Megatron looked around him at all the puddles. He sat down and meditated on them, the puddles. There was then a flash of a brilliant white light as God appeared. "MEGATRON..." there was a silence. "BRING ME...SOME HOTDOG!" Then he disappeared. Megatron nodded, accepting his holy quest. Hotdogs eh? Well anybody who was anybody knew where to get the best Hotdogs in town. KFC!
St. Toxic looked up as the door opened. Uncurling himself from the slouch he had been cultivating, he repeated what he always did in these consumer situations. "Can I help you, sir?" Though he delivered a majority of that line in monotone, he was quite proud of the sarcasm he had stressed in sir. The customer ignored him, searching the menu for generic food items. St. Toxic looked at him for a few seconds and shrugged. Before returning to his slouch the man spouted "Hot Dogs?"
Exactly. Hot dogs! What's the deal with hot dogs anyway, Megatron wondered. What the heck kind of meat is dog. The KFC worker stared back at him.. "Hot Dogs? This is KFC, sir." What was happening. This plan was already falling apart and he hadn't even purchased the dog. "Hot Dogs mate. A succulent baked sausage wrapped in a bun with a dash of mayonaisse!"
The asshole droned on about hot dogs. He looked towards the weed for some support, but it seemed like everyone had mysteriously fucked off and left him alone. "Uh listen...there's a Hot Dog place across the street. I think they'll sell hot dogs." St. Toxic swell guy at his last sentence. What a brilliant wit! He mentally noted to physically note that one down for later use. The man's face contorted into a mask of absent-minded fury. "HOT DOGS!" he spat.
Megatron started to get angry. Why the masquerade. Was this a hidden camera thing? "Is this a hidden camera thing?" The worker looked behind him again. "Just give me a hotdog mate, I'm in a rush." He tried to smile pleasantly.
The psycho snarled at him, worrying St. Toxic greatly. Perhaps hotdogs meant something else, like 'money' or mabye something sexual. Whichever it was, St. Toxic wasn't willing to put his life on the line for Colonel Sanders. "Money? Is it money you want?" The madman looked confused before his eyebrows darted back up. "Yeah okay." St. Toxic fumbled with the register before handing over wads of money. After handing all the notes over St. Toxic hoped the retard would go away. "Now about them hotdogs..."
The last sentence did something. Flick a switch. The man turned red and started to shout at him. This wasn't good. Megatron started to climb over the counter. All this for a hotdog. The employee ran to the back and came running back with a bucket full of steaming grease. With a yell he threw it akwardly, splashing the boiling fat in his face. His skin started to tighten and pain bloomed all over. "What-"
St. Toxic screamed, hitting him in the face with the empty bucket and accidently slipping on some grease. He heard the door open and then close again. Typical, he was about to be raped to death by some lunatic and nobody came to his aid. Valiantly, he crawled along the yellowing tiles as his nemesis' face fried. The bumbling oaf started to follow him, his face a mass of pink, bubbling flesh. St. Toxic screamed as his terrible foe towered above him, mumbling about hot dogs. Scrambling up he leapt into the weed again, searching for another weapon.
Megatron bumped into a wall. His eyes had been burned a lot. Waddling around he felt something cold enter his neck. And then his chest. And then his neck again. Slump forward. Some blood fell out of him. What was happening. He tried to stand up but the man was kicking him. Go to sleep.
His foot connected again with his ribcage and was greeted with a satisfying crack. He had heard the same noise many times before, being an employee at KFC. Wiping the sweat off his brow, he walked to the front to be greeted by some police officers. "He's in...the back...tried to...fuck me." St. Toxic collapsed to the floor, sobbing. A stone-faced policeman returned from the weed. "He looks pretty dead." "Am I arrested?" The policeman looked at each other and smiled. "Relax buddy, this guys a goddamn psycho. A regular down at the station. Can't say I'm sad to see him go." St. Toxic smiled, relieved at his vigilante-style justice getting a criminal off the street. He was a hero!
Megatron looked down a dark tunnel, listening to the angelic choir. "Step into the light!" whispered someone. Then God appeared. "SORRY MEGATRON, I GUESS WE CANT HAVE HOTDOGS TOGETHER." Megatron shrugged. "We'll always have Paris." God nodded, shaking his hand before giving him a manly embrace. Patting him on the back, Megatron drifted on. He gave one last look back to see God saluting. "God bless you God," he saluted back "And God bless all the hotdogs that never were."
THE END
. "Hey Harry." said a beautiful woman made of bronze. "What happened was I fucked." spat the boy. "No it was a dream, let me explain it to
