((752))
Artik sighed deeply, because that's how I like to begin these damn things. Artik sighed deeply because this topic wasn't about him.
"Buuuurrrrrn," Rick shouted, igniting an ant hill with a molotov. They were Oneiroi. Holy shit. I got that right. "Yay," Rick cheered as he watched the ants scream in agony.
"Why are you doing this, dick?!"
Rick muttered something about not littering, "The name's Rick. And I'm a time traveller. And I'm your archenemy." He threw several gallons of space petrol on the blaze.
That's when he heard a phone ring. "What," he asked, looking for the source of the ringing; he was on Earth, in a desert, after hearing that some ants had been stealing away local children. Rick looked about and walked curiously to the TARDIS. "Err," he said, checking the phone panel, "Still not real...."
He stuck his heads into the TARDIS and saw at the console, a black, corded, bellphone from the twenty's. "H-hello," he asked.
"Err, Rick, is it, sir," a slick voice asked.
"Yes, it's Ryuzaki."
"Well, sir, this is Jerry from room service."
"Room service..." he blinked, "What," he said again.
"Well, sir. There's a black hole about to devour the planet."
"What," Rick repeated.
"Earth, sir."
Rick mumbled incoherently into the bizarre phone call. He put it on the stand.
"I'm still here, sir," the voice called.
Rick stepped out of the TARDIS in a daze; it would be one of those days....
He looked up and saw a supermassive lack of light and matter. "What," Rick repeated, more stating than asking, as if the Titanic crashed into the TARDIS.
Rick blinked several more times and began shooting ki at it. That just seemed to feed it. "Oh."
Rick now noticed the mass hysteria. Cars were flipped, people were rioting, AND now, people started freaking out about the black hole. Rick decided to visit Havana, Cuba. He ordered a Cuba Libré. He was treated like an asshole for calling it a Cuba Libré instead of rum and Coke.
Rick poured it on Castro's head as he walked off to London. He yawned as he floated across the ocean.
"So," he muttered to himself, getting a pint. "How do I fix that damn thing?" He contemplated things. He thought of delivering a long, heartfelt speech. So, he did.
"So. You want to destroy Earth?" He paced back and forth, speaking so the whole of the planet could hear him. "Well, in that case. Let me tell you a story." He cracked his neck. "I am Hideki Ryuzaki. I was born and raised on this planet."
He inhaled sharply, "But I never lived here!" He shouted this. "It wasn't until I was kidnapped and forced to go on some cockamamy adventure that I learned how to really enjoy life. This planet is dingy, polluted--- half the planet's too fat and the other half's too thin--- the ice caps are all runny, the summers are too wet and the winter's too cold."
The black hole stopped creeping closer, as if it were contemplating the pros and cons.
Rick sighed as it began moving faster. "Alright. Telling you a story, no help." He stroked his chin, "What else?"
Rick sped off to the States. He found the desert community he'd heard stories of. 'Welcome to Night Vale,' the sign said. In blood...?
Rick wandered into town in his Nutopian outfit, searching for the right spot. He happened upon a high wall and, shrugging, knocked it over with ease. He looked around, "Jesus," he cried, seeing the horrors and the beauties of the Dog Park. He evaded the balaclava-clad authorities and rushed to the scrublands. "Found it," he said, fist pumping. He entered the dark, dark , dark missle silo.
Rick hacked into a computer and flipped a switch. He flew out of the silo and watched as missle went raw into the maw of the blackhole, and it vanished. "Gosh darn it," Rick said, seeing how much closer it was. He could feel the tug of it. Rick had one more idea. He had to be quick. He ran as fast as he could to London-town, jumped to the middle of the city, ran into a shop, and grabbed an armful of leaflets. He threw them one after another to the lack of existance. "Take it! Have it! YOU HAVE IT ALL!" Eventually, he had thrown all the leaflets into the gaping non-thing.
It lurched away, looking for Space Poland, as the leaflets put it, 'A Great Place to Invade!'
