Foreward from Cloud: Much like the Spice Girls vs. Sandman story, I suppose I should apologize for writing another comic-themed story that not a lot of regular visitors may have heard of. If you have read Preacher, you obviously know that it is one of the most sickest, disgusting, twisted comic books available... and also one of the BEST. For those of you who feel like reading some of the best modern-day literature, shell out a couple bucks for the various Preacher trade paperbacks. I guarantee you'll enjoy them. Now, as for the story itself, I'll fill in a few details so that everyone can enjoy. If you've read Preacher already, skip the rest of this foreward and read the story. If not, pay attention. Jesse Custer was a small-town preacher whose faith in God was faltering. But one day, a spirit born of a demon and an angel bonded with him. It called itself Genesis. Now, Jesse has the extraordinary power to make people do whatever he wants them to by merely speaking to them. Along with his gun-toting girlfriend Tulip and an Irish vampire named Cassidy, Jesse travels from place to place (usually followed by the patron saint of killers, whose job it is to kill him) in search of God, who has been in retirement on Earth ever since Genesis was born... And that's about it in a nutshell. That should be enough for Preacher non-fans to enjoy this story, with the exception of a couple inside jokes. If you have any more questions, either buy the books or ask me (I'm probably the cheaper option). And now, without further delay...
(It is evening in a small town in the Midwest forgotten by several maps. In the local hotel, Jesse Custer, Tulip, and Cassidy leave their rooms and head downstairs to the diner.)
Chef: Evenin' folks. What can I get for ya'll?
Jesse: Well, I haven't had a decent breakfast in a while. I'd like some grits, please.
Tulip: Coffee for me.
Cassidy: Hmm sounds good. I'll have sausage and eggs.
Chef (after a long pause): Ya'll are kiddin', right?
Jesse: 'fraid not. This bloodsucker keeps us up all night and asleep all day. (He motions to Cassidy.)
Cassidy: Aye, and you two are a veritable bundle of sleep, fuckin' each other's brains out every night.
Chef: I I'm sorry, but we stopped servin' breakfast hours and hours ago.
Jesse: Breakfast.
Chef: Comin' right up.
Cassidy: I've got to take you to Vegas with me someday. (He notices the cook making grits on the stove.) And what the hell is that?
Tulip: They're grits.
Cassidy: Grits, eh? Looks like the stuff I pissed out for a week after I got my nuts shot off.
Jesse: All Southerners eat grits. It's just cornmeal.
Cassidy: All ye Southerners are fucked in the head, ye eat that stuff.
(The chef finishes and brings them their food.)
Jesse: Mmm good grits.
Cassidy: Oh, now you're makin' me sick! Give me eggs and sausage any day over that shit.
Jesse: So you'd rather eat somethin' that came out of a chicken's ass?
Cassidy:
Jesse: And o' course that sausage looks like all that's left of the pigs they castrate.
Cassidy (speechless and frowning at his food): Oh bloody hell! (He pushes his dish away.)
Tulip: Are you fuckin' crazy? You drink blood for God's sake!
Cassidy: Aye, blood's one thing, but I can't eat somethin' when all I can picture is a chicken shitting it out onto my plate!
(Jesse and Tulip laugh at Cassidy's misfortune. As they are leaving, the chef stops them.)
Chef: So, anything else I can do for you people before you go?
Jesse: Not unless you know where to find God.
Chef: God? Aw, Hell, he's sitting over there at the end of the counter! (He motions to a grizzled old man seated on the last stool at the counter. Jesse, Tulip, and Cassidy exchange glances.)
Cassidy (with a devilish smile): Couldn't hurt, could it?
Jesse (approaching the old man): Excuse me, are you God?
Old Man (with the distinct smell of alcohol on his breath): Damn, you darned kids found me! What do you want?
Tulip (laughing): Come on, Jesse, the guy's had a bit too much to drink!
(The three of them leave the diner and head back to the road.)
Old Man: Whew! That was a close one don't know why I never thought of the drunk old man disguise before
(Somewhere down the road, a large Union Jack bus is lying in a ditch.)
Posh Spice: What is wrong with you? How could you let her drive?
Ginger Spice: Well, I thought she could at least have the brain capacity to know to drive in the right lane over here!
Baby Spice: Tee hee hee! Duh?
Scary Spice: You idiot! Everyone knows that none of us have the brain capacity to do anything right!
Sporty Spice: Yeah, you've seen how our videos come out looking.
Ginger: Look, driving's not that hard! I mean, if the rest of us can do it, why can't Baby?
Scary: LOOK at her!
(They all turn to look at Baby, who is giggling happily over a turtle walking along the road. She is following it closely, and walking at the same pace as the reptile.)
Ginger: Point taken. Well, at least it won't happen again!
Posh: That's what you said last time, you cow.
Ginger: Stuff it!
Scary: So now what do we do? The bus is stuck in this ditch!
Sporty: Hey, let me get it. I've got a man's physique, so I can probably lift it out (She walks to the back of the bus and grabs hold of its underside. She proceeds to try to lift the bus onto its wheels, but to no avail. She repeats the process until her face is covered in sweat. She lets go of the bus, then doubles over in pain.) Ack! My hernia! (She sees everyone staring at her, so she changes her voice to a high-pitched, more girlish voice.) I mean um oh darn! The bus was too heavy for my feminine body to lift!
Ginger: Crazy bitch.
Posh (to Ginger): Yes, you are.
Ginger: Why you ! (She gets ready to leap, then stops in mid-motion.) Wait a minute that had to be one of the lamest insults you've ever used on me! Are you running out of material?
Posh: Nah, it's just the heat. I'm too tired to come up with something better.
Ginger: Oh, ok then. Ahem (She resumes her lunging/clawing motion.) You bitch! I'll kill you for that!
(They begin fighting, while Scary and Sporty look on. Baby is still chasing the slow-moving turtle down the road.)
Sporty (to Scary): Aren't you going to stop them.
Scary: What for? They're just going to do it again. I give up.
Sporty: Yeah, I guess you're right. (She begins staring at the catfight that is resulting in torn clothing and screaming. She smirks dreamily while she watches.) You know I never realized it before but it's kinda fun watching those two go at it reminds me of this pay-per-view thing I saw when these two
Scary (disgusted): Oh my GOD! (She runs to Ginger and Posh as quickly as she can.) Knock it off you two! Please! For the love of all things holy!
(The girls stop fighting.)
Sporty: Damn!
(As the four semi-intelligent Spice Girls stand and wonder what to do about the bus, Jesse, Tulip, and Cassidy walk towards them carrying Baby. She is giggling as always.)
Jesse: Hello there! Does this belong to you?
Scary: Oh, you found her, huh? Last I saw she was running after a damned turtle.
Tulip: Not when we found her. She came running up to Cassidy's sunglasses out of nowhere shouting something about them being shiny. Then she giggled a lot.
Ginger: "Shouting "?
Scary (to Ginger): Never mind that now. (to Jesse) Well, we're glad you found her!
Tulip: So has she always been like that?
Posh: Like what?
Tulip: You know mentally handicapped?
Sporty: Oh! No, she came with the contract like that.
Tulip (exchanging a glance with Jesse): Right
Jesse: So looks like your bus is stuck in a ditch.
Ginger: Hey, he's smart!
Cassidy: I s'pose we could help 'em.
Tulip: I don't suppose that word of yours works on automobiles, does it?
Jesse: I wish.
Sporty: Word? What word?
Tulip: Oh nothing.
Sporty (to Tulip): Hey! Your voice sounds familiar!
Tulip (trying to look surprised): Why um no, I don't believe we've ever spoken before!
Sporty: Wait! I know! Your name is Tulip!
Tulip: No it's not!
Jesse: What? Of course it is? Why are you lying to this um (he stares hard at Sporty) girl?
Tulip (to Jesse, with clenched teeth): Let it drop!
Sporty: Yeah, Tulip! Don't you remember me? I told you to call me Taco when I called the nine hundred numbe (Everyone is staring at Sporty.) What? It was just an experiment! I didn't even use my real name!
Jesse (to Tulip): First you kill people for money, then you have phone sex?!?!
Tulip: Hey, it happened before the killing job! And besides, what did you expect me to do when you left me!
Jesse: Hey, I've been through this with you before
Tulip: Oh, sure, blame those two rednecks again for all your problems! It's always Jody this, or T.C. that, or Grandma locked me in this! Take some responsibility for once!
Jesse: But my dad
Tulip: Oh, get over it already!
Baby: Tee hee! Tee hee! Tee hee! Duh! Duh! (She squeals and jumps up and down pointing towards the horizon.)
Cassidy: What the hell is all that about, then?
Posh: Baby says that there's a man with two shiny things strapped to his waist coming this way.
Jesse: Shiny things ?
Tulip: Oh, not again.
(On the horizon, a man clad in a cowboy hat, trench coat, double holster, and boots strolls into view. He heads directly for everyone.)
Cassidy: Not him again!
Scary: Who?
Jesse: He's the Saint of Killers. He's been after us for a while now, although we always manage to elude him, even though he's 100% lethal with every other person in the world.
Posh: Oh makes perfect sense.
Ginger: Lethal!?!?! Okay, that does it! I'm sick of this! (She steps onto a large rock. Everyone listens to her.) Every time we go somewhere, something bad happens to us! If we're driving the bus through some ass-backwards little shit hole of a town, we somehow meet up with a bunch of people we've only read about or seen on television who suddenly lead us into extremely nasty, dangerous situations! And if it's not that, then our concerts always end up causing very painful riots! And beyond that, there are people who are constantly cruel, deriding, and just plain mean towards us! We have more hate web sites than we do fan web sites! And our merchandise sucks! And our fans are mostly a bunch of brainless twits who have easily mistaken a hole in the ground for their own assholes! Well, I'm SICK of it! Fuck you all! I'm leaving the group!
(Suddenly, a bullet tears a hole directly through Ginger's chest, leaving a very sizable hole and a large amount of gore on the ground in front of her. She falls down, dead.)
Saint of Killers: The group ain't the only thing you're leavin', sweetheart.
Posh: Good riddance.
Saint of Killers (to Jesse): Well now, preacher, looks like it's back to where we started. How about I end this now?
Jesse: I
Saint of Killers (raising his gun): And don't try any of that word bullshit of yours. Bullets move faster than your lips.
Baby: Tee hee! Tee hee hee hee hee hee!
(Baby, unable to control herself, leaps for the shiny gun the Saint of Killers holds in his hand. The Saint turns to her faster than the human eye can see, pulls the trigger, and plants a bullet in Baby's skull. She remains standing.)
Baby: Tee hee hee! Duhhhhhh
Saint of Killers: What the ? (He looks dumbfounded.) Grrr (He shoots another bullet into Baby's head. She still stands, giggling as always.)
Sporty: Holy shit! I never thought being brainless could be an advantage.
Saint of Killers: What the hell is going on here? Is this some kind of cruel joke? I ain't laughin'! (He pulls the trigger seven more times, but each bullet hits Baby's empty head, doing causing no damage except minor blood loss.) Nooooo! Son of a bitch! Die! Die!
Jesse (seizing the opportunity): Look! (pointing over a hill) It's the rest of her family coming this way!
Saint of Killers: NOOOO!!! No more! Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh! (The Saint of Killers, driven insane by his lack of lethal ability when dealing with Baby, runs away screaming like a little girl, pulling his hair out.)
Cassidy: Damn that was the most entertaining fight I've ever watched!
Tulip: Hon, I've had about enough for one night can we go back to the hotel now?
Jesse: Sure thing. (He turns towards the Spice Girls.) I'll call a tow truck for you when we get to the nearest hotel. I wish I could do more, since you sorta helped us with the Saint and all.
(The Spice Girls exchange glances.)
Posh: Actually
Scary: there is something
Sporty: you could do
Baby: tee hee.
Jesse: What's that?
Scary: Well, that word of yours everyone keeps talking about it makes things happen, doesn't it?
Tulip: Hey, she's smarter than she looks.
Posh: So we were wondering if maybe you could um use it on us.
Sporty: to make us the most popular band in the world!
Cassidy: Oh, ye've got ta be kiddin'!
Jesse: Now, now, it's a reasonable request after all, the one with the fat ass probably saved our lives by drawing the Saint's fire. Okay, I'll do it!
(The remaining Spice Girls all gather together in a line, close their eyes, and wait.)
Jesse: Now, make sure all of you listen, 'cause I'm not sure exactly how this is gonna work (He pauses for effect.) You are now the most popular band in the world!
(The Spice Girls open their eyes, and for a second, they seem confused. All of a sudden, their bodies explode, covering the entire street with guts, blood, collagen, makeup, and limbs. Off in the distance, Cassidy notices a fleet of news vans heading towards them. A news helicopter appears instantly and circles above the scene, filming every gruesome detail. Across America, England, and the world, from every house, apartment, and alley, billions of parents and people with taste in music shout for joy.)
Jesse: Well imagine that good taste won.
Tulip: Yeah the only way they could become truly popular was when they died horribly and tragically.
Cassidy: And even then, they're only popular because people have dreamt of this day for years.
Jesse: Oh well guess we should vamoose before the news vans get here.
Tulip: Yeah, let's jet.
(Cassidy pauses, crouches above a puddle of blood, and sticks his finger into the puddle. He licks the blood off of his finger, trying to get a taste. He promptly spits it back out.)
Cassidy: Blecchh tastes like cow's blood!
(Jesse, Tulip, and Cassidy walk off into the night, each somehow more convinced that God isn't all that bad.)
THE END
Trademark and copyright 1999, CloudVader Productions. Do not reproduce without giving the author, Cloud Volpe, due credit.
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