http://www.rapdict.org/ has a great rap dictionary reference. A local copy so that I can still refer to it when I roleplay is available, but try the main site first.
Woohoo! I goin' to Graceland! Well almost.
It's a big-arsed block full of dead white guys. I guess that close enough.
We're lookin' for a numberologister or somethin'. I guess we should check the local school or somethin'. I suggested that to Lindsey, but she didnt seem to go for it. Who else uses maths other than teachers?
No surprise really, I got no idea whats goin' down here. I mean what the fuck does a numerologist do? Maths or somethin'? Beats me. Still the others think its important, so here we are, drivin' round this graveyard.
Man its a big sucker. Gotta be half a M each side. For Set's sake, how many dead people are there? We gotta find some maths guy in there? Shit! 24 hours isnt enough.
We all stare out the window as we do the circle, but noone sees nothin' so we drive in and chat to some old guy who gives us some address. They have addresses in a cemetry? Who'd-a-guessed. I guess they have to know where they plant ya.
Ren drives to where the old guy says and we all pile out and wait for inspiration. People gather by some old plot and there seems to be some murmering about the name. Yeah, so what, its the same surname as we were given. It's obviously not the guy we're lookin' for.
Ideas anyone?
Nah, Im suckin' mud too.
Everyone else looks round, but I cant see jack. Noone's around and I dunno what to do. The others all spread out and start lookin' for the big X on the ground, but it's pretty obvious this place is a dead end so I move off, starin' back towards the city, lookin' serious and busy, so these people leave me alone.
Walkin' amongst the dead. Yeah, that feels cool.
Man, look at all these dead fucks.
Dead chick. Dead kid. Dead chick & guy. Dead guy & chick. Dead chick & guy & kid.
He looks confused for a second, he blinks, and then the realisation hits and his eyes silently plead a 'no'. He goes to speak, but I pull trigger and my ears pop with the loud *bang*. Everything starts to go slow and for a second I think I see his face ripple, like its not made of bone, but rather something much more soft. It's only for a second and maybe I imagined it.
Dead guy. Dead chick. Dead chick. Dead kid & chick & guy. Dead guy & chick.
Row after fuckin' row of dead meat. Meat and blood and bone. Bloody meat and bone.
...she lets out a scream and I swing the bat out and catch her on the side of the head. Her head snaps back and wacks against the head of the bed with a satisfying crack.
The memories of bloody faces and cracked, useless bones start to bubble up inside of me. Faces of the people that I've snap crackled and popped. All the sights, tastes and sounds. Person after person after person after person in one big blur.
...elbow snaps up and catches him under the chin, cracking his jaw back with a loud snap. His head snaps back and... ...by the hair and smash his face down into the sidewalk... ..duck the punch, slide to the side and grab her arm. Snapping my weight down, I feel it pop out of it's socket and she screams... ...the bone makes a cracking sound with the impact and his arm bends at the wrong angle...
Yeah! I snap a spin and plant a kick into some dead guy's head stone. "Yeah! I'd kick your arse, dead guy." Better believe it. "Im still alive and fuckin' kickin'. And you aint, loser."
I stop and read the stone. William Henderson, 1822-1883, 'served with honour'.
I park my arse on his head stone, pop some gum and ask the $64 question. "So, who fuckin' killed you, Willy? You piss someone off? You owe someone money? Someone catch you playin' hide the hotdog with the next door neighbor? Or did ya die a wrinkled old perv, gropin' ya nurse? How'd you die, Willy? Come on, you can tell me. Who put you out of your misery?"
I look down at the pretty green grass that's suckin' the marrow out of old Willy and I wonder what happened to the people that I killed.
Mum always used to tell me off for never cleanin' up my room after I played. I wonder who got to do the cleanin' up after me....
The gun kicks in my hand, but I pin it down with my hand and pull down towards the heart. I put all three into him, his face, neck and chest. I hear the snap of bone and the rip of flesh and the splat of wet meat being torn wide.
..planting my weight behind my hand as I push the knife in deep. He gurgles.
...I see his face ripple, like its not made of bone, but rather something much more soft...
And my personal favorite....
His face is a mess, so I move down to work the rest of his body over. Im smiling now. I feel powerful. I feel whole. I feel free.
I smile and spit the gum out hard and it sticks to the back of some other headstone.
My hands tingle, almost like I can feel the bat.
I take a look round and notice that the others have sorta started to gather around Campbell. I guess I should get back.
Walkin' back I scan the names on the 'stones. John, William, Susan & Herbert, Mary, Henry & Anne, Paul, Katerina, Hope.
Hope, huh?
Bullshit.
Suddenly the feelin's gone and Im back to normal.
Campbell has a yoyo and is playin' some pretty lame trick with it just rockin' backwards and forwards. "..we should go this way."
Yeah, sure, why not. Let's follow the yoyo.
People quibble, but eventually we all head off, following Campbell and her magic yoyo.
We get to the edge of the deadfarm and we hop over the fence and wander round some more before we all hop in the car and go back towards the city.
Oh, no. My mistake. The yoyo say go west so we do.
We end up at some dive pissjoint and so naturally we all have to go in. Campbell tries to go in the back but the bar jockey stops her. We all try and blend in, but that's a pretty fucked plan, so Olga orders a drink.
"What do you want?" asks the bottle boy.
"Vodka. Anyone want to join me?" Olga asks.
"Sure. Why not." If youre payin'.
The guy gets a bottle and pours some. Olga takes a sip and starts to go pale. Ok. Maybe Ill pass then.
Olga starts to go green and Lindsey starts to help her towards the 'fine bone china'. The 'keeper looks a little worried that he's killed her. Lindsey's having some problems and calls for me. Obviously something that needs dumb grunt work. "Yeah, hold up." I head off and help Olga into the powder room.
"I dont feel well!" Olga says pathetically.
Man, she really looks like she's gunna hurl. Cool. "Mind the shoes."
She looks up and notices some graphiti. "Hey, isnt that who we're lookin' for?"
Lindsey takes a look and nods.
"Well how about that." I offer. Weird. Guess I shouldnt be surprised.
Olga purges and we head on out.
The barkeep is lookin' like a guy who's about to be sued off the planet. "Err, can I offer you a fine bottle of wine?"
"Yeah." Olga takes the bottle and we head out and off to meet Barney.
Glenn drives down into the city and Lindsey looks a little uncomfortable on the overpass, but then she saw a whole lot of people get pasted yesterday, apparently.
We arrive and find Barney's factory.
Olga seems impressed with Barney's telling of the future and we give him the bottle to take over to Father Tipsey. Barney's pretty cool about doin' our leg work for us which is phat.
We head off back to the cemetry, stopping to get some burgers on the way. Im kinda not hungry, which is a bad thing, but I eat somethin' anyway.
We get back to the cemetry and look for this maths guy.
Eventually we find the joint and we knock at the door. Some old guy opens it and lets us in and we introduce ourselves.
Campbell says "You should give your full name. Its a mystical thing."
"Yeah, Im not keen to do that infront of a cop thanks." How dumb do you think I am, Campbell?
I move off away from the nark and look round the house. Its got candles inside. "Very retro."
"Ill take that as a compliment." the old guy says. Whatever.
Lawyers take note: Faith belongs to related belong to Joss Whedon, Mutant Enemy and fox..
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