Ookings of d00m

This is the last numbered microfic, at least until I try to run of 30 in a month next November.
( The Empathy Bomb )

Pylons: The Orange Threat.

( microfic below )

This microfic brought to you by frustration at the number of lanes
currently closed on the 401, and the extra commuting time it has
brought me. And yes, this is set in the same world as my Dead Hobo Prophecy.

Because northbard asked for it - A Dead Hobo Prophecy.

After three weeks lying in the ditch, the bum was rotten and missing a few pieces. The creepiest part, though, were the eyes. The eyes were still intact. Perfect, clear, lucid blue eyes staring out of that maggot-ridden skull. Word got around, in certain circles, when someone died in the right way. Some kids had found the guy here two days ago. Our agents in the school system followed them to this ditch, then covered it up. It looks like we got here in time - the full moon's just coming up now. Bastard should be just about ready to talk.

Fucker was big, once, and falling apart like that, he wasn't easy to move. We got him strapped to the tree, and drew the circle of binding. I smell flowers, in winter, and I know it's time. The blue eyes blink, and look up at us. There's a sound like a bagpipe dying, and what's left of his jaw pops and starts to move.

"Five times five shall come the children of the fallen whispers to the city under the Ebon star. Until the embers of the ones who can't get no... sat-is-faction. I can't get no..."

"Shit. Metal filings in the teeth. Pick up radio waves, interfere with the words from Beyond. We won't get anything more here tonight." I gesture to the Cleaners. "Burn it all."

Not much. Only a little. But we were one step closer to finally figuring out how Paris Hilton was to become President of the United States and bring about the end of the world. One step closer to saving us all.