By: Geoffrey Winssinger
Prologue:
What up? I guess I should begin with the beginning stuff that people begin with when meeting people or something, introductions, and you know I guess that starts with names. I do not really care what yours is but I’m Johann Sebastian Bach. Suppose to be named after some famous person or something; my parents watch a lot of TV so it is probably some stupid dude from a show they like or something. And what’s weird is my parents’ last name is not even Bach! It’s Wilson Bozeman
So yeah, first job I ever had was at Wal-Mart. Pretty surprised they hired me in the first place. I mean, I do not really strike myself as Wal-Mart caliber, probably a compliment. So why’d I even apply? Easy, bored, yeah that’s a lie, I’m not really qualified for anything other than the mindless tasks of a moron so that sort of limited my options. Plus, Wal-Mart apparently does not have high standards for hiring practices, case in point me, so while I applied at more fun places, GameStop, Blockbuster, Sam Goody, Wal-Mart was the only one willing to commit me to a life of underpaid low class slavery with a smile. Didn’t last too long though, kinda thought start time was more of a general arrival time than like a definite, you need to be here punched in by this time exactly or you are late, time, also a lie, but hey you gotta tell‘em something full of shit, I mean they already think you’re a moron, so why not play that card. So yeah, first day, totally late ass, like my shift started at eight AM, got there at like twoish, you know, more of a night owl, so I cannot just sleep on a dime like a robot or something. When you sleep at three in the morning, you don’t really get up until noonish to twoish. Really, by the time I went to sleep, I thought I got to work in a fairly timely, if not impressive, fashion. Manger did not see it that way:
Manager dude: Bach! You are so flipping late (who says flipping by the way?)! What the hell are you thinking!?! This is Wal-Mart! Wal-Mart! You just do not show up late, on your first flipping (there it is again) day! Not here! What do you have to say for yourself? Why should I not fire your dumbass right now?
So, and this is for, you know, future reference, cause it works great in these situations, this is how you should always answer a figure of authority, be it positive or criticism being spouted at you, well the first part anyway:
Me: First off, go fuck yourself (gotta start strong, and this is hard as shit right), second, fuck Wal-Mart (not original, but still awesome), and third, your knowledge is like my pinky in comparison to the rest of my body (not that deep, I know, but roll with me), you don’t know how hard I am, you don’t know shit (eloquently put as ever), your fucking knowledge is a fucking pinky compared to the vast fucking (wonderful word, yet we often seem to get stuck on it like a repetitive cycle, you’ll see, now that it’s started, F-bombs be a dropping) intellect of my fucking hardness, assclown (ok I didn’t say assclown, but it just came to me now), shut the fuck up, what do you even know, who the fuck are you to even know anything about me, look at you, manager of a slum district, wonderful achievement, fuck this, Bach out! (Yeah, not extraordinary proud of the whole “Bach out” thing, but I said it, so I gotta live with it).
So I walked on out of Wal-Mart three minutes into my first shift. Would have been tight as shit if the whole store just exploded behind me as I walked back to my car, cinematic and shit, right, well I guess minus the innocent people being exploded too, that would be lame on them, but fuck that manager dude, he is not innocent in this, he knew what he signed up for, you just don’t become a prostitute and don’t expect to get fucked, or something like that. And I know, I know, I am probably a prostitute too in all this, yes I did become a Wal-Mart employee, but shit man, there is not much out there or some such excuse, I make bullshit money that I don’t really get by on, so fucking Wal-Mart employees under the thumb of management assholes are innocents, except me, cause I blew ‘em up, cold as shit.
Anyway, what is the point of all this, well, because I lost my first job, thank you Christopher Christ, could have been a Goddamn plantation worker and shit, I kind of went the Franz Kafka path and changed up my shit. Powered only by my own will, like I am some sort of action hero or something right, powered by my own will, what kind of asshole says that shit, well me, but fuck that, powered by my own want to not be a tobacco farmer circa 1800, I decided to mutate myself and become an X-Man! As badass as that shit would be, not Cyclopes, fuck him, but like a cool character like, oh I don’t know, not Wolverine cause that is way to obvious and plus you would have shitty dreams all the time and fucking Sabretooth always trying to bite your ass, and who really needs that shit, maybe just like a character that is laid back and not super involved in the drama, like Morph, yeah I know he was created for the cartoon and shit, but fuck that, I am a child of the revolution, like Egon said, fucking print is dead and shit, course he fucking gets killed, so not him, not Iceman, he is a huge douche, not Colossus, I mean he is badass, but there’s the whole Russian thing, nothing wrong with being Russian, but I don’t want to end up in an interment camp encased in indestructible jello shit, so I cannot metal Hulk up and break out, when Cold War dos breaks out, and oh yeah it’s coming, it so fucking is, oh fuck yeah I got it, Forge, I am fucking Forge, that would be sick, I, getting back to the point, am not literally Forge, even though I totally wish I was, cause shit that would be cool. But in a way, well not really, but in a way I am an X-Man. I do not have superhuman powers, well I have the superhuman power of not being a subhuman assclown Wal-Mart manager, but I can still help people, and get into shit loads of trouble doing it. Can you say assclown on TV? Not like cable, The Shield type badass cable, but with commercials, TV, I mean like Fox is a huge piece of shit network asshole TV. Cause if you can, then I rescind it as a valid insult, cause if you can say it on network TV then just about any asshole can say it, and then all the mystic is gone, and with the mystic, as we all know, goes the fun. So I guess, since I don’t fucking know the answer, can’t just Google it where I am, I am putting it on the shelf, in the potentially douche face words box. So yeah, anyway, totally get sidetracked all the time, I am like a sixteen-year-old girl raised on text messaging, like O M G you guys, you guys seriously, LOL, my face just melted off! That just happened type shit, like one minute I am a rocket ship rocketing to rock and then I am I don’t know doing something else totally random that I cannot think of at the minute, hand-dancing, I am fucking hand-dancing. Time fucks your brain up, so you know just bear with me and shit. So, I almost worked at Wal-Mart, got fired, and was put on a different path, BAM, you could of just read that sentence and saved like ten minutes of random nonsensical shit. Plus like, I am trying to figure out how best to tell these stories and how I got here. Should it be all super hard third person, i.e.: Bach, the super genius badass dude, walked through the door of the death-prison Wal-Mart, saw the evil sorcerer and wielded his sword like vocabulary and word play straight ass-whooping the scumbag to its brutal and humiliating defeat. Bach stood proud as Kitty Pryde joined his side in triumph! I just do not know if I can a) pull that shit off the whole time, though it is pretty freaking sweet, and b) not come off like overbearing douche tube, like Iceman’s face in the movies, I just cannot help it, look at the dude, probably not even human, he is a fucking Terminator robot sent back to kill John Conner, I fucking know that shit is true. Anyway, anyway, anyway, Jesus mother of God can I stay on topic for one freaking sentence, I am on a new path, begin:
Chapter 1 – In the City:
In the city, city of Compton , in the city, good’ol Watts , in the city, of LA, we keep it rockin’, we keep it rockin’, shake, shake it baby… and I got punched in the face.
So here I am, in LA. Kinda awesome, kinda piece of shit, but damn have they got good food. It is almost tolerable to put up with the crazy stupid shit here just for ramen and delicious Yu Ke Jang, almost. Someone needed my help, so here I was. Course it was a young girl, wouldn’t be a story worth telling otherwise, freak sweet-ass dude like me rescuing some young girl in trouble, classic story right. Yeah, didn’t quite go that way. I mean, when does it ever go “that way”, at least it doesn’t for me. First thing that popped into my head when I got the call, well first thing was the call… second thing that popped into my head was Angel! Vampire with a soul saving LA, kicking demon ass, I so hope I do not have to fight a demon, I am a scrawny dude, like Hanks in the Wilson love story, that dude could kick no man’s ass, except probably mine, LA is starting to sound like a bad decision, and yet here I am. First mission, no experience, no obstacle course overcome, no tactical training, no martial arts training, no formal schooling, and come on do you really consider the Montana State education system adequate schooling? Shit, I am not even a good detective. Some jerk face stole my pizza in kindergarten, saw the dude do it, and still could not prove it. The power of, “I didn’t do it” boggles my mind. Yet, here I am. They told me to look for a girl named Dana Barrett, yeah I know right, like I am Pete Venkman or something, age twenty two, she needs my help. Where to start?
Phone book! Solid right, fucking hard-boiled and shit, maybe I am a detective after all, so got this down, cept she is not in the phonebook. Ball sauce! I so need a laptop with Wi-Fi, not just because it would probably help me a whole lot, but because it would just be tight as shit. Could steal one I guess, like Best Buy employee’s really have the mental capacity to stop me, though I am pretty sure they harvest spawns of Satan in those places, and there sure are a lot of Best Buys in LA, I bet that Dana is being scarified to Best Buy spawned Satan right now, and I bet all the Best Buys are connected by some sort of evil portal transporter system or something Romulan cloaked in the store room, bastards! So I guest I need to find a Best Buy, sneak into the store room, reverse engineer a way to use the transport system to transport me to the location of the Satan spawn and save Dana and the day! Again, sure would be nice to have the internet right about now. Sure, you say, just rock it at an internet café, and so right you are, but I am an avenger, wait, no fuck that, I am not an avenger, in all forms, the avengers suck, especially the British film version one with Bond Connery, strike avenger, replace with Batman, and Batman does not carry cash, no pockets, well I have pockets, but still Batman has no money on his person. Stealing a laptop is really the best way, Best Buy is the best answer, I totally can kill two stones with one bird. And it is fucking LA, I just need to spin in a circle three times and click my heels and a fucking Best Buy will appear. Sure enough, that totally worked, fucking asshole Geek Squad just drove by. So I follow them.
And wouldn’t you know, stupid ass mall right around the corner with a beacon of hell Best Buy right there at the entrance. Totally, yes I realize that I am using it a lot right now, but I am in the Valley, fucking deal with it, rocking my shades inside, first off it is hard as shit to wear sunglass inside, second, on a more practical note, they cannot scan nor steal my soul through my eye portals with my shades on. I got this shit locked down. I so would of solved the case of the Maltese Falcon in the first twenty-five minutes, no doubt. I think they suspect something; the succubus guarding the door looked at me funny as I walked in, just gotta act normal like some moron that would actually shop here.
Me: Oh wow, the new Miley Cyrus album, tight as heck! I just know this is gonna rock, yeah! (And not just like a normal “Yeah!” I am talking like the “Yeah!” from Flash Gordon when he wins the day, you know, gotta sell it).
That totally fooled the shit out of them; they don’t suspect a thing. I am like Tom Cruise, nothing can stop me. Look at all the laptops. The floor models appear to be locked to the display cases, like that will stop me for one second, I gotta get to the store room anyway, loads of unguarded laptops there. Plus, with my generation’s inferred knowledge of computers, I can probably just open it right out of the box and hack their transport system no problem. So I notice that the druids that work here all wear blue, and as luck would have it, my shirt is blue too, now this did not just dawn on me like a gift from Christopher Christ himself, oh no, some slug asked me if I knew where the HDMI cables were located at, and I said aisle six, but secretly I have no idea what an HDMI cable even is, so jokes on that dude, but to my benefit, I now know I look just like a dude who works here, not a compliment sure, but I will take it. And there it is, behind the washing machines, the storage room, a door marked “6”.
So it was locked. Not the only trick I have up my sleeve though; check this Roy Dillon shit out:
Me: Hey I totally forgot my stupid key at home, I feel like such a fool. First day and the boss dude is already going to put me on his shit list, fantastic.
Other, actual, Best Buy employee: Oh hey, no problem bro, got you covered.
And yes, he did just unlock the door for me. I cannot make this shit up. That is how easy it is to break into the Best Buy store room. First, it is super bright in here and there are security cameras everywhere. Second, drat! All the shit is locked up in cages like wild animals or something. Oh well, that was a sub-mission anyway, got to stay on point. Need to find the transport. There is a cage at the end of the hall that is open, cage number six, that is probably it; they are probably preparing to transport some evil shit or something for the sacrifice ceremony. The cage is empty, who else actually thought the shit would be cloaked? Strangely though as I feel around for it, I cannot grab anything, it is like the cage is just empty. I probably look like some old blind dude that dropped his cane.
Best Buy Manager: Can I help you? What in the world are you doing?
Stupid ass managers!
Me: Yeah it is my first day working here, I am lost, I am looking for the… the… ummmm, the HDMI cables, a customer asked about them, and we were all out of them on the floor, so I came back here to get some. (You know that was slick!).
Best Buy Manager: HDMI cables… you do realize that this cage is empty don’t you?
Bullshit it is empty! But what am I suppose to say here, but I do have the job of a moron so might as well go with it.
Me: It did not appear to be empty when I came down the hall, and then when it was empty, I thought to myself what a cool and unusual optical illusion it was, and thus I was inspecting it further to see just how the illusion was achieved. (High-five to myself, figuratively, of course).
Best Buy Manager: Oooookkayyy? I’m going to need you to come with me.
Totally got out of this one, he doesn’t suspect a thing, now that he has his back turned I am totally going to do some sick Solid Snake shit on him and knock him out. Or I could just follow him into his office where the police are waiting. I could just do that. Le Poulet! What kind of asshole calls le poulet on you? Totally rhetorical, of course.
Never been in handcuffs in the back of a squad car before, not the most fun thing in the world, on the flip-side though, Nirvana’s Heart-Shaped Box is playing on the radio, so at least not all is lost. Poor Dana Barrett, going to get turned into a dog and I couldn’t stop it, should of crossed the streams or something.
On the outside of the police station there is a big sign that reads “To protect and serve”, kinda cool, if the Fuzz didn’t already have it, I might of used it for my slogan, but I wonder why there is no who in there. Who do they protect and who do they serve. You would think that it might be a good idea to have that clarified right. I mean for all we know they protect Skynet and serve robot Shawn Ashmore and John Conner is toast. I am telling you, that shit is true. So here I sit in booking, waiting to take some sick ass mug shots, can’t decide on what face to make yet, but it is going to be good, something edgy, yeah, edgy, just of the sound of it makes the establishment shake in fear of the coming rebellion, on the other hand, edgy has kind of being unhinged by the douche movement adopting it as their look, so maybe I will just look blank, like I could care less if the whole police station exploded in a cocktail of pineapple death or if nothing happened at all, it wouldn’t matter to me one bit either way. Not all bad though, there is a kinda cute girl sitting at the desk next to me also waiting to be processed, biting her lower lip, should I be interested, she is a criminal after all, but hell so am I right, that is like the best icebreaker ever, “So, what’re you in for?” BAM, conversation ensues. Some stupid five-o approaches in a tie, like that dude ever really wanted to wear a tie in his life.
Officer of the law: Miss Dana Barrett (DUDE! I am like Magnum P.I. minus the moustache)? It says here that you are being harassed by your neighbors?
Dana: Yes, they will not leave me alone. Plus there are weird sounds coming from their basement. It is sort of creepy.
Officer of the law: What kind of weird sounds?
I know, I am totally eavesdropping, but it is pertinent to my case, so I gotta, oh yeah and by the way, just fill in the details that apply to how you want to see things, I just find it is easier that way, I mean where I am, shit is foggy, so if I miss something, just you know use your imagination.
Dana: Like (yeah, remember we are in LA, people say like a lot) weird, I don’t know, machine sounds.
I really hope I do not have to battle Cyborg Ashmore. She probably shouldn’t of said machines, fucking Fuzz are going to drop a dime on her.
Officer of the law: Well miss, until there are more complaints we cannot really do much, but if it continues you are more than welcome to file another report. Maybe you just want to get some earplugs or something.
Dana: But they leer at me too. They watch me through the windows.
Officer of the law: Again, can’t really do much. I suggest you close your blinds.
Dana: Well…
She looks pretty disenfranchised, sort of like the time I first saw a real Big Mac in comparison to its picture on the menu. And she is leaving, which is not good, because I need to help her, but I am handcuffed to the chair. Kitty Pryde would so rock in this situation. Or even Chevy Chase, that dude has every superhuman magical ability you can think of, how else do you explain the fact that he still have a viable career to this day, if not even a successful one at that. Chevy would have me outta here in a jiffy. And she is out the door, stupid handcuffs and their stupid ability to make me not be able to leave. And then I remembered! I have the smallest hands and wrists in the world, infants have bigger hands than me, ok not true, but I said it to make a point, being I can probably easily slip my hand out of these things like Houdini. But I can’t and she is practically to her car, at least I think she is, she has her keys out of her bag in her hand, so it must be near, I am so fucked. Remember how I said I was sort of like an X-Man, but not really, but sort of, well that is true, or at least it is now, because I was able, feeling like I was defeated, to reach down within, like some sappy inspirational movie-of-the-week, and embrace my calling, and yes season one of Tru Calling was terrible at first and got better with time, and like that, I slipped the handcuff. Not sure how, at least I wasn’t sure then, but I did it, I stopped trying to do it and did it. Fucking magic hands! I got up, no one seemed to really give a shit, since, had I been a criminal, I would have been handcuffed to the chair unable to get up and walk out the door. Caught up to Dana, quick note, do not run up or sneak up on someone that is in distress, she hit me with her hand bag, fucking make up and whatever else woman shit she’s got in there freaking hurts like shit.
Me: Dana. I’m Bach. I’m here to help you. (You would think I could come up with better dialog, but that is what I said, in retrospect, I guess I could just alter it to be better, but that is cheating, though I totally should of said, “Come with me if you want to live”).
Dana: You are here to help me? Right…
Me: I know you are skeptical. Elijah sent me to help you.
Oh yeah, so Elijah is this kinda super pompous angel, not really sure if there is a non-pompous angel, so maybe he is not pompous relative to the others, but relative to me, he is bombastic, who informs me of who I am suppose to help. He pretty much just kicks me in the face knocking out everything other than my mission. Not that pleasant really, you would think angels would be pleasant. But they really aren’t.
Dana: Who is Elijah?
Me: He is just this angel, he told me to help you, I travelled from Bozeman
Dana: Angel? Bozeman
Me: Yes, angel, you know like flappy God creature. And yes Bozeman , it’s a town in Montana
Dana: Ok, that is just crazy. You need to get away from me. First my neighbors and now you…
Me: I know. Your neighbors are planning to abduct you. Elijah told me. I thought maybe they were Best Buy employees but that may have been a dead end, the jury is still out.
Dana: They are going to abduct me? Best Buy?
Me: I know it all sounds crazy but I need to stay with you to protect you.
Dana: Oh yeah, like that is going to happen. Listen I am leaving. You’re not coming with me.
Me: Wait, it’s not like I can just call to the Lord and poof a freaking angel appears attesting to my story. But you need to believe me. I know you are Dana Barrett, age 22, you like unicorns with purple, not pink, striped horns and for some unknown reason buy a bag of Funions everyday and only eat two chips.
Dana: So you are a stalker too, great this gets better, a crazy Christian freak is stalking me.
Me: I am not a stalker those were some of the clues I was given to find you. Umm, oh yeah, the authentication phrase, Elijah told me to tell you this and you would believe me. When you were six you saw a lady in an orchard covered by white light and then she was gone. Later, that same lady appeared to you and touched your hand and you felt joy, not Funion’s joy, but real joy, and then she was gone.
Dana: How did you know that! No one knows that. I don’t even remember that! But it happened, you recounting it, I know it happened. Ok, so just how are you suppose to help me?
Me: Pompous angel didn’t tell me. Said I would know what to do on my own.
Dana: Great… well, I guess you’d better come with me. But I really only half trust you. I certainly will mace you if I feel at all nervous.
Me: Please don’t mace me. Not the most fun thing in the world.
Who else is surprised she believed me? I still am, even now. So I got in her car. And we drove back to her place.
Dana: So why were you chosen to be this angel flunky guy?
Me: Funny that you put it that way, cause that’s exactly how I feel. I mean yeah, I probably had a choice. Angel can only kick you in the face so many times before they just spite you and move on. But, I just felt like I wanted to do something better with my life than just waste away ringing a cash register or something. (God I hate when I sound like a Lifetime movie!)
Dana: I get that (Stupid expression). I came out here pretty much because I thought Wisconsin freaking sucks, LA rocks. Found out that LA pretty much sucks even harder. And you think the sunshine year-round would keep you happy when all it really does is just keep you feeling trapped. (This is quickly turning into a sad-bastard EMO song, I can just feel it).
Me: Yeah (The typical answer of the person who has lost interest in the conversation).
Dana: I just want to leave, but I don’t want to go back to Wisconsin
And thank Christopher Christ we are at her house, for once I actually want to the action to start. And by action, I mean, any action I can get. Wow, yeah, I just said that. Well, thought it, but sleazy award applicable none the less.
Dana: Well here we are, me casa (Is random Spanish words in an English sentence an LA thing?).
Loud music is blaring from the neighbor’s house, Tupac and Dre I think. I turned my back on the house.
Me: Do they really need the music to be that loud (Like I am eighty or something, those darn kids and their darn music, darn them).
Dana: Bach look out!
And I got punched in the face by one of the neighbors. It was a good shot too. Knocked me clean out. Well, that first punch didn’t. I, like a moron with too much pride and little sense, stood up. Unintelligibly told Dana to run, to which she responded with, “What?” and then I saw all five of her neighbors in druid cloaks, and what looked like blue undershirts of some kind, but who knows, they looked bluish, and without thinking, cause if I was, I certainly would not of done this stupid shit, I charge the lot of them, dammit I wish I woulda yelled “FREEDOM!” or something sweet like that, but I just sort made a garbled sound and charged, didn’t even hit nothing, tripped, fell, got picked up by a big guy, and punched in the face again. This time, I was out cold in gum drops and candy cane land. When I came to, the Fuzz were everywhere. Fucking billy clubbing the shit out those bastard druids, Terminator Iceman must have other plans for Dana Barrett. As I was getting the piss beat out of me, she, being highly more intelligent than I, hid and called the cops. Who arrived, saw my limp body being mashed and opened up a can of whoop-ass. Never would of guess they would save the day, at least in a story involving me. But I still don’t trust them. Could easily still be handcuffed to that stupid chair, or in jail, and poor Dana Barrett would be Best Buy Satan’s dinner.
So I saved the day. Elijah is such an asshole by the way, oh great I am a crucial player in God’s plan, which if you translate out of angel means you are going to be beat senselessly decoying yourself so this other girl, you don’t even know, can hide and call for backup. And even better, now I am in the hospital handcuffed to the bed peeing through a tube. Brilliant!
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