How to Take over the World on $80 or less

[troubled sleep]

If this, perhaps, turns out to be one of the most horrid and all around revolting things you've ever had the displeasure to read...please inform me of this fact straight-a-way so that I may strive to make a story a bit more palatable.

 

Also, I'm fully aware that the title and information above may not be the most fitting things in the world for this story. But unfortunately the choosing of titles has never been one of my strong points.

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A small figure in a large floppy sun hat sat alone in a small grey kiosk in the middle of a busy shopping mall. The crowds pushed past her, barely noticing the kiosk, the figure, or the large neon pink sign flashing ‘How to Take over the World on $80 or less.’. Many who had seen this sign had quietly waved it away without thinking as a gag, a hoax, and generally a waste, and perhaps rightly so. But the point was that the figure in the sunhat seemed rather bored. This isn't so suprising considering that extereme bordom is a side-effect of sitting along in a kiosk for several hours. But what is suprising is that absolutly no one had ever even approached her. And she had been sitting her for over three days. All the time hoping to pass on her interesting knowledge before her presence here became widely known.

 

It was then a dark haired man of about twenty-three stopped and stared at the sign before turning to the girl in the sun hat.

 

“You’re showing how to take over the world?”

 

“Yes.” the figure said bluntly,pulling her sun hat off to reveal a young face with short inconspicuous blonde hair. She quickly pushed a few strands of hair back into place and replaced the sun hat after a nervous glance up towards the nearby security camera. “Yes, I am.” she repeated, looking up towards what appeared to be her first customer, “I assume you’re interested?”

 

“Yes...I supposed I am.” he said, stepping closer towards the kiosk.

 

“Good. You too can be a ruler of the world, Mr.....”

 

“Brandon Bassett.”

 

“Yes. Right. So you, Mr.Brandon Bassett, can be a ruler of the world, and I can tell you how. But first I’ll be requiring a nominal fee of 50 Dollars, or 51 Euro if you’d prefer .” she said, brown eyes staring coldly up at him.

 

“That’s a nominal fee? In this economy?”

 

“When you think about how much things cost in this day and age, you should be grateful it isn’t the customary 500 American dollars. Besides, you can worry about world economics when you’ve take everything over.”

 

“Ah. Well, in that case.” he said, pulling a spare 51 Euro out of his pocket and reluctantly handing it to her.

 

“Thank you.”

 

The girl thoroughly examining the bill(one of the German ones) and checked each water mark before carefully tucking it into a pocket of a sleeveless button up dress with a mundane floral print worn open over a black t-shirt and jeans.

 

An odd silence fell upon the two. Even odder when you consider that the holiday crowds were still surging around them. They sat like this for several moments, until Brandon suddenly spoke:

“So...now that I’ve paid you and a good twenty minutes have elapsed...are you going to tell me how to take over the world?”

 

“Certainly.” the girl said, looking up once again, though this time her eyes were obscured by a pair of large sunglasses she had recently donned. She folded her hands in front of her on the desk of the kiosk and then opened her mouth as though to speak.

 

“You know, you may want to take notes...” she said, thrusting a pad with ‘Clearwater Beach Hilton’ printed at the top and a matching pen in his direction. The customer accepted it, and made ready to write.

 

“Ok, so first of all you have to have an initial 80 bucks. You can't expect to take over the world on anything less."

 

"Ok," Mr. Brandon Bassett said, writing this down.

 

"Next, you have to call everyone.”

 

“Such as?” Brandon asked as he scribbled ‘call people’ on the pad.

 

“Oh, anyone. 1-800-SUICIDE, me, the presidents of Russian, the United States, and France to name a few. You may also want to contact the editor of Puffin Books, and the people who make chex mix. Calling the Army, Navy, and Coast Guard of your respected country may help too. But most importantly-” she drew a quick breath and paused, as though trying to suspend this climactic moment, “call a cab.”

 

Mr. Brandon Basset looked up at the sunglass covered eyes of the girl as though expecting something more. But when nothing of the sort came, he grumbled softly about things being ’anticlimactic’ and quickly wrote ’call a cab’ on the note pad.

 

“Yes...Call a cab...because you’ll need one to take you to USA Route 1. You’re going to pick it up about twenty miles south of Washington DC.”

 

“Why?!!” Brandon said, not able to restrain his sudden distrust of this entire situation.

 

“So you can flag down a passing truck driver, of course.” the girl replied matter of factly.

 

“Ah.” he replied, a confused look never leaving his face.

 

“So you’re going to flag down a passing truck driver-”

 

“With what?”

 

“A large towel, of course! Personally, I recommend you buy from K-Mart. The Martha Stuart Everyday Brand is notoriously good. And in a bright color, so you’re easier to see. I’ve seen many people fail horridly at flagging down vehicles when they try to use cheap and inconspicuous towels. Anyway, so you’re going to flag down this truck driver then hi-jack his truck. Or if you can’t find a truck, go for an SUV or something else with severely tinted windows. Trust me, you don’t want to be seen. Anyways, so you toss the car or truck’s driver out onto the street where he will sit in shock for about three minutes. In that time you should be able to figure out how to drive the truck or hotwire it in the event that the driver still had the keys in his hand when he was thrown out. Then you ride south to-am I going to fast for you?” she said, suddenly stopping to watch Mr. Basset's progress with copying this down.

 

“No, no. Continue.” he said, not looking up from his notes.

 

“Good. So you start riding south, and you keep going that way for about...four hours, maybe three traffic permitting. Now, you’re going to take the Suffolk Virginia exit, and you’re going to drive until you find a stable.”

 

“And how exactly can I tell this particular stable from all the others in that area?”

 

“Well, how many stables can there possibly be? Besides, this one is next to a raw clam bar. And the raw clam bar is just over a large bridge. It has a pirate flag too. And a dock!”

 

“Can you name any of these bridges, clam bars, or stables?”

 

“No...I moved away years ago. And I can’t exactly go back...especially since there are always loads of police on the bridge; you’ll need to watch out for that too.” She paused for a minute and waited for Brandon to shake out his cramping hand for a moment before continuing. “So you find the stable, and you hi-jack a horse-”

 

“Any particular hose? Thoroughbred, colt...whatever other sort of horses there are?”

 

“You just grab a horse and go!”

“But what if-”

 

“No what if’s! You grab a horse and start riding west until you reach those states commonly referred to as the ‘plain states‘. Then you’re going to sell you’re horse for a few thousand dollars to a group of passing cowboys.”

 

The girl had told Brandon this in a dead serious tone, but he couldn’t help but laugh.

 

“Cowboys??”

 

“Yes. Cowboys. They’re all over the plain states, you know.”

 

“If you say so.” Brandon said, returning to his notes.

 

“I do. So as I was saying. You sell you‘re hi-jacked horse for a few thousand to passing cowboys. Now, afterwards you‘re going to have to walk for a while, but it really is great country with some lovely scenery. Be sure to take plenty of pictures.”

 

“Great, and where am I going to get a camera and/or get the pictures developed?” Mr. Brandon Basset said, his faith in the girl’s words fading fast.

 

“At Walgreen's, where else? They’re everywhere, you know. And open 24 hours a day. But this particular Walgreen's is located in Middle of Nowhere, Ohio. It’s actually a very nice store, and you can stock up on provisions like soda and peanuts, and perhaps purchase another towel. But remember: drink Pepsi, not Coke.”

 

“Why?” Brandon asked as he started on a fresh page of the notepad.

 

“Because it’s Pepsi! You’re supposed to drink it, and that’s a fact.”

 

“Ah.”

 

“So also at this Walgreen's you’ll need to purchase a bicycle. Preferably a mountain bike though I’ve heard that regular bikes work-”

 

“And the point of this is??”

 

“That you’re going to hop on this bike and travel across country until you get to the Grand Canyon.”

 

“Ok...bike to Grand Canyon...” Brandon said as he wrote this down.

 

“No! Wait! I forgot! On you’re way you'll find a passing group of Migrant workers!!”

 

“What??”

 

“Migrant workers! However could I forget them!!”

 

“Umm...ok then...” Brandon said, scratching out ‘bike to Grand Canyon’ and replacing it with ‘meet migrant workers’.

 

“Oh it’ll be fun! Migrant Workers are great people.”

“Really now?”

 

“Yes. So you’ll meet up with these Mexican Migrant workers who have just taken a wrong turn on their trip home from picking grapes in California. You’ll then communicate with them using your superb Spanish speaking skills.” the girl said, shaking her head and getting thoroughly excited about this part of the story.

 

 

“But I can’t speak Spanish!” Brandon protested.

 

“You don’t have to! Just smile, nod, and say ‘si’ repeatedly and you’ll be *fine*.” the girl replied confidently.

 

“But...But...”

 

“Hey, if I can get through several years of French with at least a B average smiling and saying ‘oui’ and ‘c’est combien?’ repeatedly, you can communicate with these migrant workers!”

 

“Okay...okay...” Brandon replied, quickly writing ‘say si a lot’ on his notepad.

 

“Alright, so now you will barter for a while and in the end agree to trade your Walgreen's Bike for a few leftover bottles of California’s best wine.”

 

“Yum...”

 

“No sidetracking...I’ve got a limited amount of time here.” the girl said, glancing nervously at a mall cop who seemed to be staring in her direction, “So after swapping email addresses and pointing them in the general direction of Mexico, you’ll continue on foot again.”

 

“Again?”

 

“By this time you’ll be almost into North Eastern Arizona. Or at least you should be.” the girl said, completely ignoring Brandon Basset’s complaint, “So after wandering around for a while, you should come to a car Shoppe.”

 

“A Car Shoppe? In the middle of nowhere?”

 

“Sure, it’s called ‘Pueblo's Ford’. It’s a droll little place run by a Chinese man named Tan. He’s a failed tanning bed owner you see. He couldn’t take the heat of the Peachtree City, Georgia tanning bed industry, so he bought this quaint car Shoppe.” she said matter-of-factly to Brandon, “Anyways, so Tan is in possession of a Model T Ford, which you will most graciously borrow in the dead of night.”

 

“Isn’t that stealing?”

 

“No, it’s larceny. And besides, Tan will never catch you...if you’re fast enough. So you’re going to steal his precious Model T and run. The car itself will take you about three miles over the Arizona border before it literally falls apart on you. But that’s ok! Because by using you’re trusty Martha Stuart Towel-”

 

“Yes, about that. I have a few color ideas to run past you...you know, so that I can attract maximum attention. I was thinking a blue...or maybe a red...yellow is nice as well, but do you think it’s too light?” Brandon said, trying to prattle on in the serious tone the girl managed to pull off so well. His only response was a death glare muffled slightly by the pair of dark glasses the girl wore.

 

“So you take out you’re towel and use it to bum rides from passing cars until you get to the Grand Canyon.”

 

“Weren’t we just at the Grand Canyon?” Brandon asked, flipping back through his now numerous pages of notes to double check.

 

“No! You were supposed to scratch that out! You had to visit with the Migrant workers and steal Tan’s car before the Grand Canyon!” the girl exasperatedly cried, rubbing her forehead in disdain.

 

“Oh...” he said, noting the scratches on his paper, “okay, you can resume.” he said, flipping back to a blank page and holding his pen at ready.

 

“Alright, so you’re now at the Grand Canyon, and you’ll ride one of landmark’s legendary donkeys, or mules, up onto the Canyon at sunset. Now, be sure to take *lots* of pictures. After you get them developed you can visit the famous Grand Canyon Camp Grounds and sell you’re pictures for ten dollars a picture to unsuspecting tourists. And then when you get someone in an exceptionally nice RV, you lure him or her outside with the promise of more Grand Canyon at Sunset pictures and steal their RV.”

 

“There certainly is a lot of stealing in this plan.”

 

“Hey, when you’ve taken over the world they’ll be no way they can touch you, so why hold back?” the girl replied frankly.

 

“Good point...and about that, while all of this running around America sounds like oodles of fun, what does it have to do with taking over the world?”

 

“Crazy...I didn’t think anyone actually used to word ‘oodles’ anymore...but then I’m always being surprised. And this ‘running around’ has everything to do with taking over the world, if you’d just sit through it!”

 

“Okay, okay...” Brandon said, cowering next to his note pad and preparing to take more notes.

 

“So then you’ll go RVing across the last of Arizona until you get into Nevada-though, I do recommend you take a few short detours and visit the Great Salt Lake up in Utah, I’ve heard it’s beautiful in the summer. Now, there doesn’t appear to be very much in Southern Nevada, not even a Walgreen’s or a gas station for miles. Which is okay, because you can’t afford anymore of the RV’s expensive gasoline anyway.

”

“Say, do RVs run on diesel? Or regular unleaded?”

 

“Who cares? The point is that by this time you will only have about three dollars left, so you can’t afford either.”

 

“Ah, I see.”

 

“So after raiding the RV’s fridge and stealing and towels in sight you scrawl a sign saying ‘FOR SALE, CALL 1-123-456-78910” (which oddly enough matches the number of a cell phone the RV’s previous owner left in the car) on the top of a pizza box. From then on to Vegas you’re back on foot, I’m afraid. But after just a few hundred miles of good road, you make it to LOS VEGAS!” the girl said, unexpectedly throwing confetti up into the air.

 

“And?” Brandon said impatiently.

 

“And in the time it took you to get there, you’ve gotten quite a few offer on your stolen RV. and the highest bidder just happens to live in Los Vegas.”

 

“That’s convenient...what if the highest bidder lives in Puerto Rico?”

 

“Then you deny their offer and wait until one from Vegas comes.”

 

“But what if no one from Los Vegas sees the RV or the sign saying it’s for sale?”

 

“Then you...you...I don’t know! Place an advertisement in the classifieds or something! But the point is that you need to find a buyer, and you need to find one in Vegas!”

 

“Okay, okay, I was only asking!” Brandon replied meekly.

 

“So you take this person from Vegas up on their offer, and manage to make enough money from the closing to afford a few nights on the Vegas strip.” the girl said.

 

“Hehe! I’m rich!” Brandon said happily as he wrote this bit of information down.

 

“No, You’re not. Not yet, at least. Besides, that will be peanuts compared to the riches you’ll have when you take over the world.” she said. But as she turned to stare at her client, her eyes caught a glimpse of several security guards and policemen massing in one section of the mall, their gaze fixed on her. “Ok, we have got to speed this up! My time is almost out and we’re only at Vegas! So you have all this money, right?”

 

“Right.”

 

“So you check into a fancy Vegas hotel, and register to stay for three nights, but unfortunately you gamble all but a hand full of pennies away at the slot machines. So, you have to flee your hotel room under the cover of afternoon in the biggest car in the county. But not a moment before you have raided the hotel’s mini bar, stolen their brightly colored towels, and run up a huge bill for pay-per-view movies.

So you speed down the highway in your overly large stolen car and you head over into California, where you dump your car in a disused vineyard. Continuing on foot, you hitch rides to all the major theme parks: Disney Land, California Adventures, Sea World, places like that. But you can’t stay long at any of them...especially after you try to steal Shamu.”

 

“I’m going to try to steal Shamu?? But isn’t that illegal?”

 

“There are many things in the world, Mr.Bassell, that are illegal.”

 

“But it’s cruelty to poor Shamu! I’ll have the United State’s entire population of five-year-olds plotting my demise if I steal Shamu!”

 

“Now now, I never actually said that you would steal Shamu. You see, by mistake you accidentally pick up Lamu, father of Mamu, grandfather of Kamu and most importantly half brother to Shamu. You see, Lamu was filling in for his half brother while Shamu was doing a gig in Sea World Florida.”

 

“Ah...”

 

“But after you realize your mistake, you return Lamu to his overly small ‘habitat’ and continue on your way.”

 

“Let me guess, on foot again?”

 

“Yes. Look at it this way, you’ll be the guaranteed winner of the world leader’s walk-a-thon. But back to your trip...so you‘re walking again, and on the run from the cops...they didn‘t like the whole whale stealing thing. So you‘re starting to loose hope when suddenly you see the Hollywood Hill. Knowing that you‘ve always wanted to go here-”

 

“No I haven’t.” Brandon said indignantly.

 

“Knowing that you’ve always wanted to visit Hollywood, you stay here for quite some time, selling the Migrant Worker’s California win as needed.”

 

“But what if, in the process of nearly loosing hope before getting to Hollywood, I deicide to get stone drunk and drink all the wine?”

 

“You won’t. I told you that before.”

 

“No you didn’t!” Brandon said, trying hastily to find the place in his notes which mentioned the wine.

 

“Well...I did it telepathically, write it down, draw an arrow and let’s continue!” the girl said, watching out of the corner of her eye as a SWAT team joined the growing mass of policemen.

 

“So you’re in Hollywood for quite a while, and you manage to land a few jobs as an extra. But all good things must come to an end, and the cops, the tourists whose RV you...uh...borrowed, The Nevada Gaming Commission as well as the owners of that hotel you stayed in on the Vegas strip, and even Tan catch up with you. So after saying a final farewell to the silver screen you’re on the run again.”

 

“It seems to me that in this entire plan, all I’ll do is run, walk, and steal things!”

 

“Don’t worry about it! you’ll be the ruler of the world by the time this is all over, remember?”

 

“Ah, that’s right...” Brandon said, brightening at the prospect.

 

“So you make it up into Oregon, and snap some beautiful pictures of the local scenery. But, when you go to develop them, you find that you still don’t have much more than a handful of pennies, so you break out the RVer’s credit card, which has been living in your pocket this entire time, to pay your bill. Unfortunately, this gives those RVers as well as all of the law enforcement agents after you a chance to track you. So just for a change of pace, you’re back on the run again!”

 

“God! Is there ever an end to the running??”

 

Completely ignoring this comment, the girl continued, but this time her voice was a little faster and the pitch higher, as though she was suddenly afraid. This may or may not have had anything to do with the throngs of police, security guards, and other miscellaneous law enforcement personnel suddenly pushing through the crowds towards the kiosk.

 

“So you run and run, getting rooms at cheap and inconspicuous hotels until you get up into Northern Washington State. There you’ll hopefully run into some more Migrant Workers.”

 

“All that way up there? Migrant Workers!!?”

 

“Yes. Canadians, never question them. But the point is that they’re heading back home to Canada, and they give you a ride and they’ll graciously lend you a tractor-”

 

“Are they seriously going to lend it to me? Or will I have to steal some more?”

 

 

“No, they’ll actually give it to you.”

 

“Whoa, there’s a first.”

 

“Come on, less side talk, something tells me I may or may not be able to finish at this rate.

 

Horrified that after sitting through all of these rather tedious, if humorous, instructions that he wouldn’t be able to hear the conclusion he quickly motioned for her to continue.

 

“So they lend you a tractor when they can’t take you any further, and since they actually gave it to you with their blessing and you didn’t have to...borrow...it in the dead of night it’s not exactly top of the line. So it takes you to Vashon Island, Washington before breaking down completely. Now, you have tremendous blisters by this time, and can barely walk, but you have to get this tractor fixed. So you push it across the Island to a the only tractor repair shop on the Island. But, of course, the owner of the shop is in Singapore and won’t be back for another three months. So you rent a room for your remaining pennies from an eccentric elderly woman who lives down the street from the repair shop and wait the owner’s return. But, three months is a long time to be sitting drinking tea with eccentric old ladies...so you head to this mall and after hocking your watch you’re able to rent this kiosk and-”

 

“Excuse me, young lady?” a police officer said, a huge group of his colleagues assembled behind him.

 

The girl looked up at the officer and cursed inwardly, preparing to bolt. But first she put on a warm smile and spoke:

“Yes, is there a problem officer? Because I am in the middle of a very important business transaction which desperately needs to be completed...”

 

“Oh, well in that case-” the police officer started to say, but a hand on his shoulder from one of those assembled colleagues made him think better of his response, “Yes, there is a problem. Are you Nicki Claris?”

 

“Maybe, but may I ask why?” the girl said, wrapping her hand slowly around the strap of a purse at her feet.

 

“You are wanted on charges of...well...lots of things...and I’m afraid I’m going to have to ask you to come with m-Hey! Where are you going!” he yelled as the girl, who has now been identified as Nicki Claris, stood up, hopped over the desk of the kiosk, and ran towards the nearest exit.

 

"Sorry, you'll have to wing it from there! Happy travels, Mr.Bassett!" she yelled back as she darted out of the mall.

 

“Hey! Come on everyone! AFTER HER!!” The policeman yelled. Those standing behind him took up a short battle cry and followed his lead, their nightsticks held over their heads.

 

The massive crowds(which had begun to dissipate during Mr. Brandon Bassett’s long conference) parted for the horde of policemen, and Brandon himself scrambled up and, after stuffing his numerous pages of notes into his pocket, ran off in their wake. But instead of running outside after Nicki, he stopped at a payphone where he quickly dialed information.

 

“Hello?” he said into the receiver, “I’d like to call a cab to pick me up. Yes, out in front of the Springfield Mall will do.” silence followed as the person on the other end of the line spoke, “Yes, thirty minutes? Sounds good. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have a few phone calls to make. No! Wait! One last thing: you wouldn’t happen to know the president’s phone number, would you?”

 

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Edited May 30, 2003 by troubled sleep

[smallscale_mind_games]

It's hilarious! Sam, I have a suggestion: Write a sequel or two, recounting either Brandon's Further Adventures, or Nicki's Further Adventures...if she escapes from those awful coppers anywho!

[Elwen]

*spits out a mouthful of tea* I wish I had $80 so I could take over the world! This is /really/ funny, Sam...I want to take over the world!

[Sorciere]

That is so funny! Thanks for a great laugh

[Peredhil]

A long read, but worth it. Have you ever heard of a "shaggy dog story"?

 

Frightening that I recognize so many of the landmark areas...

 

-Peredhil the widely travelled Ancient

[Tainted Lunchmeat]

Mary or Sam or something!

that was really funny! It was super long, but i liked it. Plus i liked the way you ended it with Brandon calling the cab. Haha, about the random cowboys roaming the Midwest! See I'm not the only one who read this!

[autumn_sun]

=grins= Hey hey! This is great!! And I do regret that away message, even if it did inspire you to write this...at any rate....YOU ARE THE NEXT DANIEL PINKWATER!!

 

Oh yes, one more thing: TAN'S TANNING BEDS HAVE BEEN TAKEN OVER BY EVIL SPACE RATS!

 

Wanna know what i'm talking about? READ!

Edited May 31, 2003 by autumn_sun

[troubled sleep]

Wow, people actually commented!! =is suddenly very happy at the prospect that she may have managed to write something decent. Oh, and sorry about the length...I do have a tendancy to get a little long-winded.

 

Oh come on Pip, it wasn't the worst randomly depressing away message as they go. And I see you're using my refrence to Tan as a plug for your own story;Which I gave you the idea for, by the way!

 

Also, I have never heard of a "shaggy dog story", unfortunately I don't get out much...

 

And sequels..hmm, I may have to attempt that during the long car trips up and down the Eastern Seaboard I must soon submit to. Though, knowing my luck, I shall probably descend into my muse-less state for the next three months.

Edited May 31, 2003 by troubled sleep

[Finnius]

Standout insanity, wonderful stuff! I am in awe of your ability to connect that many tourist-traps into a coherent and legitimately entertaining story.

 

*Whips out wallet, opens... sighs.

 

Must save money...

[Nobody of Consequence]

Can't fault it, at all - length is really more of a problem in an on-line environment anyway. I think in a print medium, this would be sized just right. Thanks for the read

[jonathan_wolfe]

This was perfect for length, the whitespace kept it legible and the intrest so high, I didn't want it to stop!

 

I definitely look forward to more writing like this.

[Damon Inferel]

Meow! I am quite shocked, you actually dragged a chuckle out of me. I don't laugh out loud that often, but this was terribly funny. Nothing to critique, but i'll also give you a rare applause. I don't do that too often either.

[Aardvark]

NEVER EVER EVER EVER EVER EVER EVER EVER EVER EVER EVER doubt your own work. That's rule number one. Rule number two is never put a disclaimer and rule number three is don't doubt your title choosing abilities. Especially when you choose totally appropriate titles such as this one

 

There are many other rules, all of which can be found in the Aardvark Big Book of Bumper Fun Rules, available from all good hockshops and elusive street vendors for the low low price of only 99.95. Not bad considering you'll know all the rules while everyone else'll be trying to figure them out

 

But just remember, I wrote the rules. And the book on the rules.

[Alaeha]

What rule set are you referring to? The Wizard's First Rule is "People are stupid". Just ask Terry Goodkind. He hasn't disclosed the second, yet, though.

[Falcon2001]

This is so great! It's like a Hitch-hiker's Guide To The Galaxy thing! This is so cool!

[troubled sleep]

Thanks guys for you're comments and whatnot. I'm glad I got a laugh out of some people and I'm sorry I couldn't thank you for you comments earlier but I've been away from the internet due to lots of vacationing.

[Appy]

*bump*

 

I don't know if you're still around troubled sleep, but I'm adding my praise to the list here. Excellent story! I enjoyed it immensly, thank you

[dauna]

That was hilarious! I definitely hope you write a sequel!

[Asmadeus]

That's one of the funniest things I've read so far, and god (or any other guy that watched me all over my life) knows I've read alot of funny things !

 

Now hang on a minute, I have a few calls to do

[troubled sleep]

=waves= Hello! I'm still here! Granted, I left for about two years, came back, left for another six months, then came back again.

 

I actually wrote a pseudo-prequel/lead in a loooooon time ago...which can be found here, but never actually got around to writing sequel. Maybe now I'll try again

 

Thanks for all your comments, you're all my heroes--I thought for sure that everyone had forgotten about this little story!

Edited September 10, 2006 by troubled sleep

[Atrium]

oh, this is wonderful! I laughed audibly a few times, and the subject of World Conquest always catches my interest. great job! I like how she instructed him to specifically drink Pepsi. Pepsi > Coke

[Mynx]

Maybe American Pepsi tastes different to NZ Pepsi cos the stuff we have here is horrible.

*shrugs*

 

Love this story!!!

Absolutely fantastic

When I use this to take the world I shall reward you with a country of your choice