Roach-Busters
05-12-2004, 20:53
North Liberal Homeland, District #88976542
For weeks members of the newly-formed Liberals Opposing Segregation, Especially Roach-Busterian Segregation (LOSERS) had been on strike, which was a felony. Recently passed, radical legislation prohibited by law liberals from going on strike. However, the local police were urged to be lenient, and to simply to allow the lefties to do their thing, assuming that shortly afterwards things would mellow.
However, as time passed, the more moderate members of the group found themselves growing increasingly powerless and less influential, as the more militant members rose rapidly through the ranks. The younger, more idealistic, and more radical members advocated armed revolution against what they considered: "a monstrous unjustice unprecedented in mankind's several thousand years of recorded history."
It started out innocently enough. A few houses were TP'd. A mailbox or two were shot. Tires of cars were slashed. Graffiti was sprayed on buildings. Occasionally a window was broken. Still, the local government advocated restraint. The police stood idly by, pretending not to notice.
Realizing they could get away with their misdeeds, LOSERS stepped up their attacks. Soon, they were robbing stores, rioting, organizing boycotts at local schools, publicly burning copies of Wealth of Nations, The Conscience of a Conservative, Poverty and Wealth: Why Socialism Doesn’t Work, etc., marching naked in the streets waving Soviet, North Korean, Cuban, Vietnamese, Zimbabwean, Laotian, and other flags, mugging elderly citizens, gang-raping young school teachers, and beating non-complient kids into submission, forcing them to join the movement.
On December 5, the largest LOSERS demonstration ever- drawing over 5,000 LOSERS- convened outside a local police station, protesting the new laws which required liberals to carry passes at all times. The protesters were all naked, covered in waste, waving flags of communist nations, and chanting anti-capitalist, pro-communist slogans.
One particularly flamboyant protester stood atop an empty wooden crate and bellowed, "F*** the right man! F*** those righties, they can all bathe in hot tar, feather themselves, and roast on a skillet in Hell, for all I care! Down with the free market! Down with republican government! Working men of the world, unite! We have nothing to lose but our chains! Let us bring forth socialism as envisioned by Comrade Marx! Let us revolt in the spirit of Che Guevara! Viva la revolucion!"
"Viva la revolucion! Viva la revolucion!" the crowd echoed, pumping their fists in the air and cheering wildly.
"F*** righties, f*** righties, f*** righties!" the man atop the crate shouted, and the crowd began throwing chunks of cement, sticks of dynamite, bags of human waste, used condoms, spiked balls, and dead animals at the police station.
One officer stepped outside to fire his gun- just as a warning- when all of a sudden a spiked ball darted through the air and burrowed into his carotid artery, severing it and spurting bursts of blood in every direction. He clutch-ed his severed throat to stem the blood flow, gagging hoarsely and feebly, his lips quivering spasmodically as his face turned pale. He was bombarded by a flurry of plastic bags filled with waste, which burst open instantly upon contact, splattering all over him. His disgust was short-lived, however, for two seconds later an angrily-tossed brick crashed into his forehead, fracturing his skull. Blood streamed down his face in rivulets.
The rioters continued to throw things, and shouted obscenities that would have made Eminem gape in dismay. The windows of the police station shattered, as glittering fragments of glass fell to the ground. The rioters rushed into the police station, so rabidly eager that they were shoving, pushing, and climbing over each other. Over seven rioters- six of them under the age of twelve- were trampled to death.
The police, out-numbered 250-1, retreated toward the back of the station, hoping to make a hasty exit. Unfortunately, the place was surrounded.
One rioter, a female, slithered seductively over to an officer, jiggling and saying, "Y' ain't gittin' none! Y' ain't gittin' none!"
"S***," one of the officers muttered, his voice thick with panic. He was normally serene, even in the tensest situations. He reached for his holster. The female slammed her knee into his crotch, knocking the wind out of him and causing him to slump to the floor, wincing and moaning, in extreme pain. She took a stick of dynamite, lit the fuse, and popped it in his mouth. A second later, it exploded, dousing them all in blood. The impact sent her flying back, landing on her ass.
Finally the officers had had enough. Whipping out their revolvers, they began firing indiscriminately at the crowd, mowing them down without hesitation. Bullets whizzed in every direction, ricocheting and hitting people at random, making one hell of a mess. The place looked like a slaughterhouse. The LOSERS turned tail and fled, shrieking like four-year-old girls at the sight of spiders, as the officers heroically fended them off. The smell of gunpowder lingered in the air. LOSERS toppled like dominoes over each other, as more and more of their lives were brought to an end by the constant flurry of bullets darting after them. Dozens were trampled to the death during the panicked escape. By the time the LOSERS managed to escape the police station, there were several tanks and thousands of soldiers outside waiting for them. No one spoke. No one needed to. Every gun fired almost simultaneously. Soon, the number of protesters had declined to zero.
For weeks members of the newly-formed Liberals Opposing Segregation, Especially Roach-Busterian Segregation (LOSERS) had been on strike, which was a felony. Recently passed, radical legislation prohibited by law liberals from going on strike. However, the local police were urged to be lenient, and to simply to allow the lefties to do their thing, assuming that shortly afterwards things would mellow.
However, as time passed, the more moderate members of the group found themselves growing increasingly powerless and less influential, as the more militant members rose rapidly through the ranks. The younger, more idealistic, and more radical members advocated armed revolution against what they considered: "a monstrous unjustice unprecedented in mankind's several thousand years of recorded history."
It started out innocently enough. A few houses were TP'd. A mailbox or two were shot. Tires of cars were slashed. Graffiti was sprayed on buildings. Occasionally a window was broken. Still, the local government advocated restraint. The police stood idly by, pretending not to notice.
Realizing they could get away with their misdeeds, LOSERS stepped up their attacks. Soon, they were robbing stores, rioting, organizing boycotts at local schools, publicly burning copies of Wealth of Nations, The Conscience of a Conservative, Poverty and Wealth: Why Socialism Doesn’t Work, etc., marching naked in the streets waving Soviet, North Korean, Cuban, Vietnamese, Zimbabwean, Laotian, and other flags, mugging elderly citizens, gang-raping young school teachers, and beating non-complient kids into submission, forcing them to join the movement.
On December 5, the largest LOSERS demonstration ever- drawing over 5,000 LOSERS- convened outside a local police station, protesting the new laws which required liberals to carry passes at all times. The protesters were all naked, covered in waste, waving flags of communist nations, and chanting anti-capitalist, pro-communist slogans.
One particularly flamboyant protester stood atop an empty wooden crate and bellowed, "F*** the right man! F*** those righties, they can all bathe in hot tar, feather themselves, and roast on a skillet in Hell, for all I care! Down with the free market! Down with republican government! Working men of the world, unite! We have nothing to lose but our chains! Let us bring forth socialism as envisioned by Comrade Marx! Let us revolt in the spirit of Che Guevara! Viva la revolucion!"
"Viva la revolucion! Viva la revolucion!" the crowd echoed, pumping their fists in the air and cheering wildly.
"F*** righties, f*** righties, f*** righties!" the man atop the crate shouted, and the crowd began throwing chunks of cement, sticks of dynamite, bags of human waste, used condoms, spiked balls, and dead animals at the police station.
One officer stepped outside to fire his gun- just as a warning- when all of a sudden a spiked ball darted through the air and burrowed into his carotid artery, severing it and spurting bursts of blood in every direction. He clutch-ed his severed throat to stem the blood flow, gagging hoarsely and feebly, his lips quivering spasmodically as his face turned pale. He was bombarded by a flurry of plastic bags filled with waste, which burst open instantly upon contact, splattering all over him. His disgust was short-lived, however, for two seconds later an angrily-tossed brick crashed into his forehead, fracturing his skull. Blood streamed down his face in rivulets.
The rioters continued to throw things, and shouted obscenities that would have made Eminem gape in dismay. The windows of the police station shattered, as glittering fragments of glass fell to the ground. The rioters rushed into the police station, so rabidly eager that they were shoving, pushing, and climbing over each other. Over seven rioters- six of them under the age of twelve- were trampled to death.
The police, out-numbered 250-1, retreated toward the back of the station, hoping to make a hasty exit. Unfortunately, the place was surrounded.
One rioter, a female, slithered seductively over to an officer, jiggling and saying, "Y' ain't gittin' none! Y' ain't gittin' none!"
"S***," one of the officers muttered, his voice thick with panic. He was normally serene, even in the tensest situations. He reached for his holster. The female slammed her knee into his crotch, knocking the wind out of him and causing him to slump to the floor, wincing and moaning, in extreme pain. She took a stick of dynamite, lit the fuse, and popped it in his mouth. A second later, it exploded, dousing them all in blood. The impact sent her flying back, landing on her ass.
Finally the officers had had enough. Whipping out their revolvers, they began firing indiscriminately at the crowd, mowing them down without hesitation. Bullets whizzed in every direction, ricocheting and hitting people at random, making one hell of a mess. The place looked like a slaughterhouse. The LOSERS turned tail and fled, shrieking like four-year-old girls at the sight of spiders, as the officers heroically fended them off. The smell of gunpowder lingered in the air. LOSERS toppled like dominoes over each other, as more and more of their lives were brought to an end by the constant flurry of bullets darting after them. Dozens were trampled to the death during the panicked escape. By the time the LOSERS managed to escape the police station, there were several tanks and thousands of soldiers outside waiting for them. No one spoke. No one needed to. Every gun fired almost simultaneously. Soon, the number of protesters had declined to zero.