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Brucette Blingsteen · **04-26-2015, 08:57 PM**

2 weeks.

14 days.

A fortnight.

336 Hours.

A long fucking time to be stuck inside a dusty air duct, thatâ€™s for damn sure. Doubly true for someone high off their balls on Middle Eastern marijuana. And that is where we rejoin Bruce Blingsteen--trapped in a narrow, galvanized steel prison for what seems like forever. The normally fresh-faced manchild is sporting a full, scraggly beard. Inches from that, the sleeves from his t-shirt wrap around his head as a makeshift bandana. Babbling to himself as he slowly crawls forward, he stops as his stomach starts to growl. He curses under his breath and reaches into the pocket of his now tattered cargo shorts, pulling out a nearly melted king size Snickers bars.

â€Youâ€™re all thatâ€™s left, olâ€™ Snicky. I gotta keep you around for a while, God knows how much longer Iâ€™ll be trapped inside this steel hell.â€

Bruce carefully measures out five equal segments and carefully breaks one off, quickly devouring it. He throws his head back with his eyes closed and lets out a loud exhale.

â€Damn that was good. Iâ€™ll have more tomorrow.â€

Almost before he can finish his sentence, he crams the rest of the candy bar into his mouth. He savagely chews the candy bar for a lightning quick moment before it disappears down his throat with one large gulp.

â€Fuck! I always knew Iâ€™d die in an air duct.â€

Bruce begins to sob uncontrollably and pound his fists against the air duct in a fit of rage. He stops suddenly when the duct begins to violently creek and shake. Bruce slowly tries to crawl away but he falls straight through the vent, crashing violently in the center of a graffiti covered room--smack dab in the middle of a circle formed by a group of gun toting biker types. Their guns immediately train in on the writhing Bruce who can only react with a nervous smile and his hands held up high.

â€Ummmâ€¦ Hi, Iâ€™m the uh...water guy and it looks like your pipes are frozen. So Iâ€™m just gonna skidaddle on out of here and Iâ€™ll have my people send your people the bill. Alright, weâ€™ll be seeing ya. â€

Bruce attempts to get to his feet but the barrel of a gun placed underneath his chin stops him dead in his tracks. The woman on the other end of the weapon motions for him to stand up. Bruce slowly makes his way to his feet and backs up into the nearby wall with the gun still firmly pressed against his head. The woman brings her face close to his and gives him a snide look.

â€There ainâ€™t been no running water here for 40 years. Who the fuck do you think youâ€™re fooling?â€

â€The fuck you squawking about? How you gonna have a school with no water? This drought shit canâ€™t be that bad.â€

The woman, confused, shakes her head in disbelief.

â€The last drought here was way the fuck back in 2015.

â€Way back in 2015â€¦? What fucking year is it?â€

â€2055. Did you hit your head when you fell or something? What the hell were you doing up there?â€

Bruce slides the gun away from his face and slides down the wall to the ground. He shakes his head and looks up at the woman, tears swelling in his eyes.

â€Do they still have the McRib?â€

â€What the Hell is that?â€

â€Oh my God! No!â€ Bruce barely manages to choke out the words before breaking into tears.

The rest of the group all exchange looks of confusion. The woman kneels down with a concerned look on her face.

â€Are youâ€¦

]

â€No! Iâ€™m just really fucking high and really fucking confused. Youâ€™re telling me Iâ€™ve been inside that fucking air duct for 40 years? Iâ€™m like...60 now, I donâ€™t even have a 401k! Iâ€™m going to have to start shaking peoplesâ€™ hands at Wal-Mart to buy TV dinners. This is a fucking nightmare.â€

[lightblue]â€Youâ€™ve got bigger problems than that. You really have no idea whatâ€™s going on? Weâ€™re in the middle of a fucking war and weâ€™re on the losing side.â€

â€Canada finally got sick of our bullshit, didnâ€™t they?â€

â€No you idiot. The botanical experiment gone wrong. The Cannabis Corps. They rose up and rebelled, and weâ€™ve got no defense.â€

â€Wait. Killer weed?â€

â€If you want to put it in fucking laymanâ€™s terms, yes. Killer marijuana plants.â€

â€Wicked.â€

â€Wicked!? Is millions of people being abducted and killed â€˜wicked?â€™â€

â€Well in the wordâ€™s most literal definition, Iâ€™d have to say yes. But câ€™mon, how the fuck does weed kill people?â€

â€They release some sort of spore, we havenâ€™t figured it out, but itâ€™s effect on people makes them delirious and completely fries them from the inside out. Weâ€™ve tried fighting them but itâ€™s no use. They just keep coming.â€

â€Have you tried talking to them? I mean it seems a little ridiculous that we would be fighting each other. They get rolled up and smoked so that we can roll up and smoke. Itâ€™s like poetic symbiosis.â€

â€My God, you really are

. You canâ€™t ingest this, it would burn your organs and kill you within minutes.â€

â€Right. Internal combustion bad. Weed bad. Status of McRib still up in the air. Anything else I need to know?â€

â€Yeah, weâ€™ve been here for too long. If we donâ€™t get moving theyâ€™re going to find usâ€¦â€

Almost on queue, a large explosion rocks the building. The doors fly off their hinges in a cloud of fire and smoke. Loud cursing can be heard before being cut off by a hail of gunfire. The group falls back and takes cover behind some overturned desks, firing their weapons blindly over the top as they each share looks of fear.

â€SHIT! Theyâ€™ve got us pinned down!â€

Bruce leans out from behind a crumbling pillar to see something he had dreamed about since he began smoking: Walking weed nuggets with sunglasses and machine guns. The red-eyed Bruce canâ€™t help but laugh at the predicament heâ€™s in as the rest of the survivors desperately attempt to hold their attackers at bay. His laughter ceases when a large, smouldering ball of weed flies behind their cover, prompting the group to all reach for their gas masks. Panicked, Bruce looks toward the woman who slowly shakes her head and mouths â€˜Iâ€™m sorryâ€™ to him before putting her mask on. Bruce begins to cough and gag as the smoke fills his lungs. He stumbles out from behind his pillar, struggling to breathe and gasping for air. The smoke grows denser and denser as the gunfire stops. Bruceâ€™s coughing is the only thing that can be heard as the rest of the group look on in horror as he struggles for life amidst the rapid approach of the walking weed nuggets. Bruce staggers forward toward the attackers, takes one last deep breath and collapses to his knees. The machine gun toting weed monsters all aim their guns down toward him.

But Bruce begins to laugh.

His breathing becomes more regular as he slowly makes his way to his feet. He takes a step forward and smiles at the guns pointed in his face.

â€Youâ€™re getting me high.â€

Bruceâ€™s shirt begins to rip as his muscles begin to swell. His skin begins to turn a shade of green and he rapidly sprouts a few inches taller.

â€You wouldnâ€™t like me when Iâ€™m highâ€

A loud growl shakes the very foundation of the building. Bruce inhales deeply, sucking in all smoke deep within his lungs. He holds it in for a moment before blowing it of his mouth with the force of a whirlwind, knocking back several of the monsters and dismembering them in the process. Bruce jumps forward and smashes the head of another in between his hands. He leaps across the room toward another one, lifts it up with one arm and lights itâ€™s head on fire using the still smouldering building.

â€HULK SMOKE!â€

Bruce lifts the weed monster and inhales the entire creature in one breath. He exhales the smoke into the air and extinguishes the remaining flames. He surveys the chaos for a moment before collapsing again, shrinking back to his original size as the surviving humans all rush to his aid, cheering him on. The woman runs right to his side with a big smile on her face.

â€That was incredible! Youâ€™re a hero!â€

Heroâ€¦

Heroâ€¦

â€Hello? 911? Yeah thereâ€™s a guy here stomping around an empty classroom calling himself the Hulk. Heâ€™s definitely drunk, or hallucinating, or something. But itâ€™s really scary and kind of pathetic. Could you please send someone to pick him up?â€

5 hours later.
-------------------

â€A mental hospital? Oh this isnâ€™t going to go well...â€

Bruce mutters to himself as he sits on the floor in a straight jacket, slowly rocking back and forth. Manic screams can be heard from the rooms on either side of him. He throws his head back and sighs.

â€I gotta get outta here. I have a match this week.â€

Bruce jumps to his feet and runs full speed into the door, bouncing off of it and falls to the ground. He grimaces in pain as he sits up and looks up at the man peering through the window on the door.

â€Whereâ€™s my fucking Snickers bar!?â€

â€œHey man! You gotta let me out of here! I have a match on Wednesday against Peter Gilmour!â€

Nothing.

â€What are you, dense? Heâ€™s one of the greatest champions in the history of the XWF! I canâ€™t just sit around with my thumb up my ass hoping heâ€™s going to take me lightly. Heâ€™s probably got this match all hyped up with a bunch of epic promotional videos touting how awesome he is and how he has sex with all these hot chicks! How the Hell can I win if heâ€™s got that kind of mental edge on me? Heâ€™s probably all hyped up already!â€

â€œI mean, if I were him with the type of money and connections that he has, Iâ€™d probably make a video with Bruce Springsteen calling me some kind of fake wrestling loser! I mean, it wouldnâ€™t make sense considering that Peter Gilmour shares the same profession, and he doesnâ€™t even currently have a belt to show for it, but itâ€™s Peter Fucking Gilmour! He doesnâ€™t need to make a lick of sense! He just goes out and wins...once in a great while.â€

â€œSure, lately he doesnâ€™t have the greatest track record against rookies, veterans, men, women or children, but heâ€™s held the Xtreme title like 900 times! Iâ€™m going to have one Hell of a time trying to keep up with him. So you gotta let me outta here man! I canâ€™t afford to be stagnant while Gilmour is out there talking about his super dick and probably calling me something epicly creative like â€˜Bruce Fagsteen!â€™ Please!â€

The door handle slowly begins to turn.

Bruce begins to plot his escape.

To be continued....

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