No! that was not the place. No! No! No! That isnt the place either. This is a big one and there is no way it can fit in that corner, would it? Three out of two times I would have to rebuild this place. Break it up into thin pieces of slippery chips, crafted of mahogany cheese and mayonese wood. Three out of two times I would have to repaint this surroundings, bleary orange and a chilling red. Should I paint it invisible? Im not so sure I would have to…they would anyway be blind to things invisible wouldnt they? Or would they just come over and wreak havoc? Would I still be able to make my escape correctly or would I still be captured before the cape is hidden like always?
I would have to run fast, wouldnt I? The legs might tire out soon, but the xyfrotullinuchrombistombullichremastobrix-turbochargers wouldnt let me tire anycase. The zenotron pumped fuel cells cannot replenish so soon anycase, so maybe a flight in those cotton clouds wont be out of place would they? Hmmm…. now how do I start the engine? Oh, that biometric enabled voice capture system would take care of it, wouldnt it? ‘Zero Check. Efflon Sync. Zoom By. Over and Out’. Strange…! The command center keeps very mum these days isnt it? Must make a note of it and must place a foreward with the registry about their erratic habits…
This booster rocket thing is such a deceptively archaic-seeming peice of art, isnt it? Such a shiny metallic piece of art, it is. The black linings and that platinum coated propeller, damn frigging cool. Sad I cant take it out only in the sun… its against the rules you see. The night life is teeming with criminals and floppy headed gangsters, small rickety knifes and colts of 2006; not a match at all for my laser enhanced-thunderoarer; my all purpose mechanized pocket weaponry. It only takes a genius to make one.
Three out of two times, it rains in this world. Dark shadows loom in every corner of the land. The hero waits on the tall tower, black flowy robes; it seems to have a life of its own when I start running. The water splashes in a perfect circle splashing away from me, in a slow passionate motion. The goons never are fast enough here. Tall villanious racuous ones; and yet they are so pathetic with the guerilla warfare. Three out of two times, I strike at them ninja-sword in hand, in the heart, ripping them in half, they falling like a banana trunk slashed in half. Pathetic villians these are, arent they?
And sometimes the boss enters, not the creepy crawlies, but the real bad ones. Tall menacing ones, armored in arsentium made exoskeletons, the toughest metal in the multiverse, looming over the horizon, looking you in the eye with not an inch of space left to launch a crippling attack. Not that they are impossible, contrarily they are the ones easiest to kill. They are too arrogant to think of any flaws. And they are too arrogant to keep talking after I, their nemesis have fallen down. Again and again they keep coming to me and start yakking over me, bloodied, and almost on the brink of death. And then I rise, and yeeekaaaw! and one lethal punch and a flying kick and they are dead, gone… last see flying into the horizon.
But Im always short of time, Ill have to watch over my shoulders and around. The city takes time to build and they would come rushing in, silent, invisible. But they still come, always. Looking over my shoulders, looking at me hunched on the ground playing with my lego sets and toys. They are tough, they are unkind and they are cruel… these parents of mine.