My literary hero and all-around god of insanity.
May the Kazzjaff watch over and protect you, my friend.
Disclaimer: I don't own Super Smash Brothers, Solid Snake or Clifford the Big Red Dog. All characters are property of their respective copyright holders. I'm just a guy writing a fanfic with these characters in it (Or in the words of Homer Simpson, "One, two, please don't sue!").
Solid Snake sat in a children's reading room in a library in downtown Washington, D.C.; the carpet was red and fuzzy, toy airplanes hung from the ceiling on strings and thirty little kids sat on the floor, circled around Snake. Their mothers stood in the background, drinking coffee, smoking and talking about how much they hated their husbands.
"Clifford had been a bad little doggie," Snake read in a childish voice. "He had disobeyed Emily Elizabeth's warning not to go to that Kid Rock concert down at the beach last night and drank a twenty gallon tank of beer that the Kid had reserved to drink for himself and/or spray on the audience. He was as drunk as a skunk."
Snake was here today because it was part of his prison sentence. You see, several years back Snake's home, a log cabin in western Maine, was destroyed in a most unfortunate accident. In order to make enough money to rebuild his home, Snake sought out a career as a children's musician. He found fame and fortune and was able to rebuild his beloved cabin by writing songs that graphically retold his violent, M-rated adventures to an EC-rated audience. He topped charts worldwide with such number-one hits as 'Revolver Ocelot got His Hand Cut Off', 'S is for SOCOM', and 'I Snap Your Neck'.
He soon came to learn that the games of fame and fortune often come with bundled with an expansion pack called controversy. Following his success, Snake was dragged before numerous senatorial sub-committees regarding violence in the media. After months of a dog and pony show, Snake spent two months in a federal prison (Read that as a minimum security prison with palm trees and piña coladas) and was forced to spend an entire week locked in a cell listening to Katy Perry's song "Firework" and every song ever recorded by the Dave Matthews Band (Read that as psychological torture).
Now a semi-free man, the last part of Snake's sentence forced him into involuntary servitude, taking orders from the President of the United States himself for an indefinite period of time (Read that as doing the crap the President is too lazy to do for himself).
And that is exactly what Snake was doing today. Rather than watching the complete first season of 24 or chilling out to the mellow sounds of Genesis, Rob Thomas or Michael Bublé, he was forced to sit here in this library, reading to a bunch of little kids in the place of the president. Other presidents always made time to do stupid stuff like this in order to make themselves look good, but not this president. This president was too lazy to be bothered. He'd much rather be sitting up there in the White House on his butt all day, counting his bribe money until the cows came home.
But rather than dwelling on such politically polarizing thoughts any further, Snake continued reading. All of the kids' eyes were bugged out in terror as they listened to Snake's macabre tale. It technically wasn't really Snake's story seeing as how he had stolen it from some guy he interrogated (Read: tortured) a while back.
People would always tell you the most fascinating stories after you cut their big toe off.
"…And then Sheriff Lewis called Animal Control and had Clifford put to sleep. The end."
No sooner had Snake closed the loose-leaf binder that held his story that one of the kids, a little black-haired boy, started bawling hysterically. Within five seconds, all of the other twenty-nine children joined in and were crying along with him. The mothers were too busy smoking and gossiping to care.
Seeing as the women didn't feel like being mothers today, Snake felt that it was high time to channel his inner mother. He closed his eyes and envisioned himself as a heavyset, middle-aged woman in mom jeans. He opened his eyes and tried his best to reason with the kids. "Hey, don't cry kids," said Snake in an assuring voice. "Clifford isn't even real."
Upon saying that last line, the kids began to cry even harder and louder than before. The mothers finally decided it was time to stop smoking and bad-mouthing their husbands. They began to huddle around their children, asking them what was wrong and doing all of that other crap moms are supposed to do.
"MOMMY!" shrieked a blond girl in a screechy screech. "THAT BAD MAN KILLED CLIFFORD!"
"Mr. Snake made Sheriff Lewis say bad words, mommy," said a little brown-haired boy, his eyes wide with horror as he clung to his mother's shoulder (Snake's Clifford book contained swearing and other objectionable content that would have put The Chocolate War and Catcher in the Rye to shame).
Snake got up and started to inch his way to the door, wanting to get out before things got really hairy. Then an angry red-headed woman walked up to Snake and slapped him across the face. "You monster! They shouldn't let you anywhere near children!"
Snake rubbed his face and smiled. He always had a thing for angry chicks and he hadn't had a girlfriend since he didn't know when, so he asked the woman, "Will you go out with me?" She smacked him even harder this time. She stormed away from him and yet another angry woman came up to him and kicked him in the groin, hard. "You'll be hearing from my lawyer, pig!" Snake keeled over and hit the ground. He lay there for several minutes, feeling nothing but his searing groin pain and subsequent kicks from the angry women.
Once he was able to shut himself off from the pain by going into a meditative trance and imaging himself being beaten senselessly by Shaolin monks, he threw a flashbang on the ground, covered his eyes and made a mad dash for the front door.
Once the women were able to see again, a blond woman pointed a ridiculously long, fake fingernail at the man as he ran for the door. "THERE HE GOES! DON'T LET HIM GET AWAY!"
Snake ran out of the building, sliding down the banister of the library's staircase and jumping into the air. He knocked some unfortunate kid who was passing by off of his skateboard and started shredding his way toward his awaiting limousine.
Behind him, Snake could hear the angry women pouring out of the building, screaming wildly for his head. Thankfully, Snake could see his limo in sight. The driver, some guy in a black suit and black sunglasses stood silently by the car, smoking a cigarette. Snake jumped off of the skateboard and started babbling.
"YOU'VEGOTTAHELPMECRAZYWOMENWANTM EDEADWANTTODRINKMYBLOODAWWFO RTHELOVEOFALLTHAT'SGOODANDHOLYYOUGOTTAHELPME!"
"Alright, alright, slow down buddy," said the driver. "What's goin' on?"
Snake whimpered and wordlessly pointed his thumb over his shoulder to the bloodthirsty mob of women converging behind him, too worn out to say anything. The driver's eyes bugged out and he quickly jumped into the car. Snake threw the passenger door open and climbed in. The two of them slammed the doors shut and the driver hit the gas, speeding off as fast as he could.
The women ran after the limo. The limo sped fast and furiously down the road, fast and furiously accidently running over some unfortunate old lady and her Schnauzer. A minute after that moment of carnage, the driver looked into his passenger mirror. "I think we're starting to lose them!"
Snake stuck his head out of the passenger's window. He could see that the angry mobs of women were starting to fade away into the foreground, becoming only angry blurs. He stuck his head back inside and both he and the driver sighed in relief.
But just when they thought that they were out of the woods, a ninja jumped onto the hood of the car, stylishly twirling his nunchuks and screaming a bunch of varied, incredibly cool-sounding death threats in Japanese. The driver let out a stereotypical girlish scream. Snake stereotypically rolled his eyes, pulled out his 9mm and nonchalantly shot the ninja through the windshield.
The ninja's eyes rolled upward and he fell off of the car. His bones made a sickening yet oh, so satisfying crunching sound as the limousine ran him over. His nunchuks flew from his hand, hit some guy on the street corner in the head who was thinking about cheating on his wife and killed him, thus saving his marriage.
The driver gave Snake a look of shock and awe. Snake looked fondly down at his 9mm and smiled. "And that, children, is why you never bring nunchuks to a gunfight…"
A few hours later Snake was inside the White House, making his way up the stairs to the Oval Office, where he would report his mission to the president.
Snake always laughed bitterly to himself when he thought about the president. To even equate such an honorable title with that incompetent moron was an insult. He had come into office promising hope and change, promising that he would move America forward in a changing world, but that had all been empty talk. Very little had changed since he took office; people were still out of work, the economy was still in the tank and the current administration was more concerned with lining its pockets and furthering its own agenda rather than being willing to listen to the voice of the people.
Snake stood outside the doors leading to the Oval Office. He took a deep breath, opened the doors and stepped inside. The air smelled different in here; was it the smell of power, corruption or Lysol? Either way, it smelled different.
The President sat behind his desk, his chair swiveled towards the three large windows behind him. "So, you went to the library and read to the kids?"
"Yes, sir," said Snake in a very bitter voice. How he hated this man…
The chair spun around to face Snake. The man couldn't help but cringe internally as he beheld the abomination himself.
"I'm-a so glad to hear that!" said Wario as he jumped out of his chair and waddled his way to Snake. The fat little man was dressed in a black suit, a red tie and a pair of green clogs. It didn't matter to Snake that Wario had traded his shirt and overalls for a more expensive outfit, he was still as rotten and greedy as he had ever been.
Wario stood in front of Snake and held out his hand. Snake reluctantly shook it, staring into the hideous, grinning face of the president. Snake sighed to himself. What had this nation come to? Whatever happened to the good old days when people voted for politicians who cheated on their wives, covered stuff up and sold themselves out to big business? What were they thinking when they went into those booths and voted for his fat, smelly imbecile?
Wario's journey to the White House had begun three years ago when he took first place in a presidential candidate lookalike contest posing as Hillary Clinton. After winning the contest, people liked him so much that he was eventually nominated as the candidate of the Federalist Party (Commonly referred to as the Republicrat Party); a splinter party formed from a group of disgruntled Democrats and Republicans who had grown tired of the stagnation and corruption of the two-party system.
Wario defeated both of his Democratic and Republican challengers (Although not without some electoral controversy) and became the first third-party president in American history. He was able to do this primarily because he claimed that he would use his atomic fart powers to move America's faltering economy forward. However, this was yet another one of those BS promises that politicians make in order to convince the suckers, uh, voters to go with them. Attempts to refine Wario's farts as a form of alternative fuel had proved disastrous. Thanks to Wario's Alternative Energy Program, ten million jobs had been saved or created, but three million people had been killed or disintegrated in the process.
Speaking of Wario's fart powers, Snake smelled a horrible acrid scent in the air. He grunted in disgust. So that's what that smell was, Snake said to himself. Wario chuckled, grinning even wider than he was before. "Sorry about-a that. I had-a too much-a chili for the lunch."
Snake let go of Wario's hand and covered his nose, trying its darndest to block out the awful stench. The bearded man cursed. "Don't you believe in using air fresheners, Wario?"
"I don't-a believe in nothing," smiled Wario as he reached into his pockets, pulling out several loose dollar bills and coins. "Except-a the Almighty Dollar! Wah-hah-hah-hah-hah!" He threw the money in the air and started twirling around the room, his arms sticking out like the blades of a helicopter.
Snake just stood there in disbelief, watching Wario as he spun around the room. After a couple minutes, Wario's spinning had slowed to a halt and the money had stopped raining down. The President then looked down and became wide-eyed as he saw the money scattered about on the floor. He quickly picked up the money while muttering "Precioussss" and then looked at Snake. "Oh, sorry about-a that," Wario chuckled as he rubbed his neck sheepishly. "Sometimes, the cockroach that-a lives in-a my brain make-a me do weird things!"
The bearded man rolled his eyes. "Cockroach. Sure." This guy was a cockroach as far as Snake was concerned.
Wario then looked at Snake, scratching his buttocks in confusion. "Now, what-a were we talking about-a?"
Snake sighed. "About my 'mission' at the library, Mr. President…" He tired hard not to throw up every time he called Wario by that title.
"Oh yeah, I-a remember now! How did-a things go?"
"Well, I guess it went okay," said Snake calmly. "If by okay you mean I had a roomful of THIRTY FRICKIN' KIDS CRYING, THEIR MOMS TRYING TO KILL ME AND A RANDOM NINJA ATTACK! If you consider that okay then yes, IT WENT JUST PEACHY!"
Wario's face became gravely serious. He then busted out laughing and began violently rolling on the floor. "Wah-hah-hah-hah-hah! Man, I'm-a glad I didn't go! They would've killed me! Wah-hah-hah-hah!"
Snake muttered, "What a shame that would be." Not that Dedede would make a good replacement anyways, he thought to himself admonishingly.
After rolling on the floor and laughing his you-know-what off a minute later, Wario got up and waddled over to his desk. Plopping down in the chair, he opened a drawer and pulled out a head of garlic. He threw the whole thing in his mouth and leaned back in his chair, chewing the garlic and letting out a loud belch which was followed by a shaft of fire coming out of his mouth.
"Thanks-a, Snake. I thank-a you, and America thank-a you. Here, have-a one of the new ten dollar bills." Wario placed a ten dollar bill on the desk and Snake came over and picked it up. He really had to fight the urge to puke now: Alexander Hamilton's portrait had been replaced with a picture of Wario grinning moronically. Plus on the back of the bill, the national motto had been changed from 'In God We Trust' to 'Greed is Good' and the image on the back was now Wario, who was dressed in a toga and laurel, smiling sleazily and holding a burlap sack with a dollar sign on it in one hand.
"You-a wouldn't believe how much I had-a to bribe those guys at the Mint to change-a the bill! Besides, what did-a that Hamilton guy ever do anyways?"
Snake felt it was time to one-up Wario, so he started spewing random educational facts.
"Well, he was the first Secretary of the Treasury, he was involved in the first major political sex scandal in American history, he created the one of predecessors of the Coast Guard, he dueled Aaron Burr and lost, he—"
"DON'T TALK-A OUTTA LINE!" bellowed Wario. "I'M-A THE PRESIDENT AND AS-A LONG AS I SIT-A IN-A THIS CHAIR, I MAKE-A THE RULES!"
Just then, Wario accidently fell out of his chair onto the floor. He pulled himself up, and laughed nervously. "Heh heh heh, that time didn't-a count…" He dusted his pants off with his hands and hopped back on the chair.
Snake had just about enough of Wario for one day, so he began to make his way out of the Oval Office. Just has he had approached the double doors, Wario called to him, "Uh, Snake? There's just-a one-a a more-a thing I need-a you to do for me today…"
TO BE CONTINUED…