked up" exclaims
garnet sullenly

CHAPTER 11

while garnet set out to find peridot, ruby and sapphire are having a talk

"hey look, I don't want you to take this the wrong way, ruby"
"what are you talking about? I don't understand"
"I've just been thinking, you know. I have ambitions. You know this, but you keep holding me back. Fact is, Ruby, you're dumb. I love you but you're dumb. I need to
be with someone smart, like me. Do you understand? Do you understand me, Ruby?" No response. suddenly they unfuse and ruby runs away crying like she didn't see it
coming, what a chump am I right? Sapphire calls after her but she has disappeared into the forest.

Ruby runs sullenly through the woods, setting the trees and brush on fire. Far away, sitting up high in the branches of a tall tree, Pearl aims her hunting rifle
at the source of the fire. When the arson makes it to a clearing Pearl recognizes her old friend. No, she has no friends now. Only the monster she created from the two
loves of her life. For decades she had hauled her abomination around, hiding it away in locked rooms of motels. Often, pearl thought of ending it. Killing the creature
and then herself, for good. She spent a good amount of time thinking of how she would end her own life. Obviously the volcano idea was no good. She wanted something
quiet and private, so, say, jumping in front of a steam roller was out of the question. After years of consideration she decided her best bet would just be a quick
bullet in the gem. Not now though. Her instincts are at work and she must defend all she has left. She waits for a clear shot, but ruby, being a whiny little shit,
is flailing her arms. She's getting close now. Soon the fire will spread to the tree house. Pearl must do something. "RUBY STOP" she calls out. Ruby looks at Pearl,
tears welling in her eyes. "Pearl, it's you!" but pearl only raises her rifle. "PLEASE NO WHAT ARE YOU DOING" ruby exclaims. She puts her hands out in defense. Perfect.
The gem in ruby's hand was finally in the crosshairs. Pearl let one bullet loose, sullenly piercing ruby's gem. Ruby gone, and the fire still blazing, Pearl runs for
her tree house.

CHAPTER 12

Connie is sitting on the toilet trying to wrest a turd from deep within. "HURRY UP IN THERE" says cunnie's mom. "HOW AM I SUPPOSED TO HURRY UP TAKING A SHIT MOM
THAT DOESN'T MAKE SENSE DO YOU THINK THERE IS JUST A BUTTON I CAN PUSH TO MAKE IT ALL COME OUT AT ONCE? THAT IS RIDICLOUS MOM YOU ARE SUPPOSED TO BE A DOCTOR
BUT YOU DON'T EVEN KNOW HOW POOPING WORKS" "Connie PLEASE we have to go or we are going to be late" "Mom I'm TRYING to hurry but you don't seem to understand
the situation I'm in. I can no more hurry this process than you can. That's 0. There is a 0 percent chance of hurrying this up. It is a natural process. If you really
want to hurry this up go get me a dull butter knife and I'll see what i can fish out. Is that what you want, mom? A knife up my ass? Because that's where I'm about
to be if you don't lay off right now."

Silence.

A butter knife slides under door.

She was being sarcastic but connie is spiteful. She puts the knife up her ass and jiggles it around a bit before sliding it back to her mom, totally covered in
poop, a smug smile on her lips.

CHAPTER 13

pearl busts through the tree house door all fuckin excited. Not ina good way though, in a bad way. She is bad excited. She is bad excited because what the hell
was ruby doing in the goddamn woods? Where is sapphire? is she on her way? if the gems discover the tree house and the research she is doing she is totally fucked man.
she sullenly opens the door to roseler's bed room and peeks inside. Roseler is gone. Pearl panics. lapis shows up and immediately dies. no one misses her. pearl frantically
searches the tree house but roseler is nowhere to be found. there's no time. If sapphire shows up she'll have to be killed as well. pearl was tired of killing.
she had been doing it for decades to get around. just fucking killing people. sometimes she did it for fun but now it twisted her stomach up having to murder fellow gems. it
was wrong. humans were garbage and she never cared about them but gems were great. everyone loves gems. they do fun magic stuff with their rocks. pearl loved that.
she never wanted it to end. but end it must. pearl sullenly packs her bags with some items from her laboratory desk, douses the floor in gasoline and lights a match,
which she hands to a melon man. she boots the fucker into the gas puddle and gets out of there because fire hurts and you don't want to be around it but you can
figure out the mechainics in your head. she leaves the tree house to search for her one true love, adoplh roseler

not far away, sapphire comes upon ruby's broken ass gem lying on the scorched ground. "son of a buitch what happened this is bullshit" she exclaims sullenly

CHAPTER 14

connie and her parents arrive at the beach city ice cream store. they park behind the building. mr maheshwarn makes a big show out of locking the door. when his wife
and daughter give him dirty looks he just grins and says "what? with all the immigrants the president is letting into the country we can never be too safe. Don't know
who's going to be a terrorist, you know?" "that's bullshit dad" exclaims conny sullenly "these are poor refugees. they re all women and children and they would
never be terrorists not ever." "that's right" says his wife. "they are just trying to escape the hellish situation in their home country. this is the least we can do"
"you're fucking wrong" says mr maehashwarn. "there's no way to properly vet these people. It's just not possible. They're already letting so many of them in
and you can already see it happening, what was going on in france before the attack. these people don't integrate they just stick to their religion and are more
easily susceptible to becoming radicalized." "dad you're racist" says conniy sullenly. the maheshwarens did not talk after that. they arrive at the ice cream shop.
"i'm going to use the bathroom" Connie says. "Seriously? Again?" her mother asks with a good amount of huge bitch in her tone. "yes, again" connie replies.
In the bathroom stall connie opens her backpack. Inside is a folded up ISIS flag and enough explosives to take out half of beach city. Today is the day.

CHAPTER 15

amethyst sits at home scratching her ass watching hannity. she really appreciates how loudly he likes to yell over his guests. right now he is yelling over an elderly
black man. "DON'T YOU KNOW CHRISTIANS ARE BEING KILLED OVER THERE EVERY DAY? BUT NO ONE WANTS TO TALK ABOUT IT..." he howls sullenly at the bewildered old guy.
"ha ha womp womp you tell him sean" amysthyst laughs. She doesn't care about the politics but loves watching people shrink away from sean hannity's powerful, masculine
voice. the show cuts to commercial. amyehsist yawns and opens up her lap top. one of her favorite hobbies is going online and posting racist rants on youtube videos.
Being a young gem of course, she has minimal experience with humans of other races or cultures, and truly she has no real opinion on the matter, but she just loves
making people squirm. she navigates her tabs graceful as a dancer, the good R&B shit not that hacky ballet trash pearl was into. "let's just turn the middle east
into glass already" she drops on a new york times article. "get raped you fat SJW fuck" on a young turks video. She barely finishes favoriting a george zimmerman
tweet before hannity's beautiful face comes back onto the television. He's interviewing one of the republican presidential candidates no one cares about. Suddenly
a knock on the door. "FUCK OFF NO ONE'S HOME" amethest yells. More knocks, harder and faster now. "ARE YOU DEAF I SAID GO AWAY." The door slams open. Amethetst
turns toward the intruder but sees nothing but the wide open door. "goddamn fucking wind womp womp" she says, turning her attention back to the tv, making no attempt
to close the door.

CHAPTER 16

"what's the password?"
"death to america"
bolts unlocking, a heavy metal door swinging open.
"get in here, and be quick"
connie follows the voice into the rear entrance of the fry shack.
"fuck sake peedee where have you been? I've got everything set up on my end and then you give me nothing on the walkie talkie. What the hell is the point of buying
walkie talkies if you're not going to use them? I was THIS CLOSE to getting caught at the arcade." she pinched her fingers together. Peedee looked either scared
or constipated. Connie couldn't tell which and she didn't feel like playing any guessing games at such a crucial time. "Well? Fucking spit it out. And where's Jamie?
He hasn't responded in over an hour." Peedee's poorly-concealed terror became even more poorly-concealed and terrified. "Connie... They got him. Jamie's dead. The
plan's gone all to hell. The whole city's on high alert now. Are you sure you weren't seen?" Showing no emotion on her face, connie winds back and socks peedee
right in the jaw. he crumples to the floor like a little bitch. "How DARE you? You think I'm not the smartest, most careful soldier we've got? Do you honestly think
you would have done any better in my shoes? Look here you piece of shit, no one saw me, and the plan is still in effect. We'll just have to change tactics a bit is
all." she removes her backpack and tosses it to him, still on the ground. He looks inside and then sits up, meeting her eyes.
"allahu akbar" they say sullenly in unison

CHAPTER 17

11:30 pm, amethuyst awakens. An O'Reilly rerun was playing. On the screen, greg universe was giving his usual shpiel on gun rights. "if those kids in that club were
armed..." she wipes the shit from her big fat eyes and gets off the couch. Garnet had been gone an awfully long time. Maybe she's dead? Oh well, it didn't matter.
maethyst would just move on. She goes to the kitchen and eats a cold hot pocket from out of the freezer. What's this? She hears a thudding sound back in the living room.
"what the hell is this womp womp i turned the tv off." she storms sullenly back to check, not because she was concerned about the power bill, let that be known,
but more to reassure herself that she was still doing great in the head. she enters. the tv is definitely off. The tv wouldn't make those sounds anyway. It was a piece
of shit vizio from best buy and there was in terms of bass frequencies in the speakers. She had thought about dropping by someone's house and stealing a sound system
but most people whose homes she broke into for fun had those garbage ass surround systems and what she wanted was a nice floor standing set. No one had those. Fuckign
beach city poor people. "Garnet?" she calls out. No response. She takes another step into the darkened room and waits a good minute. More silence. "fuck this womp womp"
she sighs sullenly before flopping back onto the poor couch that didn't do anything to anybody. she is drifting off to sleep when she hears shuffling sounds coming
from behind her, followed by 3 more dull thumps. amythsts eyes are barely open when the great beast gives a roar and lifts her off the couch. she hits the wall before
she's able to process what is happening and drops hard onto the floor. There she gets a look at her assailant. Big. Familiar too, but that doesn't matter. She picks
herself up off the floor and pulls out that whip she has and uses in the television show Steven Universe if you are at all familiar with it, and charges.

CHAPTER 18

on a wacky gem beach, far enough away from the raging forest fire, pearl lies in the sand, staring sullenly out at the water. "What have I done? It's all gone. Everything.
My friends, my one or two true loves depending on how you look at it, the nice house i built. Well the melon people built it but i designed it and this is bullshit.
All gone." She sits up and rummages through her bag, removing her dumb idiot past self's gem and admiring it in the moonlight. "roseler could have healed you. We were
so close..." she hugs her legs and starts crying as if a bunch of dudes had just rolled up and beat the shit out of her or something. I'm talking real uncontrolled
sobbing. After a while she calms down and starts to rationalize it all. Really, had she even thought this whole thing through? If there were two pearls, which would
pretend to be rose when they bang? not her, that's for damn sure. Roseler was the real deal but something had gone horribly wrong in the process of her creation and
her kisses smelled like dead fish. Also she did not have any lips so that wasn't great. pearl listens to the sound of the waves while her breathing and whimpering
gradually slows.suddenly a crunching in the sand behind her.
"Pearl?" sapphire's voice.
The sobbing comes back in full force.
"I'm so sorry" she chokes out in between her blubbering.
"for what, pearl? What happened?" then she sees the rifle in the sand beside pearl's bag. Pearl notices too and before sapphire can think, pearl is on her, hands around
her throat. "I'm so sorry" she moans. "I'M SO SORRY" her grip tightening, sapphire's eye beginning to bulge.
The last thing sapphire hears is pearl's hysterical apology, now muffled by water.

CHAPTER 19

At the fry shack peedee and connie are inspecting the ancient mirror.
"how are we supposed to use this thing? where'd you even get it?" asks peedee, carefully choosing his words and tone to avoid getting more teeth knocked out.
"I don't know," connie says sharply "it's gem bullshit right? Isn't your idiot brother into those girl cartoons? You should know this stuff. You're really letting me
down today peedee, I'm not gonna lie. Last time I was this disappointed was when those dumb kids bungled the boston bombing. How many people died? One? That's weak.
Really makes you wonder if they loved allah enough. Do you truly love allah, peedee? Good. Here's what I want you to do. Think about the prophet mohammad and all he has
done for humanity and give that mirror a rub, just like in the movies. And don't worry about where I got it."
Peedee gives the mirror a long, suspicious look before closing his eyes and following his instructions. Suddenly a strange face reflecting back.
"I AM LAPIZ LAZULI WHY HAVE YOU AWAKENED ME YOU FOOL YOU HAVE 3 WISHES AND THEN I AM GOING BACK TO BED YOU UGLY KIDS YEAH I'M TALKING TO YOU"
Connie snatches the mirror from peedee's hands and speaks to the genie.
"You say I have 3 wishes? For my first I wish all infidels dead"
"Granted," says the genie "it is done. All muslims in the world except you are now DEAD!" she erupts in a crazed laughter.
Connie and peedee look at each other, speechless.
"haha just kidding morons, I'm not really a genie but if you let me out of this mirror I can maybe help you out what do you say pals? deal?" lapis puts on her best
car salesman smile.
"It's a deal" exclaims connie sullenly.

CHAPTER 20

Lars and Sadie are arriving at the beach city bus station. They swiftly exit the vehicle. On the way out Sadie thanks the driver while lars slips past behind her.
Outside of the bus Sadie asks "lars, why didn't you thank the driver?" "Why would I thank the driver?" "because he just drove us 100 miles and didn't kill us?" "why
should I thank him for that? he does it every day. It's his job." "well don't you think it would make his day brighter and I don't know, more cheerful if the people
on the bus showed a little bit of humanity and gratitude?" "Again, it's his job. No one ever thanks me for my job." "Lars, you work at the register. People thank you
all the time. They thank you more often than not just for selling them rings of concentrated diabetes." "look sadie, if i were a bus driver, there is no way I'd want
or expect people to thank me just for driving them on a bus. That is ridiculous." "well you thank a cab driver right?" "yeah but that's more personal. You spend a
lot of one on one time with a cab driver. On eht ebus it's different. You can be at the back the whoel time and never say a single word to the guy. He probably
doesn't want to talk to people all day. he spends all his time in a bus with fucking crazy people who fist fight over cell phones and piss in the back.
You think he wants polite conversation? He probably wants death." "you don't know that lars, in fact, at work when people are nice and polite I end up having a better
time." "yeah but should you really feel obligated to be polite? Even if you're in a bad mood?" "If you don't want everyone to think you're a huge piece of shit."

They walk sullenly back to the big donut.

CHAPTER 21

Pearl slowly opens the front door to the crystal gem house. It had been decades since she had last set foot here. She wonders how much has changed. Her first glance
shows that, in fact, everything is exactly as she left it. many pairs of black trip pants from pearl's emo phase are strewn about the living room. She cringes at the
thought. She is much more respectable now with her oversized ironic sunglasses and gauged ear lobes. Laughter drifts in from the kitchen. Pearl walks toward the door
and freezes with her hand on the doorknob. These voices... She opens the door to the kitchen and steps inside.
Everyone is there, sitting at the table. Amethyst, garnet, peridot, even steven. They turn their heads to greet Pearl, smiles on their faces. She takes another step
and they all begin to cheer. "GOOD JOB PEARL! WE KNEW YOU COULD DO IT! WE ALL LOVE YOU VERY MUCH!" For the first time in decades, pearl wears a genuine smile on her
face. She takes a seat at the head of the table. "Thank you so much everyone. This is all I've ever wanted. Well, there's one other thing..."
The door swings open and in walk adolph hitler and rose, unfused and perfectly normal. They come to pearl, love in their eyes. She begins to tear up as they both
embrace her. Her moment of bliss is interrupted as she feels a sharp pain in her gem. She opens her eyes and sees rose and adolph, smiles still on their faces,
repeatedly stabbing her in the head with their forks.

She awakens on the beach to two seagulls pecking at her gem. She shoos them away and looks out at the water. When she sees the ice patch above where she had tossed
sapphire's shattered gem, she begins to heave bile onto the sand. After regaining her composure, she thinks back to the dream. It may not have meant anything but
as of now it's all she has to work with. She must find roseler. She hastily gathers her things and takes off.

Back on the beach, the morning light reflects off a heat-damaged pearl.

CHAPTER 22

back at the gem house, all is silent but the sound of the television. in the living room. on the couch, a damaged rose quartz gem entangled in bits of bone and mustache
sits bubbled atop a cushion. On the tv, melissa harris perry rambles on about police brutality. This is amethyst's idea of a joke. The creature was not a fighter,
she had found out soon enough. In fact, it had cried out and attempted to run back out the door the moment it saw her weapon. Scared or misunderstood, it made no
difference to amethyst, already absolutely livid from being woken up, who made easy work of the fat, fleshy beast. This was the harshest punishment she could think of:
an endless MSNBC marathon. She smiled to herself as she put the gem into place and adjusted the channel; it was Friday. Tomorrow begins the barrage of prison
reality tv shows and quack medical advice. As close to torture you can get without exerting any real physical effort. Amethyst is satisfied with the prison she has
constructed for her attacker, and quickly decided it did not warrant any close watching. She is certain by now that peridot and garnet are both dead, and for a while
has had a strange feeling that soon she'd be joining them. She did not fear death, but thinking of all the trash left uneaten, liberal internet posters left
un-butthurt and womps left unwomped put a knot in her stomach. She surprised herself simply by fighting back when she felt her life was in danger. That was strange.
Amethyst may be a gem but she had long ago accepted the inevitablity of death as well as the absence of a God and Creator. No true God would have made her stumpy and
defective. No true God would have allowed her mother figure to be brutally murdered while going to the kitchen for more pizza rolls. No. Her God is leisure and
she worships Him at every opportunity, determined to squeeze every bit of comfort and enjoyment from her objectively worthless existence. She sullenly sleeps now in a
stolen massage chair in front of a stolen 32" computer monitor, while in the other room the beast sits dormant, watching, learning.

CHAPTER 23

at fish stew pizza, connie and peedee sit listening toa couple in the next booth having an intense conversation

"I can't believe he won't call it islamic terrorism. This is absolutely ridiculous. He thinks the american people are stupid."
"what do you expect? he's muslim himself"
"did he really expect us to buy that short form certificate? it's clearly fake"
"I can't wait until we get someone with good christian morals back in the white house"
"HA! you mean hilary? she loves those a-rabs so much she may as well be one"

peedee sits sullenly poking at his chicken tenders, not once meeting connie's eyes
"what is wrong peedee my friend? you seem down. do not worry about these infidels. They are ignorant and will soon be dead. don't you know we are about to go to
heaven and meet mohammad or allah?"
"it's not that connie. It's just, well, back in class today one of my classmates made fun of my beard"
connie takes a long look a peedees peach fuzz
"that is absurd, your beard is beautiful and represents your faith. that boy should be killed"
"i agree but he is far away from beach city right now, at a christmas party"
"a christmas party so early into december? I am furious!"
connie slams her fist onto the table
"we should kill them all" seethes peedee sullenly "but how do we do it?"
a voice comes from connies back pack
"I can do it guys. Just let me out. I'll be your pal and take care of it for you"
"i told you" hisses connie sullenly "not until we're in position. I can't risk it"
"connie my friend" exclaims lapis lamentedly, "I am a magical being. I must be held to my oaths. Free me and I shall take care of beach city. you two can go and crash
this christmas party."
connie and peedee stare moodily at their appetizers. finally connie speaks to her back pack where the mirror is in case i didnt convey that well enough
"ok. let's go out back and do this."

CHAPTER 24

in the alley behind the restaurant, peedee nervously searches the shadows for any unexpected guests while connie removes the mirror from her bag to begin the
preparations. "tell me, demon, why should I believe that you'll make good on your end of the deal?" she demands, trying her hardest to not show weakness. Her grandparents
had fought evil american demons and djinni like this one before, and the main point they would always stress to her while telling their stories is that fear only
makes them stronger. whether it be the tone of her voice or the expression of forced anger, connie isn't sure, but it is effective. The demon seems intimidated.
"why, I'm so sorry that you don't trust me. It's real sad that people can't trust their neighbors anymore these days, you know what i mean connie? real depressing stuff.
you ever hear that styx song 'the best of times' connie? of course you have connie that's a classic. anyway, i remember years ago all the kids in the neighborhood would
go out into the neighborhood unattended and no one got hurt because we had a strong sense of community, you know what i mean connie? if something happened 8 blocks
away you'd know about it within 5 minutes. you could let your cats outside without being afraid of some teenagers listening to insane clown posse and slipknot
skinning it and stringing it up by the paws. really weird times we live in, connie, really weird. Anyway, since you won't take my word for it, i'll tell you what I'm
going to do, just for you. I'm going to tell you my secret: if at any point you are dissatisfied with my service, simply repeat the words 'fuck you lapis' 3 times into
the mirror of your choice and I will be instantly imprisoned in it! It's magic, connie. So okay, now what you should do is smash the shit out of this mirror and let me
out."
Without saying a word, connie shatters the mirror against the side of the big brick building. The genie appears in a great blue flash.
"aw sick connie this is fucking sweet i've been in that mirror for a long time. Do you know how that felt connie? not good. It was the worst actually. have you ever
been forced to just sit there with nothing but your own thoughts connie? it's hell. and don't give me any of that monk meditation bullshit. i reached nirvana
decades ago and you know what? it was shit. it was boring. i left it. I left nirvana. I saw the light and spit in its eye. now look here connie, i am just grateful
as hell that you let me out so I am going to go through with this, okay? you don't have to worry about it. here give me that nice walkie talkie" she takes one of the
devices from the still speechless connie's hands and begins to walk away, then stops and turns back. "oh yeah first you're going to have to tell me where you found
that mirror because my shit's all broke and the punk asses who had me locked up can fix it. can you do that for me connie? can you use your words now?"
connie falls to her knees, face red with anger and embarrassment. She thinks of her grandparents and for the first time, recognizes the true breadth of her own weakness.

CHAPTER 25

another slow day at the big donut. The two employees sit idle at the counter.
"hey sadie, I've been thinking. Maybe I should just quit? I mean, my heart just isn't into the donuts anymore. It's a really sad thought but I think I've just grown up.
I used to love donuts as a kid. They were my favorite food. But ever since I started working here, the thought of eating one with all that sugar on and in it is
enough to make me gag. I really don't mean any offense by this, but you've worked here a while, right? well, look what all those donuts have done to you."
"Lars you absolute piece of shit I don't even eat the donuts here. I swear to god I would beat the life out of you if I thought you actually knew any better"
"Wow, touchy subject. I thought we could be frank with each other, sadie, and not have to worry about the other getting sensitive."
"that's being frank? more like being an asshole. you made some really shitty assumptions. Just because I'm kind of maybe a little fat I must be sneaking off and eating
donuts all day? For the record lars, I hate donuts too. We could have really connected here but you just had to bungle the whole thing by running your mouth."
"Connecting? Over a shared dislike? Seems a little shallow, sadie."
Sadie rolls her eyes and turns to face the clock. Only 3 more hours until she can go home to her anime and video games. These days those were all she ever did.
Sadie does not have much of a social life. She realizes deep down that the games are a crutch, an escape from reality into a fantasy world of relaxing repetition and bright
shiny colors, but she can't think of anything else to relieve her of her crushing existential boredom. day in and day out, she wakes up, goes to work, goes home, plays
video games until bed, repeats. Through the games she can explore all sorts of amazing, colorful worlds, all much more fun and interesting than real life. When she
first got into the games, years ago, she was conflicted about the whole "being a consumerist sheep" thing, but at this point she has long since rationalized that away.
She looks back at the clock. Son of a bitch, it's only been 2 minutes.
"hey sadie, quick question for you"
"what do you want lars"
"do you believe that you have the ability to make decisions and form opinions outside of what you've been programmed to think and feel? Am I really only who I am today
because a bunch of random events shaped my thoughts and feelings? Can you really do anything truly random without your brain knowing about it before you?"
"Jesus christ lars" sadie exclaims sullenly, "get out of here with that big bong theory garbage talk. Maybe you really should quit."

CHAPTER 26

connie and peedee are sitting quietly at the back of the bus headed out of town. A big fat man on the other side of the aisle looks them over. He is wearing a
bernie sanders shirt and is now trying to get their attention without actually saying anything. Peedee briefly makes eye contact. The man nods to him but peedee
quickly averts his gaze. Finally he clears his throat and speaks. "Hey kids you look brown, do you know anything about bernie? he wants to make sure you and your
white friend can go to college for FREE! isn't that wonderful? he is literally going to give you free stuff. Why wouldn;t you want him as president? And guess what
else? You are also going to be making $15 an hour for that piece of shit burger flipping job you're going to get at 16 years old. Who knows, when you're 25 you might
be able to actually have a chance of living out the american dream and becoming a millionaire. of course you would be taxed to hell but that's what everyone wants, right?
That and less POLICE BRUTALITY. That's another thing bernie's going to get rid of on his veyr first day in office. No more black people will die again ever. You heard
that right, kid. Once bernie's in office you will never have to worry about going out side and getting murdered by a wild police officer."
just then a cop stands up in the back. He was only standing up like halfway before so now he stands up further. He looks pissed. He quickly comes up the bus. Fuckin,
he;s adjsting his massive wang in his pants. He walks back towards his seat, but stops beside the man, flashing his gun and giving a wink. "I was just going back home
to my beautiful sons and hot wife when i heard you talking shit on the Brotherhood of the Cops. i can't just let that fly. citizen, I'll have you know I am a trained
officer of the law and crimes are illegal. How much MMA fighting have you done, commie?" The man stares at the police officer sullenly for a moment before shouting
"POLICE BRUTALITY! POLICE BRUTALITY!" The driver's voice over the speakers, "SHUT THE FUCK UP BACK THERE WE'VE GOT AN HOUR TO GO AND YOU DO NOT WANT ME TO PULL THIS
THING OVER AND CALL THE POLICE" "I AM the police" the cop sneers at the man before taking his seat.
Peedee and connie spend the rest of the ride in silence. They already know the plan. No talking is required. The bus comes to a stop and one by one the the passengers
thank the driver and file out. "great idea connie" peedee whispers as they stand behind a woman pulling her bags out of the top compartment. "no one would notice some
kids like us on a bus like this. Some real stealth shit connie, you're a goddamn genius." they exit the bus onto the pavement and begin to jog toward the center
where the party is being held.

it was a fine plan indeed, but they were in fact noticed. They had never thanked the driver. He dials 911 and watches the rude punk pieces of shit disappear around
the corner.

CHAPTER 27

Officer Dongston stalks his prey through the dimly lit streets. He is a man on a mission. He is going to be on these kids before the local PD even knows where they are.
Ever since getting off the bus and hearing the code for "brown person with suspicious bag" come from his cop radio he knew he had to do this. The perp was obvious.
Dick Dongston did not like the girl's demeanor on the bus, the way her dead eyes lit up when the fat man mentioned his ideal, weak socialist nation. The man's naivete
made him sick enough, but in the girl he sensed something much more sinister. There was no question. It was them.
He could be radioing his location in, but he feels he must do this alone. He wants to get his mind off the situation at home. Home. oh god. he had almost actually
gone back there tonight. that would have been a mistake. he swore he would never come back after coming home early to his best friend banging his wife. That was a little
over a week ago, and he had spent the majority of that time sulking in his motel room. The day after the affair he had been subjected to a paid suspension after
accidentally murdering a black man who he thought had been holding a gun but was in actuality talking on a telephone. It was a honest mistake, the chief agreed, but
the media's need for blood had to be sated.
He shakes the thought from his head and focuses on the task at hand. There they are, up ahead, slinking off into the alley behind the center for disabled people.
Christmas music can be heard coming from inside the building. God, he thought, I hate December. One more christmas, one more film about gibbering little yellow
monsters to buy toys of and play over and over again for his obnoxious, unwanted children while his wife went off to fuck Mike. Fucking Mike. That betrayal was what
hurt the most. They had been friends since they were old enough to walk and Dick never in a million years would have seen it coming. But here he was, alone, chasing
some potentially dangerous criminals, all for what? This won't get him his life back and he knows it. Perhaps he has a death wish. He tries not to think about it as
he draws his gun and disappears into the shadows of the alley.

CHAPTER 28

"Alright," connie whispers through her mask, "you know the plan. I will plant the explosives. Wait for my signal to start shooting. Allahu akbar, brother" "Allahu akbar"
peedee replies sullenly. A flash of anger in Connie's eyes. "Don't tell me you're getting cold feet right now. We've come this far." She hands peedee his pistol.
"Wait for my signal" she repeats. Peedee holds the gun out in his hand and gives it a long look. Can he really do this? It had felt so right planning the whole thing
that the possibility of his not having the stomach for it had never occured to him. He squeezes the grip and looks toward the back entrance of the building. Suddenly
from behind "FREEZE TERRORIST SCUM. YOU ARE UNDER ARREST. PUT THE GUNS DOWN NOW"
Peedee looks to Connie, unsure of what to do. She gives him the subtlest possible nod.
Peedee whips around and fires on the officer 1, 2, 3 times, all misses. He hears the door slam next to him as connie vanishes into the building. His finger is tightening
on the trigger for the fourth shot when he is knocked to the ground by a great, dull pain in his chest. On his back, staring up at the sky, peedee clutches at his
shirt and feels his warm, sticky blood draining from the wound. Is this it? After all they had been through, all the hard work and preparation, was it all going to be
ruined by some cop with a grudge? Life is unfair down to the very last day. Peedee closes his eyes and waits for god to take him while footsteps rush past and through
the door.

Barricaded in the bathroom, Connie digs through her bag and retrieves the walkie talkie.
"GENIE, COME IN, THIS IS CONNIE. I REPEAT, THIS IS CONNIE. COME IN."
static
"GENIE GODDAMMIT THIS IS AN EMERGENCY DON'T MAKE ME IMPRISON YOU AGAIN. OVER"
static... and then
"HELLO CONNIE THIS IS GENIE. OVER."
a wave of relief comes over connie. Maybe all is not lost after all.
"GENIE THIS PLAN IS GOING TO SHIT. HAVE YOU DETONATED THE EXPLOSIVES YET? I NEED YOU HERE NOW. OVER."
a long moment of silence and
"YEAH, NAH, I'M NOT DOING THAT. COPS PROBABLY FOUND YOUR STUFF ANYWAY. IT'S A REAL MESS HERE. JUST SAW A SWAT VAN PASS BY. THIS SHIT'S NUTS. ANYWAY, GOOD LUCK WITH ALL
THAT, I'M GETTING DONUTS RIGHT NOW AND HAVEN'T EVEN PAID YET. I'M JUST STANDING HERE AT THE REGISTER TALKING ON A WALKIE TALKIE LIKE A JACKASS. I REALLY GOTTA GO."
"WE HAD A DEAL!" connie pleads
"YEAH, I'M A REAL PIECE OF SHIT AREN'T I?"
Connie, the maddest she has ever been, rushes over to the big bathroom mirror and bellows the magic incantation into the mouthpiece.
"FUCK YOU LAPIS FUCK YOU LAPIS FUCK YOU LAPIS"
the static now calms connie as she stares into the mirror, waiting for the genie's face to appear. This time she will free the demon and slay it where it stands. But
nothing is happening. The static cuts out one last time.
"HEY FUCK YOU TOO PAL. OVER AND OUT"

Connie stares at her small, frightened reflection and begins to weep.

CHAPTER 29

"Sorry about that" Lapis says, wiping the walkie talkie on her thigh and tossing it into the trash bin. "People these days have no tact. They think that just because
they have the ability to contact anyone at any time, that's what they should do. It's ridiculous. Like look, I don't care if you're my boss, I'm my own person and
I need to live my own life outside of work. You know what I mean? Oh by the way, I don't have any money to pay for these donuts, so can I just have them for free?"
Lars doesn't know what to do. This is an awkward situation. Of course, no, he should not just give free donuts away, but he's dealt with disgruntled customers before
(mostly homeless, now that he thinks of it) and has found that the best course of action is to just give them what they want. He looks to Sadie for help.
"If you've got a boss and a job then why don't you have money?" sadie asks, agitated.
"What, don't tell me you've never had budgeting problems..." lapis trails off, hurt in her voice. She looks around at the festive holiday tinsel decorating the store.
"I've got a family to feed. These donuts are going to be our christmas dinner."
"We're not even 2 weeks into december, why are you eating christmas dinner tonight?"
"well funny story, see-" "OH SHIT LOOK AT THIS" Lars cuts her off. he points to the tv mounted to the wall. "Isn't that the little peedee kid from down the street?
Holy shit." School photos of connie and peedee are on the right side of the screen while the left is predominantly taken up by a large, blurred photo of peedee, dead
on the ground in a pool of blood. The large caption at the bottom reads TERROR PLOT FOILED BY LONE HERO COP. Sadie and Lars take a moment to register this bizarre
news before turning back to regard lapis, now holding out a small pistol, aimed right for Lars' head.
"Yeah so I'll just take these donuts now."
Lars begins to stutter incoherently
"Yes, please, just take them and go." Sadie says with as much calm in her voice as she can muster.
Lapis makes to turn and leave, but stops and, still pointing her gun at lars asks "Hey, I don't mean to take advantage here, but can I get like 2 of the Boston creme?
I always tell myself 'lapis, do not get the boston creme, those things will kill you' but I can never resist when it comes down to it. It really is the best donut out
there." She holds her bag out for lars to slide the 2 boston cremes down into. "hey thanks a lot, you take it easy" she says, backing out, never taking her aim off
lars' head, and exiting the store.

"THANK YOU" Sadie yells when she's sure all is clear.
"Wh-what?" Lars stammers.
"She said 'Thank you', Lars. See? I told you. People thank you all the time because it's the polite thing to do when you make an exchange. That's how society works."
"Are you fucking kidding me right now with this sadie?" Lars spits "I just had a near death experience and you're going to hound me on this shit?" Sadie looks at
ground and sees water pooling around Lars' shoes. She quickly looks away and pretends not to notice.
"And you say 'that's how society works' but don't you ever wonder WHY? Thanking someone for performing a function that will soon be taken over by robots is just
completely insincere. This woman just robbed me. Do you think she was being sincere there when she thanked me? Does it matter? She aimed a gun at my face but oh cool,
she was POLITE about it. Terrible people can be extemely polite, just as great, honest people, like me, don't need such formalities because we're genuine. Not thanking
a bus driver or cashier doesn't make you a piece of shit, it makes you honest." "Yeah cool lars, you're so noble and real that you can just ignore the feelings of
others and treat them like soulless robots. Yeah, you're so much better. Go mop up that piss, cool guy."

CHAPTER 30

Dick Dongleston lies face down on top of his work desk snoring. He is in full uniform and several medals adorn his neck. Underneath his sweat-soaked body is the key
to the city, the ring directly beneath his chin, covered in a mixture of drool and vomit. He reeks of alcohol. The phone rings close to his ear. He stirs but makes
no motion to answer it. It rings again and again. Four more times before he hears the blessed beep signaling the answering machine's triumphant rescue. He thinks of
that scene in lord of the rings where the men are getting their asses stomped, and then in comes gandalf on his cool horse to save the day. Dick used to love lord of
the rings when he was a kid. Those were simpler times. The phone rings again, and this time he answers it. He says nothing, waiting.
"Hello? It's me, elaine, your wife. I probably didn't have to explain that I'm your wife but who knows, with the way I've treated you maybe there are other elaines in
your life. Ha ha ha. Anyway, I was wondering if we could get lunch sometime? The kids really want to see you. I... really want to see you..."
Dick quickly sits up, tosses his phone against the wall and vomits onto his pants. That was the last thing he needed to hear right now. He stares into the puddle of
half-digested fried rice and bile on the floor, getting larger with each gob and drop coming down his leg. He sees the bodies in that hallway leading to the bathroom.
The bodies he had to step and trip over to regain his reputation. It seemed like there were hundreds stacked on top of each other, but he found out later it was just
six. With this thought he bends to throw up again, this time coming out with nothing but a dry heave. Six. It should have been none. It could have been none if he had
just done the right thing and called it in ten, even five minutes earlier, but he did not, and ended up stumbling through a poorly improvised speech about being in the
right place at the right time to the local police chief. The story was flimsy at best, but the pudgy old man bought it without a second thought. The fact that cops
take care of their own used to be a point of pride for Dick, but it frustrates him now that, after all the families he has indirectly ruined, no one would even look
into it. This isn't justice, he thinks bitterly. True, he isn't particularly interested in spending the rest of his life in jail, but shit. Maybe he should just be
happy he was there at all. With the amount of ammo and explosives those kids had, Dick's exaggerated memory of the event could have very well been a reality. This
rationalization comforts him a bit, and he pushes himself off the desk, standing up and brushing the vomit from his shaking legs. Yes, it could have been much worse.
That girl had the devil in her. He saw it on the bus, and the look in her eyes when he broke down the door all but confirmed it. He remembers the frenzied curses
he heard moments before. There was a name there too, he thinks, but he can't recall what it was or if he had even been able to make it out in the first place. A possible
accomplice. There are only 2 suspects right now. One of them is dead and the other's on her way to gitmo. Dick had never mentioned the name to anyone. He wonders if he
should get it over with now. No, no, he can't. Three days was three days too long. Best to just forget it. He wipes his now crusty face and hears a small sound from
the other side of the room. He walks over and fishes his phone out from the big bunched up pair of sweatpants it had fallen into. The impact with the wall had broken
its screen but it still worked. Unfortunately. Elaine is still on the line.
"Dick? hellO? dick? are you there? Dick? Dick? Hey dick where are you? Should I call the police? Just kidding, you are the police. Ha ha. I got that joke from you.
Remember? Remember all those good times we used to share? Dick? Are you listening?"
Dick clears his throat and responds, "Yeah, lunch sounds good."

CHAPTER 31

Ronaldo Fryman arrives home from Peedee's tiny, miserable funeral service, loosens his tie and heads sullenly to his room. His parents had been so ashamed of Peedee's actions that
they decided the best route to atonement was burying the body in an unmarked grave with a holy bible and american flag. And, of course, donating a large amount of future fry profits to the
Wounded Warriors Project. It will be a huge loss, but surely they'll make some of that money back from the eventual influx of curious tourists. Already Beach City was
seeing dozens more unfamiliar faces than usual. The arcade and ice cream shop where the faulty bombs were found, once sparsely populated with legitimate patrons, now
bustle with activity. The parking lot where the Meheswarens were found murdered in their car, while still taped off, has become a popular spot for teenagers to stand
around, smoking e-cigarettes and pounding PBR tallboys. A mere three days into the whole ordeal and Ronaldo already hates what the town is becoming. This isn't weird.
It's just sad. He sighs as he flops into his computer chair and boots up his monitor. He wonders what Alex would be saying about all this. Maybe he could get
himself onto the show out of the whole thing. That would be a small victory in a week full of crushing defeats. First his favorite children's cartoon goes on hiatus and
now this mess. His shock and disbelief at the situation with his brother quickly turned into frustration after the second consecutive day of FBI interrogations. Something
had to be up here. He knew it. He suspected government involvement from the beginning, and the agents tasked with the interrogating did nothing to quell that feeling of unease.
Many of the questions they asked seemed designed to attract misleading answers from the Fryman family. The honest truth was that none of them had ever seen Peedee
act strange or even talk about anything closely related to Islam. He was just a normal, depressed kid, but that didn't stop the FBI from recovering a quaran and prayer
rug from his room. A room, by the way, that Ronaldo had thoroughly searched right before the cavalry arrived, and found no such objects.
He logs onto infowars.com and clicks on the live stream. As expected, the first thing to come out of his speakers is a commercial for emergency rations. Ronaldo already
has his bugout bag fully stocked, so he lets his mind wander as the ad plays out. Before it ends, he is asleep.

In his dream, Ronaldo is a small mouse being stalked through a kitchen by a ferocious black cat. The cat has the face of Connie Maheshwaren and venomous spit drips
from its fangs as it corners him, flips him over and bites into his exposed belly. He is lifted and dropped at the feet of a hooded figure, his insides spilling onto
the ground. The figure looks down to regard him as he lies dying. In the shadow beneath its hood, Ronaldo is able to make out a huge, deranged grin underneath a dull,
orange glow.

CHAPTER 32

On the beach, Lapis stands skipping rocks far out onto the ocean. She watches the children playing and fishing on and around the pier and imagines she has her powers
back, how she would lift the water from under them, sending it crashing down so hard and fast their bones would splinter and skin disintegrate. Sure, they had nothing
to do with her imprisonment, but it would just feel so good to do some real damage to something- anything, really. She gave up the opportunity to blow some shit up and
really make a scene the other day, because she just really didn't like the way Connie spoke to her. Like she was some kind of fucking simpleton. Lapis had been a pretend rocket
scientist for decades and wasn't about to take orders from a dumb child who couldn't even make a bomb right. Yeah, good thing she hadn't bothered with those. Would have been
a huge waste of time. She made the right call with those boston creme donuts though. Those fuckers really hit the spot.
In truth, Lapis wasn't sure who to be angry at anymore. In the thousands of years she'd been trapped in the mirror, she had invented stories, characters and entire
worlds to inhabit in her mind. So many that she lost count. Some of the many bodies she had inhabited and still recalled: a doctor, a stockbroker, a lumberjack, a
janitor at carnegie hall, 3 different elf warriors, eva peron, a tyrannosaurus rex, a guy with 2 heads, a famous hollywood actor, and a tv psychic. Throughout these
various imagined realities, the one thing she maintained was her ability to control the water, thus preserving what she feels may have been her single best original
trait. Everything is hazy, but this part she knows has to be true. The rest doesn't matter. If she remembers anything else clearly, it's that she was certainly not
happy before she was trapped in that mirror.
Lapis looks down the beach in the direction of the temple Connie had told her about. It's a real long shot, she thinks, but she might find answers there.

Quickly making her way up the wooden steps, Lapis now stands before the door of the great fortress where she spent so many centuries imprisoned. She gives three
good, loud knocks and waits. No reply. She rings the doorbell. No reply. She rings the doorbell again. No reply. Lapis continues to ring the doorbell for what seems like
hours before the door slams open and a short, fat purple woman appears behind the screen door raining verbal assault down on her for interrupting a dream having
something to do with someone named Sean. "Calm down, friend!" Lapis offers cheerily when the woman runs out of breath, "I'm just here to check your cable and make
sure everything is fine! May I come in?"
"womp womp, fuck off." she starts to close the door
"but don't you like cable?" lapis asks. "If I can't get in there to check out the box, we're going to have to cut you off. Do you understand?"
the purple woman hesitates before replying "I said go kick rocks, asshole. I'll just stream my tv shows online like a normal person"
"As your cable provider, we are also responsib-" the door slams in her face.
Lapis walks around the house and looks into the window. This has to be the living room. Nothing particularly interesting here. The tv is on though, and no one sits
watching it. That little midget must just want to get all she can out of her cable subscription before it's gone. Lapis is turning to leave when she notices
the pink gem propped up on a pillow. A sudden flash of recognition. The memories were cloudy, but they were there alright. She knows now how she will repair her
damaged gem.

CHAPTER 33

Going 10 miles under the speed limit, Dick Dongleston is in no hurry to meet his family for lunch. He is using this free highway time to stew over the name he had heard
the maheshwaren girl screaming. It is on the tip of his goddamn tongue and it is driving him absolutely insane. If it really was an accomplice, no one was looking for
them. They found a two-way radio on the girl, true, but another was also recovered from the body of the fryman boy, and the investigation worked under the assumption that
the two were working alone. The whole thing reeked of incompetence, even without Dick's own embarrassing missteps. It seemed to him that no one wanted to look any
further into any of it. To those higher up, it was an open and shut case of ISIS-inspired terrorism. According to official reports, meheswaren had subscribed to
a face book page specializing in funny ISIS memes 7 months earlier, and quickly became radicalized soon after. No one had ever seen her speak with fryman, but it was
suspected they communicated through spooky encrypted internet web sites. The internet scared Dick, and this tidbit didn't help. He booted up his ancient laptop to check
out some news sites the day after he was declared a national hero, and there had to have been at least 30 different people in between the six articles calling him
variations of what was essentially "fat fucking pig" and "child-murdering racist". Dick had never thought of himself as being fat, but being so viciously
brutalized in a public forum after doing something objectively good made him consider that maybe he should stop drinking so much and hit the gym more. His coworkers
tried to assure him that the public really just hates cops that much, but Dick was starting to see the grim truth in the whole thing. If it weren't true, people
wouldn't say it. Driving now, with this in mind, Dick suddenly feels his skin bulging against his clothes. He adjusts the rear view mirror to get a better look at his
face. It's big and bloated, alright. How had he let himself go so much in under 2 weeks? God.
He passes a sign marking 2 miles to beach city exit. That's where those kids lived, and likely where the accomplice is, assuming they hadn't fled already. A crazy idea forms
in his head- what if he goes down there and does his own little investigation? Knock on some doors, question some diner employees. Real old school shit. But his family...
He imagines the lunch meeting. Bread sticks at the olive garden. His kids fiddling around on their ipads while his wife tries desperately to jack him off under the table.
Some awful, dry pasta. Insincere hugs goodbye. The exit is coming up now. He takes it without hesitation.

CHAPTER 34

"Fucking called it, Sadie. I told you."
"He called it terrorism, though" Sadie says, annoyed. "What does it matter if he didn't use the word 'Islamic'?"
"He comes off as a total coward, afraid to offend people by calling a spade a spade. It's insane how PC society's become" whines Lars
"You realize that pissing off non-radical muslims is exactly what ISIS wants us to do, right? That just makes it easier for them to recruit people."
"The fact of the matter is, this is a specifically islamic form of terrorism, and labeling it as such doesn't necessarily mean you're saying all muslims are extremists.
I would never say that because it's not true. But look, the quaran is where these people claim to get their ideas and I think we should address this fact instead of
sidestepping it like scared children. But yeah, nice, at least he didn't call it 'workplace violence' so that's a start."
Sadie shakes her head and sighs. She is sick and tired of having this conversation with Lars. She looks over at Ronaldo Fryman sitting at the table furthest from
the counter. If he was truly broken up about what happened with his brother, she couldn't see it. He is frantically typing away on his laptop, excitement in his eyes.
"Hey Lars," she asks, "have you talked to Ronaldo at all about what happened? I know you guys used to be friends and all."
Lars sneers. "Yeah, nah. Every time I talk to that guy he just goes on and on about fucking chemtrails and false flags. The guy's nuts."
"That's rich coming from someone who couldn't stop linking me that Zeitgeist video years ago."
Lars' face reddens as he snatches the broom from against the counter and goes out back to sweep at imaginary dust.
A few minutes pass before the door swings open and a chunky police officer walks in. Sadie thinks she recognizes him from somewhere but can't quite put her finger on it.
"What can I do for you today, officer?" she asks, trying to sound cheerful. "If this is about the robbery the other night, I guess we're over it. I know there are only
like 3 cops total in this town, but it would be nice if one of you would be able to occasionally spare the time to, I don't know, show up at least on the same night
as the crime?" So much for cheerful.
Officer Dongleston looks Sadie hard in the eyes.
"I'm not here for that. And by the way we don't like being called 'cops.'"
"What? What am I supposed to call you then?"
"we prefer to just be called 'police officers.'"
"Well that's dumb. What's wrong with 'cop'? sadie demands. 'Police officer' has too many syllables."
"'Cop' has a negative context, alright? Can I just get a bagel and get out of here?"
"Look at the sign for this shop. Does it say 'The Big Bagel'?"
"No, but as a donut shop I assumed you'd have other breakfast foods."
"Why would you assume that?"
"Well Dunkin Donuts has 'donut' in the name yet they hardly specialize in donuts. They have all sorts of different stuff there."
"Why don't you go to Dunkin Donuts then?"
"I didn't see any in town"
"That's because they're a garbage corporate chain and we only allow small local businesses here in Beach City. We do small. We do artisinal. Real artisinal, not
microwavable frozen artisinal. Do you want a donut or not?"
Lars, hearing the commotion, comes out front to find out what's happening. When he sees officer Dongleston his eyes light up.
"Hey! You're the hero cop! The one who shot the frym-" he remembers Ronaldo at the opposite end of the store and lowers his voice.
"Man, you're a legend" he continues in a near-whisper. "Here, have some donuts, on the house." He starts scooping donuts into a paper bag.
"THIS piece of shit?" Sadie blurts out. "You know he killed an innocent black man not even a month ago, right?"
"The guy attacked him!"
"HE WAS TALKING ON A CELL PHONE"
Dick listens to the two argue with a tired look on his face. He'd had this debate many times before, both internally and with the members of the media who had swarmed
his motel room in the days following the incident. When a minute passes without a break, he turns to leave. Lars, snapping out of the conversation, stops him.
"Hey, don't forget your donuts." He hands Dick the bag. "So are you here to find that woman who robbed us?"
"No, he's just here to check in on his victims" Sadie says, rolling her eyes and motioning toward Ronaldo, still typing away, oblivious.
Dick ignores the jab.
"What did this woman look like?" he asks
"Well" says Lars, "She's straight up fucking blue so I guess that can't be too hard to find."

When Ronaldo is certain the officer is long gone, he packs up his laptop and creeps out of the shop.

CHAPTER 35

Dick pulls into the parking lot of the Beach City Police Department and parks in a visitor spot. It's getting dark. Before getting out, he checks his cell phone and
sees 30 missed calls from his wife in the last 4 hours. He doesn't bother listening to any of the 30 messages left with them. He does not feel like he owes her an
explanation; maybe the kids are a different story, but he's sure they had a fine enough time without him. His two sons- 9 and 10 years old- are a loud, obnoxious
handful, but become instantly docile the moment you give them something greasy and packed with sodium. The only time they behaved was when they were eating, watching
one of those 'Minion' movies or playing video games. It goes without saying that both are very overweight. Dick loves his kids, but at the same time still wishes he
had never married and spawned them. He knows it's a generational thing yet feels a twinge of sadness every time he sees them- soft and pudgy, socially awkward and
effeminate. His own genes twisted and warped into something that repulses him on a base level. Many times, Dick had tried to intervene; he attempted to impose a time
limit on their video game-playing, but their mother was weak and immediately returned the games to the boys behind his back. He worries that it's already too late for
them. Not yet, he tries to tell himself, and decides to shoot both individual text messages, telling them he was sorry, that he had some work come up, that he loves
them.
He wonders just what the hell he's doing here. He came looking for leads in a terrorism case and ended up chasing after some petty donut thief. Still, this was the
least he could do for the nice young man who gave him a fat sack of about 20 free donuts. After his meltdown earlier in the day he did not at all want to so much as
look at a donut, but he appreciated the gesture. Most kids these days seemed to hate the police, and the only free things Dick had been offered lately had been
middle fingers and hissed insults. This was a pleasant change of pace. Of course, he's not going to spend the rest of the day tracking down some (probably) homeless
blue woman. His plan is to hand it off to the locals and at the same time ask some questions about any friends or acquaintances fryman and maheshwaren may have had
in common. He'd read the reports, but being able to actually talk to the officers might help illuminate some possibly overlooked clues or connections. Dick was also
baffled by the officers' behavior, and wanted to know why exactly no one would show up at all for an armed robbery report. If they refuse to answer his questions or
treat him rudely, Dick is certain he could toss around some of his newfound weight and get some people fired.
He pulls open the door to the station and enters the lobby. The front desk, as well as the rest of the room, is empty. Dick approaches the desk and rings the bell.
Nothing. He cranes his neck to peer around the corner behind the glass and sees, just barely in sight, a hand lying still on the ground. Dick draws his gun, exits the
lobby and rounds the corner to the office entrance. He finds the door unlocked, and, turning the knob quietly as possible, makes his way inside. The secretary is dead
on the ground, a bullet in her head. The cabinets had been ransacked, their drawers pulled out and contents all spilled out onto the floor. Dick backs out of the office
and heads carefully down the hall, gun out. The first two doors on the left are bathrooms. He does a quick search of both and finds them empty. Further down the hall is
a room with a placard marked "BRK RM". He pushes the door open and there, sitting down to a feast of dunkin donuts breakfast sandwiches and delicious non-swill coffee,
are three officers. They do not make a move as Dick comes barging in, pointing his gun at all three, one after the other. Immediately the reality of what he is seeing
sets in, and he dives for the sink to vomit up what little he has left in his stomach.

Stumbling back to his car, Dick gets in and wolfs down 4 jelly filled donuts in a row. He looks at his phone. No response from his kids. Maybe they really do hate him.
That would certainly make it easier on him going through with the divorce. He is picking up his radio to call in the bloody scene he found in the station when a small
movement coming from a nearby bush catches his eye. He puts the radio down and opens the car door. Disturbed by the sound, the figure hiding in the bushes bursts out
and starts running toward the ocean. In the rapidly fading daylight, he can just barely make the face as it looks back for a split second. It's the fryman brother.
Dick pursues him on foot, losing breath a great deal faster than he expected.

CHAPTER 36

Running as fast as his fat, stubby legs can take him, Ronaldo makes easy progress through the neighborhood, lucky to be so intimately familiar with its every twist
and turn. He cuts across to Crawford terrace and once again faces the ocean. He stops for a moment to catch his breath and listen for the sound of footsteps. It's hard to
hear much over his labored breathing but he thinks he might be in the clear. He pats at the camera in the pocket of his gigantic cargo pants to make sure it's still
there and sets off again in a brisk jog toward the beach.
At the end of the street now, he crosses through a driveway into the back yard, setting off the security lights. He panics and begins to run again, making a break for
their fence. A dog starts to bark inside the house. He makes it to the fence and, grabbing a post, launches himself over, rolling down the steep hill toward the rocks
below. With each cycle around, Ronaldo can feel the camera in his pocket jam hard into his calve- can feel all of today's investigation and hard work being crushed
between his huge, blubbery legs and the hard ground. Between a cop and a hard place (get it? because of the rocks? Though shouldn't it still be "between a rock and ___"
in that case? Between a rock and cop place? You know, what, just disregard this whole thing and I will start over).
Straightening his body so that he will fall vertically, Ronaldo plants his legs down hard, slows and stops just a few feet from the rocks. That was pretty close. He lies on his back
watching the water while the remaining light disappears. Could Dongleston have followed him all the way out here? Did he see Ronaldo's face? Would he have recognized
him from back in the Big Donut? Would it be safe for him to go home? Ronaldo was certain that Officer Dongleston, the so-called "hero" who was so conveniently in the
neighborhood to murder his little brother and foil their "terror plot", was in on the whole conspiracy. It all came together after the strange dream he'd had. The hooded
figure had to have represented Big Brother- the cat, maheshwaren, obviously just a pet, a slave to the government- his bleeding entrails were his second amendment rights.
Ronaldo picks himself up, brushing the dirt off and checking the camera in his pocket. The loose pieces he feels banging around against each other in there aren't a
very good sign, so he doesn't bother taking it out to look. Actually seeing the damage will do nothing to lift his spirits. He jumps down the rocks and onto the beach,
thinking maybe he should finally make the switch to digital.
Moving slowly along the rocks so as to remain unseen from atop the hill, he makes his way down the beach. Within minutes he reaches the funland park and takes refuge
underneath the pier. He stands behind a large support beam and looks up at Beach City, wondering if the cop really would have attempted to murder him given the chance.
Ronaldo had seen too much in the past couple hours and he knows it. He also knows that he can't risk getting caught now, evidence or no. Finally, he removes the camera
and examines the shattered lense and smashed case. He tries the power button and gets no response. "Just fucking great" he mutters to himself. Suddenly a voice from
behind: "Hey buddy, what's that you've got there? Looks expensive."
Nearly wetting himself in fright, Ronaldo whirls around and sees the blue woman. This has to be the same one they had been whispering about back at the Big Donut.
How many other people are blue? Probably not many.
"I asked you a question, big guy." She is aiming a gun at him now.
"I-it's just a camera" she's getting closer. "It's broken. It's trash now."
"Well that's no fun" she says, slapping it into the sand with her free hand. "What else do you have? Empty out those pockets, fatty."
Ronaldo turns out his pockets and hands the woman his phone, house keys and wallet. The latter two she stashes in her stylish fanny pack, while his phone is snapped
in half and tossed into the water. She puts the gun to his head. "Get on your knees."
Ronaldo breaks down and starts crying.
"Jesus Christ why does everyone here do this? what ever happened to real men who stood their ground and didn't piss their pants every time something scary happened?
What happened to America, kid? Is it the bottled water? The flouride? The GMOs? I don't understand this generation."
"A-actually I think a vaccine I got as a baby may have given me a mild form of autism" Ronaldo manages to choke out
"See, there's another problem. You guys always have to blame your shortcomings on something else. 'I can't do it, I have ADD' or 'I can't do it, I'm autistic' all seem
like bullshit excuses to me. If you want to get out there and be a contributing member of society, you've got to pull yourself up by your bootstraps and CONTRIBUTE.
Don't play victim to some made-up disease an overpaid quack is using to sell you pills, because guess what? You don't need them. You need motivation. You need less
coddling from mommy and daddy and more real life experiences. You look like a guy who spends all his time on a computer. That's good and fine, but if all your human
contact comes from the internet, how are you supposed to recognize and utilize body language in real life? Just look at your posture. How much time per day do you
spend in a computer chair? Look, I'm not trying to shit on you too much here, but maybe you should try an exercise ball to sit on. It's a good core workout and all you
do is just sit there. Haha jesus, what am I even talking about? Get on your knees already kid, this'll be over soon."
Shaking, Ronaldo does as he is told.
"Any last words?" he feels the barrel of the gun touch the back of his head.
He has none. He squeezes his eyes shut tight and listens to the wind, to the waves, to the strange rustling coming from the grass up on the hill. The rustling turns to
crunching rocks, and now sand. It's getting closer.
"Well," the woman says, amused, moving the gun away from his head, "looks like company. You can go now. Go home and clean the shit out of your pants, ha ha."
She motions with her gun to the opposite end of the pier, and Ronaldo quickly stands up and begins to run for it.
"Oh yeah, Tubby. By the way, if I ever see you again, I'm going to kill you. Bye."
This time he does not look back.

CHAPTER 37

Deep in a garbage dump, on a moldy couch, Amathyst and Sean Hannity sit making out. Real deep tongue action. Amythest breaks it off for a second. "Wow Sean, I love
you so much, you are the very definition of masculinity. Just a real man's man. Not afraid to shill products on your show in a way that plays like an important
news issue. That's such a genius tactic and I would love to meet the man who came up with it. How much are you getting from those sponsors that you're willing to
put your credibility and reputation on the line? Oh Sean, you're so BAD!" Hannity opens his mouth to speak, but all that comes out is a loud metallic crash.
Amethyst snaps out of her dream, springs out from her massage chair and listens for more sounds coming from outside the room. The motor in the chair had stopped
working sometime during her second straight day of sitting on the thing, but the trusty old heating pads never gave out. "womp womp" she sullenly says under her
breath, putting her hands on her cold ass for warmth. Could that freak with the rose quartz gem have escaped its bubble? Not fucking likely. But what else could that
have been? She is certain she did not imagine that noise. "whatever" she shrugs, pulls out her whip and opens the door.
Amethyst creeps out from the temple entrance and sees the front door open, the handle lying on the kitchen tiles. She looks around the corner into the living room.
The tv is still on, but the bubbled gem has vanished. For a brief moment, she feels panic setting in, before remembering how weak the thing had been and once again
regaining her calm. She walks as quietly as she can into the living room, managing to squeeze no more than a small creak from the floorboards. Maybe that three day
nap was a good thing after all. In all that time not moving, she hadn't eaten a thing, and the weight loss helped to boost her ego even more. It had been at an all-time
high lately without anyone around to give orders. Stopping next to the couch, she slowly bends and examines the pillow that had rested beneath the creature. There is no
indent where the bubble would have been. Had the fucking thing smoothed the pillow out? Does any of this matter? Amethyst isn't very smart, but she does wonder how the
pillow would have remained in place had the thing escaped the bubble and regenerated on the couch. Then she hears a small thud coming from the bathroom. "womp womp"
she says cheerfully, "I've got you now you weird looking fucker." Amethyst readies her whip and walks confidently towards the door, pulling it open and putting on her
best crazy face to spook the thing. "HEY THERE, DID I SAY YOU COULD-... Pearl?" Pearl is crouched in the bath tub, the bubbled gem in her left arm, hugged tightly to
her chest. Her right arm is extended, a pistol in her hand. "But wait. How did you-" 3 bullets slam into Amethyst's leg, thigh and stomach, and she stumbles backward, crashing
into the wall and falling to the floor. A dark purple goop oozes from her wounds, smelling of sewage. Amethyst looks down at the damage, and then up at Pearl, now standing
over her.
"AMETHYST. What did you do to my sweet Roseler? Why is she bubbled? What did you make her do?"
Amethyst coughs up more purple goo. "Roseler? Pearl, is that THING... Rose?"
"SHE is much more than Rose now, Amethyst." Even after all this time, it annoys Amethyst seeing Pearl get so excited about explaining shit. "She is the PERFECT fusion
of the two finest and fiercest leaders I have ever met. I brought them both back, Amethyst, and they love me more than you could ever know."
Amethyst makes no attempt to conceal her disgust. "PERFECT? You call that MONSTER perfect? It's hideous. It should be put down."
"You're the one about to be put down" Pearl says sullenly, aiming for Amethyst's gem.
"Go ahead you crazy piece of shit. Do it. I can't wait for you to fucking do it you coward. I'm not afraid of dying and I'm not afraid of a garbage pearl like you."
Amethyst reaches out and grabs the barrel with both hands, looking Pearl dead in the eyes. "DO IT. YOU CHICKENSHIT LITTLE BITCH. I DARE YOU."
Pearl flinches and pulls back, lowering the gun.
"I don't want to kill anymore. I hate it. Just please, leave us alone." Pearl turns and runs for the door. She is almost there when the purple whip wraps around her leg
and pulls her off her feet, sending her gun sailing out the door as she's dragged backward.

CHAPTER 38

Officer Dongleston, lost and exhausted, wanders the now moonlit streets of Beach City. He estimates the time since losing sight of Fryman as being around 40 minutes.
He estimates because he left his goddamn cell phone charging in his goddamn car. Everything is back in the car, and he hadn't even locked the thing. Minutes after
the boy had vanished, Dick got himself even more lost following the sound of a barking dog coming from across the neighborhood. It was all he had to go on, but he
regrets the decision now. He wishes he could GPS out of this shithole. "Totally fucking useless without my gadgets" he mutters to himself as he walks, "no better than
my kids." The thought stings, but then he considers the other side of the coin- maybe laziness and reliance on technology isn't exclusively a problem with millennials?
In all the time he spent complaining to his wife about his sons' video game playing, he had never taken into account the hours upon hours he himself had spent wasting
away in front of his television or his face book farm simulators. True, he has a job and works hard at it, but hard work didn't stop his wife from cheating and it
sure didn't stop the needless atrocities that he had experienced firsthand this past week. So many dead now, and his suspect is still on the loose. There is no doubt in Dick's mind now that the elder Fryman brother knows something. It's possible it was him on the other end of Maheshwaren's radio. What was his name? Donald? Antonio?
Whatever it is, he'd heard it before and it rang no bells. He'd been cleared by the FBI, sure, but their complete and total disinterest in Dick's story and explanation concerned him, to put it lightly. It's likely, he thinks, that they had missed something. Or ignored it. He pushes those implications to the back of his mind. Best to not go down that path.
Was the brother behind the massacre in the police station? Dick is no expert, but from what he saw, he'd guessed that those people had been dead for a couple days. That would explain their absence at the Big Donut robbery, confirming his theory that this was a coordinated attack. He stops to consider what this means, for the first time noticing the strong ocean breeze and the dank, salty air invading his nostrils. The brother had an alibi for the night of the christmas party shooting.
There were hundreds of comments, all connected to his name and home IP address, posted to an online cartoon image board, the date and time attached to each one. In fact, at the very moment the shootings were believed to have occured, he had been arguing with an anonymous user (traced to Brazil) over which cartoon character
was more depressed? Dick wasn't sure what to make of it all when he read the report. What he IS sure of now is that the kid couldn't have killed those officers. Not
unless he, say, paid someone to sit at his computer and post in his place. That was ridiculous. But what was he doing in that bush, spying? "Oh" Dick says aloud, realizing the obvious. There WAS the whole deal with Dick killing his brother. "I guess that's a motive" he mutters as he sets back to walking the dark streets.
He soon reaches an intersection. Straight ahead, he sees the highway road he came in on. He looks to his right and sees the funland ferris wheel, the ocean calm in the
background. He reads the street sign on the corner to his left. Chesapeake street. He'll find the police station if he goes in this direction. He can radio in and get
the feds down here, give his wife a call, maybe sleep in his own bed for the first time in what felt like years, apologize to his kids for being the man he swore he'd never become, check out some AA meetings. He gazes in the direction of home for a long while before turning and walking toward the ocean.

CHAPTER 39

CLOSED|KEEP OUT reads the sign on the funland park gate. Dick isn't surprised. He doesn't know why he came down here, or what he was expecting to find. Maybe he was
just drawn to the water, to the endless blue landscape. When he was young, he used to dream of crossing the ocean and exploring the world. Now it scares him
just thinking about visiting any major european city, let alone the more exotic and interesting locations in the middle east and africa. Being an american these days is a major risk in itself when traveling abroad, and Dick had refused Elaine's pleas for family vacations in areas as benign and tourist-friendly as Jamaica or even
Hawaii. He had, in fact, not stepped aboard a single plane since 9/11. The paranoia ran deep. He is fully aware that it is paranoia, and has been known to joke around
with his friends about this fact, but when it comes down to it, if you try to force him onto a plane, he will get violent- a lesson his brother-in-law had learned when his father, half the country away, had a stroke and was rushed to the hospital. He insisted on flying Dick's family out, going so far as to call him a coward for his phobia. He showed up at the hospital with a black eye, while Dick drove his wife and kids 30 hours to visit ol' pop-pop. He was discharged and fully-recovered by the
time they made it. So as to not call it a total loss, Dick took the opportunity to visit the area's many exciting liquor stores, taking advantage of both the lower tax rate and the wider variety of drinks available. Now that he thinks of it, that was where his drinking problem really began. He can still hear all the bottles clinking around the trunk on the drive home.
He heads back down the walkway, taking a sudden left turn, sliding down the rocks and onto the sand. He wants a better look at the beautiful blue water, but what he finds there on the beach instead is a menacing blue woman. "Good evening, officer" she calls out innocently, leaning against one of the massive wood beams supporting the pier, "lovely weather tonight."
Dick draws his weapon. "Freeze. You're under arrest."
"For what?" she asks, "I haven't done anything!"
"Armed robbery."
"I did no such thing. Do you have any proof?"
"Security footage." he lies "We've got you on camera holding a gun to the cashier's head." He quickly looks her over and spots the pistol protruding from her fanny pack. "That must be the gun there."
"What cashier? Also, last I checked, it was still legal to open-carry in this state. I'm within my rights to have this on me." she pats the fanny pack.
"Let me see your license then."
"Left it at home" she smiles at him. "Officer, I'm afraid this is all a big misunderstanding. I don't know anything about any robbery. And even if I did," she says, still smiling, "what can you do about it? I've never seen you around here before sir." She gives the word "sir" a sharp, sarcastic edge, slicing through Dick's already fragile ego like warm butter. "Is this even your jurisdiction? And where are your handcuffs, pal? How are you going to arrest someone without handcuffs?"
"I can manage it just fine" he replies, stiffly. In truth, she was absolutely correct. There's no way for him to legally arrest her, cuffs or no. Dick wasn't trying (or expecting) to find the donut thief, and had drawn his gun in a panic, without thinking. Now it's going to be a whole thing. He remembers the whole fiasco with the black man he had accidentally slain and hopes she doesn't have a good lawyer. Is there a #bluelivesmatter activist group? This is a bad situation.
"I'll tell you what," she offers, "how many of these hypothetical 'donuts' were taken? Five? Let's say five, I feel like that's a good number." she digs through her fanny pack, brushing past the gun while Dick looks on nervously. She produces a wallet, and then a $20 bill.
"This should cover it and then some" she says, adding "not that I DID do it. I just really feel for local small businesses these days."
"Twenty-five, actually" Dick responds.
"What?"
"Twenty-five dollars. The donuts are $5 a piece."
"Are you fucking kidding me? How are you going to charge $5 for a single donut?"
"They're artisinal. They make the donuts there fresh."
"Bullshit they do" she counters angrily, "they have boxes of those things frozen in the back. They take them out the night before to let them thaw and then just add the frostings and confectionary sugar later."
"Well they told me they were artisinal there, why would they lie, I don't..." he trails off
"Look, did you see any artisans there? No. Just some teenagers. It's not artisinal. They were lying to you. End of story."
Dick hesitates, then holsters his gun.
"Well fine, I'll just take the $25 and deliver it to them."
"I'm going to give you twenty or I'm going to give you fucking nothing, and either way you're going to like it." she's getting heated.
"So what?" Dick asks, "you pay for four of the donuts and then still steal one?"
"If I'm paying five dollars per fucking donut, I should be getting one free anyway. That is ridiculous. I am not paying that much money for donuts. I refuse." She holds out the $20 bill for Dick to reach out and take. He does so, looking the blue woman in the eyes, trying not to appear as nervous as he really is.
"Well that's the end of that then." she says brightly. "Thanks for not calling the locals in. I hear they haven't been the most responsive as of late anyhow." She gives him a wink. Before Dick can register that comment, he hears what sounds like 3 distant gunshots coming from down the beach. He turns to look in the direction of the sound and sees nothing but darkness. When he turns back, the woman is gone.

CHAPTER 40

Lars is on his couch flipping through channels, trying to find ABC. He figured it would have been one of the first ten or so stations, but there was no such luck to be had. 52, 53, 54. He wishes, for the very first time, that he'd paid the extra $5 per month for the proper box, if only just to use the guide button. He can't even remember the last time he intentionally looked for ABC. Maybe never. 66, 67, 68. Did he pass it? He goes back to 01 and begins going up through the channels once more, this time paying even closer attention to the 4 letter acronyms and abbreviations flashing in the bottom left corner of the screen. 4, 5, 6, suddenly loud, frantic knocks on the door. Lars puts the remote down on the coffee table and stands up. More knocks now, getting louder and faster. The door bell rings. It rings again. It rings 15 more times in rapid, headache-inducing succession before Lars is able to undo the locks and open the door. It's Ronaldo, completely out of breath and soaked in sweat. "PLEASE," he wheezes in between his gasps for air, "LET ME IN. EMERGENCY. SOMEONE. AFTER ME."
"Shit, of course, come in." Lars steps back from the doorway to let Ronaldo inside, then closes and re-locks the door.
"Who's after you? What happened? Should I call the police?" Lars is starting to panic himself. Could this person have followed him here?
"I wouldn't bother with the police," Ronaldo says sullenly, taking Lars' spot on the couch, "they're dead."
Lars, trying his best to not think about the sweat now seeping into his favorite lounging spot and the lingering BO stench it will leave, takes the recliner beside the couch.
"The cops are dead? What, is this some kind of joke?"
Ronaldo shakes his head, sending beads of sweat flying. Lars looks on in silent horror as the droplets rain down on everything he loves in what seems like slow motion.
"Not a joke. Why would I joke about something like this? Look Lars, I've seen some shit today, and I just need a bit to mentally unpack it all. Is that okay?"
"I guess, but at least tell me who's after you. If you're going to be in my house putting my life at risk, you've got to tell me that much."
"Actually, it's your cop buddy, Dongleston" he says plainly. "He murdered my brother and now he's coming after me because I know too much. I swear to God, Lars, Peedee wasn't a muslim. None of this makes any sense. This guy's got to be involved. He chased me 4 blocks when he saw me outside exercising my first amendment rights."
"Where is he now? Does he know you're here? Why did you come here of all places?" Lars asks, feeling anxious.
"I don't know. I came here because it was close by. I can't go home. I think there are going to be people looking for me there. Besides, I lost my house keys. Well, actually, they were stolen. I got mugged on the way back here. Oh and hey, guess what? It was the same blue bitch who robbed you guys the other night. Isn't that funny?"
"No shit." Lars doesn't know what else to say. This is a lot to take in. "Debate's about to start. Want to watch it?"
"The democrats? Why would I want to watch that? What of substance are they going to be saying?"
"Probably nothing" replies Lars, "but I just want to see Bernie and Hillary go at it."
"Sounds like mind-numbing bullshit to me, Lars. Why not just watch the Kardashians? Politicians are puppets, Lars. The results of the upcoming election were predetermined years ago. Hillary Clinton is going to become the most powerful woman in the world, and like Barack Obama before her, is going to get on her knees and suck the cock of her globalist illuminati puppetmasters. Sanders is the same, but he doesn't have a chance. He's just there to keep the college kids happy and hopeful for the time being and he knows it."
Lars says nothing. Maybe Ronaldo's finally snapped. That rant had cast the shadow of doubt over his whole story. Lars reaches for the remote and starts clicking again. This time he goes backward, finding the HD station somewhere in the 1000s. He had missed the first 20 minutes. Oh well. He turns up the volume and listens to Hillary bullshit her way through another question. Ronaldo is snoring loudly by the time for commercial break. Lars becomes increasingly aware of the smell of body odor. He wonders how much he's going to have to spend on the steam cleaning as he slips outside for a cigarette and a short walk.

CHAPTER 41

Dick's head is throbbing as he makes his way back down Chesapeake street toward his car and the Beach City police station. It's been a long while since he's had a drink, and he is quickly losing the ability to think straight. There's a flask of cheap whiskey in his glove compartment, maybe a couple unopened beers rolling around in the back. That might be enough. Dick would rather ram his head into the pavement than make that call sober. They're going to be asking what he was doing in Beach City, of course, and why he withheld information on a possible third suspect. A fuckup on this scale could cost him his job. Again. But people have died- fellow officers- and he owed it to them to get the truth out there and nail the bastard responsible. Or bitch? The last words the blue woman had said to him had been banging around in his head for the entire walk back from the beach. "I hear they haven't been the most responsive as of late" didn't necessarily mean she was responsible. After all, being the criminal type, she'd probably be aware of police activity or any lack thereof. Besides, she didn't particurly strike him as the extremist type. Why would she have spared the Big Donut employees before moving on to murder four innocent people in the name of jihad? Now that he thinks of it (not doing his headache a any good), the shootings in the station did not seem like much of an act of terror. Islamic Terrorists like to make a spectacle of their acts to send a strong message. They spray bullets and blow themselves up. They don't methodically assassinate and they sure as hell don't stick around to rifle through file cabinets. Right? Is there a possibility that these two horrific events, both of which happened at roughly the same time, weren't connected at all? Dick wonders if he's just being racist. Who knows, he thinks, maybe Islamic terrorists CAN be white or blue or brown, not speak a word of arabic, AND carry out pro-level hit jobs. The world is changing alright, and Dick isn't sure he likes it. Things used to be a lot simpler back when he was a kid. You knew who your enemies were, and they were never your next-door neighbors. Nothing makese sense anymore. A red hot flash of pain in his head, and his vision goes white before he stumbles and falls face first into the pavement.

"Officer? Dongleston? Officer Dongleston? Are you OK?"
Dick is on his back now, being shaken by the shoulders.
"Shit man, should I call an ambulance? Wake up."
He gives a low groan and opens his eyes. It's the kid from the donut shop. Dick rolls onto his side and vomits.
"What happened to you? Were you attacked? Should I call the-" Lars hesitates. "police?"
Dick takes note of the pause. Does this kid know about what happened? Who else knows?
"Time?" he whispers
"What?" asks Lars
"Time?"
"You really gotta speak up, sir."
Dick clears his throat.
"WHAT THE HELL TIME IS IT?" he yells, the volume sending another jolt through his skull.
"Oh, sorry, I couldn't hear you. Hold up." Lars pulls his phone out of his pocket. "It's ten thirty-eight, sir."
Could he really have been out for over 2 hours? Did no one look out their window and see him out cold in the street? What kind of town IS this? Dick sits up and starts to shake.
"So should I get an ambulance here or what? You look like you got pretty fucked up."
"No. I'm fine." he doesn't know who he's trying to reassure here, the kid or himself. "I just need some food and water."
"My place isn't far," Lars offers, "I could get you there no problem. Got some frozen pizzas I could pop in the toaster over."
"Thanks kid, but I need to get back to my car. It should be close by here." Dick stands, wobbles, straightens out.
"Well," says Lars trying his hardest not to laugh, "there does happen to be a certain someone staying at me house who you might want to talk to."
"I don't have time for this shit, kid, just tell me." Just when Dick thinks the pain in his head can't get worse, it does.
"Ronaldo Fryman" Lars tells him.
Dick's eyes light up. Fucking Fryman. Gonna have a chat with that little shit. Now onto the other most important matter; Dick takes a moment to figure out how best to phrase it before saying 'fuck it', coming out and just asking:
"You got any booze?"

CHAPTER 42

Pearl sits on the cold bathroom floor, chained to the tub with her hands tied behind her back. In her mind she is composing a new song for her love, Adolph Roseler. The words are poetic and the tune is pretty, but she worries it doesn't properly reflect how the creature makes her feel. She decides to sing it aloud to get a firmer grasp on it so far:

"Oh Roseler sweet baby
I love you so much
I long for your kisses
and your mustache's touch"

she hears stomping coming from outside, quickly getting louder. She ignores it and continues to sing:

"someday we'll escape
someday we'll be free
oh baby baby baby baby
baby baby baby baby ba-"

now a pounding on the door.
"SHUT THE FUCK UP IN THERE I'M TRYING TO WATCH TV."
"NO YOU SHUT UP, AMETHYST" Pearl roars back with a mixture of anger and embarrassment.
"WHAT DID YOU JUST SAY?"
"I SAID YOU SH-" the door bursts open and Amethyst bounds forward, giving Pearl a hard kick in the stomach, and then another in the face as she reflexively doubles over. Amethyst grabs for the shower curtain and tears off a long section, which she uses to gag the still-stunned Pearl.
"Womp womp womp woooomp" Amethyst taunts, delivering the words in an off-key, sing-songy whine- a cruel mockery of pearl's beautiful melody.
"That's right, you can't tell me SHIT anymore, Pearl. No one can. I make the rules now. No longer will a bunch of stubbornly anti-political jackholes dictate whether or not I put ironic yard signs out to piss off the neighbors. I can have FUN now, and there's no stopping this train now that it's left the station." She makes her way back across the room, drops her sweat pants and sits down on the toilet. "It's really been a while, Pearl" she says wistfully as her shapeshifted bowels produce sounds that make Pearl's skin crawl. And that smell. If given the option, she would abandon Roseler and join a space nunnery to escape it. It's as if Amethyst had eaten a barrel full of rotten eggs, shit it out, eaten the shit, shit that back out and repeated for a solid week.
"You know," continues Amethyst, "I used to actually kind of look up to you? Weird, right? I ignored all your red flags for so long, but the day you threw yourself into that volcano, I lost all respect for you. Funny how easily delusions are broken when you're a child. With us- adults- it's a lot harder. Ain't that a fun, wacky truth, Pearl? I wonder why that is. We're armed with so much more knowledge, yet struggle to put it to use. I wonder, if you hadn't offed yourself, would I still be your 'little sister', oblivious to how truly fucked in the head you are? Maybe. Makes me glad you went and did it. Ripped the bandaid off. Let me see the real you." She pauses and looks up at the ceiling, seemingly lost in thought. A loud splash in the water, and she lowers her eyes, meeting Pearl's.
"So did you kill them? Garnet and Peridot, I mean. Be honest."
Tears start to well up in Pearl's eyes.
"I'll take that as a yes. Well, that's fine. Lucky for you, my life has done nothing but improve without those idiots in it. You've done me a bit of a favor here, so I'm going to do you a favor by not killing you and your 'girlfriend' tonight. Tomorrow though? Who knows. I can only be so forgiving." She lifts her shirt to reveal the bullet wound in her gut, now covered in duct tape, the slick purple goo still oozing out from beneath.
"Now, if you want to live- if don't want me to go into the other room right now and smash that fucked up thing's gem into bits, you're going to have to answer a little question for me." She stands and pulls her pants back up, neglecting to wipe, and walks toward Pearl.
"Do black lives matter? Or do all lives matter?"
Pearl looks at her, confused, and says nothing.
"Wrong answer, womp womp" Amethyst slams her fist into Pearl's chin and then again in her nose, causing it to go crooked. She bursts into laughter at the sight. "OH WOW, YOU LOOK HILARIOUS, YOU SHOULD SEE YOURSELF. HOLD UP LET ME FIND MY CAMERA, I GOTTA PUT THIS SHIT ON THE INTERNET." She leaves the room, still laughing.
Looking down her bent nose, out the open door- to freedom- Pearl begins to sing the third verse of her song, her timbre only slightly affected by her new injury.

CHAPTER 43

"Jesus kid, are we almost there? I thought you said you were close by." The first words either of them had spoken in the five minutes they'd been walking. Dick insisted that they make the trek in silence. He claimed it was so he could gather his thoughts. Lars knew better, but held his tongue. Dongleston was clearly out of it, and this was a man famous for killing a person. At least I'm white, Lars thinks to himself. Realizing how bad a joke that was, Lars checks his privilege. He checks it long and hard before realizing that, dammit, he's doing it ironically. Lars had been trying to be nicer and more progressive, but sometimes it was just so damn hard. How is he supposed to take this stuff seriously? Lars thought marriage equality was all well and good, but he drew the line at letting men into the ladies' room, no matter what they called themselves. What's this world coming to? We need SOME sort of organization in life, but all everyone on the left seems to want is chaos. He stops to take a puff of his cigarette and think.
"Are you fucking deaf?" Dick barks, flinching and grabbing his head at the pain his volume inflicts. Lars gazes up at the sky, seeming not to hear.
"Dick, is America doomed? You're a cop, right? You must see a lot of sick shit. Why are people so crazy these days? Do you think it's possible we have too much freedom? How is it that these sensitive genderqueer whateverkin crybabies feel they can limit free speech? You've heard that phrase 'your rights end where my feelings begin', right? It's spot on. What is a 'safe space'? I saw this thing on O'Reilly the other night where Jesse Watters went to the Mizzou campus and the #blacklivesmatter protesters kicked all the whites out of the room, including those protesting with them. It's insane, Dick. I can't believe this #blacklivesmatter thing at all. They're all out killing each other in gangs and then have the nerve to take it all out on the poor police officers such as yourself who are forced to get in the middle of it. It's not your fault they didn't have a dad, right? heh heh." Lars instantly regrets his racist rant, but it had been building in him for a while and it was a relief to have finally let it out. He takes one long drag of his cigarette and looks back to gauge Dongleston's reaction. Dick gives him a hard look.
"Shit sake kid, are you even old enough to be this cynical?" he asks
"I just watch the news" replies Lars, taking one final puff before flicking the glowing butt far off into the shadows. He thought that would seem like a cool thing to say and do. It was not, and he now realizes this. Wow, thinks Lars, maybe I am an asshole.
"Well take it from someone who lives the news," Dick says gruffly, "trying to resist any major cultural change will be a futile effort. Things are never going back to the way they were and there's nothing either of us can do about it, sad to say. You asked if we have too much freedom? That's a dangerous thought. I don't get it either, but why not let a person call themselves whatever gender or age or species they want? It doesn't matter to me."
"But then what happens when they demand you right off the bat know and use their special snowflake 'pronouns'?" counters Lars
"It's a little silly to expect everyone to know, but why not let them just do what they want? What's wrong with calling them what they want to be called? You call me 'Officer' don't you?"
"Yeah, but 'officer' is a title you EARNED. That's different"
"Sure, but it's the same in the sense that I feel disrespected when you don't address me correctly. I'm sure tranny boys or girls or whichever feel that same disrespect when you blatantly call them the wrong name. It just equates to you intentionally being rude. Don't call me 'cop'. It is rude."
"Why is 'cop' rude again"? Lars asks, eyebrow raised.
"I don't know, it just is. It rubs me the wrong way. It's like slang. I'd rather you be respectful when talking to me and leave the slang for the domino games with your homies."
"And saying something like that isn't 'disrespectful' toward black people?"
"What? 'homies'? I don't mean that in a racist sense. I mean it like 'friend' of course."
"That's such bullshit," laughs Lars, "you can only ever say that word in the racist sense nowadays. I sure know black people don't use it unironically anymore."
"You don't know that. I've heard black people say 'homie' plenty. You shouldn't generalize like that"
"Wow Dick, I never knew you were such an SJW" Lars says, rolling his eyes.
"What the fuck is an SJW?" asks Dick. "You know what, I don't care, let's just get moving again. This conversation is killing me. How much further is your house?"
"Well, we've been standing in my yard these past 10 minutes, so not far."
"Son of a bitch" Dick grumbles as they make their way to the front door.
Lars undoes the locks quietly so as to not wake Ronaldo, but his efforts are wasted. Ronaldo is gone.

CHAPTER 44

Beep. Boop. Video game sounds. Sadie lies on top of her bean bag chair like an overturned turtle. Her face is expressionless as she mashes on the keyboard balanced on her enormous gut with her left hand, while her right rests on the floor, alternating between mouse clicks and shoveling Trader Joe's cheesy corn puffs into her mouth. When selecting these chips, she told herself that, even if she were to eat the same amount as she would the regular cheese puffs, it would still be healthier because these are organic. Are they really organic though? Sadie had always just assumed that everything sold at Trader Joe's was organic, yet now that she thinks of it, she can't pinpoint where exactly she heard that. Had she ever actually read the labels on on the things she buys? She lets her current handful of orange styrofoam tumble to the ground mid-airlift and, with some effort, rolls onto her side to snatch the bag with her clean hand. She scans the front, then the back. Then the front again, slowly and more carefully, paying close attention to every little detail down to the cheese particles printed on the label. She flips it over one final time, her heart sinking as she passes the nutritional facts. This is it. It's all over. Sadie starts to feel sick to her stomach. Nowhere on the bag does it say "organic". What has she done? How many of the puffs had she eaten? How many GMOs are now pumping through her blood stream? She considers induced vomiting. The bathroom is all the way upstairs, but she has a trash bin somewhere that she can use. She lifts her head and looks. She spots it by the door, overflowing with garbage; snack wrappers, napkins and pizza crust spill out from the edges and onto the floor, seeming to extend on and on to the furthest corners of her large, basement room. Sadie leans her head back and closes her eyes, thinking of anime- a feeble attempt at soothing both her troubled stomach and soul. She visualizes a crude recreation of her husbando's face. It's very rough, but she supposes that it will have to do. Sadie has never had much of an imagination. Maybe that's why she was so attracted to the anime and video games in the first place. Years ago, in jr. high, she had tried being productive and drawing something for herself, but every attempt at a cute vampire anime boy ended up looking like a space alien. That was well and good for certain fetishes, but slick, grey skin and anal probing just never appealed that much to Sadie. She gave up after only one month of half-hearted doodles. Who knows, maybe she would have kept with the whole "art" thing had Lars not found her sketchebook and spent the good part of a week using it as fuel for ridicule. So what if she had drawn Lars sucking his own dick? You are supposed to draw the naked human figure to get your anatomy worked out. And besides, he should have been flattered. The tentacle dick she had given him on a whim was much larger than whatever he probably had going on down there. Lars didn't fucking understand anime. Not too long ago Sadie went through a period where she had taken to calling him "Chad" behind his back. "Chad" was a funny joke she had gotten from the internet. A "Chad" is what you call a "normie" which translates to something like "well-adjusted, sane person who need not seek comfort in bright colors and sqeaky voices" and Sadie thought it was hilarious, though she received nothing but raised eyebrows when repeating it to people in real life. Lately it seemed that everyone was a Chad. Sadie sighs and tries to hold onto the image of her anime boyfriend when her cell phone rings from the pocket of her sweatpants. That ringtone. Speak of the devil, it's Lars. She struggles to get her hand into her pocket in time to accept the call, and dials the number for voicemail. She isn't sure what to make of what she hears: "HEY SADIE ITS ME, LARS, COME OVER HERE QUICK, THIS IS AN EMERGENCY, HURRY."
Is this another goddamn prank? Last time Lars invited her over for a makeout session she ended up spending the night rearranging his furniture. Lars' bizarre fussiness over where to put a coffee table was a big part of what finally ended her little crush on him. That and the gauges. What kind of asshole does that to their ears?
Sadie checks the clock on her phone. Not even Lars, with his ridiculous earlobe horseshit, is immature enough to pull a prank this late at night. She presses redial, suddenly noticing the cheese dust covering the buttons. She looks down her side as the phone rings, horrified by the giant, orange streaks. Son of a bitch, she thinks. The call goes to voicemail. "Son of a bitch" she says aloud, giving a great grunt and lifting herself up.

CHAPTER 45

Pressing his ear to the front door, Ronaldo can faintly make out Lars' and Dongleston's voices coming from the front yard. Sure, he and Lars hadn't been on the best terms as of late, but he never thought his former best friend would rat him out so willingly. He secures the locks and quickly looks around for something small to break or sabotage. Something subtle. Something Lars won't notice for weeks or months. Something difficult to trace back to Ronaldo. Smashing the tv would be too obvious, too expensive to replace when Lars inevitably comes looking for money and/or a fight. Should he steal something? He doesn't see anything of value in the living room and there's no time to run for Lars' room. He must act fast. His eyes race across the walls and floor, to the hallway leading toward the back of the house, and lock onto a vase containing a beautiful bouquet of flowers. Perfect.

---

Ronaldo pedals as fast as his flabby legs will go, the chain of Lars' stolen bicycle trailing close behind. It's one thing to not lock your bike to anything in your unfenced back yard, but who the hell attaches the thing to the bike's seat and not one of the wheels? Ronaldo is not a bike guy. He hadn't owned one since he was 10 years old, but even he knew these common rules of bicycle security. Lars was never the smartest kid, so this was to be expected, but that hadn't stopped Ronaldo's sense of pity from temporarily overcoming his anger at being betrayed. For a moment he even considered turning himself in. Poor Lars knows not what he does, and maybe Dongleston would allow him to live. After all, it was Ronaldo who had in these past 24 hours seen things he was not meant to see. Horrors he wished he could erase from his mind completely. Lars is both innocent and ignorant, he thinks, so why kill him as well? It likely didn't matter to these hardened government types. For all he knows, they're robots. Or reptilians. What kind of human being would empty 9 rounds into an unarmed man holding a cell phone? No, Lars is doomed. If only Ronaldo had told him what he'd seen. What he now knew. Lars never would have run off to find the cop had that bomb been dropped on him. But it's too late for him now, and Ronaldo presses on, determined not to suffer the same fate. He turns right at an intersection and jumps the bike up onto the sidewalk, blasting down the cracked concrete.

---

Sadie is waddling through the dark when she hears a faint whirring from ahead, getting louder fast. She stops and squints. The street lights are out, of course. Thanks, Lars, for not doing this at a reasonable hour. The whirring is much closer now. By the time she realizes the sound's origin, the bicycle crashes into her, knocking her to the pavement to roll off into the dirt and grass between the sidewalk and the road. Aching all over, she slowly lifts herself off to her knees and looks for the idiot cyclist she now plans to sue harder than a cyclist has ever been sued. Ronaldo Fryman is straightening the bike and attempting to take back off. "OH NO YOU DON'T DICKHEAD" she screams, lunging forward and grabbing the chain dangling from the bike's seat. She pulls hard, yanking the bicycle back and sending Ronaldo sprawling forward onto the ground. He tries to crawl away as Sadie limps toward him, seizing the scruff of his silk dragon shirt and lifting him to his feet.
"WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING, RONALDO? YOU COULD HAVE KILLED ME, YOU IDIOT." Ronaldo looks scared. Good.
"I'm sorry Sadie. I was in a big hurry. I still am. I really need to go, Sadie." He looks nervously back toward where he was coming from and tries to pull away, but Sadie just holds on tighter.
"Look here, you absolute SHIT. You are NOT SUPPOSED TO BE RIDING YOUR BIKE ON THE SIDEWALK. IT IS AGAINST THE LAW. DO YOU NOT UNDERSTAND THAT? HAS NO ONE EVER TAUGHT YOU BIKE ETIQUETTE?" Sadie does not remember the last time she was this angry.
"Why can't I ride my bike on the sidewalk, again?" asks Ronaldo, the strange tone in his voice seeming to imply pleasure from having his rights questioned.
"I just TOLD you, it's against the LAW."
"Why should I follow a law if it's STUPID?" Ronaldo no longer appears scared or distraught. He is excited. Sadie already hates this.
"It's not a STUPID law, because, as you can see, it prevents shit like THIS happening."
"This was a freak accident, Sadie. Things like this only happen every once in a blue moon. You can't punish all bike owners just because one stupid one messed up. It's unfair."
"It's not a PUNISHMENT, Ronaldo, it's there to protect people from getting hurt. Sorry if it's INCONVENIENT to you."
"You're damn right it's inconvenient!" he exclaims, "For me and everyone else! When a cyclist has to ride off on the side of the road, passing motorists are forced to slow down so as to not hit them. Traffic comes grinding to a halt and you're not even in the road! The sidewalk just makes more sense."
"There's no traffic now. I haven't seen a single goddamn car this entire walk, as a matter of fact. You have no excuse to be riding on the sidewalk at night."
"Sure, I'm in the wrong right now and again, I am very sorry. But look, there's no reason you shouldn't be able to ride your bike down the sidewalk during the day. It's smooth and it's easy. If you see someone, you go around them."
"What if they're in the middle of a narrow sidewalk?"
"Then you call out 'HEY BUDDY, MAKE WAY'"
"What if, like most people walking alone on the sidewalk, this person is wearing headphones?"
Ronaldo looks defeated for a moment before the spark returns to his eyes.
"Well, there's the unwritten rule"
"what unwritten rule?"
"About sidewalks."
"What the fuck are you talking about?"
"It's like escalators. If you're not in a hurry and just want to stand, you make sure you're off to the right side of the escalator so people can get past you if they want. It's the same with sidewalks, so I don't see why you can't throw a bike into the equation."
"You're so full of shit, Ronaldo. I've never heard of these rules before in my life."
"Don't you drive? Are you not familiar with the concept of a passing lane?"
"But there are LANES on the road. Not on the sidewalk you fucking moron."
"Then what are those?" Ronaldo points behind her at the sidewalk. When she turns her head to look, he twists free from her grip and sprints off into the darkness.
Sadie rubs her sore shoulder, kicks the wheel of the bicycle and continues to Lars' house.

CHAPTER 46

The door to the Fryman home opens quietly, and a hand truck, stacked to the top with video games and DVDs, slowly rolls out onto the stoop. Lapis Lazuli appears behind it, a 32" flatscreen TV tucked under her arm. Leaving the door wide open, she wheels the dolly down the steps, hentai videos spilling from the top of the stack with each small thud before it reaches the grass. She makes no attempt to pick them up. She has no need for any of the things she's taken, and isn't sure herself why she felt compelled to rob that Fat Shit again. He just rubbed her the wrong way. Lapis never had much sympathy for the fat and lazy, and now this generation was making up mental illnesses to excuse their sloth. It made her sick. Maybe, to her, he embodied everything that had gone wrong on this trash rock. Humans used to work hard and play hard. Now they did both, softly, in front of computer screens. Maybe she was trying to do the boy a favor by removing his vices from him. It's possible that he could come out of this whole thing as a better person because of it. Lapis is no charity worker, but she takes pride in what little good she can do. Shame about the parents though. She honestly hadn't expected anyone else to be home. Fatty must be in his 20s. What is he doing still living with his parents? Oh well, she thinks, maybe now he'll learn some independence. She pushes the cart onto the sidewalk and starts down the road. The street lights have long since shut off, and the heavy black clouds blanketing the sky make it difficult for Lapis to see. After a couple yards she stops. A tiny light briefly flickers in the tinted window of a black van parked further ahead. Part of the security system? She doesn't like the look of the van, and thinking back, doesn't seem to remember it having been there an hour or so ago on her way over. She lets go of the dolly and puts the tv down on the ground, crossing over to the side where the van is parked.
Keeping low to the ground, Lapis retrieves the pistol from her fanny pack and creeps toward the driver's side of the van. When she reaches the rear fender, a noise from inside confirms her suspicion- there's someone inside. She readies her gun and crabwalks- staying well below view from the windows- to the door, gripping the handle and taking a deep breath, praying that it's unlocked. It is. She swings the door open and aims right at the face of the short, bald man behind the wheel. Lapis can read the surprise on his face plain as day beneath the sunglasses.
"Hey there friend, what are you up to tonight?" she smiles at him. He says nothing, his expression becoming blank. Not the intended response. That usually works. Lapis decides to skip straight to the intimidation part of the act. She shakes the gun in face his and says "Look here asshole, I've killed before and I'll do it again if you don't give me whatever valuables you have on you right now. And for the record it's real fucking rude to not answer someone when they ask you a question. You got that?" Still no response. "HEY" she screams at the top of her lungs, "I'm TALKING TO YOU, BUDDY. YOU HE-" she feels something cold and hard press up against her gem and freezes. The bald man smiles. "Get in" croaks a voice from behind. The pistol is gingerly removed from her hand before the back door slides open and she's shoved inside.

CHAPTER 47

DING DONG Sadie rings Lars' doorbell for the third time and presses her ear to the door to listen for any sound coming from inside. Nothing. Was Lars hurt? It was hard to read his tone in the message he had left, but at least where Sadie came from, "emergency" meant "emergency". It's a long shot what with Lars' strong, racially-based paranoia, but Sadie tries turning the knob, which she is surprised to find is unlocked. She pulls open the door and sees Lars, face down on the floor, while officer Dongleston lies sprawled out on the couch. What kind of massacre had taken place here? Before the panic can fully set in she notices the bottles, the bong and Lars' chest expanding with each very real breath he takes. She walks over and gives him a hard kick in the ribcage, causing him to yelp and roll over onto his side, looking up at her now, a glazed-over look of confusion in his eyes. "YOU PIECE OF SHIT" she screams at the half-conscious Lars, fully enraged now. The argument with Ronaldo had gotten her close to the tipping point, and Lars' total disregard for her and her time has pushed her over the edge. She kicks Lars again as he tries to sit up. It feels good to finally hit Lars- feels REAL good to REALLY hit him. She does it again. And again. "You got me out of bed for THIS? What's the emergency, dickhead? Want me to clean up your mess again?" She goes in for another kick, but Lars catches her foot and pushes back hard, sending her tumbling onto her back. "Bullshit you were in bed" Lars says weakly, trying to stand. Drunk, but coherent. "I bet you were playing your fucking video games all night. I know you, Sadie, and you're a pathetic and predictable." Sadie is already back on her feet and ready to fight. "You want to talk pathetic? What are you doing partying with this scumbag? Smoking weed in your parents' house? Jesus Lars, they're are going to kill you if I don't end up doing it first." Lars points at the open window, and then the oscillating fan in the center of the room. "See? I know what I'm doing." "What you're doing is jacking up your goddamn heating bill. They'll smell it. They're bloodhounds, your fucking parents." Lars sighs. "Don't worry about it. I have Ozium. This stuff will straight up murder the smell of anything in the room." He flashes Sadie a smug smile, then limps over to the coffee table, picking up the spray can and removing the lid. "Check it out" he says, spinning around in circles, spraying the air freshener in all directions around him. "You're not going to smell ANYTHING pretty soon" he begins to laugh but is abruptly cut off when he turns and sprays directly into the fan's stream of air, sending a fine mist of ozium directly into his eyes and mouth. He lets out a high pitched squeal and dives for the kitchen sink. Dick Dongleston, booze coma disturbed by all the commotion, rises from the sofa and speaks slowly and deliberately in Sadie's general direction: "Who let the fat chicks in?" He gives a hearty belly laugh before collapsing back onto the couch and closing his eyes. Within seconds he is snoring. "Why AM I here?" Sadie calls to Lars, still flushing his eyes out in the sink. "I don't fucking know. YOU tell ME." "You CALLED ME, Lars." "What the hell are you t- oh." Sadie hears the sink turn off and Lars appears before her, eyes red, swollen and glossy, his hair soaking wet. "Oh my god Lars, you look like such an asshole right now." She can't help but giggle at his appearance. Dick's eyes shoot open at the terrifying sound of her laughter. "PLEASE STOP" he moans. "Hey Dick, remember what we were talking about earlier? The name? Well ask her." "Ask me what? What name? You couldn't have done this over the phone? I tried calling you back..." Sadie is once more becoming visibly annoyed. Dick mumbles unintelligibly and closes his eyes. "Well what he meant to ask" Lars says, "is: what did that blue woman say her name was back at the shop? You know, when she robbed us? Do you remember." "Oh, yeah, she said her name was 'Lapis' I'm pretty sure." "'Lapis'?" "Like the rock. I think it's a rock anyway. Or is it a color too? I don't know, I just know it's a rock. I think." "You hear that, Dick?" Lars half-shouts to get his attention. "LAPIS is the name. LAPIS."

When Dick opens his eyes again he is back in that hallway, climbing over bodies to get to the bathroom door where Maheswaren had barricaded herself inside. He hears it now, clear as day. "FUCK YOU LAPIS. FUCK YOU LAPIS. FUCK YOU LAPIS."