|Sorry, bit late
||[Sep. 18th, 2004|11:21 am]
The Bungaree Pineapple
I am late, because I usually post OS on Friday. Today (here, at least) is Saturday.|
They were still coming, and Bob was still running, but more importantly, he was still looking for what he thought wasn’t much further away. But then again, he couldn’t really tell. Crunchy Cola™ didn’t do that sort of thing. Although it was of the utmost importance, Bob decided to take his mind off searching and start worrying about running from the kangaroos closing on him. To his good fortune, it looked as though they weren’t chasing him specifically, but rather just running around, killing people in general, and knocking down buildings with the combined power of multiple foreheads. However, to his bad fortune, if there is such a thing, they seemed to be following him, no matter how unaware of him they were. Luckily, they never got close enough to spot him, because at seemingly random intervals, they would stop to slaughter a small barricade of FNT soldiers, giving him a bit of time to climb a fence, or run past a fellow citizen, or whatever was necessary to escape the ravenous kangaroos’ line of sight.
This time, however, the turn of events weren’t exactly as he had hoped they would be. The house he was approaching and planning to pass through to access the next street across had the door kicked in. He assumed that something, probably an angry roo, was presently occupying the house. A quick look through a window confirmed this suspicion. This could’ve been difficult to pass through with something ripping his intestines out, so he decided to look for another way to the next street. Fortunately, however, he found a conquered FNT barricade not far from his position, about five metres, in fact, with one corpse of what was once probably an FNT soldier. Next to the disfigured remains lay a familiar, L-shaped object. When he approached it, he eventually identified it as a fairly bulky pistol. After picking it up, he examined it for a while, and then a wave of disappointment swept over him. The weapon was useless. Not only had the ammunition been depleted, but the magazine was missing, what was left of the trigger, if a finger could be placed around it, was jammed, and the barrel was bent up and twisted to the right. After throwing the gun at the window, he realised that he probably shouldn’t have, because it passed through the pane of glass and, not surprisingly, resulted in a loud, shattering sound. After a few seconds, a kangaroo slowly approached the window and looked around outside for a while. Bob was very scared now. Although he couldn’t be seen from his position, his right eyelid was becoming very spasmodic, and every few seconds, it made a slight squelching sound. Unfortunately for Bob, the kangaroo heard one such squelch, and immediately looked in his direction. Since Bob lacked possession of an apparent means of self-defence, the squelching became louder and more frequent.
One of Bob’s extraordinary talents is the ability to think clearly under almost all circumstances, including absolute terror. Thinking through all of the items currently in his possession and of a possible way to utilise it in a way that would save his life, Bob finally pulled the can of Crunchy Cola™ from his backpack. By this time, the kangaroo had smashed its way through the door of the house, and was looking in his direction. Bob hastily cracked open the ice-cold can of cool, refreshing Crunchy Cola™, and as the kangaroo started bounding toward him, he threw a considerable quantity of the beverage at the bloodthirsty marsupial’s face. The kangaroo stopped. Or rather, it fell over. The Crunchy Cola™, which had splashed all over the macropod, instantly resulted in severe, irreversible damage to its face, causing it to faint from the unbearable agony of having the corrosive soft drink in its face. Bob seemed impressed at the corrosive power of what people called a ‘drink’.
After passing through the house and continuing down the next road for a few minutes, Bob thought he found what he was looking for. But he didn’t, he found the local Cheep-O™ supermarket. He was greatly disappointed, but it would have to do for the moment. Bob approached the main door, the most obvious point of entry, and stood in front of it, waiting for the motion detector above the door to notice him. Not surprisingly, nothing happened. He hadn’t thought that no one in their right mind would be running a supermarket at a time like this; the sales would be pathetic. He decided to give up on the main door, and instead began to search for an alternate means of entry. Once again, luck was on his side. After looking for only three and a half seconds, he discovered a ventilation shaft that was more than big enough to crawl through comfortably. It was also about nine centimetres above the ground, and the grate covering it was loose, and very easy to remove. After doing this, he lowered himself into the steel-walled shaft, although it might’ve also been aluminium, and began to crawl towards his secondary goal.
After half a minute of very comfortable, almost luxurious shuffling on his hands and knees, Bob had reached the end of the vent. However, he knew for sure that this facility was installed with a high-tech security system, and while it’s active, any change in pressure detected on the floor or the shelves over a certain amount caused an alarm to sound, all of the possible escape routes to seal, and an automated call to the police to be made. Two of these didn’t worry him very much, but being trapped in a supermarket for the rest of one’s life is quite a boring way to die, and not to mention humiliating. After watching the red beams of light sweep around the floor and the walls for a while, he noticed a panel with the word ‘security system’ printed in large letters across it, directly to the left of the duct he inhabited. This panel also had a large, red thing, similar to a switch, and aside from the lettering, nothing else occupied the panel. Bob thought for a few seconds, and then produced a note pad and a biro from his backpack. He opened the note pad to an empty page, studied the switch for a moment, and began to scribble down differential calculus and quantum mechanics on the blank page. After about half a minute, Bob decided that it probably wasn’t the time for such complicated rubbish, and proceeded to toggle the large, switch-like protrusion, hoping it would deactivate the security system, which, once again, to his great fortune, it did.
Having assured a juicy selection of escape routes on his exit, Bob began to climb down the frighteningly conveniently placed ladder underneath his point of entry. Although he hesitated before setting his foot down on the floor, nothing happened, to his relief. His eye could relax, for the moment. He had work to do, however, and set off immediately in the direction of what he was looking for. However, he had no idea where to look for it, so he took the obvious plan of action, and began searching the isles systematically. He did this by pacing up and down the main isle, which connected all of the others, reading the signs above each isle to see what was contained in that particular isle. In the first isle there was deodorant, shampoo, and other hygiene products; not what he was looking for, so he continued. Isle two contained pet food, sponges, plastic flamingos, truncheons, and similar products; he hadn’t found what he was looking for here, either, but he took a flamingo and a few sponges for protection. In the third isle was rice, pasta, novelty fake eyeballs, custard, dead parrots... wait, that’s what he’d been searching for! No, not the parrots, you idiot! The custard! He ran up the isle and after finding the custard, he looked for the best kind; he didn’t want to leave with some inferior brand and flavour of custard just because he was rushing. But even though it was more than three times the price of the home brand, there was no Crispy Custard™ left. In fact, there was only one brand left, and that was the home brand, Cheep-O™ brand custard, perhaps the worst kind of custard he could think of. However, it would have to do for the moment. He also had to have the right flavour, and this was many times more important than the brand. He looked at the colour of the stripe on the bottom corner of each packet, taking the packet if the stripe was yellow, signifying banana flavour. He now had nine packets of Cheep-O™ brand custard powder in his backpack, which was far from enough. Even so, Bob sprinted to the dairy section, so fast that he slid on the recently mopped floor and collided with the glass door. With his now bleeding nose, Bob located two cartons of milk remaining. However, one of these particular cartons of milk happened to have an expiration date containing the year ‘1996’, and the other had the year ‘1995’, so Bob decided it was probably best to leave them where they were. However, as those two litres were the only quantity of milk left in the supermarket, he was forced to rotate his head slightly to the left and with horror, cast his eyes upon the only other alternative available to him. Bob hesitantly took four cartons of SupaSoy™ and headed for the checkout to find some carry bags.