Dallas: Texas
by Vihn-Luan Luu
"We're fucking trapped in here!"
The endless chatter of the security personnel cuts through my ribcage, beelines through my innards, and goes straight for the soul. Trapped in the metal intestines of the DART rail system, a bit of me dies a slow death. She, the overly excited security personnel, the product of the unholy union of neglectful mother and abusive father, is tormenting everyone with her mockery of a personality. Was this a Dallas security guard? A DART railway personnel? A rent-a-cop hired by the Mormons to spy on me? Is Jesus himself back from the dead as a female transsexual? Dear god, any of those options would be better than reality: She was A-Kon security; and we were on a metal and steel highway to Hell.
The convention hall was a humid stew of lonely hormones and broken ambition. We had to dredge through the thick soup of desperation held together by duct-tape and clown make-up. Armed with a bar of soap and a touch of dignity, we were able to keep the creatures at bay. They were once mammals like the mighty moose, but generations of inter subphylum mingling have caused their DNA to mutate. No longer human, they have spawned a new class of existence: Anime Fan. They travel in packs, trying to keep close to one other, secretly hoping to grope that one best friend that would never understand these hot, moist feelings that come in the middle of the night. This level of broken can only be described as highly and severely.
We finally make our way to the pressroom, leaving a trail of soap and breath mints in our path. The creatures will never follow.
"WE ARE SPACE-GUN.COM!" There was a stillness in the room like no one has ever seen. No one will believe this sort of stillness; it was a stillness that legends were made of; songs will be sang about this level of stillness. Seriously, the room was empty. We were lost. Or at least I am. Where the hell am I?
"Luan, over here." Chris was standing in the hallway, pointing to a sign: "Press". At last, some fucking progress. I kick down the door with my steel-toed flip-flops. "WE ARE SPACE DASH GUN DOT COM. MOTHER FUCKERS! WHERE ARE OUR FUCKING BADGES, YOU ANIMALS?!"
"Luan, here." Chris handed me a badge. "I got them already."
"Good work, my loyal, hetero-partner." These bastards had no idea who they were dealing with. They just gave us the ultimate red button to their own destruction. It shall be a glorious sneak attack of a mighty wave of walrusi and it shall be stupendous. We finally make our way out into the lobby of the beast. The crowd is much bigger this year; the gelatinous horror of fanboys and fangirls filled my nostrils as they ran by, hoping to find the latest box of unopened pocky. We donned our gasmasks; the filters helped a bit, but the fanboy funk this year was at an all time high. We won't be able to stay long; more than a few hours and our olfactory system will mutiny and cannibalize itself. And watching my nose trying to eat my face is not something I want to do today. Maybe tomorrow.
We wade our way through the crowd carefully, trying not to alert the creatures to our presence, blending into their natural environment the best we can. One false move and we would never get out alive; and dying in a sea of forced virginity is not how I planned on going. The convention was a mass wasteland, a Chernobyl of nerdy gatherings. It was a sad sight, and I've been to a Ren-fest.
"Luan, we should turn back." I stopped, I don't know how this happened, but we were much deeper into the convention than I had wanted to go. The exits were gone from sight; the only thing leading our way out was the trail of soap we left behind. There were suddenly a multitude of beady eyes on us. Somehow, I don't know how, but these creatures were able to pick out our one scent over their own pungent stench: they could smell our fear. We started to back away, but the circle was getting tighter. Soap and dignity cannot help us now; it's time for some Lightening (left jab) and Thunder (right hook). And a bit of Headbutt-out-of-Nothing™, for good measure.
That's when all hell broke loose. A high-pitched scream ruptured the air, cutting through the stench like a Volkswagen Jetta. Bodies were flying as more explosions of screams assaulted my ears. People were yelling and dying all around me, what the hell is going on? That's when I saw it: a large mass of spoiled entitlement, wreaking havoc to the convention. It was a pitiful sight, you just want to lock it up in a closet and smack it around with a metal ruler. It was the bane, the curse, and the absolute reason why I hate anime convention: it was a fangirl. And she was fucking pissed.
"Get the fuck out of here!" It was a member of the VGCorps., Dax if I remember correctly. I could barely recognize him covered in noodles and plushies. But it what I saw in his eyes that sent a chill down my spine: I saw my own reflection.
"What's going on?" Chris was fighting back the creatures as they tried to give him a hug. There were waves and waves of them, nonstop; they were coming out of the fucking walls.
Dax's eyes were brimming with tears. "Someone set the DVD audio to the dub." He started to cry. "I lost half my team to it." I didn't know what to do: run or grab Dax then run. The choice was made for me. With a primordial scream that connected with the absolute ID of our universal humanity, Dax grabbed a wallscroll and charged the beast. That was the last I saw of him that day. We met up for lunch later;, but that's another story.
We, the brave members of Space-Gun.com, after seeing our comrade charge bravely into the heart of the beast, ran like the fucking wind. We fought our way through under-aged convention goers, punching and kicking anything that got in our way. We charged through the front doors with a scream.
"Get in the fucking CAR!" Jake and Vinny were beating back the creatures in the street. They were everywhere, clogging the city's arteries with their own foul hobby. We jumped in and drove over a few more fanboys and fangirls. Soaked in the day's blood, tired of the screaming, smelling of the fanboy funk, we zoomed away to the safety of Denton County. We knew what had to be done:
Nuke it from orbit...it's the only way to be sure.
