The End
of the World is NighThe End
of the World is NighBe careful... even humour is not
safe...
As the fearsome one once said (really he actually did...)
'SARCASIM IS A SURE FIRE WAY TO HAVING A VERY NASTY ACCIDENT'
It has been obvious for some time, that the world would end soon, many religions and cults feel that millenniums hold some important, and usually catastrophic significance. This had always been discarded as mere superstition by science, due to the lack of evidence. Until now.
Some time ago it came to my attention had it within his power to end the world, and not only the ability, but also the will to do so. This man, (and by speaking his name I risk my own life) is Shaun 'The Cat' Hartley. We only have to look at the works of his friends to see the danger he poses...
Simon Smith...A student of Maths at Leeds University, and former classmate of the evil one often felt obliged to joke at his expense, the results of these daring actions are not yet apparent, but I have no doubt that cruel revenge is being planned. Click on Simon's scary photo to see his prolific works... |
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Matthew Morgan...Also a former classmate of Shaun's, he is currently at univesity in the United States, and so the curse of the cat is already in force. This is the fate that awaits those who feel obliged to write about The Cat, whose power means he can control people's destinies. To see the prose that led, perhaps, to Matt's position are available by clicking on the phot of Matt relaxing... |
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Julian Fletcher...Even I have not escaped his curse. As a classmate of his, things were fine, but as I realised his world controlling intentions, I quickly distanced myself from him. Not only is his mind quick and willing to come up with methods of torture that could break the hardest marine, but his conscience is lacking to such an extent he would be willing to carry them out. After my realisation of these facts I chose to do Maths and Physics 4 year course. Perhaps this is just my foolishness, perhaps... Or maybe I was influenced by some satanic being intent on punishing me. I know not. To see my words of his evil doing, click on Shaun's revenge... ok the gunsight to the left... |
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Bang Bang!
Who's
there?
Shaun...
Shaun who?
Shaun-off shotgun!
"This year has
been an Annus Horriblia for my family and I"
-- The
Queen 1996
"This year has been pleasant for me, but Annus
Horriblia for my family, their neighbours and their neighbours friends. For
I have destroyed all who oppose me."
-- Shaun Hartley 1996
"A
lot of people tell me I'm cruel - that I'm heartless,
unkind even... well to these individuals I say this:If you mention
that once more, I will hunt you down, kill you and
then torture your family to death. Cheers then."
-- Shaun Hartley
1996
"Many a man has stood in my path"
"Many a
man has died under my stride, though"
-- Shaun Hartley 1996
"Go to hell you bastards!!!" Moley shouted at the assembled group of officials, "You torturing fascists!"
"You wouldn't like it if a dog chased your pets!" Tyfoid added, vehemently. Moley, Tyfoid and three others, Snaker, Ham and Wart, were members of their 'pack', Rabid11, which in turn was part of a large group of activists protesting against two moral causes, both close to the nations hearts, each intrinsically linked to one another.An eight lane motorway was being built, crossing through the very area that has been home to many protected species for over two hundred years.
To add to the hatred and ill-feeling a pack of dogs was being used to remove the animals before the road was begun; the dogs had just arrived with fifty handlers in tow. Surrounding them, protecting the hounds and their owners from the baying mob of assembled activists were a hundred police and security guards, each armed with truncheons.
The plan was simple in theory: To sweep through the forest chasing the animals out and straight into the thousands of traps on the south side. The captured animals would then be flown to a suitable location in the north and released, with no harm occurring to them.
However, the activists had a different idea; for they had heard rumours that the animals would be harmed and a small percentage of them were destined for the lab, an idea so abhorrent to their minds, that they were willing to go to any lengths to stop this massacre of the defenceless beasts.
The best way to disrupt this activity was to stop it indefinitely, causing the nation to wake up to the fact that this was real - this was happening in their country.
Rabid11 had a mission; this was to be the best activists in the country. This could involve any number of methods tom block the work - but the one they had adopted in this situation was their most successful to date; this really had made the nation look up, recent newspaper reports suggested that over 80% of the country agreed with their principles.
By the edge of the forest was a huge tree - over 600 years old. It was magnificent example of the beauty of nature - majestic, awe-inspiring and home now to five protesters. This tree HAD to be removed to allow work to continue; but with five people in it, 150 feet up, it was proving almost impossible. For they had not only chained themselves many times to it's huge network of branches, but also attached a incendiary device which, if triggered, would blow not only themselves up, but also anyone with-in a hundred foot radius. All it needed to be triggered was someone tampering with the shackles attaching the angry group to their new found habitat.
As yet, no official had dared to even climb the tree, yet alone remove the chains. They all knew the gravity of the situation - any attempt to remove the activists could result in the death of hundreds of innocent lives. But work had been delayed now for three weeks, and the schedule of road building was beginning to be squeezed tight around Matthew Hemmings neck. Hemming was the co-ordinator and general manager for this project; his twenty sixth to date. He had dealt with similar situations before, but this was new to him, this was terrifying.
He knew that work HAD to begin tomorrow, or else the road would never be finished in time for the millennium - the date which was to signify the grand opening of the highway.
The CB crackled into life - "CZZZZCHHKK Red2 to Hemming - over", it was Yegil the team leader talking to Hemming. "Reading Red2", Hemming spoke into the mouthpiece "What is it?".
He knew the news would be bad, as Yegil was an experienced manager who could usually find solutions to any problem. "We MUST get these guys down - today - or we'll all lose our jobs!!" He heard from the CB.
He racked his brain, for he could not think of a way to get those damn loonies down from the tree without causing an explosion which could potentially ignite the entire forest.
He sat down on a tree stump, looking at a small puddle of water before him, pondering his future and that of his family. Hemming blinked as the water seemed to ripple, ever so slightly. He glanced up, but no one else seemed to be taking any notice. As he looked down he saw another ripple, this time stronger and accompanied by a faint booming noise. Fearfully, he looked up to the tree, but could see no untoward reaction from the protesters.
The ripples were growing stronger and the noise louder and more frequent - now the other workers were throwing glances at the surrounding trees, then hurriedly going back to their work.Hemming was curious and could be now physically feel the ground shaking, almost beating out a regular pattern.
The workers had all stopped, peering around, fearful of the unknown source of the vibrations. The noise was becoming unbearable - the vibrations so large as to cause Hemming to actually quake with each one. Keeping low, he moved toward the nearby forest edge; the seeming direction of the noise.
He watched as - almost in slow motion - workers next to the edge of the trees scattered as a metallic beast burst forth from the foliage. The beast began to move toward Hemming - each step causing the trees to shake and the ground move. Workers in it's path were crushed, any digger nearby was destroyed by a blow from it's mighty paws.
A brave worker tried to attack it's legs with a spade, for the beast was at least fifty feet tall. The man fell back as the beast turned to him- almost observing the small form beneath it. The worker turned to run, but it was too late, as what looked like a whisker shot forth from the beast's head and impaled the man as he ran. He fell dead from his horrific injuries.
The beast continued its path toward Hemming, a straight line that took it over tree, machine or human with-out exception; Hemming tried to turn but was rooted to the spot. The agility of this machine beast was like nothing he had had ever seen before - its form looked vaguely familiar to him - almost homely... then it hit him: the beast had the form of a feline... more than that, he realised, with a shock of disgust, as he surveyed thecarnage in it's wake... it - it - it was...
A regular house cat.
He realised the horrible truth of the situation but still could not move. The beast approached him and in one bound of its strong hind legs it was upon him.
His family flashed before his eyes - he knew he was surely going to die... but the beast looked at him and continued on toward the tree.
His power to run returned and he fled, picking up none of his possessions. He ran - the forest edge was approaching and he continued until he reached the relative sanctuary of the humble trees.
Pausing to look back at the incredible sight before him he saw the horrible result of the beast reaching the tree...
As he watched the beast stopped 100 metres short of the oak; the protesters were frozen as he had been. Their huddled form suggested they knew what this mythical beast was.
The beast arched its back, its metal tail sweeping round to face the group, without warning a fiery missile raced from the tip of the tail to the tree base, exploding in a huge fireball that swallowed everything in site. The form of the beast could be seen, and Hemming could make out at least ten separate attacks on the protesters by the many, many weapons concealed on this huge beast's body.
He watched for what must of been ten minutes as the tree and it's protesters were reduced to a crater he judged must have been 15 metres deep.
The attack finally ended, and the beast leapt from the hole and bounded back toward the forest. Hemming kept low, his form pressed against the fauna.
The cat beast ran within 50 feet of him and as he watched it disappear, the terrible, terrible scene of carnage and slaughter left behind it, Hemming collapsed into unconsciousness.
He could not be sure, but he swore as he closed his eyes, he heard the cat beast utter words...
...surely not... beasts don't speak ....beasts ... don't ...ex... ii... sssstttt...
"FOR I AM HE!ANY PROTECTOR OF THE ANIMALS IS AN ENEMY OF MINE!"
...Hemming slept, his day was over.
An idyllic setting. An alp-like mountain in the distance. Beautiful-leafy green trees abound. Nature is at rest. A lone doe rests in clearing. No, wait... she's also nurturing her tiny fawn. They pause their animal concerns to view the splendour of the scene around them.
Wait! Something was not right. The birds were no longer singing. A deathly hush filled the still air. The doe began to get anxious. She.. felt... a... presence... A man was lurking in the forest. Oh, if she had only known what man it was!
The doe got up. She circled he innocent fawn a couple times, her naturally quick eyes scanning the horizon. Searching every crevasse, inspecting every nook. She could see nothing, but her animal spirit could SENSE him...
But she could FIND nothing. To move from their secluded lair would only increase the danger. She got back down and covered her young child. If it was a hunter, she made up her mind he would only get one of them... Oh, if only she had known the danger she was in! If only she had known the hunter she was up against!
Something caught her eye. A playful red dot danced up and down through their little abode. First this way, then that. The doe was transfixed. Soon the dot seemed to tire, to slow down. It teasingly settled down right on her forehead. She tried to shake it off, but it wouldn't budge.Something wasn't right... and she would never be sure what that wrong thing was.
In the next split-second a mighty-anti-tank missile entered their little secluded spot, and the second after that, the peaceful forest erupted in a warm glow as the follow-up plastic explosive did its heinous work. Machine gun fire erupted. Rodents fell... dead. The ring of bullets echoed throughout the peaceful forest.
He laughed.
His laugh echoed throughout the forest. A mighty, forceful laugh. An evil, cruel laugh. He peered into the 50-ft pit that used to be a secluded deer nook to look for survivors. He saw one. Miraculously, it had survived the C4 and the was dragging its shocked body along with three of its working legs. Its soulful eyes gazed into his, pleading for his very existence. A shot rang out. A deer body collapsed to the floor.
The park rangers came in later, to investigate a possible commotion. What they found a wake of death, culminating in a crater of maimed and disfigured animal bodies.
The rangers breathed a sigh of relief. Shaun Hartley was having one of his merciful days...
[lines from STAR WARS adapted for a more fitting theme...]
[A
great number of neatly-uniformed generals are arguing around a futuristic planning
table in a massive 'War room', on board a 'Star Destroyer']
General #1: I tell you the rebels are too strong
and too highly equipped!
General #2: [sneering] Dangerous to
YOUR army, general, NOT to SHAUN HARTLEY. Any attacks against him
would be a pointless gesture. SHAUN HARTLEY is now the ULTIMATE
power in the universe.
[Shaun Hartley enters wearing a black
cape and a menacing glare. There is a noticeable bulge on
his left side. Probably his concealed sniper pistol]
SHAUN HARTLEY: [angry,
to General #1] Don't be too proud of this technological terror
you have constructed. Its power is insignificant compared to the power
of homemade C4.
General #1: Don't try to scare us
with your terrorist ways Lord Hartley. Your sad devotion to the
power of automatic weapons hasnot helped you conjure up the stolen
data tapes, nor given you clairvoyance enough to find the secret
Rebel base. I... ahhh....Acccckkk.....
SHAUN HARTLEY: [cooly angry, to
General #1] I find your lack of faith... disturbing...
[Shaun
Hartley stares at General #1 and unleashes his mental forces.General #1
sputters, coughs and finally keels over, dead. Shaun Hartley looks bemused.The
other generals look terrified.]
Foot trooper: [To Shaun Hartley]
Sir!A Holo-message from our Lord and Master, EMPEROR CURRINGTON!
SHAUN
HARTLEY: [concerned] Tell my master I will obey; prepare my
meditation chamber...
[The Dark Lord Shaun is kneeling in his
meditation chamber, his mind transfixed on the holographic image of Emperor
Currington's visage before him. Shaun bows his head in solemn reverence.
Currington's cowelled head nods a silent approval to his lowly disciple.]
LORD SHAUN: The enemy have retreated my master...The punishments administered
to the captured have undoubtedly purified their rebellious souls through pain.
EMP. CURR: Good!... good...And now... I sense that you wish
to continue your search for young Fletcher.
LORD SHAUN: Yes
my master...
EMP. CURR: He could destroy us...
[Lord
Shaun gazes up at the visage of his mentor]
LORD
SHAUN: Yes my master...but if he could be turned, he would
be a valuable asset to the Empire...
EMP. CURR: Yes...
yes...Can it be done?
LORD SHAUN: He will join us
or DIE!
[The mighty dark prince once again bows his
head in reverence to the one whose powers exceed his own]
[An admiral foolishly bursts into the solemn scene, interrupting it.
Currington's image instantly disappears, for few are those who have seen
his face and lived...The wrath of Lord Shaun turns upon the
poor officer...]
Admiral: Sir!The fleet has moved out of hyper
speed, but the rebel's energy shield has been engaged.
LORD
SHAUN: The rebels have been alerted to our presence. You came
out of light speed too quickly.
Admiral: I felt surprise
was essent...
LORD SHAUN: You're as clumsy as you are
stupid... [Angry, voice hushed] You have failed me for the last
time Admiral...
Admiral: I'm sorry Lord Sh... Gzzchhkkk... AAchhh... Ahh...
*Crack*
[Admiral's neck vertebrae shattering under the powerful might of Shaun's evil
mental powers. Admiral collapses to floor, dead.]
LORD SHAUN: Apology
accepted, admiral.
[Lord Shaun exits scene with a flourish of
his obsidian-black cape. The search for young Fletcher has begun... ]
"HaHa...
Hmmm... Quite possibly..."
-- Shaun Hartley's response to allegations that
he personally detonated a small home-made thermonuclear device in Thetford Forest,
Norfolk
Matt - Shaun do you have ANY morals? ANY WHATSOEVER?!!!
Shaun - No.
"It's a Methwoldian message. It means that
Simon Smith sleeps with the fishes."
-- Famous changed portion from
the original script of that movie classic, the "Godfather" (or as
it was known during production, "Shaun, his life and times")
I've often dreamt of hell, face it who hasn't. The usual fires and brimstone and all that crap. It's all so medieval, perhaps hell needs a bit of an update. And now, as I look in the mirror I realise there is. There is a new hell, a hell on earth.
I've never been more alone than now, quarantine, and they say it's for my own good, the fevers are raging, and I can't do anything. With a struggle of apathy and general lack of energy I shudder to my feet and reach for the petri dish, the virus still controls the cells, if this was a man, he'd be no more. The thought of so much deaths makes me want to cry, extinction never seems so bad until it's applied to homo-sapiens.
With a sudden anger, I throw the petri dish into the fire, the flames lap at the agar jelly, liquefying it, until it just sizzles and as the temperature rises the virus expands, and grows, the temperature must be near 200 c and still the virus thrived. It had been the same with the freezer. By some evolutionary freak, or man made catastrophe, this killer disease could not only kill 100% of all men, but also withstand all antibiotics, all temperatures and all acids or alkalis - it was indestructible. And as I stood there with the realisation that the end was nigh I thought back to the beginning, where it all began...
It had all began over a year ago, it was a small article in a national newspaper, 'Crazed madman "holds world to ransom"' followed by some facetious words about the aforementioned loony. If only they had listened, if only, then the world would have been safe, safe from this hell that now rules it. He'd demanded 10 dollars a head or he would release a deadly virus over the world. World leaders condemned or ignored him 50 billion dollars wasn't petty cash! The few that paid any attention to the threat issued a refusal, they called his bluff. It was sixth months later before any more news happened. A cluster of deaths from a new disease, and slowly, ever so slowly the connection was made. Exactly one month after the first deaths 1 million had died, and a second statement was made public.
'100 dollars a head, for the vaccine' it appeared that the virus had a sixth month incubation period, and by now everyone was infected. Leaders panicked, religions prayed, societies crumbled. The 500 billion dollars was amassed slowly and eventually paid, but the madman accepted the money but refused the antidote, and now as we struggle for survival, he rests on some island with a select few of mercenaries, waiting for the end.
I am the only one unaffected, the virus couldn't catch me, despite being airborne - being underground, having one's own air supply has it's advantages, but now I may be the only survivor on a dead world. And all I can hear running round in my head is that mans name, that man I knew as a child and a single gunshot would have solved all the problems, but no that would be wrong. Instead we waited, knowing he was all mouth. Until then, until Shaun Hartley rose up from obscurity, a phoenix of death. Intent on the entire annihilation of the human race.
That is hell!
Proverb -
The pen is mightier than the sword
Shaun - So,
a Kalashnikov rifle would beat it easily!
Confuscius - Real
knowledge is to know the extent of ones ignorance
Shaun
- BOLLOCKS, who needs real knowledge when you've got a H
&K [Heckler and Koch] semi-automatic. [or perhaps a 155mm Howitzer]
Page last updated on 12th November 1998
Maintained by Julian Fletcher (julian@innocent.com)