"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.
Herein, a Story of Intrigue inspired by the television show "Breaking Bad," in honor of the premiere of the first half of its fifth and final season.
Walter Breaking woke up and turned to his wive, Scilar Breaking. "Youch, my lung's!" he said. "It feel's like I breathed in a baseball. Whatever could it be?"
"Hrm," she said. Her brow furried. "Sound's like cancer." "Oh no I'd better go to the docter." "Yes."
So Walter went to the docter. "Yes it's cancer," said the docter. Aw nuts said Walter. So he had an idea. He could fix the cancer with an experimental drug called Mess. But not eating it--oh no no no. Mess turned you into a walking "before and after" but the After looked like a rotted pumpkin. But if Walter could make a $million dollar's worth of mess, he could afford Stage 4 treatment that would melt the cancer away with a nuclear thing.
"E=McSquare," said Walter in the past to a class of boreds. He was a teacher, but he really was a geniuos of every last one of the science's: Chemistry, Space, Math, and Grab Bag. But he didn't live up to his promise. So he was a teacher. One student was really bored. His oversized Kieth Sweat tee bemoaned year's of hard living. A slingshot jutted out of his rear-butt pocket. He acted out by putting tack's on Mr. Breaking's chair and such like. His name was Jesse Bad. And much like his namesake Jesse Camp, he hoovered up drug's like a Dusterbuster.
So anyway, now that we know Jessie Bad was...er....Bad...back to the present. Walter decided to make mess. He called Jessey on the phone and said "Hello Jesse, I want to make mess." "Sound's good, I'll be their in five minutes."
So Jessi came to his house and they went camping and began to cook mess. They followed the recipie to a T: 'twas a Trecipie. Walter rattled off the various ingredient's: "One cup of flour, two teaspoon's of water, one drop of potion X (the active ingredient), and a heaping handful of TLC," he said. Jessy tried to add some Frito crum's and some plastic army men he found under the couch to get more bang for you're buck, but Walter slapped his hand away. "Tut tut," he said. "That is the kind of undisciplined bullcrap that makes bad mess." So they followed the recipie, which no one had ever thought to do before. Finally, they had a steaming batch of mess, fresh out of the oven.
"Now then, whom do we sell this to?" they pondered. Jessiy first began selling it to his messhead friend's. "Wow, this is good stuff," they raved. "Really tasty, with no Frito aftertaste." Jess grinned a grin to his self. The stuff started selling like hot cake's. Anyone who was anyone was doing Walter and Jessiye's mess.
But the money wasn't coming in fast enough. The cancer had spread to Walter's hair's, causing them to fall out. He grew a goatee to more closely resemble Stone Cold Steve Austin, who's Austin 3:16 was a nightly inspiration to Watler. But the irony was that even Stone Cold couldn't have made the can of whoopbutt that was coming down on Walter (cancer). They needed to speed thing's up so he could pay to get his cancer killed.
"Lets take this to the next level," he told Jess. He went to the mess boss's house. The mess boss, Toucan, yelled at him. "Hola! (he was Spanic) Your a measly crum! I'm gonna kick you're butt all over the place if you don't stop cooking mess this instance! You hear me?" Walter stared at him with a blank, downright Undertakerian look on his face. "Hey white boy!" yelled Toucan. "Polly want a cracker?"
Suddenly, the stirring strains of Saliva's "Click Click Boom" rose in Walt'ers head. That is to say: he blew up Toucan's lair--er, nest. It showed he was Top Dog. He put on a hat and sunglasses to block out the hot Arizona sun. His transformation was complete: He was now Highs N. Berg, Walter's villanious altar-ego.
When he got home that night, they're was a dinner party to celebrate his cancer. His son, Junior, looked on with glee as Sciler's Sister's Husband Hank Cop told a tale of mess and mayhem. Jr. had to walk with two cane's because bully's messed up his leg's because he talked funny. He looked up to Hank and thought Walter was a tensile nerd. Hank, on the other hand...well, let's just say, do the word's Micheal Chiclets mean anything to you?? Hank was a DrugBI agent whom parlayed only the finest Kangol hat's and the stateliest bowling shirt's that would cause even the Mightiest of Bosstones to toss up they're hand's in jealous despair.
"Their's a drug guy named Highs N. Nerb," said Hank. "Hes bad new's. He is a chemistry genious and look's identical to Walter. But don't you worry: I'll catch him. I'll make him sing like Johnny Gill!" Walter grimbled and swigged on his appletini. Hank was a little to close for comfort...
The next day, Walter and Jessi went to Toucan's house to sell him some mess. They were gonna secretly swap it out for a spoon full of cinnamin so he would choke to dead, but Hank showed up and shot him for doing drug's. Walter and Jesse hightailed it out of their faster then a new Jodeci single climb's to #one on the chart's.
The next day (next, next day), a new drug guy showed up. His name was Guts Frink and his posture was impeachable. He spoke with a Tex-Mex lilt and never used contraction's when he spake. As a concession to his Afro-American heritage, he owned a fried chicken restaraunt (not racist). He had his freind Mic with him, whom resembled a wierd bat.
"Are you Walter Breaking, the drug cooker?" he asked. "Yes," said Walter. "Whom's asking?" "My name is Guts--er, nickname that is I should say, as no one know's my real name. Anyway, will you make me some drug's? I'll give you $a million." "OK," came the reply.
So Walter and Jessie made the drug's, cooking them just so, until they had the fine turqoise finish of a vintage brew of Mt. Dew Baha Blast. They gave them to Guts, periodicly stopping to talk to Sol Badman, the no-nonsense, bigshot lawyer whom wheeled and dealed (drug's pun) with them and knew every in, out, up, and down of the Law. By and by, Walt and Jess made a lot of money, but bad stuff kept happening. "Carma's a bi*ch," said Walter and Jessei as the body's piled around them (metaphor).
But then all of a sudden one fine day, Guts got mad at them because they aciddentaly messed up a batch of mess by forgetting to take it out of the oven before it burned to a crisp. First he sent 2 bald clone's after them, but Hank squished them as though they were made of Floam. Finally, Walter put dinomyte on a chair and when Guts sat down, KABOOM! Half of him blew up and the other half fell over. But was he really dead? It was a cliffhanger. Walter couched so that you would remember about his cancer. Also his family didn't know about the drug's, but then Sciler knew about it.
For more bone-chilling and heart-stopping tales, check out our Stories of Intrigue section.