bastered...
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(The following takes place between 6:00 pm and 7:00 pm, on Monday December 17. FBI agent Jack bower is currently underway to the Whitehouse to uncover one of the largest conspiracies in American history.... wait... fuck that. Sorry... were the fuck was I... oh ya.)
El>Tim, where're you going?
Tim>...
El>Tim... hello, anyone there?
(Elguapo stands in between Tim and the door, staring into his vacant eyes. There is something very wrong. As he peers into Tim eyes he can't help feeling like there�s someone other then Tim peering back at him)
El>I'm not moving till you say something... I'm actually kind of worried here...
(It's true that Guap was blocking the only exit of the studio apartment. However being a ghost strongly negated the effectiveness of his blockade... in fact a legion of sedated wingless butterflies would be better equipped to keep Tim from leaving then he. Tim walked right through him and out the door.)
El>Well that was rude... There was something about that blank stare that Leads me to believe that there might just be something amiss with my good pal...
(It was this INCREDIBLE perception that lead the forces of purgatory to choose Elguapo for this very important mission... no... not really... they choose him cause they were tired of him hanging around their break room stealing all the good donuts...)
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Meanwhile.....
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(El was, of course, right. There was something VERY wrong with Tim. He didn't feel at all himself. A few short moments ago he was sitting on the couch watching MASH reruns, when suddenly he made the startling discovery that his was not the only voice in his head... or at least there was someone else�s voice in his head he didn't recognize. First it was just a voice, speaking a language Tim didn't under stand... which, by the way Tim hates. During eighth grade he had the voice of a Spanish dishwasher in his head, he knew he was talking shit, he just didn't know what... anyhoo... first the voice took over his mind, then took control of his body. Tim was still coherent, just not in control...)

Jenny>Hey, you... do you have a lighter.

(This would be an excellent time to introduce Jenny... she's a really interest person with quite a story to tell, but that not really important since she's about thirty seconds to live. What you should know is that she is trying to quite smoking, and this mourning in a desperate attempt to have a cigarette free day, she left her lighter and pack on her night stand at home... by this time in the evening, and having to wait for the bus, she broke down and bummed a smoke off a random passerby-er-er-ererererer... however, when attempting to light her cigarette, she had a change of heart and decided to save it for later, "the longer you can go with out the better" she told herself. It's been ten minutes, and she's ready for that fucking cigarette right about now. All she needed was a lighter. This would be her down fall)

Jenny>So you just going to stare at me... or do you want to give me a light?

(Usually Tim, being a gentleman, would be more then happy to give her a light. However what ever was wearing Tim body like a full body condom, was far more inclined to smash poor Jenny's head like a grape... a grape that was stuffed with brains, bones and a pare of very attractive blue eyeballs.)

Jenny>Hello, anyone home....
Tim>GAK FLAGRAK OFS BARKUUK!
Jenny>What the fuckkckck............... aaaarrrrrrrrrrrrrgggggghhhhhhslfklasjd;aslkdjf,..asdfaslk....
Jenny's skull gook>SPLOOSHKSMASHDUNKCRACKGOOOLLL...(Well put skull goo...)

(She could've been anything she ever dreamed of in this world. She was bright, pretty, and very good at math... as it is though, she's not much more now then a very difficult mourning for the sanitation worker whose responsibility it is to keep the sidewalks clean in this portion of town... don't feel bad for her... she did it to her self, if she had only taken her pack and lighter with her she would have never stopped Tim on the street, and he would of walked right by... so you see kids... the moral of this story is that smoking may be bad for you, but trying to quite and having you brain spilled all over a gutter, is much worse....)


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Later that night...
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El>Where the fuck have you been...

(Tim looks like someone who just went to hell, went to a really expensive Italian restaurant there, order a large bowl of spaghetti with extra sauce, had the waiter spill it down the front of him... then when he tried to pay, had his credit card declined.)

Tim>You wouldn't believe what's been happening to me tonight...
El>Um... could it have anything to do with the fact that your body was taken over by some strange alien force... and you've spent the last little bit going on a horrific murder spree to satisfy it's thirst for blood...
Tim>Good guess.... now I'm no expert, but I think that maybe...
El>A demon snuck into your body the last time your soul was retransplanted into your body. That's probably true... well done Tim, your learning.
Tim>um... ya that was exactly...
El>I don't think the two of us are going to be able to handle this on our own. I'll get in contact with Hell and see if there missing any inmates, and seek out some consul. On the bright side you've probably acquired demon strength when ever you loose control. Must of been pretty nifty to crush people's skulls with your bare hands?
Tim>Ya it was pretty cooo... so this getting in contact with Hell thing. Sounds like a pretty severe bit of activity, do you need me to go collect any special magical thingy-do-dads?
El>Well... you can loan me your cell phone.
Tim>Your kidding... your going to call Hell? As if they had a phone?
El>Duh... their not Amish...

(Tim searches for his cell phone in his pocket, finds a bloody human ear where it should be. Glares at it for a moment, places it in his mouth for a moment to free up his hands, and returns to the search once located, he begins to hand El the phone... but suddenly hesitates.)

Tim>Umph... youf canft tuft duf phoonef
El>I can't understand you with that thing in your mouth..
Tim>Forri...

(Tim takes the ear out of his mouth and replaces it in his pocket.)

Tim>Sorry... you can't hold a phone. Can you?
El>I usually acquire enough energy through out the course of the day to do some physical action... usually I save it for turning down your TV and making toast, but this is really more important...

(Tim shrugs and hands him the phone)

El>I'll just be a minute...

(ElGuapo leaves the room for a moment. Tim glances down at the floor at his feet, where a puddle of other peoples blood and such is starting to make a puddle on the floor. Tim is thinking about maybe taking a shower when El reenters the room)

El>They haven't heard of any rogue demons, but they'll take an inventory and get back to us. In the mean time they've suggested going to see the SphynX.
Tim>The who now?
El>He's an ancient earth bound spirit. He's also blessed with the gift of clairvoyance. So he should be able to give us some idea about what's going on in your head and how to control it. He has a flat about twenty minutes from here.
Tim>Neeto... Do I have time to bath first.
El> Not really... but I think you've some wet-naps in the car.

(ElGuapo receives the look of someone who has just been handed a sponge to dry up the Adriatic Sea)

Tim> do you enjoy the idea of me cruising about the streets, covered in the blood of my recent murder victims.
El> actually, nothing would please me more
Tim>Ok... but we're making a quick stop, I need a taco. All that kill'n made me really crave cheap Mexican.
El>You'd be suprised how many people feel that way after a good massacre.

(The two agreed and went out the door. About fifteen minutes afterwards the two received the single strangest look from a Mexican, since President George W Bush visited their country and said something, when translated back to English, goes something like "We must work together for a better Chlamydia, and build a united North Vagina Alliance!" With his inability to grasp his own language, no one could ever understand why he would try doing a speech in a foreign one. The Devil has made a mental note to ask him when he goes to collect on the deal Old W made with him in exchange for the 2000 election.) 1