How do you define success in life?
DOOKIE: A COLOURFUL LIFE
CHAPTER 10
Careful; trigger warning / language
DOOKIEBOOKS.COM
THE DEVIL IS IN ALL OF YOU
As the Snowflakes, Vin Hoisin and Dookie prepare for the next battle, they notice other people entering the car park. As these randoms enter the dimly lit areas our team of hero’s notice some are fellow staff members at Hellmart. Others are customers, past and present, young, and old. All have come armed with torches of some description!
How can this be? The team look at one another in disbelief as the locals are joining their ranks. Dookie addresses some of them quietly and asks them how they are here. A man speaks out from the back of the group.
“One of your lot has been live broadcasting the whole thing over the net, so i guess we all had the same idea. Help”.
Dookie smiles to himself as he remembers, this is what we fight for. Our communities, our livelihoods, our friends and loved ones. He takes a deep breath and full of pride he and the team welcome them all as they continue to flood the car park.
Meanwhile…. Frank, the possessed Pope, was tempting Gory, the nincompoop, toward him with his favourite sweets (jelly babies) and whispering to him that it would all be o.k. The confused and ridiculously over aged snowflake was easily swayed. He quickly made his way over to the evil pope mobile, with the sweet taste and squidgy feel of those Jelly babies on his mind.
As the dullard reached the rear of the Popemobile, the tacky and crusty curtain began to open. Gullible Gorey pokes his head through the opening to find Frank’s demon has crawled partially from his Holiness’s hole! Its abnormally long arm reaches out, grabs Gory by the throat and with a deadly grip of hatred he squeezes the life from the silly bugger. It holds on to him as its host screams out to the crowd:
” The devil is in all of you”
Dookie and the team look over to see what the pretend magic man is banging on about. Then they see the monster’s grip, wrapped around their buddy’s neck as it was. They run over with their torches raised up against the evil ass dweller. The demon releases its grip and slips back up inside its favourite hole to escape the light. Frank jumps into the driver’s seat and escapes to the rear of Dastardly Di the Dicks troops to celebrate his kill with his evil clan of infected church cronies.
As the staff and town folk form up, ready for battle against the now vastly outnumbered ‘leadership’, Vin Hoisin asks Dookie for the special old flame torch he gave him on the jet. Dookie points at Gorey. “I gave it to him to hold”, he states. Vin Hoisin slaps himself in the face and sighs. Then, D.C., eyes streaming with tears from the loss of now, two of his friends, tells them that Gorey had it stashed in his prison wallet.
The young, emotional snowflake walks over to the twitching corps of his murdered friend and kneels down beside him. Reaching over, he pulls his buddies black stretchy leggings down to reveal Gorey was a thong wearer. He then pushes his middle finger between the dead man’s cheeks, hooks the panty out and stretches it over the left cheek revealing Gorey’ hiding place. He then reaches inside. A hand, then a forearm deep. He rummages around and pulls out; one remote control, one action man, £12.50 in silver and then… the torch!
D.C., now back to his feet, vigorously shakes and flicks the old wooden torch dry. Then makes his way back over to Dookie and Vin, he attempts to hand it over to Dookie, but as it smelt and still had some corn and hair on it, Dookie insisted it was better for Vin to take care of it.
The two sides; good, honest, hardworking (well… working) people of Dragon Valley and the Demonic, shit eating, money grabbing, power playing, colon dwellers were both ready to fight!
Dastardly Di the Dick has now saddled an Asslicker. Sitting upon his accountants back in a plush, ten-thousand-pound, handmade custom leather saddle, the destroyer of morality ordered his troops to wipe his enemy from his site.
The Asslicker Platoon slowly paced forward. as they did so, dastardly Di the Dicks demon became engorged. Swelling his ‘Dick’ costume to around 8′ tall.
Frank, looking on from behind, sees his demented, partner of devilish destruction pulsing and swelling himself into a giant ‘Dick’. So jealous of Dastardly Di the Dick’ he can’t help but stretch his little Frank suit in a similar, but all too wrinkly fashion.
The Asslickers attack! The second battle of the night is well under way with beams of light, left hooks, goolie punches and good old-fashioned nipple gripples all being used by both sides. It’s carnage in the car park!
Dookie shouts out for the music to go back on, and the town folk immediately start to party. Some clown has brought a keg and starts giving out biodegradable cups full of moonshine, then from nowhere a burger van rolls up and starts serving bacon cheeseburgers and chips, haloumi burgers and apple slices or good old fashioned hot dogs. All fees to charity. Ahh the 21st century eh.
What a right good fight this is turning into. After freeing one Nun, a Hellmart procurement clerk and a banker from their demonic shit eaters, Dookie stands back for a moment. He watches them roll around in a converged pool of their own excrement and he can’t help but feel great about himself. He calls time and makes his way over to the food van for a celebratory double bacon cheeseburger, chips and a nice can of Coke. Proper Coke! None of that sugar free bullshit, this is a party god damn it!!!
After his little snacky snack Dookie takes stock of his troops. Dastardly Di the Dick has broken through the line and is waving his axe around like the total bell end he is. Many of the staff and town folk are falling at his hand or running in fear. Frank has focused on a tiny little fella, Dunkin. He is chasing him around screaming at him to become his pet, but the feisty little Dunkin isn’t having any of it.
Finally, Dookie watches on as Dunkin makes it back to the safety of the Snowflake line, where the power of D.C. and Getlan’ love, combined with their two million candles of light, force the evil Pope to retreat. The diminutive Dunkin, still scared and alone, keeps running. He weaves through the legs of the Snowflakes and towns folk until he sees safety. A cave just for him. He climbs over a dark and stretchy ridge and into the smelly hole. Armed with his tiny torch, two baby bells and a miniature Swiss army knife he knew he was safe for the night. “Ooh, is that corn?” he says to himself. This is a great place.
Dookie runs through the crowd like a gigantic attacking walrus with legs and storms Dastardly Di the Dick! A Superman punch to the side of the bullying, home wreckers head knocks the money grabbing whore off balance. Dookie follows it up with wide swinging lefts and rights to the weak midsection of the desk dweller. Finally, Dastardly Di the Dick falls to the ground. Town folk and Hellmart staff surround him, flashing their lights upon the fallen cock.
Frank comes charging in to save his demented demon buddy! The old, wrinkly, grey haired, decrepit, pervert was at full speed in his little leather sandals and flowing white dress thing, when Tupps whips his phone out and using its pop socket bungee attachment, he flings it around the legs of the possessed magic man. The old git falls, face first into the groin of Dastardly Di the Dick. Now both the leaders had fallen.
Down but not out, yet under constant light attack, the two demons battle with their hosts. The lights of the righteous keep the two Leader demons contained. But still within their hosts. The snowflakes lights have reduced the swollen bell ends back to normal size. Di the Dastardly Dick is on his back with his knees in his chest trying to pass the stool of a demon when the army of Cronies and Suited ass lickers pile in. Over the top of the cheering and laughing army of morality and goodness they go.
The devilish foot soldiers commit themselves over the top of the decent people and into their lights in an attempt to save their leaders. However, those possessed thickos just started pooping out their demon infection and began to neutralize themselves in the lights of the happy. The stench quickly became unbearable as dozens were piled upon each other, screaming out in pain as they were freed from their captors. The anal leakage dribbling over one another was too much to bear. Then, the screams turned to vomiting…. Absolute carnage! But all the brown anal juice and puke was blocking the light from getting to the leaders at the bottom of the pile of idiots.
Seeing the pile of infected, weak minded Suited ass lickers and Cronies with the two leaders at the stinky, slushy bottom of the pile, Vin Hoisin strikes a match. He lights the old torch and runs in. Speaking in tongues he buries himself into the smelly hoard. Beams of powerful light shone through the gaps and just touched the flesh of Dastardly Di the Dick! As it did a huge scream bellowed from him, so loud everyone stopped fighting and shouting and stood still.
Dookie reached into the dog pile and pulled Dastardly Di the Dick out by an ankle. He lay still. Even with a dozen or so lights upon him. Then…. a small, tight, squeaky flatch echoed from deep within his bowels. He looked up at Dookie, then pushed a gigantic shit eating demon from his rusty sheriff’s badge.
The demon uncurled and raised itself to its knees. The weekend demon was waiting for death. So, from a standing position Dookie drop kicked the foul bastard, planting the base of both feet clean into its face. The beast’s skull opened at the back of its head and its tiny little brain shot out like a spit wad from a belligerent child’s biro. The beast was dead. Dastardly Di the Dick lay flat on his back crying. He wasn’t a danger anymore, so Dookie left him there.
Moments later Dookie watched on as his band of heroes grappled at the ass end of Frank. Pulling with all there might at the legs of the powerful demon that had consumed the old man for so long. Vin Hoisin, still speaking in tongues, had his foot on his Pontiff’s chest as he shoved the old torch flame between the man’s legs. Maybe he singed a pube or two, maybe he didn’t, but the once powerful demon that had consumed our lands with its vile greed and narcissism slid from Frank’s wrinkly rectum and howled out for just a second as it crumbled to dust.
The remaining slave demons, weak without their masters might, all fell from bowel and were immediately dusted into nothing due to the joy and light coming from the town folk, news crews, burger van owners and of course the band of snowflakes that had fought off these demonic corporate and religious devils.
As the battle ended the local police arrived. They apologised for the wait time on the emergency call (from Nikel pushing the buttons), but they had run out of petrol and had to fill out 7 forms in triplicate to request the funds from the local government to fill the tanks of the riot vans.
People from the surrounding villages began to fill the streets, it was like a massive New Year’s Eve party with stereos blasting and wollies with glow sticks running around. All the while, our hardened corps of snowflakes tended to the assholes of the former assholes now free to become the men, women, and the assholes they want to be.
Our hero watched on as the few fallen snowflake soldiers were loaded up into ambulances and driven away. As the crew picked Gorey’s limp, lifeless body up and flipped it over in an attempt to pull his pants up, the diminutive Dunkin dropped from his hiding place. As did a set of nun chucks, a tube of Anusol and a 90’s Barbie Doll (still in the original box).
The Lilliputian Man didn’t know the fight was over and as he landed on the car park tarmac, he began to panic. He bawled himself up into the foetal position and began to cry. Our hero stepped toward him and scooped him up. Dunkin rolled onto his back pushing his palms and feet up to the sky and with his eyes closed he began to kick his legs with all his tiny, tiny might; for he thought the once evil Frank had finally snatched him up to have his devilish way with him.
Once the kicking and screaming had subsided and Dunkin realised, he was safe, our hero slipped his new buddy into his shirt pocket to keep him safe and warm. Together they watched as Gorey was loaded into the ambulance and driven away. Vin Hoisin fell to his knees, crying into his hands as he too watched his beloved Gorey’s sweet little ass be driven away.
As the dead were being dealt with the Dragon Valley first aiders and ambulance crews took over the car park and went hard to work on all those torn up, bloodied, and battered bum holes. All the Ooooooo’s and Aaaahhhh’s and general pain filled screaming was captured by most of the world’s media in wonderful up-close high-definition footage for all the lands to watch. As the town folk and market staff calmed down from the fight they began to think of tomorrow. A better day. It must be. At least that’s what they all said, as they hastily made exclusive deals with one media company or another.
After giving their initial ‘on air’ debuts to rally the masses of underpaid over abused workers to continue their snowflake rebellion, the team gathered themselves back up and went to find Dookie.
The Snowflakes found him with a bunch of the market staff. Surrounding Dastardly Di the Dick as his anus was being treated by one of the first aid crews. He cried out to them in a wimpy, needy voice not to hurt him and that he was sorry, so, so sorry. But the staff and Snowflakes alike didn’t want to hurt him. They were there to help.
D.C. whipped one of his adult diapers from his man bag and handed it to him. The team then reassured him that it would all be ok now, just so long as he didn’t act like a prick anymore. They chuckled away to themselves and the whole team went and sat on a curb to rest.
As the adrenaline was wearing off, one by one they all had a good cry. Well, all except Dookie because let’s face it. His generation don’t fucking cry! Not in public at least. But the bulging vein in his neck did slowly disappear. And as daylight broke over the horizon, the car park emptied of its town folk and Hellmart soldiers and burger vans alike. The news crews hung around waiting to pick up any dirt on anyone and get close up HD shots of the new celebrity snowflakes looking like tired old junkies or malnourished depressed and suicidal idiots, that they could inevitably use to wage a slander campaign on them later that week when sales start to decline.
With their marketplace now free of demonic rule and Pope Frank being flown home with Vin Hoisin (who still has the old flame lit for any of the Popes crew that need to be “free”), Dookie calls time on the Snowflake’s rebellion. He wishes them a good weekend and leaves. The snowflakes follow suit.
