by rickmcslick » Wed Apr 24, 2013 7:21 pm
Setting: Bayside High, late afternoon, on a school night.
ENTER Rick and Zack Morris, the teen heartthrob. Fuck Screech and A.C Slater, they aren't in this dream. Kelly Kapowski is welcome to show up anytime though. Anyway, Zack and I are discussing the recent influx of drug overdoses in our rad little community. Zack tells me that his kid brother (not canon, stfu, it's subconscious fanfic) has been caught with baggies of high-quality cocaine twice in the past week now. We decide to follow him after school to see if we can find out where he's been scoring, and maybe we can do something about this scourge.
After a few hours of hanging outside the Kwik-E-Mart (slashfic, fuck it), Baby Morris finally shows up. We quickly duck behind a dumpster as he looks around furtively and slips around the back of the building. We creep ever so gingerly behind, stifled breaths allowing us to overhear the illicit exchange taking place.
"Wow man, this is some messed up stuff," Zack says, freezing time to give us a chance to hold a discussion. "We need to do something about this."
"I agree," I reply, "But these humps on the street aren't the problem. We need to go to the top and bring this criminal empire crashing down amongst the ruins of the lives of all those we held dear!"
So, anyway, ZM and myself, we decide to approach the dealers, hoping to infiltrate their scheme. Using the money we got from the bake sale (unrelated dream), we decide to purchase some of their product, knowing it is the only way to gain their trust.
"Well, go ahead. Try it out," sneers Dealer A, with his Fred-Durstian Kanga hat pulled low, almost down to his thin, spotty mustache. Zack and I glance at each other, and he takes out his Blockbuster card and starts drawing out some lines for us while I slip back into the convenience store to grab a Slurpee straw. Once the party favors are in place, I throw rock while Zack throws scissors to go first.
Alright here goes nothing....
Wow, this doesn't seem like regular cocaine...
"No man, that's meth," Dealer B interjects straight into my thoughts.
Oh. Well, that's not good.
The rest of the night involves Super Rick and his Buddy Zack mentally and physically abusing the bottom level dealers, working our way up to the top in an orgy of blood and spilled confessions. Sadly, I awoke just before the final showdown with the drug-kingpin. If anyone is a good lucid dreamer and wants to finish this quest for me, I would love to hear about it.
"No, it is not racist to wonder how many colors you can use to color black people's faces with Crayola products."
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