The Works of TheInnerScience: http://theinnerscience.newgrounds.com/news/post/857803

The epic story continues here: http://theinnerscience.newgrounds.com/news/post/873609

The mouthwatering smell of blueberry waffles and microwavable sausages filled the air of the small and bland kitchen. So delicious it smelt, that it had attracted the attention of a devious nomadic fly that happened to be crawling along on the bleach white wall. His thousands of eyes pinpointed and locked in on the glass plateful of brown fluffy wonderfulness.

After a few minutes, the fly decided it had stalked it’s prey for long enough. Tiny wings flexed as took off as if readying itself to pouncing. The starving insect soared at lightning speed with it’s prize reflecting his mirror like eyes. Closer and closer still! Till finally he was so close that the smell drove him into an intoxicated frenzy! He could taste it! It was the most wonderful thing he could ever have dreamed off! The bug’s essence was changing into a form of true divinity and peace that only the highest monks who have spent years of meditation in faraway monasteries have achieved. The fly had finally found it’s meaning in life!

When suddenly, it’s life ended with a thunderous crash of green plastic that fell like the wrath of God. It hit struck with the force of a tumbling mountain and the precession of a bird of prey’s lunge. In one instant the fly went from feeling the very cosmos turn and sway around it, to feeling every part of his innards painfully explode forth from his small body and splatter against the chemically treated page of the days current newspaper.

Wielding the flyswatter like a saber that had vanquished a fierce enemy was a thin boy of nineteen years with bedraggled brown hair and a face that was still puffy from sleeping on it. He wore a white wife beater that had belonged to one of neighbors and plaid striped boxers that came from the same place.

“And that my dear friend!” he roared triumphantly. “Is how a future samurai protects his sacred temple!”

Lifting the flyswatter to survey his kill, he found the dark mark were the mutilated fly now rested, almost liquefied. Yep, deader than a seventies porn stars career. He smiled maliciously, not ashamed of expressing his hatred for household pest.

But just then, his keen eyes narrowed onto the spot where the fly’s remain lay splattered about. It was an article he had not noticed before.

The article read:
Mad Marx’s demolition derby!
Come all this Saturday!

Suddenly his mouthed dropped into a gape as a marvelous revelation struck him aside his head. His heart raced as his imagination started running rampant within the twisted black bars of his mind. But no, this was not the time for day dreaming. Certainly not!

Hey scrambled for the pink house phone that sat comfortably on the wall of the kitchen, not noticing another fly had arrived to desecrate his sacred waffle shrine.

30 minutes later……

The Garage was indeed a true fortress of youth and rebellion, with it’s dusty sofa laid in the center of the concrete floor, posters of head banging rockers plastered over the wall, a makeshift dining area with a miniature refrigerator and wooden cabinets nailed above the fridge, and most importantly, musical instruments ranging from brightly colored electric guitars with fancy decals, to amps stacked carefully in a corner along side a drum kit.

Laid across the sofa like a comatose couch potato was a skinny boy in a black ball cap that shielded his face from the perpetrating light above and a red t-shirt that read “Rightful Dead” in bold white letters. In one hand, he supported a girly magazine so that it sat straight up on his chest while the other slowly massaged his denim covered crotch like a long lost lover. An erection teased him with an itch he could not scratch. This pile of lust crazed hormones was Kris Cornhill.

The loud ding of a microwave stirred Kris from the deluded fantasy that he was alone. The magazine fell flat to his chest as he raised himself on angled elbows to look over his shoulder. His thin lips curled into a snarl.

“What are you doing now?” He asked with poetic annoyance.

Carefully removing a steaming plate of old French fries was the muscular and dark skinned Rj. A light blue hoodie jacket covered massive biceps that were toned from years of lifting weights. His dreads had been pulled into a short ponytail to keep from getting in his face as he ate, plus it made him feel like a heartthrob at times. He paused to give Kris an apathetic glance before returning to his job of making the best batch of Freedom Fries he ever made.

“I felt a sudden emptiness in my gut, like sinkhole consuming my satisfactory until I finally give it something to feast upon. A parasite inside me you could say.”

Kris only stared at Rj with an expression of exasperation, the snarl turning into a frown.

“You’re stoned again and you got the munchies, that is all you had to say, brother.” Kris stated as he flopped back down to study the tan half-naked girl sprawled out across a desert backdrop.

“I find that the simplicity and bluntness of the straightforward truth drains what little artistic value we have left in life.”

“As stoned as you are, you could find artistic value just by watching MTV.”

Well, that brought about a debated that lasted for the next five minutes or so. The conversation never really went anywhere. But as they conversed, a silent person could hear hushed voices rising slowly from the corner of the large garage.

This was indeed the most exotic oddity of the pack. She sat crossed legged, with her back to the boys, as her tawny colored eyes ogled at the pale faced porcelain dolls dressed in fine tiny garments before her. Nimble fingers lifted their small arms while a gentle tongue muttering in playful tones. A tan sweater, that was much too large for her, draped over and hid a voluptuous hourglass figure, and a pretty pink bow held back her long glassy black hair in a neat ponytail.

Lush lips curved into a crescent smile as imaginary visions flashed inside her mind, each one an average day quest starring her little dolls. She tilted it one way and then the other, pretending the doll was a living being. This poor wonderful girl is Torina Baylor. As you might have observed, Tori is not all together psychologically. She suffers from a few mental disorders, most of them brought about from a rather abusive childhood. To sum up her condition, she has the mind of a little girl trapped amidst the body of an eighteen year old young lady.

With Kris and Rj deep in pointless conversation and Torina lost in her own world, none of them noticed when the door that connected the garage and the house flew open and slammed into the wall of the garage. Flying out of the door’s threshold like a bat on fire was the energetic and charismatic leader of our troop of youthful heroes.

Short and untidy hair lay in an almost mess as frantic green eyes looked from each of his friends to the next. The puffy face had now became narrow and handsome with an enchanting smile that seemed to radiate goodwill and joy. Where he once worn a wife beater and boxers, now was a dark blue shirt with sleeves that reached out yearningly to his wrist and jeans that had enough holes to seem as if the lower section of the legs had been put through a blender.

To make his presence known, He walked with a quickened pace and heavy steps in front of the sofa that Kris now occupied with his wasteful mass. Kris and Rj’s conversation ended immediately as they curiously looked to the young man, who appeared to be bubbling over with a contagious amount of energy that emanated from the pores of his skin like a cloud.

“Dave,” Kris said with slight apprehension hanging to his words. Kris knew Dave was up to something devious, and if Kris had not known better, he would have guessed that the plot was already afoot.

As his name was spoken, Torina looked back to conform she heard the truth. She had only saw the back of Dave’s shirt when her heart started to flutter like a rousing caged bird. Her breath suddenly rushed from her lungs and a subtle kitten like “mew” escaped her lips. A quick hand flew to restrain her lips and silence the unexpected rise of longing emotion, but it had already flown forth from her mouth. Luckily, the guys were too busily with their own matters to hear her small cry of passion.

“What are you up to?” Kris asked warily.