DISCLAIMER:If you are catholic, and stay up late at night afraid that someone, somewhere is having fun, stop reading now. Pregnant women and the elderly should also avoid this piece. Not for children under three, contains small parts. Martial arts fantasy action. Rated TV-69. Tonight’s Mike’s writing presentation is recommended for our adult and teen viewers, and is not appropriate for immature religious zealots seeking anything that their “leader” does not like, and not bothering to do research and form an original opinion. Avoid direct contact with sunlight, will burst into flames. Stakes through this paper’s heart will result in immediate cardiac failure. You will be held accountable by the ASPSP( American Society for the Prevention of Slaying Paper like a vampire). This message will self destruct when you least expect it. PARENTAL ADVISORY-Explicit Lyrics. WARNING: Mike’s papers have been known to cause lung cancer in those who enjoy inhaling burnt fragments of tobacco. Back away from the paper, you are too close. This is not a rant, I am merely preventing a lawsuit. If you are angry about this, sue yourself, look at it this way: Either way you win. This paper’s warranty good for ninety days. If you are not satisfied, please return your short-term memory for a full refund. Use of narcotics or any brain altering substances voids warranty. If the Sci-Fi channel wishes to make a movie out of this, please contact me so I can smack them for canceling Sliders, MST3k, and moving First Wave to Sundays. This is not the longest disclaimer in the world, scary huh? The Matrix has you, so don’t come crawling to me for help because I warned you. In a gadda da vida=long song. Any unauthorized recreation or reprinting of this piece will result in empty threats, and non-stop midnight calls. I’m not racist, I hate all people equally. The following paper is fake. If this upsets you, its true. If this upsets you, it happened a long time ago. If this upsets you it happened a week ago. God does approve of this paper, the little red angel told me so. I’m not really racist, it’s the kid next to me who said that. Contrary to popular belief, Campbell’s does not make everything Mm mm better. I hope you like the paper, if you don’t, dispose of it carefully, and you don’t know me.

Mike Gilday stood face to face with a face. A face of great wit, filled with cunning, and cleverness. He would even be as bold to say: “A face of pure excellence, with heroic eyes, and strong features.” He turned away form the mirror, “Come get some.” He muttered to the two identical copies of him. They charged him, one with a wooden bat, the other with a long broadsword. He laughed, revved his chainsaw, and sawed the poor fool’s bat into two pieces. His face showed a shock look as the red chainsaw removed his head with picture perfect precision. Before the head hit the ground, the clone turned into a goop, and splashed to the floor. The other clone charged Mike in a rage, but slipped on the goop that was once his partner. Mike aimed the shotgun at the clone’s head. “I hope your wearing clean underwear.” He commented as he pulled the trigger. The clone’s head vanished, the blast from the gun leaving minor chip marks in the floor.

“Impressive.” A familiar voice said.

“Aww man, where the hell do you assholes keep coming from!” The chainsaw revved as Mike reloaded his single barrel shotgun. He slung it into the satchel on his back, “Come to papa.” “I am no ordinary clone. I am…the strongest of the whole lot of…you duplicates. I-“ “Strong, shmong, I’ll turn you into Jello.” Mike saw the clone vanish before his eyes, but it moved to fast for him to see. He felt a pain in his back, as a swift kick to his back shoved the gun into his back. “Mother fu-“ “Mwaha!” It said, it’s black eyes taking pleasure in the pain it inflicted on Mike. He stood on Mike's back, stepping harder and harder. Then with a swift kick to Mike’s side, he said, “Pitiful. I was told you were to be a challenge. I am shamed to see I was cut from such a pathetic mold.” It leaned on his legs, preventing movement. It grabbed his chainsaw, which was sill running. Mike was too weak to fight and watched as his right hand was removed, in no way similar to the events of Evil Dead 2. The pain was excruciating as the chain sawed through bone, flesh and muscle. Mike lay in a pool of his own blood when his clone finally got off his back, and stood up. It discarded the chainsaw, and laughed. “A present…from me to…you.” The clone said, as it held his hand. It offered it to Mike on the ground, “Need a…HAND? AHHAHAH!”

“Shut up.”

“Ill just let you bleed to death. Soon, your friends will follow.”

The clone vanished, it’s laughter echoing throughout the building(School). Mike slowly sat up, and examined his bloody stub, it was bleeding at a dangerous rate. He remembered a word of the wise, “When bleeding use the journal of reading.” That was form the great Joe, a master. Mike had joined the fight against clones too soon, and was not prepared for the tougher ones. Using his left hand, he carefully covered the wound with a 50/50 reading journal. He was already feeling better, and after taping it on he felt as good as new…without a right hand.

He picked up the chainsaw, and set to work on configuring it appropriately so as to be able to use it with his right hand(in no way similar to the events of Evil Dead 2). He quickly extended his arm, and the chainsaw revved. “Groovy.” He replied coyly. He exited the school’s shop room, renewed for battle. He set out to find the man who had taken his hand, angry and hungry for revenge. The floor collapsed beneath him, and he found himself surrounded with dirt. Paths jutted out and it appeared they had been dug by some kind of huge creature. He saw what looked like his clone’s silhouette running into the darkness. He wouldn’t risk another limb loss, and climbed from the pit.

He looked up and saw that twelve snake like creatures had surrounded him. They had various heads, some he recognized from the halls of the school. He quickly drew the shotgun and unloaded it’s barrel into the closest one. He sidestepped some venomous spit, and sliced into a monster with his chainsaw. He pivoted and took out more, then decapitated two more. An acidic burn hit his leg, but not enough to hinder movement, he dodged a web spit, which caught a snake in it. He quickly ran circles around the group, eventually all but the captured one was sent to the next dimension. He kicked the monster into the pit, and took satisfaction from the crunch it made when it hit the floor. He walked to his locker, where he kept his true inventory.

He donned his sneaking suit(bullet proof vest, with special fabrics for pants designed to prevent hypothermia), and his infamous black trench coat. He picked up a wrapped box that read: For emergencies only. This had been given to him by the great HAS, the man who had given him skills which had helped him land a job at K-Mart, he opened it and saw a beautiful sight. A Remmington Dual stock shotgun! The cobalt blue steel reflected the light beautifully, the barrel was sawed off flawlessly. He checked the barrels, they even had ammo! The box read: S-Mart’s top of the line! Shop smart, shop S-Mart!-HAS

He locked the single barrel in his locker, just in case. He walked down the hall, eager to treat those clones to his new toy. He saw two clones, one of Bill Zimmerman, and one of Phil Bowles heckling a very good looking blonde. Mike valiantly stepped forward, dispatch of the mediocre copies easily. As he reloaded his gun, the girl embraced him, in shock from her terrible ordeal. Mike kept his mind on his mission, ”Why weren’t you taken with the other students?” he asked.

“I’m a freshman, and I couldn’t find the bathroom.” She said, clutching Mike tighter, he was beginning to suffocate. He gently pushed her back. “I see.” He boldly stated. He held the young freshman’s hand, and gazed into her eyes, and gently said, “It’s this way.”

After showing her where it was, Mike waited patiently as she took her sweet time. He dispatched of flack clones to pass the time. When she came out, Mike decided it was time to unite with the Great Zukoski, Master Calabro, and the others. With his new companion, he began both a tour and a quest… They both were interrupted when a duplicate of Tricia appeared, asking, “Mike, who is that?” Tricia was the freshman Mike had rescued. Mike couldn’t tell them apart, and stepped back.

“Shoot her!” they both ordered. Mike was confused, two targets, one girl. 50/50…or…CALL A FRIEND! It hit Mike, he ran to the Cafeteria’s phone, and called Tricia’s mother. “Tell me something about her only you two would know………WHOA! NOT THAT!” Mike ran back, twenty five cents poorer. He tapped his chainsaw against the wall, and revved it. He swung it, with his eyes closed and concentrating. A splash echoed in the hall, as the clone dissolved away. Tricia ran up to Mike, and wrapped her arms around his neck and asked, “How did you know?” “I didn’t, lets get going, we have to meet up with the Joes and then the others.” Mike surveyed the halls, no danger in sight. Where could they be? What was with that hole? What’s the deal with styrofoam? Why was it so small? What exactly was styro? These questions, and more on the next exciting installment! Will Mike and Tricia find Mike’s companions? Will Mike’s companions find Mike and Tricia? What was Mike’s clone’s obsession with Mike’s poor departed hand? What IS the deal with styrofoam? FIND OUT NEXT TIME! *note, you will be subject to six decades of reruns before you get a small taste of new episodes.