people say nice guys finish last. i disagree. nice guys don't even get close to finishing. we get that signal to go and we let all the other runners take off but we're just so nice we let them get a head start. then we take two steps and a flower pot from the window above falls and hits us on the head. obviously dazed by the sudden concusion we stumble for a moment and stray off course, right into an oncoming bus. said bus then drags it's hapless victim three and a half city blocks in the opposite direction. of course the bus driver happens to be on PCP and decides that driving through a glass factory would be a good idea. we are then pulled through the broken glass by this deranged fiend and subsequently find ourselves being mutilated. we finally break free as the bus makes it's way across a bridge. unfortunatly our momentum makes us roll off of said bridge and into the cold murkey water below. we think "ah it's finally over" but oh no my friends. this show just started because suddenly we feel a sharp tug as a fishing hook managed to become embedded in our torn flesh. we get pulled up from the cold polluted american waters by the surliest bunch of inbred fishermen the world has ever seen and they debate for about an hour over what type of fish we are. finally after coming to the conclusion that this quivering mass in front of them is not actually a fish but something else entirely, they chuck our broken shapeless form into a life raft, wish us farewell and send us downstream. we drift for a good hour before mustering enough strength topaddle our rather Flaun like bodies to shore. by this time we're three hours behind the other contestants. we scramble across the city streets in the vain hope that we can catch up to those pretty people we let pass us bye. unfortunatly we get caught right in the middle of a gang war. our already mutilated form gets riddled with bullets, but we try to keep going. we flag down a bus and hop aboard hoping to make up the time lost. of course it happens to be that same junkie as before. he takes the longest route he can untill he reaches the river, "i know a short cut man, " he says as he tries to make the bus magically fly off the bridge and over the river sans traffic. so that leaves our hero back in the water with the same sudden sharp tug as he's pulled back aboard the fishing boat, the process of determening his species starts anew. we manage to sneak away and limp our ways to the finish line where we expire 10 feet from the line.
No one knows what to make of the jiggling mass before them, it gets tossed into a black garbage bag, zip tied and buried in a shallow unmarked grave. There are no mourners. only an occasional "whatever happened to what's his name? he was such a nice guy."
two weeks later the bus driver is found wandering the beach, lost and confused. he has urvived the last days by devouring the flesh of homeless. His story becomes the movie of the week. The plot? a large blobular creature forced him to drive his bus into the river and he had to resort to cannibalism to survive.
No one knows what to make of the jiggling mass before them, it gets tossed into a black garbage bag, zip tied and buried in a shallow unmarked grave. There are no mourners. only an occasional "whatever happened to what's his name? he was such a nice guy."
two weeks later the bus driver is found wandering the beach, lost and confused. he has urvived the last days by devouring the flesh of homeless. His story becomes the movie of the week. The plot? a large blobular creature forced him to drive his bus into the river and he had to resort to cannibalism to survive.