PesGaming Group Therapy
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fick
Registered User
PesGaming Group Therapy – The Final Session?
So there we stood, the final six, outside the door to Miggy’s office. Somewhere ahead of us was a despotic fiend with ideas of global domination. Behind us, a trail of destruction and corpses.
The brute Barndoor lead the way. His blood soaked torso a warning to any that would stand in our way. Behind him, TheBishop, praying for some kind of redemption. Barry and Original? followed a short distance behind, one no longer looking at the floor and the other almost eerily un-opinionated. Finally there was Cookie and myself. As we stepped through the remains of Hunter, I passed Cookie the pad and pen from my coat pocket. A shaky hand scribed a quick thank you, and then he scurried after the rest. Pausing for a last look back into the office I could see Miggy on the phone, arms waving furiously as he described the situation. I only hoped the powers that be would take him seriously. With a slight slip on the plasma soaked floor, I turned and headed out.
The route out was quiet. No one spoke and there was no one to oppose us. When we finally reached the outer security office we were cordially greeted by a familiar voice.
“What are you doing here?” Said Papa. “Where are Phatmann and hunter?”
“Phatmann is feeling a little flat” laughed Barndoor. Picking a piece of flesh and shattered bone from his shirt, he held it aloft, “and I guess this is Hunters”
Papa drew a revolver from a discreet holder under his jacket. “Well then, I guess I’ll have to take care of you myself”.
TheBishop stepped forwards. “My child, there is no need for violence. We must resolve this in a peaceful manner. I’m sure I can put a good word in for you with the Lord. Your soul can be redeemed.”
A single shot sounded. TheBishop sank to the floor.
“And I didn’t even need to ask for a volunteer to go first!” Papa cackled in the way only an evil despot or mad scientist can.
“C’mon Papa, you surely can’t kill us all?” said Barry.
“If I’d know you’d be here I would’ve brought a water pistol!”
Cookie tugged at my sleeve and pointed at TheBishops body. There was a feint glow and a sign of stirring.
“Fuck you Papa”
“Damn, Original? That wasn’t very eloquent of you now was it? Perhaps this experience has allowed your head out of your arse for five minutes to breathe.” He raised the gun and fired at Original? The bullet never made it to the target.
“What the fuck!” Yelled Papa
“My son” said the resurrected TheBishop, holding in his hand the bullet aimed for Original?. “There really is no need for violence.”
Papa shot him again. “Now stay down you freak!”
All eyes stayed on TheBishop. Sure enough there was the feint glow and stirring. “Ow”, he said as he returned to his feet.
“Oh, fuck this”, said papa, “I’ve put two fucking bullets in your head, there’s no way you can still be alive!” Papa emptied the clip into TheBishop’s body. “Now stay the fuck down!”
This time he did.
Barndoor stepped towards Papa. “Look’s like you’re out of ammo, cunt.”
“Shit” exclaimed Papa.
Barndoor reached forward and wrenched the gun from Papa’s hand. “Won’t need this now”, he said, tossing the gun aside.
The sound of Cookie scribbling furiously on the pad I’d given him interrupted Barndoor’s flow. When finished he held the page aloft. It pictured Papa on a trolley being wheeled away towards an ambulance while cuffed to a policeman.
“Does that mean I’m not supposed to kill the rancid gash?” said Barndoor.
“I think Cookie’s right Barndoor. We should let the authorities handle this one.” I said.
“But, if he’s on a trolley, then surely he must’ve got some nasty injuries?”
“Well, if I didn’t get here until, say, ten minutes after the patients caught up with him, then I guess I wouldn’t be able to stop a decent beating?” I proffered.
“Fuck, yeah!” said Cookie, to everyone’s surprise.
“Marvellous!” said Barndoor gleefully. “You might want to wait in the corridor though eh?”
So there we stood, the final six, outside the door to Miggy’s office. Somewhere ahead of us was a despotic fiend with ideas of global domination. Behind us, a trail of destruction and corpses.
The brute Barndoor lead the way. His blood soaked torso a warning to any that would stand in our way. Behind him, TheBishop, praying for some kind of redemption. Barry and Original? followed a short distance behind, one no longer looking at the floor and the other almost eerily un-opinionated. Finally there was Cookie and myself. As we stepped through the remains of Hunter, I passed Cookie the pad and pen from my coat pocket. A shaky hand scribed a quick thank you, and then he scurried after the rest. Pausing for a last look back into the office I could see Miggy on the phone, arms waving furiously as he described the situation. I only hoped the powers that be would take him seriously. With a slight slip on the plasma soaked floor, I turned and headed out.
The route out was quiet. No one spoke and there was no one to oppose us. When we finally reached the outer security office we were cordially greeted by a familiar voice.
“What are you doing here?” Said Papa. “Where are Phatmann and hunter?”
“Phatmann is feeling a little flat” laughed Barndoor. Picking a piece of flesh and shattered bone from his shirt, he held it aloft, “and I guess this is Hunters”
Papa drew a revolver from a discreet holder under his jacket. “Well then, I guess I’ll have to take care of you myself”.
TheBishop stepped forwards. “My child, there is no need for violence. We must resolve this in a peaceful manner. I’m sure I can put a good word in for you with the Lord. Your soul can be redeemed.”
A single shot sounded. TheBishop sank to the floor.
“And I didn’t even need to ask for a volunteer to go first!” Papa cackled in the way only an evil despot or mad scientist can.
“C’mon Papa, you surely can’t kill us all?” said Barry.
“If I’d know you’d be here I would’ve brought a water pistol!”
Cookie tugged at my sleeve and pointed at TheBishops body. There was a feint glow and a sign of stirring.
“Fuck you Papa”
“Damn, Original? That wasn’t very eloquent of you now was it? Perhaps this experience has allowed your head out of your arse for five minutes to breathe.” He raised the gun and fired at Original? The bullet never made it to the target.
“What the fuck!” Yelled Papa
“My son” said the resurrected TheBishop, holding in his hand the bullet aimed for Original?. “There really is no need for violence.”
Papa shot him again. “Now stay down you freak!”
All eyes stayed on TheBishop. Sure enough there was the feint glow and stirring. “Ow”, he said as he returned to his feet.
“Oh, fuck this”, said papa, “I’ve put two fucking bullets in your head, there’s no way you can still be alive!” Papa emptied the clip into TheBishop’s body. “Now stay the fuck down!”
This time he did.
Barndoor stepped towards Papa. “Look’s like you’re out of ammo, cunt.”
“Shit” exclaimed Papa.
Barndoor reached forward and wrenched the gun from Papa’s hand. “Won’t need this now”, he said, tossing the gun aside.
The sound of Cookie scribbling furiously on the pad I’d given him interrupted Barndoor’s flow. When finished he held the page aloft. It pictured Papa on a trolley being wheeled away towards an ambulance while cuffed to a policeman.
“Does that mean I’m not supposed to kill the rancid gash?” said Barndoor.
“I think Cookie’s right Barndoor. We should let the authorities handle this one.” I said.
“But, if he’s on a trolley, then surely he must’ve got some nasty injuries?”
“Well, if I didn’t get here until, say, ten minutes after the patients caught up with him, then I guess I wouldn’t be able to stop a decent beating?” I proffered.
“Fuck, yeah!” said Cookie, to everyone’s surprise.
“Marvellous!” said Barndoor gleefully. “You might want to wait in the corridor though eh?”
Mjällharth
Registered User
Epic. Original?'s moment of arrogance in particular.
Papa
Thank you for reading.
TheBishop stepped forwards. “My child, there is no need for violence. We must resolve this in a peaceful manner. I’m sure I can put a good word in for you with the Lord. Your soul can be redeemed.”
A single shot sounded. TheBishop sank to the floor.
:laugh:
My plans - thwarted! :crymore:
A single shot sounded. TheBishop sank to the floor.
:laugh:
My plans - thwarted! :crymore:
fick
Registered User
PesGaming Group Therapy - Epilogue
Sat in a nice quiet office some months later, I took time to reflect on everything that had transpired. It was certainly a whirlwind and one I would hope never to go through again.
Miggy had successfully got the centre up and running again, this time without a despotic second in command. All his staff are now vetted carefully. He also renewed his subscription to Just 17.
Dale was picked up by the police and incarcerated in a high security prison. To this day he still gets a small electric shock every time he urinates. Taking the piss is now the last thing he wants to do.
Original? re-entered the facility as an aide to the staff. His sophist nature somewhat dimmed, he was now able to communicate with people on a normal level and was fulfilling a useful liaison role between the staff and the patients. He now only uses words with more than four syllables if he has no other choice.
TheBishops’ body was removed from the scene and interred in sacred ground. Stories of his double resurrection spread wildly through religious circles for a while. When he failed to coma back a third time, it was put down to luck. He still awaits his martyrdom.
The lowlander, Barry, moved as high up as he could. The last anyone heard, he was living with a remote band of monks high up in the Andes. By all accounts he still has a penchant for cheese, clogs and plugging dykes. Barry is happy. The monks remain nervous.
Cookie vanished for a short time, only to reappear as a suddenly renowned artiste. A lot of his work depicted the events of those fateful days back in the centre. By the time they were displayed they were considered the works of a disturbed genius rather than the mad scribbled musings of an actual disturbed person.
And what I hear you ask of Barndoor? He turned over a new page, despatched his bloodlust and moved to Africa to help the starving and the poor. Okay, maybe not. In reality, he was placed under arrest for the devastating attack on Papa. It took seven heavily armed officers to persuade Barndoor to remove his fist from Papa’s rear passage. Even then he refused to release the lower bowel. He is currently locked away in a very high security prison that makes Guantanamo Bay look like Butlins. He’s happy though.
Papa on the other hand is anything but happy. He’s Barndoor’s cell mate.
And what of me? Despite Miggy’s requests, I choose to no longer work in psychiatric centres, face to face with patients. Instead, I now post on forums like this one, in a hope to help the mentally challenged via the internet.
And that, guys. Is indeed, the end of the session.
Sat in a nice quiet office some months later, I took time to reflect on everything that had transpired. It was certainly a whirlwind and one I would hope never to go through again.
Miggy had successfully got the centre up and running again, this time without a despotic second in command. All his staff are now vetted carefully. He also renewed his subscription to Just 17.
Dale was picked up by the police and incarcerated in a high security prison. To this day he still gets a small electric shock every time he urinates. Taking the piss is now the last thing he wants to do.
Original? re-entered the facility as an aide to the staff. His sophist nature somewhat dimmed, he was now able to communicate with people on a normal level and was fulfilling a useful liaison role between the staff and the patients. He now only uses words with more than four syllables if he has no other choice.
TheBishops’ body was removed from the scene and interred in sacred ground. Stories of his double resurrection spread wildly through religious circles for a while. When he failed to coma back a third time, it was put down to luck. He still awaits his martyrdom.
The lowlander, Barry, moved as high up as he could. The last anyone heard, he was living with a remote band of monks high up in the Andes. By all accounts he still has a penchant for cheese, clogs and plugging dykes. Barry is happy. The monks remain nervous.
Cookie vanished for a short time, only to reappear as a suddenly renowned artiste. A lot of his work depicted the events of those fateful days back in the centre. By the time they were displayed they were considered the works of a disturbed genius rather than the mad scribbled musings of an actual disturbed person.
And what I hear you ask of Barndoor? He turned over a new page, despatched his bloodlust and moved to Africa to help the starving and the poor. Okay, maybe not. In reality, he was placed under arrest for the devastating attack on Papa. It took seven heavily armed officers to persuade Barndoor to remove his fist from Papa’s rear passage. Even then he refused to release the lower bowel. He is currently locked away in a very high security prison that makes Guantanamo Bay look like Butlins. He’s happy though.
Papa on the other hand is anything but happy. He’s Barndoor’s cell mate.
And what of me? Despite Miggy’s requests, I choose to no longer work in psychiatric centres, face to face with patients. Instead, I now post on forums like this one, in a hope to help the mentally challenged via the internet.
And that, guys. Is indeed, the end of the session.
BarnDoor
Witchfinder General
fick
Registered User
I started with the fist one bit one rather boring afternoon at work, then after the initial positive comments thought I'd better carry on. I hate leaving things half done.
I've always enjoyed writing & over the years have done quite a few short stories. The inspiration for this was the eclectic mix of personalities I've seen on here over the last couple of years. Easy characters to parody, really.
Anyhoo, thanks for all the thanks people, much appreciated. You never know, if things don't pick up at work, there may be another...
Papa
Thank you for reading.
fick
Registered User
Papa
Thank you for reading.
The Liverpool Way
Registered User
Helloo