TILBOP PART 9
THAT NIGHT, AFTER LAMMY AND KATY HAD BOTH FALLEN ASLEEP FOR REAL...
"Hmm, I wonder if we can transfer our recording from Lammy's memory banks onto Katy's iPad?" Ma-San scratched her chin and thought deviously to herself while Parappa fervently fiddled about in the telephone-book section OF said memory banks, searching desperately for the unlocking password TO said iPad...and wouldn't you know it, he found it right there in the poor blissfully unaware sheep lady's brain!
"Well, if nothing else, let's HOPE!" Parappa sighed somewhat exasperatedly as he and Ma-San retook control over Lammy's body (TOTAL control this time, no less) and set her into Sleepwalking Mode so that she hopefully wouldn't wake up Katy (who was already ridiculously deeply asleep anyway) as she redressed herself back into her signature outfit once again, reached over into the bedside cabinet and pulled Katy's precious cat-eared neon-blue iPad, punching in the code 12696 on the password-entry screen...and who would've thought, it actually WORKED after all!
"Alright, let's see...just gotta go into the Videos app, which luckily has an almost literally INFINITE amount of space at this point in the device's evolutionary cycle, and click the Download From Other Related Device button, and then set Lammy's brain as the device to download from...wait a minute, HOLY SHIT, I WAS RIGHT! LAMMY'S BRAIN WAS LITERALLY A FUCKING ORGANICALLY POWERED MACINTOSH THIS WHOLE GODDAMNED TIME! No WONDER she and Katy have always been such complete and utter scene girls! APPLE REALLY HAS TAKEN OVER THE ENTIRE FUCKING WORLD AFTER ALL, HASN'T IT?!" Parappa began obnoxiously rambling to himself as he uploaded his recording of Lammy's so-called "work" day onto Katy's iPad, which amazingly only took about half an hour's worth of Joe-Chin-sponsored Apple Tetris.
"Alright, now that that's FINALLY over with, let's slip this sumbitch into Lammy's hyperspace-infinity pants pockets and get the hell out of here before Katy wakes up and realizes what we're doing!" Parappa whispered nervously to Ma-San while Lammy effortlessly stuffed an entire full-sized 2100-era iPad into just ONE of her jeans pockets, dug into Katy's purse, stole her wallet and car keys, stuffed them into the OTHER front pocket of her jeans, and then finally sleepwalked right out the front door of her apartment, followed by the apartment building itself (needless to say, Katy was REALLY deeply asleep).
"Alright, here we go; lights, CHECK! First-person camera view, CHECK! Ridiculously specifically-purposed peripheral, CHECK! And finally, last but not least, the ignition, CHECKAROONIE!" Parappa laughed smugly, re-awakening Lammy and turning on her brain's built-in GPS feature as he pulled out her central nervous supercomputer's steering-wheel-and-gas-pedal peripheral yet again, this time making sure to make Lammy drive as CAREFULLY as possible, so as to AVOID drawing public attention!
Several incredibly awkward robotic utterances of driving directions straight from Lammy's mouth later, Parappa and Ma-San found themselves (more accurately, Lammy) right at the entrance to Henrietta Octavio's Film-Making Parlor...whatever THAT was supposed to be.
"Um, hi...I'm, uhh...I'm looking to convert one of my girlfriend's iPad videos into a wonderfully pretentious art film, preferably of the gratuitously pornographic variety!" Ma-San squeaked timidly and nervously through Lammy's voice-control microphone, desperately trying to sound as convincingly like the real thing as possible so that Octavio wouldn't suspect anything.
"OH...which ONE, may my ever-so-FABULOUS Mexican self ask?" Octavio asked Lammy teasingly, stroking his fingers through his effeminately lovely blue tentacle hair.
"Why, THIS one, please!" Lammy requested, thumbing her way back into the Photos/Videos app and pointing out the 10-hour video that she wanted him to use with her right index finger.
"Oh, WOW...now THAT one right there's going to be one HELL of a long and hard EXPERIENCE to edit!" Octavio chuckled nervously, fiddling awkwardly with his very clearly fake Mexican mustache. "By rounding down to the nearest number, I'd have to say that'll cost you roughly around, say...FIVE HUNDRED DOLLARS! Go ahead and pay up if you're willing!"
"Oh, I'm WILLING, believe me!" Lammy cackled evilly as she pulled out Katy's credit card (which now already had a balance of around 10,000 dollars on it thanks to good old Joe Chin) and swiped it right through the store's obligatory credit/debit card reader without even the slightest bit of hesitation or forethought whatsoever...which made Octavio rather suspicious indeed.
"Now tell me; do you have PERMISSION to be USING this particular credit card, sweetums?" Octavio teasingly asked Lammy, trying desperately to hide his true identity from her.
"Um...YEAH! M-my girlfriend, uhh...like, GAVE it to me and stuff! TEE HEE!" Lammy chuckled nervously, glancing back and forth and drumming her fingers together awkwardly.
"Then tell me; DO YOU KNOW WHAT ITS PIN NUMBER IS?" Octavio brought his face more-than-slightly-uncomfortably close to Lammy's and ominously whispered right into her face.
"Um...well, uh, let me THINK about that for a second!" Lammy nervously but kindly asked Octavio, scratching her chin and looking straight up towards the ceiling while Parappa fiddled about deep inside her brain and began digging through her memory banks yet again until he finally found the PIN number for Katy's current credit card, and within only about ten seconds, no less!
"WELL? Do you KNOW the number or do you NOT?" Octavio asked Lammy exasperatedly, gently banging his big, squishy (neck) head against the table in frustration as a lightbulb suddenly appeared right above Lammy's head, accompanied by her doing the classic "EUREKA" expression with her right index finger.
"Why, of COURSE I know the code, you silly GOOSE! It's 0318!" Lammy chuckled amusedly as she punched in Katy's PIN number on the card reader's keypad and confirmed "her" purchase.
"So...you ARE going to do some really cool things with these clips, RIGHT?" Lammy asked Octavio nervously, more-than-subconsciously fearing that she had just completely wasted Katy's money (even though she very clearly and undeniably HAD, no matter WHICH way you looked at it).
"Oh, it'll be FABULOUS! MYSTICAL! ARTISTIC AND DELIGHTFUL! OR MY NAME'S NOT HAIRDRESSER OCTOPUS- ERR, I MEAN, HENRIETTA OCTAVIO!" Octavio melodramatically danced around on the countertops and posed like a ballerina while Lammy just boredly shrugged her shoulders, slipped Katy's wallet and credit card back into her pockets and walked off without another word.
THE NEXT MORNING, BACK AT LAMMY'S AND KATY'S APARTMENT...
"Come on, Katy; first things first, before we do anything else, we NEED to head over to Henrietta Octavio's film-making parlor and check out that cool new video he made of us! FOLLOW ME!" Lammy ridiculously overexcitedly forced Katy out of bed and begged her, frantically dragging her right out the door of their apartment by the hand before she was even able to make any of her crucial morning preparations besides getting dressed.
"WHY? For fuck's sake, Lammy, WHAT video are you talking about?!" Katy yelled angrily and confusedly at Lammy as Lammy threw her into the passenger seat of her own car and took the driver's role!
"No time to explain, pal; you'll see when we get there!" Lammy explained as she and Katy took off in their car, heading out to an incredibly obscure, unnecessarily expensive and barely even legally-founded Mexican store that, prior to this very day, hardly anyone even gave two shits about.
"Um...okay? I really don't see anything of interest happening here; where's all the so-called ACTION you were telling me about, HMM?" Katy asked Lammy irritatedly, crossing her arms over her chest as she and Lammy finally arrived at the film-making parlor...and found it completely empty.
"Hopefully down here in the basement!" Lammy hastily informed her as the two of them suddenly noticed a great big neon sign in the back-right corner of the store that said COFFEE SHOP, immediately bolted straight down the surprisingly normal downward staircase-in-the-floor that it depicted, and finally opened the door at the bottom...only to IMMEDIATELY be shocked almost completely out of their skin by what they saw happening IN said coffee shop!
"Well, okay, THIS is pretty cool, I suppose...wait a minute, WHAT IN THE UNHOLY MOTHER OF FUCK IS THAT?!" Katy boredly and exasperatedly shrugged...then suddenly stopped dead in her tracks and screamed loudly in shock while poor, poor Lammy did the same, causing both of them to completely lose their balance and tumble down the staircase, briefly losing consciousness upon hitting the floor.
Meanwhile, a whole crowd of hipsters and beatniks, many of them being anthropomorphic food items and inanimate objects as always, had all gathered around at the coffee shop's numerous tables to watch exactly what Lammy asked for on the shop's flatscreen television: an almost-unbearably pretentious art-film clip show of all of Lammy's ungodly humiliating misadventures from her "meet and greet" stint that she had been agonizingly forced to endure on the previous day.
"GOOD MORNING, PUPPET EL CORDERO..." Octavio, who naturally was providing the video's narration as always, whispered erotically to the beat of only THE most insanely stereotypical psychedelic porn music possible as the screen showed Parappa and Ma-San being discovered inside Lammy's brain via endoscopy.
"SMELL OF LIFE..." Octavio slurred drunkenly as the video showed Lammy being forced to sniff Chop Chop's feet, followed by Fleaswallow's feet, followed by Cathy Pillar's, before finally showing her getting her entire head shoved right into the aforementioned Cathy's rancid, festering birth-hole.
"SIGHT OF ANARCHY..." Octavio whispered oh-so-scarily as the video showed Lammy driving a car through Parappa Town in Grand Theft Auto style while literally fucking a moose in the process.
"TASTE OF BLOOD..." Octavio hissed cringe-inducingly cheesily as the video showed Lammy brutally dissecting Prince Fleaswallow from the inside, followed by Lammy also eating her own newborn baby live on the set of Cheap Cheap's cooking show.
"SOUND OF LAUGHTER..." Octavio laughed hammily as the video showed Lammy and Fussenpepper almost literally dying of laughter from each other's shitty political puns, followed by Lammy being violently forced to reveal all of her most embarrassing secrets to a massive public audience of the souls of the damned in order to (hopefully) be spared from Hell's torment.
"FEEL OF UNEASE..." Octavio whispered more cornily than a fucking Captain Planet villain as the video showed Lammy being quintuple-molested by King Kong Mushi and re-enacting Two Girls One Cup with Cathy Pillar.
"ALL THESE THINGS INTO POSITION...ALL THESE THINGS WE'LL ONE DAY SWALLOW WHOLE..." Octavio began directly quoting Radiohead as the video showed Lammy getting literally fucked to death by a great big melting pot of people from literally ALL different species.
"IMMERRRRRRSE...YOURSELLLLLLF...IN LOVVVEEE..." Octavio continued blatantly stealing formerly copyrighted Radiohead lyrics (from the EXACT same fucking song as last time, no less) as the video showed Lammy and Katy curling up together on the former's bed and licking what appeared to be a literal GALLON of feminine cum RIGHT off of each other's naked bodies.
Needless to say, Lammy and Katy did not exactly take terribly kindly to what they had just seen; the customers, however, were absolutely overjoyed beyond belief by it...perhaps even MESMERIZED by it, as one might say.
"WOWWW, DUUUDE...THIS IS, LIKE, TOTALLY FARRR OUUUT..." Prince Fleaswallow's purple cousin, Purple Toadshallow (ORIGINAL CHARACTER, PLEASE DO NOT STEAL) began moaning like a retard as he sipped his weed-laced coffee and readjusted his rainbow-colored bandanna and perfectly round sunglasses.
"LIKE...ZAWN-KEYYY..." Guru Ant, who was currently at regular human size for whatever reason, sat next to him and slurred in his ball-bustingly sexy jazz-baritone voice as he took yet ANOTHER sip of weed-laced coffee.
"OH, Lammy, that was MOST BEAUTIFUL indeed! Can I please have your autograph, please please pretty PLEASE?!" Rammy (Lammy's in-universe edgy Sonic recolor) broke out into an adorably excited ear-to-ear smile for one of the first times in her entire life and excitedly asked Lammy as she and Katy finally got up and began walking into the main "theater" area of the coffee shop, where a whole assortment of people from various species could even be found DANCING to the utterly inhumane and disgusting abomination of a film that Octavio and his accomplices had just unleashed upon the general public (surely enough, Teriyaki Yoko was RIGHT smack-dab in the center of the room, ballerina-dancing with Paul Chuck, her main accomplice in sending Lammy to Hell in the first place).
"WHAT IS THIS?! WHAT IN GOD'S NAME IS THE MEANING OF THIS?!" Katy screamed in horror as she looked underneath the tables and saw nearly everyone in the seats masturbating furiously to the video.
"WHAT IN THE ACTUAL SEVEN STAGES OF MY FUCKING BATSHIT-CRAZY GAME IS GOING ON HERE?!" Lammy shrieked in revulsion as Octavio took a short break from strumming his Mexican banjo, walked over to the opposite end of the room and welcomingly tipped his sombrero to them.
"EVERYONE is FRAPPING IT to our sold-out FILM!" Hairdresser- I mean, Octavio overjoyedly explained to Lammy and Katy, as if they couldn't already very clearly SEE that in the first place.
"Well, pardon my asking, but WHAT THE HELL'S IN IT FOR US?!" Lammy asked Octavio terrifiedly, grabbing him by the shoulders and shaking him violently in order to hopefully get him to answer.
"Oh, why of course, what ELSE could it possibly be? A LIFETIME SUPPLY OF NOTHING! Now have yourself a nice warm espresso and try to think calmly and collectedly about how you just spent your girlfriend's MONEY, baby!" Octavio douchily jeered at Lammy like the complete money-grubbing scumbag that he was while Katy glared coldly at her, gritted her teeth and clenched her fists into seething balls of rage, to which Lammy frightenedly did the jazz hands and pointed worriedly into her ridiculously, hilariously easily-manipulated head in response.
"FOR FUCK'S SAKE, PLEASE TELL US; HOW MANY OF THESE FUCKING THINGS ARE THERE?!" Katy yelled enragedly at Octavio, tackling him onto the ground and knocking his sombrero right off onto Lammy's head, which she immediately found that it looked unsurprisingly adorable on.
"GODDAMNIT, WHY IS ALL OF THE FUCKING TEXT SUDDENLY IN SPANISH?!" Parappa yelled angrily in frustration, slamming his fists against the dashboard of Lammy's central nervous supercomputer as Katy took the sombrero off of Lammy's head and returned it to where it belonged.
"And NOW why is it suddenly back to NORMAL again?" Ma-San gawked in disbelief at how incredibly racist this joke was. "It wasn't REALLY because of the fucking SOMBRERO, was it?!"
"Anyway, here's the deal; I've already made so damned many of these bloody things that they'll have already spread worldwide like an infectious CATTLE DISEASE before you two even KNOW it! EVERYONE who wishes to look HIP and AVANT-GARDE will WANT one...of my ELEVEN THOUSAND COPIES!" Octavio got back up onto his feet and began laughing maniacally while Lammy and Katy just stood there and audibly gulped, literally frozen in fear.
TEN SECONDS LATER...
"GYAAAHHHHHH!" Lammy and Katy bursted right out the front door of the film-making parlor and drove as fast as Katy's car could carry them; they had an UNBELIEVABLY massive film-making scam to squash, and they were going to need to hire a LOT of people in order to get the job done!
TILBOP PART 10
THREE HOURS AND ABOUT 600 PUBLIC VOLUNTEERS LATER, AT THE LOCAL LANDFILL...
"PHEW...alright, we've FINALLY got all of those wretched, infernal DVDs of you getting raped and tortured right where they belong, buried in a fucking landfill where no one will ever be able to lay eyes upon them again..." Katy sighed exhaustedly, wiping the sweat from her brow. "All 10,999 of them..."
"Wait, WHAT? 10,999? I thought it was 11,000!" Lammy gasped in surprise, checking the clipboard to confirm that she was, in fact, right; the number of DVDs that Octavio had produced for this abomination was indeed eleven thousand, NOT ten thousand, nine hundred and ninety-nine. "What the hell happened to the OTHER one? The odd one out, if you will?"
"Oh, I just sent that one off to your parents in New Zealand; don't worry about it!" Katy laughed smugly, swinging her hand downward like...well, a cat paw and embarrassedly blushing from ear to ear.
"YOU DID WHAT?!" Lammy shrieked at the tops of her ever-loving lungs, causing the PANIC ALERT alarm to begin ringing more loudly than ever before in her brain as she frantically bolted over to her mailbox (that just so happened to be conveniently located just across the street from the landfill, just like her apartment building itself), yanked out her mailbox key from her pocket and opened her designated cubbyhole of the mailbox...only to find the key to a much LARGER cubbyhole down at the bottom of the mailbox, which unsurprisingly contained a big brown box from her mom and dad. Ripping the box open like her life depended on it, Lammy immediately began reading the letter that her parents had packaged inside.
"Dear daughter Lammy: we saw your video this morning and absolutely LOVED it; so dearly, in fact, that we even went as far as to copy and redistribute it all over New Zealand! We're so proud of you; you've now become our nation's official sex symbol; love, Mom and Dad. Also, in this box, we've enclosed a nice big bag of condoms and tampons just in case you ever run of them. Have fun, babe!" Lammy read embarrassedly while Katy stood behind her and smugly breathed down her neck in an all-but-completely unmistakably "I told you so" type of manner.
"Why...I...I don't BELIEVE it!" Lammy gasped in bittersweet surprise as she stuffed the condoms into her front pocket, shoving the box and letter into her back pockets for later recycling-bin disposal.
"Yeah, I know, right? Your parents REALLY knew how to raise a fucking naughty little SLUT, didn't they?" Katy smarmily teased Lammy, causing her to collapse onto her knees, bury her face in her hands and break out into a manic depressive fit of intense crying and sobbing.
ABOUT TWENTY MINUTES LATER, AT JOE CHIN'S OFFICE...
"CONGRATULATIONS, faithful sidekick; you have completed a challenge that literally NO other woman I've ever appointed to has ever been able to successfully complete!" Joe Chin ecstatically complimented Lammy, eagerly running straight into her arms and hugging her.
"Gee, I sure do wonder why THAT is..." Lammy sarcastically patted Joe on the back and thought to herself as she casually glanced around the room, taking rather deeply unsettling note that she hadn't before of the sheer number of presumably female animal furs and skins that lined the room.
"Okay, then; what exactly IS my so-called REWARD, again?" Lammy asked Joe curiously while Mr. Horse angrily drew his finger across his neck from the back of the room to discourage her from doing so.
"SIMPLE, my dear whatzit; I WANT YOU to be the new mascot and head secretary of my personal FAN CLUB!" Joe explained just as smugly as ever to Lammy, slapping her ridiculously hard on the back yet again as he directed her straight to her very own secretary fanmail reception room, kicking her right in and then loudly slamming and locking the door behind her.
Needless to say, the remaining portion of the day was almost unbearably monotonous for both Lammy AND her brain stowaways alike; rather than getting to go on all kinds of cartoonishly goofy, wacky and over-the-top adventures like what happened during Lammy's meet-and-greet phase, the three of them were now stuck in a ridiculously plain white room literally ALL fucking day, with the former's only meals being a painfully generic ham-and-cheese sandwich and a rather profoundly average-sized bowl of cream-of-mushroom soup while the latter two people got to gluttonously engorge themselves on her brain tissue and give her agonizing headaches all day.
Lammy's JOB in this room, so to speak, was to answer JOE'S fanmail letters that got regularly delivered through an almost Lorax-esque slot in the wall by writing directly back to the rather un-nervingly loyal fans that wrote them with increasingly fake, forced and superficial compliments. Just to name a few of the more notable examples, here are my personal favorites from each hour of her initial work day, starting at approximately 12:30 PM and ending at about 10:30 PM.
"Dear Joe Chin, you are without a doubt the absolute greatest president our country has ever had, and this is coming sincerely from a batshit-insane redneck that worships the devil and keeps shotguns in his basement! - Cletus Drumpf" the first letter read.
"Dear Cletus Drumpf: OF COURSE IT IS, YOU FUCKING RACIST, SEXIST PIECE OF- (slaps self) -ER, I MEAN, sure, why not? As long as I'm TECHNICALLY not Donald Trump in name, you're free to believe whatever you want...well, at least, provided it doesn't relate to stupid fucking cheap-ass MEXICANS like Lammy, that is!" Lammy wrote back from Joe's perspective.
"Dear Joe: Why does literally EVERYTHING you build HAVE to have a fucking CASINO built INTO it? For crying out loud, my newborn BABY is already being taught how to freaking GAMBLE at the local NURSERY as we speak! This degenerate madness absolutely MUST be stopped! - Therm Otis" the second letter read.
"Dear Therm Otis: YEAH, THAT'S RIGHT; MY GUITAR IS IN MY MIND- (slaps self) -ER, I MEAN, I would certainly LIKE to stop this so-called degenerate madness you speak of...but alas, I'm afraid that it's simply making me FAR too much money. Besides, I have WAY more important things to worry about, like what color my hair and MAKEUP is whenever I wake up in the morning, for instance!" Lammy sarcastically wrote back from Joe's perspective, shrugging her shoulders and rolling her eyes.
"Dear Joe: Will you please marry me? I am a beautiful but very poor woman who very desperately needs the type of wonderful moral and financial support that only someone like YOU can provide. Please, I'm begging you; we can even raise a FAMILY together if you want! - Na'eev Falawer" the third letter read.
"Dear Na'eev Falawer: Sorry, but I've already set my sights on a FAR more TALENTED damsel...a certain universally beloved redhead GUITARIST named LAMMY, if you will!" Lammy smugly wrote back, maliciously grinning from ear to ear.
"Dear Joe: Why do you fucking treat women the way that you do? Seriously, I saw what you indirectly did to Lammy yesterday, followed by today, and it was, for lack of a better way of describing it, absolutely fucking HORRIFIC. Seriously, you should be ASHAMED of yourself. - Stephanie Jacques Williamson" the fourth letter read.
"Dear SJW: Don't blame me, blame the writers and animators!" Lammy wrote back, winking smugly at the audience.
"Dear Joe: How big is your big honking penis, n*****? Would you describe it as humongogigantic, maybe? Structurrestrial, perhaps? Possibly even huge-normous? - Fallas Luveer" the fifth letter read.
"Dear Fallas Luveer: Here's my advice to you: stop making up your own fucking words. UmJammer was already PLENTY stupid enough for one lifetime if you ask me. And no, I wouldn't describe my penis as any of those things; why, if anything, it's humongo-ganglia-lossal-normous!" Lammy exasperatedly wrote back, VERY narrowly resisting the urge to outright snap her pen in half.
"Dear Joe: Why does Lammy suck so much, and why does Parappa rock so much? Seriously, I desperately need to know. Thanks in advance. - Taisles Twatt" the sixth letter read.
"Dear Taisles Twatt: BECAUSE YOU ARE A FUCKING NOSTALGIA-BLINDED RETARD WITH ABSOLUTE SHIT TAS- (slaps self) -ER, I MEAN, because anything and everything that technically didn't invent its genre is automatically a shitty ripoff; everyone should know that if you ask me! And people seriously wonder why Nirvana is so much more popular than the Stone Temple Pilots and Soundgarden..." Lammy excruciatingly sarcastically wrote back, her eyes already beginning to twitch animalistically.
"Dear Joe: What do you think happened to my hopes and dreams? I can't seem to find them anywhere, and I've been making music for a LONG time now. - Dhom Vorke" the seventh letter read.
"Dear Dhom Vorke: Perhaps if you stopped making such soul-crushingly depressing music all the time, your so-called hopes and dreams that you speak of eventually WOULD come back to you. Just be glad you're not stuck working in one of my dreaded CUBICLES all day!" Lammy wrote back, banging her head forcefully against the table in frustration.
"Dear Joe: Who would you consider the most annoying person out of all of the Music Masters? Personally, I would have to say Lammy; her voice is SO fucking high-pitched and annoying, she's an obnoxiously hyperactive nervous wreck, her music is really only MARGINALLY better than Parappa's, and she is also WAY too fucking overhyped in the furry porn circles for how attractive she actually is in reality. Just my two cents. - Jim Sterling" the eighth letter read.
"Dear Jim Sterling: OH PLEASE, JIM STERLING, YOU'RE ONE TO FUCKING TA- (slaps self) -ER, I MEAN, muchly agreed, good sir! Great game, but she is SUCH a fucking overrated and shallow character. Parappa had SO much more depth and personality to him." Lammy wrote back as insufferably sarcastically as she could possibly muster, rolling her eyes several times over while Ma-San also did the same; needless to say, Parappa was not amused.
"OW, what was THAT for?!" Lammy yelped in pain as Parappa bit deeply into her brain tissue.
"Dear Joe: which would you rather have; all of the ego in the world but none of the talent to back it up, or all of the talent in the world but none of the ego to show it off? - Sudo Entelec" the ninth letter read.
"Dear Sudo Entelec: Who in God's great American name do you honestly think you're talking to? Of COURSE I would rather have all of the EGO in the world; after all, it just makes MY life that much easier! Who CARES about everyone else's, am I right?!" Lammy wrote back furiously, struggling to resist jamming her pencil into her already bloodshot eyes.
"Dear Joe: Are you really the one answering all of these letters? Because I've been getting a lot of reports that your answers to them are becoming increasingly self-critical and sarcastic as of late. - Captain Obvious" the tenth letter read.
"Dear Captain Obvious: NO, FOR FUCK'S SAKE, I'M FUCKING TRAPPED IN HERE, SOMEBODY PLEASE LET ME OUT- (slaps self) -ER, I MEAN, of COURSE not; why, instead, I've got everyone's favorite adorable little LAMB guitarist doing my dirty work FOR me! I mean, after all, who needs to treat women as actual people when you can just treat them as fucking TOOLS?!" Lammy wrote back infuriatedly, collapsing face-first into her desk as she exhaustedly slipped her last and final letter reply for the night into the outgoing mail slot. (Please note that I only listed ten out of at least THREE HUNDRED of them.)
"NO...NO SLEEP...HEEE-HEH-HEEEEEE..." Lammy began laughing and sobbing dementedly to herself as a huge puddle of tears began forming around the very spot where her face had been firmly planted atop the desk. "NO SLEEP...NO PLAY!"
"EYUHHEH-HEH-HEHEHAHAHAHAHA!" Lammy went full-on batshit insane, clutching her aching, brain-damaged, profoundly mentally numbed head and simultaneously laughing and shrieking in pain as the building's quite literal corporate higher-ups FINALLY decided that Lammy had been in that accursed, dreadful shitheap of a room long enough to satisfy their morally twisted tastes and added 100 dollars into her credit-card account before finally, FINALLY unlocking the door to her reception room.
"SO LONG, SUCKERS! AHHHHH-HAHAHEEHOOHAHOOHAHEEHOOHAHAAAH!" Lammy continued laughing and shrieking at the tops of her fresh-air-exhausted lungs as she bolted right out the front door of the Empire Chin Building, shooting the whole damned place a great middle finger behind her as she ran, and headed straight for Joe Chin's house with a considerably more-than-slight personal vendetta to fulfill!
Giantess World
