"Stories of Intrigue" is a pastiche of terrible amateur genre fiction. Another way of explaining it: here is a story written by the dumbest motherfucker taking Intro to Creative Writing at your local community college.
This is part three in an epic series of Stories of Intrigue inspired by "The Wire." Here are the others:
"Order! Order! I hearby call to order this meeting of cops and criminals, scoundrels and hero's, gentlemen and germs. Lets get this party started!"
The voice who said that thing was Buddy Blackcop, a shorn-skulled admiral in the city police. As he spake, his chromed dome glistened and throbbed like a blobfish hailed from the briney deep. He was talking to a crowd of people and camera's.
"Here ye, here ye. You ever walk down the street drinking a Bacardi Breezer concealed within the brown embrace of a paper bag?" He pulled out a brown paper bag from his pocket and uncrinkled it to prove his point.
"Well I have the same idea for the drugs that have rampanted our fair city. I propose a brown paper bag of sort's to nestle snugly about the zoid quadrant of the city. The drug known only as zoid has decimaled our fine-feathered town, and so I will fix the problem by making zoid legal in the fenced-in zoid quadrant. I call it: Hamperdamper."
Ringer Bell, the afeared drug lord, sat in the audience. He smiled a wicked grin, wickeder in fact then the wickedest wisdom espoused by celebrated heavy metal shredders Wicked Wisdom.
"My wicked plan's are coming to fruit," he said. "How sweet it is." The white cop McNutty turned around and shushed him.
Buddy's proposal was as sassy and sizzling as a Salt-n-Pepa recording. But he underestimote the sheer power of zoid as well as the sheer power of zoid's biggest fan, Ringer Bell. They're combined sheer power was more powerful than the collective power of a wrestling rink holding the duel dualling tag teams of Diamond Dallas Page and Karl Malone V.S. Hollywood Hulk Hogan and Dennis Rodman.
Ten years later, or maybe ten minutes—you never could tell when you were under the spellbinding spell of zoid—the Zoidzone, also k.a. as Hamperdamper, was a zoo. A zoidzoo. But this was more like a zoo filled with clones of the chimp whom ate that lady's face and hand's.
"Bang!" yelled a gun. "Zoom!" screamed a bullet. "Yee-ouch!" scrouched a victim. Things were getting buckwild. Ringer Bell watched the carnal on a vast wall of T'v screen's from deep within his lair. "The best-lain plan's...." he muttered, crackling.
Beloved cracked head Bubba walked around the wreckage of Hamperdamper. He loved crack, but he couldn't abide zoid. Red-eyed zoidheads lurched toward him, their green eyes glowing like pearl's of gold. "Zooiiiid," they said. "Zoooiiiiiiid!!"
"Exit, stage left!" Bubba said. He saw his buddy Whitey licking a toilet bowl to entertain the keeper's of the zoid, in hopes of "zcoring zome zoid," as the zoidhead accent would have it. "Goldang these mean street's," said Bubba.
Back at the police station, Chief Daniel, who looked like a burnt skull, told whitecop McNutty and ladycop Chemo that thing's had progressed far beyond freaknasty in Hamperdamper and were reaching freakfilthy proportions. "Its a jumble out there," he declared.
After the meeting, McNutty talked to Chemo. "Hamperdamper is but a microcause ‘em of our world at large. The world is a vampire. Zoid? The fang's. Hamperdamper is a tiny little vampire riding the cape of the giant vampire, which is the world. Hamperdamper is a Monsters in My Pocket." Chemo moved her head up and down in a nod of upmost agreement.
So McNutty and Chemo hatched a plan. They did something that turned all the zoid into harmless air that the zoidheads injected harmlessly into they're vains. The zoid became powerless. The red sky over Hamperdamper turned blue and the once-toxic air became breathable and flowery. Much as a worm turns into a cocoon and then a beautiful butterfly, Hamperdamper became the very model of Smalltown, Anystate, U.S.A., World.
But there was one last lose end. Ringer Bell was still on the lose. McNutty and Chemo decided to bring him to justice. But the street beat them to it.
O'Mart, a local thug who had many sides and sutlety's, the kind of guy who will shoot a drug dealer to dead without a second thought, and then go home and watch "Dharma and Greg," came to Ringer Bell's house and said a cool and cleaver thing. Then he shot him! He shot him! Shot, shot, shot. Dead, dead, dead. It was revenge for something that happened before the story started. Oh yeah, Ringer Bell was also many-sided and studyed algebra at Community College University but also killed people but also read "Tuesday's With Morry" but also dealed Drug. But now he was dead as a doorknob.
Then Brother P'Zone showed up and littered the corpse with more bullet's. Brother P'Zone was also many-layered because he read a lot of magazine's and was known to dress in the manner of a black ‘Gene Shallot but also shot people with a gun and bullet's. There they were: a Minaj-ä-twá of many-layered soul brother's. But one of these thing's was not like the other. One of these thing's was dead. It was Ringer Bell.
"Indead," O'Mart said. O'Mart said indead.
For more bone-chilling and heart-stopping tales, check out our Stories of Intrigue section.