A Story You Can't Refuse

Once upon a time there was a nail buffer called Hillary. She was a bit of a whore and super trashy. No one really liked her, except all the nails because they liked using her for their own pleasure.

 Hillary was getting on in years. And rubbing against people for a living had already taken its toll. Her few remaining customers were the loyal ones who'd used her for a long time and couldn't really afford anyone better.

 She went to the store to buy lint. That's what nail buffers eat. Everyone she met was mean to her, and she didn't know why. Then she remembered, "Oh, yeah, nobody likes me. Forgot that."

 This was her daily routine.

 However, things were about to change for Hillary. Her life was about to be turned upside down, shoved in a clothes dryer, pelted with monkey feces, raped, turned back rightside up, and imprisoned for tax evasion.

 Things would never be the same.

 But not yet. First she has to do the same boring things for another couples of years. So get comfy. It's gonna be a while.

 So she did a lot of going to the store and remembering that people hate her. That went on for a few years. And then the thing happened.

 It happened on a Tuesday evening. The kind of time you don't expect things to happen. She was walking home from the store after having bought lots of bright orange foundation, which she planned to pour into a bath and wallow about in that evening. Because everyone knows how much nails dig a buffer when she's bright orange all over.

 But all of a sudden, the ground tripped her over and tried to mug her.

 Some people might call this an earthquake, but not Hillary. She decided to try to sue the ground and claim compensation. It had cost her her best pair of slapper heels (the heel broke). Now who'd bang her without heels to make her walk like a cripple?

 She deliberated on how to go about her quest. There must be some kind of authority who handles all things ground-based.

 As she started walking to the nearest phone booth (this story takes place in the '90s), a wondrous thing happened, why not. She found she could walk 40 miles an hour without her heels. She'd never even tried walking without them before.

 She could also probably have run about 90 miles an hour, but running's a lot of work, you know.

 Hillary did the only logical thing someone blessed with this amazing athletic ability could do: she got a desk job.

 This proved problematic, as every time she tried to walk anywhere, she grossly overestimated how long she needed to walk before turning a corner, so every trip to the bathroom or something inevitably resulted in at least half a dozen fatalities.

 So they sent her to do lots of shady deals that took place out doors.

 On another Tuesday, her boss told her she had to go with Billy "The Fop" Muttonchops to meet Joey "The Wrench" and Sammy "The Nickname" Velocirap at the corner of 6th and Bloated St.

 So she did. But being our Hillary, she just assumed she was supposed to be a hooker. She didn't realise she was supposed to give them money. But all in all, everyone was pretty chipper about the transaction (until those guys later found out they had nail-buffer AIDS).

 They were in fact so happy that they agreed to accompany Hillary on all her missions. And not simply because we need more characters in this story, but also because of some other reasons.

 So on her next mission, after banging Billy, Joey, and Sammy once more in a bin somewhere, she was supposed to wait on a corner incognito. At the appointed time, she was to stick out her leg and trip over a rich guy scheduled to walk around the corner at precisely 8:52am. Then they'd mug him.

This was the kind of clinical execution of eloquent plans that the office Hillary worked at went for.

 The rich guy's coffee that morning had finished one second early due to some atmospheric phenomenon that some science fiction writer would go into great detail to explain, thus he passed by them at 8:51:59.

"Holy Jebus, waddawedo?" cried Billy.

"Emergency backup plan!" replied Joey.

Hillary quickly hit the big red emergency backup plan button, which promptly nuked France.

And not a single shit was given.

 The unsuspecting rich guy, meanwhile, had donated his entire fortune to the "Save the Baby Carrots" foundation.

 The foundation then went super duper bankrupt and retired to a whole bunch of islands they bought off the coast of a whole bunch of exotic-sounding places.

The baby carrots refused to comment.

 Hillary, Billy, Joey, and Sammy felt that it was about time they got around to fucking up the ground after what it did to Hillary.

 So they bought some drills and started drilling.

 'Yeah, how do you like that, bitch?' shouted Billy "The Fop" at the ground.

 The ground wasn't going to take this shit. It rose up and accidentally an earthquake on their faces. Is that bad?

 It was bad enough that all four ended up in hospital. They didn't let it get to them, though. They just broke into the supplies cupboard and totally stole a load of drugs to sell on the streetz. This made them rich enough that they could buy more drills and get back at the ground again.

 When they got there, the ground had already moved on to bigger and better things. There was nothing to stand on.

 The three guys whose middle names are in quotes went home to play old Sega games. Hillary was left alone in the streets of the groundless city.

 She called for a cab, but none would stop. Because nobody likes her.

The end