It’s 12:45; do you know where your minkEs are?

A particularly minkE fic.

 

The fic opens at The State College for the Creative Studies of Wayne. It is 12:45 am, on a Saturday night. Two shadowy figures quickly and silently run though the center of campus, towards the administration building. Reaching, the side door of the building, they are illuminated by the sodium lights attached to the wall. It is Max, and Trent, and they are breaking in.

 

Max: Okay, so starting now we have 6 minutes to enter, change our grades, print out some checks from financial aid, and set fire to the dean’s desk.

 

Trent: Don’t forget, we can’t turn any lights on.

 

Max: Right. Now, on my mark. One, two, three, GO!

 

The two both take a step forward then stop.

 

Trent: wait wait, how do we get in?

 

Max: um, well, you pick the lock, and I’ll disable the alarm.

 

Trent: I can’t pick locks.

 

Max: well I can’t disable alarms but that’s not going to stop me from trying.

 

With that, Trent takes the chains from his wallet, and smashes the glass door.

 

Trent: LOCK PICKED!

 

Max nods, pulls out a shotgun, and runs inside, shooting at anything with lights on it.

 

Max: Well, something’s not working, I can tell you that much.

 

The two miscreants in black run up the stairs to the records office. After smashing through another door, Trent takes a moment to look out the window.

 

Trent: It’s the campus fuzz! GAME OVER MAN, GAME OVER.

 

Max: goddam I hate when people say that. You are NOT Bill Paxton.

 

Trent: says you.

 

Max: damn right says me. All right, screw the grades and the money, we set fire to the dean’s desk, and jump off the roof into the river.

 

Trent: you know how dirty that river is?

 

Max: guh, fine, we jump into the trees, shimmy down, and spend the rest of the night picking splinters.

 

Trent: fine fine, river it is.

 

The two terrible excuses for people (people? They’re minkEs, that doesn’t make any sense) run up another flight of stairs, Trent smashes through yet another door, and the pair quickly pour lighter fluid onto the desk and light a match.

 

We now see the exterior of the building, several campus police officers are running inside through the smashed door; a pair of shadows fly off the roof into the nearby river. You’d think that them being superhuman anthropomorphs, they’d be able to like, hit the water with nary a sound, especially max with the 1337 ninja skills, but no, not the case, they hit the water with a loud splash.

 

Max: damn that water was shallow.

 

Trent: and delicious.

 

Max: there’s really something not right with you.

 

Trent: nooooo.

 

 

It’s Monday, 12:45 pm, the infamous ferret with purple hair sits, stupefied at her weird zigzaggy desk. An industrial design student is showing her his latest design, which he claims is a toaster.

 

IDguy: Yea, so all these toasters you see, they’ve got all this metal inside. What I did, is I replaced that stuff with neon green plastic, and instead of knobs, there’s some lego pieces, and instead of toast, it makes concentric rings of bread subsitute, and instead of being a toaster, I call it, the purposeful device for toastifying, and there’s this racing stripe here, and there’s this fin on top, and where there WOULD be a cord, there’s a jet exhaust port that I lifted off of the sr71 blackbird, so what do you think?

 

Sasha: I think that a toaster should make toast, and I think that you should suffer a horrible horrible death, for what you’ve done to the toaster.

 

IDguy: I don’t think you understand, I’m in industrial design.

 

Sasha: YEA! You bastards, you ruin simple products with unnecessary crap! Oh, gee a car, I know, it should be called the mobilewheelmoflick, and it should have a penis sticking out of the top of it! And SOMEHOW you win awards for all of this worthless garbage! You and ALL the rest of you ID buttfuckers can go straight to hell!

 

With that, three men in suits rush into the room, grab sasha, and drag her out of the room.

 

IDguy: mobilewheelmoflick, I should use that!

 

Suitguy1: We have you on tape ridiculing an ID student.

 

Sasha: yea, he’s an idiot.

 

Suitguy2: school policy strictly forbids speaking in a derogatory manner in regards to ID students.

 

Sasha: what?!

 

Suitguy3: for this you must pay.

 

With that, Sasha breaks free from their hold, and with a few deft moves, kills the lot of them.

 

Sasha: I knew those ID kids got special treatment, and now I have my proof…. I’m hungry.

 

Before leaving for the cafeteria, Sasha smashes the incriminating video, and dances a jig on the corpses of the ID police.

 

Sasha: MWAHAHAHAHAHHAHA, lunchtime.

 

The interior of the cafeteria is a magical sight. Fountains of yoohoo flow freely, and the noodle chef is strangling a freshman that asked for a vegetarian dish. A strange mexicasian squirrel, demonstrating his dominion over the sandwich station, crafts 300 reubens in a horrible violent tornado of sandwich making, while asking anyone in earshot, “who’s down with a reuben?” The tables are all fresh and clean, except for one. The minkE table is covered in carvings of everyshape and size, from “minkEs wuz here” to the newly carved “ID students must suffer.” Several of the minkEs sit around the table, being as rowdy as humanly (there it goes again, they’re not human) possible. Sasha is just finishing recounting the days events.

 

Sasha: And I didn’t even get to finish screwing around in class!

 

Thio: the question is, how deep does this conspiracy go.

 

Kathryn: I think a better question is, why aren’t you wearing a shirt.

 

Thio: because dude, no shirt no shoes, no problem. Gnarly, dude, totally.

 

Sasha: that’s it, no more movies for you.

 

Max: but it was his breakthrough role.

 

Sasha: one more comment like that and I’ll lash out violently and randomly. Someone, I can’t say who, will be severely injured.

 

As the group laughed at yet another freshman being strangled by the noodle chef, elsewhere on campus, a shadowy figure sits behind a charred desk.

 

Evil Dean Man: minkEhouse! It’s always minkEhouse! My desk, the ID police, the theft of the engineering hall, the rearranging of the med school library card catalog. It’s all minkEhouse. And I can never prove anything because of their 1337 ninja skills. What do you recommend, evil assistant dean?

 

Evil assistant dean: double secret probation?

 

Evil Dean Man: DOUBLE SECRET PROBATION? YOU ALWAYS SAY DOUBLE SECRET PROBATION! THERES NO SUCH THING AS DOUBLE SECRET PROBATION! WHAT THE HELL IS THE MATTER WITH YOU? HOW DID YOU GET THIS JOB?

 

Evil assistant dean: I cheated on my evil administration tests.

 

The evil assistant dean burst into tears of shame, and runs like a girl into the bathroom.

 

Evil Dean Man: I’d say it’s about time to put a hit out on the minkEs. A hit with zombie vampires.

 

 

Meanwhile, the minkEs are headed back to minkEhouse to take their after lunch nap. minkEhouse is a stately, 18 bedroom tudor revival, built over the river running through campus. Being next door to the cafeteria, it’s not long before the minkEs are in their respective beds, sleeping off their delicious meals. But it is a sleep soon to be broken.

 

Max: AGHHHHHHHH! VAMPIRES!

 

Several other minkEs come running.

 

Kathryn: vampires? Where?

 

Thio: are they hot?

 

Max: They were here. And no, they aren’t. I think they may have zombie vampires.

 

Kathryn: how do you know that?

 

Max: because they said, ‘WEEEERE ZOMBIE VAMPIRES WOOOOOO’

 

Kathryn: why would they say that?

 

Max: I don’t know, maybe they’re not allowed to kill unless they inform you first. How am I supposed to know, it’s not like I’m the steward of the zombie vampire union or what have you.

 

Trent: what’s going on?

 

Kathryn: zombie vampires apparently.

Trent: that doesn’t make any sense. I mean, zombies eat brains, vampires drink your blood. And they’re both a different kind of undead. Like, vampires are bitten by other vampires, zombies are bitten by other zombies. A zombie wouldn’t be interested in biting a vampire, cuz theyre already dead. And same goes for vampires, they wouldn’t want to bite zombies. Vampires can’t even drink dead blood, they’d die.

 

Thio: wait, why’s trent have a point. He’s not allowed to be even close to intelligent.

 

Trent: I’m telling you it’s the tobacco.

 

Max: Trent, tobacco is whacko if you’re a teen.

 

Trent: I’m not, I’m 20, and so are you. And everyone knows at age 20, tobacco makes you smarter.

 

Max: ohhhhh, I wondered why there was the teen qualifier. That makes perfect sense.

 

Thio: well in any case, we should get sasha before the zombie vampires do.

 

Max: yea, the queen of sleep probly wouldn’t even notice if vampires drank her blood and zombies ate her brains.

 

Trent: don’t tell her that, she’ll hurt you.

 

Max: she’d have to be awake to do that.

 

Kathryn: OHHHHHHH  he strikes again!

 

The group rushes up the several flights of stairs to sasha’s unnecessarily large room, where they find Sasha, yelling at the zombie vampires, and telling them that they don’t make sense

 

Sasha: What the hell? Zombie vampires! That doesn’t even make any sense, what with the contradicting unnatural foods zombies and vampires crave. You’re all stupid, I hate you.

 

The group, assuming sasha hadn’t figured out that stupid or not, they were there to do harm, dispatched the zombie vampires with a wooden stake, a chainsaw, and a gun with silver bullets, in case they also happened to be  werewolves.

 

Max: why would zombie vampires come to our school?

 

Sasha: the packaging school?

 

Kathryn: goddammit I hate packaging!

 

Trent: jinkies!

 

All: jinkies?

 

The group turns to trent, only to find him at sasha’s computer, typing away like he knows what he’s doing.

 

Sasha: goddam you that’s my computer, I’ll kill you!

 

The group restrains sasha as she flails and growls murderously.

 

Trent: turns out the zombie vampires are contract killers.

 

Max: hey! You know who else is contract killers? Us!

 

Thio: niiiiice one brainiac.

 

Sasha: wait, wouldn’t we have heard about a contract against us? That’s union policy.

 

Trent: They’re in the undead contract killers international, we’re not in a union.

 

Sasha: I thought we were. Why have I been paying union dues?

 

Max: oh, that was me. I’ve been using your union dues to finance inhuman experiments on fraternity members.

 

Sasha: you’re lucky that’s a cause I support, cuz you’d be in a world of pain.

 

Trent: their website goes on to say that they specialize in angry evil dean related assassinations.

 

Sasha: evil deans huh, I know a certain---they have a website?

 

Max: apparently so, ooh look, they even have zombie vampire merchandise.

 

Kathryn: we should have like, minkEs.com or something.

 

Of course, that was just talk. None of the minkEs (or their reallife counterparts for that matter) would be willing to pay for a domain name. The minkEs then got to discussing what to do about the evil dean, and the contract on their lives.

 

Max: what should we do about the evil dean, and the contract on our lives?

 

The minkEs eventually decided that they should send the evil dean a  message he’d never forget.

 

Sasha: we’ll send the evil dean a message he’ll never forget.

 

What the hell is soup at hand? How do you even drink soup through a tiny spout like that, the vegetables and such would get stuck.

 

Max: um, something about soup?

 

Trent: soup, what the hell are you talking about?

 

Max: I have no idea. So, here’s what we do, we sneak into the administration building, and set his desk on fire!

 

Trent: sounds good to me!

 

Sasha: you two just did that on Saturday.

 

Max: ohhhhhhhhh yea. Um, could we kill him?

 

Sasha: killing’s good. That’s a good message.

 

Kathryn: he’ll have thought of that, he’ll be in his secret evil dean command bunker.

 

Max: where is that?

 

Kathryn:  in the basement of the uppity white jock guys fraternity.

 

Trent: I was totally going to guess that.

 

Max: suuuuuure you were.

 

Trent: okay you got me, I was over there rigging their cars with dynamite… oh hell, I cant lie(yea right), I egged their cars. Anyway, I saw the evil dean going in through the cellar door.

 

Sasha: hey guy while you were talking I went over there and beheaded the evil dean, then set fire to the uppity white jock guys fraternity.

 

And so, the story ends… except for the army of robot illegitimate children let loose by the evil dean just before he was dispatched!

Bet you didn’t see that coming. At all. Because, you probably thought it was over, because I said it was. So, this must’ve come as a total surprise to you.

 

El capitano: I am el capitano cristobal galangal. I am the robot leader of this robot army.

 

Sasha: heheheh youre captain bastard.

 

Max: hey, I’m a bastard. Don’t you make fun of bastards. If you’ve got to make fun of something, make fun of the fact that his name is cristobal galangal. I mean, who came up with that?

 

El capitano: my parents, ysgarthion and lixo, they named me.

 

Trent: guess it could’ve been worse.

 

Kathryn: I smashed all the robot bastards while you were talking.

 

El capitano: *sobs* oh! I am so ashamed! I have lost my army of robot bastards! And my name is foolish! AND ALF ISNT ON ANY CHANNEL! Ohhhhh I must take my own life!

 

Sasha: this’ll probly make you feel worse, but your’e a robot, and therefore not technically alive.

 

El capitano: FOOL! AND NEITHER SHALL YOU BE!

 

With that, captain bastard opens his chest cavity to show a large counter, which, as we all know, always means a bomb is about to go off.

 

Kathryn: Gasp! He is possibly wired with explosives!

 

Max: my Injun Rage™ rifle will make short work of him!

 

Sasha: great so use it already.

 

Max: well I uh, I haven’t actually made it yet, it’s still in the design phase. But I have this stick. It’s vaguely gun shaped. I found it outside.

 

Sasha: no wonder we took all your land. Sticks. Ha.

 

Trent: uh guys?

 

Max: hey don’t you make fun of my people!

 

Sasha: what, the illegitimate people, or the Indians, you red-skinned bastard.

 

Trent: uh, guys? Theres like, 15 seconds left, we should probably  leave.

 

Max: I’m other things too.

 

Sasha: yea well.

 

Trent: 10 seconds!

 

Max: hey, where’d everybody go?

 

El capitano: mwahahhahahahah, you shall die now!

 

With that, max runs behind el capitano cristobal galangal, and soon, the robot bastard captain’s various lights and such go dark.

 

Max: booya, stopped the coppertop. Lame ass robot  was running on d batteries. I hate d batteries. Fucking big ass things.

 

And so the lesson of the story is that minkEs r cool, and zombie vampires, and robot vampires, and evil deans will all eventually die at the hands of……. THE minkEs!