>>26
Lol, wut?
In his downtime, of which there was a great deal due to the wonders of modern technology, Mike had edited several sections and added much more to his copy of the Emergency Procedures binder. Obviously the first step was to remove the warning to DO NOT ALTER THIS DOCUMENT. Every potential disaster had been covered from Airplane Crash to Zombie Apocalypse in his custom edition. As he flipped through it and found he had woefully neglected to provide an updated index, the thing that struck him most about his present situation was that the police department had hold music on their 9-1-1 line. Cowering beneath his desk, he asked himself "Jesus fuck, is that Brittney Spears?" It was just in time for the operator to hear it.
There was disgusted silence for a second as though this were the eighth hostage situation she had to deal with before ten in the morning. "Hi, Mike? And you're sure this is no one that works there?"
Exasperated, he half yelled and whispered, "What the fuck? Where is the SWAT team? He's killing people!" To prove a point, there were several gunshots followed by screaming in the distance. All that stood between him and the killer tearing up the office was a sturdy door, utterly nullified in its purpose by a glass panel right next to it that went from floor to ceiling. If they kicked it out, anyone could just let themselves in from the outside.
"Right. Mike, has he made any demands?"
"What? I'm not going out to ask!"
"You didn't hear anything?"
Mike laughed nervously, mostly because he had replaced the Air Disaster page of the emergency procedures with the image macro of a very fat black woman captioned They be all like, you need pants to fly along with a checklist that included (3.) Search for survivors (unless pictured above). "I don't fucking know. He was screaming about someone named leon or peon or some shit. Why is no one here yet?!"
"I'm going to have to put you on hold..." the operator said, and before he could insist she wait, the phone begged him to hit me baby, one more time...
"Goddamned cocksucker", Mike whispered, flipping past Anthrax, Band, Anthrax, Biological agent, Apocalypse, 2012, Apocalypse, Traditional, Bomb, Atomic, Bomb, Stink, Bomb Threat... There were more gunshots, more screaming, more yelling.
He heard it clearly this time: Where the fuck is Espeon? You tell that fucker GREY is here!
Gun-wielding maniac would be somewhere after Disco, The Return of and Elephant Rampage...
(THE END)