If The Druggie knew the events that were going to transpire on this cold, September evening, he probably wouldn't have bothered stepping out of his New York apartment. No, he would be sitting on his tattered, formerly white but now a stained yellowish brown couch and doing lines of cocaine and wood splinters off the coffee table where he ended up spending most nights passed out atop of. However, since he was as ignorant of what would ultimately end up happening as you currently are about what the fuck I'm talking about he stepped out anyway, his thin black trench coat not too good for keeping the winds at bay but more than proficient in the art of concealing the various assortment of narcotics he had on him. His target destination for this trip? The local gas station; the normal place he went to peddle his wares.

The winds blew against him as he walked down the sidewalk, smacking him in the face with a bitter chill. Sighing, he rubbed his eyes and then returned his hands to his side, hoping to look as inconspicuous as possible; which being one of the few people out walking currently wasn't helping him accomplish. However, his walk wasn't too unbearably long, and soon he found himself in the alley adjacent the gas station, awaiting his first customer.

Or at least he would be if something inexplicable didn't happen.

For in the moment that he was getting situated, a manhole cover that he never saw in the months that he had been using this very spot as his storefront began to rattle and shake. Shaking his head, he looked down at the cover but ultimately dismissed it as a hallucination and quietly reprimanded himself for getting high before work - again. However, his attempts at blocking out the sudden occurrence were rendered moot once the manhole cover shot upwards into the sky and out popped four giant, bipedal tortoises. Torti? Fuck it.

Lookwise, all four were practically identical; distinguished by the colors of the yamakas on their heads. White, Gray, Green, and Pink.

"My my, what have we here?" asked the white clad tortoise, grabbing The Druggie by his coat and shaking him, sending a small baggie of cocaine flying out of the coat's pocket and skidding across the ground. The tortoise in pink bent down and picked it up and looked it over, its neutral expression turning into a scowl. The Druggie's eyes widened at the goings on around him, seemingly finally grasping what's actually happening.

"Nothing good," the tortoise holding onto The Druggie's coke replied, tossing the baggie down onto the ground and stomping it into even finer dust. "Looks like this guy was trying to sell drugs!"

"Drugs?!" the three others gasped in disbelief.

"Yes."

"Woah woah woah, what the fuck's the big deal?" asked the Druggie, seemingly still not grasping the fact the he may or may not be trapped in an early 90's anti drugs PSA. In order to help him figure this out, the Gray bandanna wearing tortoise shoves a burlap sack over the Druggie's head and shoves him onto the ground. From there, the gang all takes turns kicking him in the ribs and stomping on his head. Crack is whack, yo.

It doesn't take much of this abuse for the Druggie to lose consciousness, after which the tortoises decide to pick him up and drag him back down to the sewers from whence they came. The dark, dank abyss where the Alien Tortoises have lived for all of their lives. Basically, this Druggie was kinda fucked.

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"Ugh, where am I?" asked the Druggie as he finally faded back into consciousness. The thick smell of rotting feces and microwavable breakfast burritos fill the air around him; confusing the young man as to whether or not he should be puking or getting hungry. In the climax of his confusion, he does exactly the former, right into the burlap sack that was still over his head. Chunks of undigested food drip out of the sack and stain his shirt; the trench coat no longer on him. That was strewn across the floor, seeping in shit the longer it sat unattended.

Laughing, the white tortoise rips the bag off of him and tosses it into the shit pool that both he and the captive were ankle deep in. Now that he was actually able to see, the Druggie now could understand why the pair of distinct smells came at him; the sewer was filled to the brim with shit and the one in gray was eating a breakfast burrito.

"What the fuck is going on here?"

"You need to learn that drugs are bad!"

"Yeah!" the gray one shouts, spitting bits of the burrito into the puddle.

"Through what? Torture? What the fuck kinda good guy shit is that? Did I walk into a fuckin' Saw movie or something?"

"Shut up!" the white tortoise snaps, slapping the Druggie in the face hard. All it would take was a little more oomph, and the chair the Druggie was currently tied to would've toppled over and he would've gotten a full body shit stain. However, it seems like ol whitey was playing around in the shit himself, as the print on the Druggie's face was brown as fuck.

"You fuckin' didn't..."

"Oh, but I did!"

"Seriously? You're the fuckin' heroes here?"

"Psh, obviously."

"Fuck it."

In other news; the Druggie was done. Sitting on the splintery wooden chair, he stares blankly ahead as the white wearing tortoise tries desperately to get his attention, but to no avail.

"C'mon, at least admit drugs are bad! It's all we got!"

"I don't even know what the fuck you are! This shit could just be some fuckin' hallucination! Next thing I know, I end up looking like a fucking shithead sleeping in the sewer. Rambling on about crazy fucking turtles--"

"We are not turtles! WE ARE TORTOISES!"

"Same--"

"TORTOISES! TORTOISES!"

"Fuckin' shut up!"

"TORTOISES!"

Another smack, this one strong enough to topple over the chair. Shit sludge spills up onto the Druggie's bare arms and shirt, staining both brown. He gags and gags, but doesn't vomit again, as the ground begins to tremble uncontrollably.

THUD.

THUD.

THUD.

"Oh no!"

THUD.

THUD.

THUD.

"Oh what the fuck now?"

"Eradicate the American Dream."

CRASH!

The wall that the Druggie was facing explodes, sending shit stained bricks flying everywhere and an inexplicable amount of smoke fills the air around the newly formed hole. As the smoke settles and clears, it becomes apparent just what the cause was. The 80 foot tall robot standing in the rubble.

"RoboStalin smash!"

"Okay, I give up--"

SMASH!