NationStates Jolt Archive

"Now.. When you say Terminiated.."

"Fired, you Twit. Any holders of a US Alliance card in my Department were fired. Sheesh."

You know those talk shows? Those sort of talk show like, The View, or, Ellen, or Regis and Kelly? The news? Hell, even Jerry Springer would do. Well, this is where we could place the setting (http://www.warriorprincess.com/Lucy/RKL011797/LucyRK03.jpg) at the moment. The stage of a Talkshow, uberly uncomfy chairs set on this stage, tilted ever so slightly towards each other. Sitting here and speaking about this was of course, the Talk Show Host, who we shall call Barbara-Ellen LeeWalters Kelly, her Co-host, Dr PhilSpringerRegis Maury-Emeril. With them was their guest, Linda. Chair for the Department of Photography Equipment.

"Right.. Well, would you care to explain why?"

"Simple reason really."

Cough. Sip of water. Blink.

"And that reason is?"

"Because Team Advantage can own US Alliance any day, that's why."

"Linda, isn't the Government against the whole Consumerism thing? I mean, we're Collectivist for christ sakes."

"It's not as if we never leave the country, we Government types have lives you know."

"Hah!"

"I swear we do! I have friends! Somwhere!"

"Just like you Team Advantage people-"

Collective gasp from audience, stage personel, co-host and guest alike.

"Did- Did you just admit to having a US Alliance card?"

Shifty eyes. "I get frequent flier miles! I saved thousands of Bytes visiting the US Economic Blocs this christmas!" A jump up from her chair. "People of the audience! Buy from US Alliance! Visit the US Economic Blocs-"

"Alliance Bitch!"

"Tee-Ay whore!"

Smackdown! And the two disappeared under a cascade of debris as they tore each other apart. A random shout from the audience pronounced something along the lines of, 'Nike kills! Buy Reebok!' and that's when the riot began.

][ Crazy arse riot Rp. Yes, I am re-reading Jennifer Government again. Anyone want in? Have fun with it, you can do whatever comes to your mind, whether it's Invasion or Riot control, or Rioting or Advertising. Go Team Advantage! ][

[[Ive read Jennifer Government... 3 times now... :) I love that book. Id join ya in this RP but Im a bit busy with other things. Nice idea though!]]

][ This is precident for a big arse Team Advantage vs US Alliance thing I'm planning. Keep an eye out for the signup thread. But for now, enjoy a riot. ][

I would Like to get into this RP as the US Alliance. I've read the book 4 times now BTW!

Ooc: Rotflmgdaopimp!

"Don't be frontin' Team Advantage, skank!"

A kick into the side delivered the final blow, the overly animated Barbara-Ellen LeeWalters Kelly crying like the little US Alliance bitch she was.

"Hello, I'm your new host, Linda! And welcome to, the Linda show!"

Spin on heel, chair taken and poised overhead, and the spin pushed and continued to come full circle as she smashes the chair into Dr PhilSpringerRegis Maury-Emeril's face.

"Like your face, Doctor PhilSpringerRegis? This is a Team Advantage coast. Represent'. Foo'."

The Team Advantage half of the audience stood victorious, hulking over their kills in a steamy gore, bloody as they feasted upon their meal of US Alliance Pansy.

--

Then the screen cut to blank.

--

"Yes, only minutes ago, this was the scene in the Barbara-Ellen LeeWalters Kelly Doctor PhilSpringerRegis Maury-Emeril Fourteenth Biennial Blue Moon Anniversary Special with special guests Michael JacksonCo and Vanilla Ice Pepsi Ltd."

Cough as she looked over her index card again. How idiotic did the coporations get these days. She wasn't one to speak though. Visa was cranking out some nice shite these days.

"For all of you in the Fadmadmodtal Fiefdom, the Capitalizt Paradise which was hacked up by Fodmodmadtol to appease you twits, you might welcome this sight. Even if it took place in your idiotic little coporate slum-"

A bang as the doors to the News Studio, our new setting (http://mswww.grand-blanc.k12.mi.us/hwansitler/Mvc-003f.jpg), were burst open.

"EN AR AY! Cease and- DIE!"

A half dozen crazed NRA lunatics filled the low budget studio and began wreaking havoc, spraying everything with gunfire, kicking things, punching at random people, and playing ping pong.

"En ar ay has loyalties to US Alliance! No Team Advantage media will speak badly of the US Alliance in Fadmadmodtal!"

"You twit, this is Yumenye. As in, Fodian District, not Fadian."

"Cease and- DIE!"

"Yumenye isn't part of Fadmadmodtal you twit, it's Fodmodmadtol. We're three miles from the border, so excuse us if you tune in to our channel. We can't control where we broadcast to."

But the deranged gun-freak was kicking the anchor desk, shouting profainities, and the anchor woman who we shall know as Sally, sat there boredly and sipped her coffee as the set around her was torn apart with gunfire.

"Watch my hair. Oh, we're still on? Oh. Well folks, as you can see, US Alliance supports idiotic corporations- Support Team Advantage, Fight! Woot!"

A swipe under the desk and she pulled out a Vektor SS77, slammed it onto the desk, and began riveting anything that moved with lead.

"Eat Team Advantage fury! Freuqent flier miles from Bee Kay, here I come!"

Rat a tat a tat a tat.

][ You can jump in whenever you like, wherever you like. Just have fun with this one. A more serious one will come out soon, but have some humour in this one. This is all pre-emptive, remember that. ][

Hello, I am Fadmadmodtal. I am a Capitalizt Paradise which Fodmodmadtol hacked up sometime during the Clover Rebellion. We legally (http://forums.jolt.co.uk/showthread.php?t=363691) ceded; Article One; with our assasination of the Co'od Arch'Juscte Nyx, Late ruler of the East Fodmodmadtolian Theocracy which we broke away from. We are located somewhere on the Eatsern North American Continent, somwhere off the Atlantic Seaboard. We're an Isand I'm guessing. We have no effective Government per se, but everything is dominated by Corporations as in Jennifer Government. This is currently taking place in me. Thank you, and have a nice day.

Go go Team Advantage. Woot.

This bump dedicated to- 'Holly TA.'

This bump dedicated to- 'Kate Mattel, Buy Mitsui, and of course our dear, Jennifer Government.'

Columbus, Ohio. Local McDonalds 11:37

It was a dreary morning, and the industrial hubub outside the greasy doors of a Columbus Burger King did not help to brighten the scene. Inside, the clatter of coffee mugs and shouts of orders at the counter to the kitchens overcame the low murmur of conversation inside the diner. The ubiquitous sheet of gray cloud suggested a rainy afternoon and a cold night, smothering any hope of an azure skyline.

A fairly plump man, sporting an obviously customed tailored black business suit (for it was of ridiculous proportions; the jacket reached almost to the man's knees), was busying himself with ordering a few dozen hashbrowns at the counter. His suitcase was open, inviting a small boy to rummage through his papers and successfully destroy a few of his files before a rampaging mother would stuff his "Big Kid's Meal" gift in his hand and drag him off. The man, contentedly munching on his meal, was too infatuated with it to notice.

Behind them, a loud, long laugh accompanied the ruffling of newspaper. A man, hidden by the articles before him (save for the hands that held the paper up. Unusually tan hands, I might add.), was in all logic enjoying the predicament, unless he had come across some funny pun. Such a pun, however, was unlikely, as everyone knows Columbus newspapers hadn't a drop of comedic talent left. Or perhaps it was the newspaper's headline, "TEAM ADVANTAGE VS US ALLIANCE", that bore him into such a giddy riot. After all, the chaos of corporate logos sweeping the nation WAS funny, if at all dangerous. His laughter slowed as a series of clicks played across the dimly lit diner, mingling with the yelling cooks and beeping ovens. After a few minutes, however, the clicks seem to grow over the sounds of the kitchen and diner, until all its occupants were staring in wonder at the man.

That was, until, they sprang from their seats and ran for the exits as the man behind the newspaper burst up and produced a small firearm.

"HE'S GOT A GUN! QUICK, JUAN, THE SALT PACKETS!"

The man quickly turned and shot a hole inside the co-workers.

"US ALLIANCE FOREVER! TEAM ADVANTAGE WILL DIE AND ALL ON IT WITH IT!"

He cackled maniacly and sprayed a few shots at the kitchens, coaxing falling pans and grumbling machinery. Suddenly, the cashier sprang from behind the counter and stabbed blindly in the air at the man!

"AUGHGUHAHGUHGUGHGUHGAHUBBOOGOGAHGUHA!"

The man swung madly and fell in a hail of plastic spoons. He recovered in time to meet the second charge of ketchup packets and straws. Finally springing back, he emptied a bullet into the brave, yet foolish cashier.

"NOO!"

A cook dashed from the kitchen, crashed a pot into the man's head which sent him spiraling to the floor, and crouched over the cashier's limp body.

"HOLD ON, BUDDY! I'LL GET YOU OUT OF HERE! JUST HOLD ON!"

"It's too late for me...just..sleep tonight knowing Team Advantage lives. Tell..Jay..he still owes me 10 bucks.." With that, the cashier expired.

The cook cried in angst and ripped the cashier's bloody nametag from his chest, throwing his hand into the air.

"HI! MY NAME IS CARL...I BARELY KNEW YE!"

And so the cook fell to the floor, admist the battered and bloodied bodies of his co-workers and innocent consumers.

The mall was quiet.

Too quiet.

It was a Friday night after all.

There sat a Reebok outlet. Signs plastered in the Plexiglas windows proclaimed, '50% OFF!', in bright swirling designs that danced about as if magical imps in a magical land of magical impishness. Magic stuff. Imp.

Inside this Reebok outlet, all attendants were busying themselves around the shelves, or trying to look as if they were busying themselves. Most actually just stood there, frozen, staring at a shoe box or feeling up the sock rack again. The cashiers at the pagoda in the middle were glancing about idly, expectantly, as if idle, yet expecting something, while being idle. And expecting something. And so on and so forth.

Someone stood at the entrance, and all the heads turned to look at this one, eyes narrowed in disgust.

Here stood a young man, frocked in a Nike sweatsuit, Nike headband, and Nike shoes. He held in his hand, a Nike tennis racket. In his mouth, a power bar was jutting out. Not just any power bar though, heavens no. A Nike power bar.

The cashiers looked to each other, nodded once, and sank beneath the register. Random attendants began rearranging shoeboxes randomly, sparing a glance to each other if allowed. They had known this one coming, someone tipped them off from the Libby Lue next door, and the Waldenbooks across the concourse had their backs all the way. The only thing was the Orange Julius.

Damned that Orange Julius. DAMN YOU ORANGE JULIUS!

An attendant mouthed something to another as they passed, the rustling of their referee'esque uniforms masking their silent chat.

Devil shoes no touch the floor.

The young man polished off his Power Bar, raised his Tennis Racket over his shoulder, and shifted his weight forward, taking a step inside. Eyes sprung wide with the workers, heads snapping to glare evilly at the intruder. A single cashier rose from behind the register, holding up the employee handbook high over his head. The respective employees got down on their knees and bowed.

"Thou hast broken thine firsteth commandmenteth, whore of the Satan Nike."

And the Nike man spat to the Reebok ground. He took up the Tennis Racket, and blasted the Reebok logo above the cash register with a strife of bullets.

"Your time has come Reebok swine! Hahahahaha!"

Respective employees dived and rolled into isles, cashiers simultaneously rising from behind the counters with rocket launchers. Two rockets were fired with screams and a screech towards the entrance as Referees rose from behind stocks of shoes, tossing aside cartons to reveal Colt .22's, and spraying the Nike man with lead. Even as they did so Orange Julius workers blew out ventilation grates in the ceiling, tossed down ropes, and descended armed with Tangy Drinks and Greasy Dogs into the battle with a roar. Waldenbooks employees stormed from the employee exits a the back of the store, raising low cost yet quality books high in a battle cry.

"Don't let them get the shoe horns! Don't let them get the-"

He was cut off as an Orange Julius worker shoved a Tangy Orange Julius down his throat. This one though, was struck down with 'A Romance in the Republic, by Childs.' Go Waldenbooks!

"Team Advantage! Fight fight fight!"

This bump dedicated to- 'Hayley McDonald'

All throughout the North Eastern US, headlines would bear the title "RIOTS DESTROY TEAM ADVANTAGE BUILDINGS". It was true, you couldn't grab a cheese burger without running into US Alliance trouble-makers. Everywhere, Nike stores were burnt to the ground as Adidas stores were bombarded with boomerangs that were shaped oddly alike to the Nike check logo. Pepsi stands were stampeded and Coca Cola factories were pillaged and destroyed. It seemed it would end as almost all the corporate stores were put out of commission, but it wouldn't. The US Alliance just needed somewhere to fight, and that place was the streets.

Cleveland, Ohio

It was the calm before the storm, the air rank with anticipation and suspense of the inevitable clash between corporate campaigners. Slowly, people stamped with KMart and AT&T logos lined the far West side of an empty, concrete road. On the Eastern front, people with American Airlines badges and Burger King crowns appeared. Both sides were numbered in the thousands.

"YOU CAN TAKE OUR FAST-FOOD MENU, BUT YOU CAN NEVER COPY OUR SHOE DESIGNS!"

A cry from the East set the sides off in a charge. Soon, the air rained napkin holders and shoes, as the battle of corporate titans began. Straws flew, telephones crashed, bottles broke over heads of the parallel company card-carrier. It was an all-out war of brand-name courtesy pillows, speciality milkshakes, and competing marketed dolls. And soon it would consume the whole of Team Advantage and US Alliance chaos.

"Ma'am, that'll be Three Twenty Nine."

"I know very well what an umbrella costs."

"Do you now?"

"Yes. Your life!"

"Might I suggest laying off the crack-AHF!"

The small old woman had leapt across the counter, and speared the WAL-MART employee through his chest with her newly purchased umbrella. A twitch, and it opened up inside of the employee.

"Three Twenty Nine my arse.. US Alliance Tax wench.."

She timidly looked around at the other shoppers, who were seemingly content with this action as they had begun to loot, and wiggled her umbrella a bit in the cashier before he fell to the ground. She reached out for her grandsons hand, and climbed down with his support.

"Thank you sonny-AHF!"

The small old woman had been bitten by her grandson, a teenage-sommat year old boy, and he had begun to eat her. She squeaked a bit, but not out of pain or suprise, but out of the savings they would have! A gaggle of people flurried about the scene, forming a bit of a mosh for a few seconds, and dissipated, leaving only the skelatal remains of the old woman to hunch over the counter.

This bump dedicated to, in all of it's Grave Digging Glory- "6"