Original Stories Fan Fiction ❯ The Four Sided War ❯ God's a Spy ( Chapter 7 )

Chapter Seven: God's a Spy

 

“Who are these cretins?” Said an older woman hid in the shadows of her office.

“There's Cheyanne Tillitruns, age 15. David Bunzuvrok, age 29. Arnie Krause, age 54. Craig Domsizzlebunny, age 53. Brittany Sellen, age 16. Michael Blasting, approximately early 60s—no one's really sure. There are no records of his life before the war. Anyway, Patrick Aukenberg, somewhere in the fifties. Robert Kuzich, about 43. Timothy Veranderenz, in his 50s as well. John Burnafishnet, age 24. He replaced Alexander Rashell, age 18, who was decommissioned due to insanity beyond all belief. War can do that to ya. Anyways, Michael Beft, age relatively unknown. Some say the 60s, others the 70s. He's the most mysterious in the age department. Anywho, Kenneth Aklen, about 42. Duane Upinter, somewhere in his 50s. And finally, Derek Bonk, about 32,” The woman's servant informed her.

“There's a bit of uncertainty in the age department,” the older woman leaned back in her chair.

“The files took heavy damage when the Demonazi's set fire to the hall of records,” her servant explained.

“Just as well. Now, those are the leaders of this ridiculous war…” her voice trailed off.

 

“Um, sir, is it wise to wear these swastikas on our left arms?” David questioned Chef Arnie.

“Well, as Chey has said before, we are the Demonazis. That is like DEMON NAZIS. So we're like, Nazis of the demonic sort. And we're evil and like, German and shit,” Arnie smiled.

“I guess that makes sense,” David sighed.

“And besides, I AM the perfect race!” Chey grinned.

“Yes, my blond haired, blue eyed perfection! Muahahahahahahahahaha-*cough*-haha!” Arnie fell out of his chair laughing—EVILY!

 

“What's the square root of a cheese covered potato?” Ken turned to Duane.

“Oh come on, everyone knows it's Chey!” Duane slapped his shoulder.

“Yes, now I remember!” Ken began scribbling away on the rough draft of his peace treaty.

“A peace treaty, huh?” Micky glanced over at them.

“Yes, something's gotta give!” Ken paused his wirting.

“Good lick, I hear they like to eat people,” Micky got up and exited the room.

“Well, there goes the whole paragraph about why cannibalism is wrong,” Duane sighed..

“Damn! And that took up one whole page!” Ken slammed his head on the desk.

“Back to square one” Duane stretched his arms out.

“No, circle one!” A voice from above them commented.

“Who said that?! Could, could it be the Lord himself?” Ken gazed up at the ceiling.

“Oh shit!” The voice groaned.

“I didn't know God could swear!” Duane looked shocked. Just then, a skinny guy with grey hair, glasses, and a mustache fell out of the vent and onto the floor.

“Wow, I always imagined him more taller,” Duane looked even more confused now.

“Oh My, um, er, Goodness! Ken gasped. Micky and Derek walked into the room.

“Look! It's God!” Duane pointed at the man lying on the floor. Ron, Tim, Pat, and John came out from under the desk to marvel at the sight as well.

“Huh?” the guy on the floor looked around.

“Praise you!” Rob wailed in a Southern accent. Craig, Britt, Chey, David, Arnie, and Michael climbed in the window.

“I'm going to Hell, ain't I?” Craig grabbed the guy by the shoulders.

“I'm a bit agnostic. I need some proof he's God,” Michael out his hands on his hips.

“I always envisioned him much taller,” Britt whined.

“Alright, I am NOT God!” The guy stood up and made an angry face.

“Then who the Hell are you?” Arnie barked.

“I'm Eric Dragt, a spy from the Spice Momma House—oh shit! I've said way too much!” Eric clasped his hands over his mouth.

 

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Well, finally, the seventh chapter! Haha, I'll being trying for the eighth soon!