Some people are just plain broken no two ways about it. Or at least Chel seemed to think so. She had quite a bit of evidence to prove that point too. It was good evidence too, not that flimsy shit that caved like wet cardboard when put under scrutiny. It was also extremely simple evidence; it could be summed up simply. Some people were broken because Chel existed and she was undeniably broken. It wasn’t just her assessment either, her first therapist agreed right before she cut his eyes out. They didn’t taste like much, mostly like blood; that might have been because she hadn’t done a very good job cutting them out.

Anyways she was broken and Chel could live with that. What she couldn’t live with was greedily little penny pinching shits refusing to pay on time. Ok to be fair it wouldn’t kill her, but it did piss her off. It pissed her off enough to fly right over to the heavily guarded mob mcmansion and have a BBQ. Now the don, or possibly the head of security who liked to bang prostitutes in his boss’s bed, that guy. He was now filling his new role as spare ribs.

The mcmansion was heavily guarded; seriously all of the guards seemed to be special forces or something. When Chel first arrived she used an EMP grenade that cut off communications, slowing down any response. The mcmansion was also far enough out into the countryside that no one could hear the guns. The don probably thought that was a good idea once upon a time. Not any more; now he was covered in teriyaki sauce and slow cooking over the remains of his burning bed. Anyways back to clearing out the mansion because boy was that place packed.

Fortunately the gardening shed was well stocked with all of the latest tools, save for the ones guarding the place. Bazing! Chel considered herself something of an artist and would normally shy away from the obvious choices like the chainsaw. She went for it this time because, for one thing, it was a really nice chainsaw, and for another, there wasn’t enough hose to deal with all of the guards. Not only were there a lot of guards but they looked seriously gay in their matching camo and assault rifles. Chel duct taped the chainsaw to the end of a long stick with a saw on the other end and decided to go jousting on the back of the lawnmower.

As is turns out lawnmower chainsaw jousting isn’t all that great against guys with guns. The lawnmower was just too damn slow. Hamstringing them with the saw and running them over with the lawnmower was a viable option however. So anyways once Chel finished with the hired goons she moved on to the other occupants of the mcmansion because the big guy wasn’t done yet. The other occupants all seemed to be guys in suits, probably accountants or something. They were almost pathetically easy to deal with; didn’t even warrant creative uses of toothpicks and that carp Chel found in the kitchen.

The safe didn’t have any money in it. None of them did; there were a lot of them too. They were all filled with boring ass papers that looked official as fuck. The panic room had someone in it and Chel didn’t feel like breaking in, so she drilled some holes in the roof and attached a fire hose to one of them. The occupant decided drowning was a better option and didn’t come out, Chel had to admit it was probably the right choice. A quick sweep of the building only found one guy still alive in the place.

The last guy left was a priest, Chel found his fat ass sticking out from behind the altar; in a small church off the main part of the mcmansion. The church wasn’t much just some chairs, a stain glass window, and a small bronze statue of the lord. The priest was a fat man wearing bifocals and this big ass old timey key around his neck. Anyways the big man had another forty-five minutes to cook, so that’s how long it took Chel to puree the priest. She started with the bronze statue, moved on to the key and finished up with the bifocals. By the time she was done, he probably wished she had stuck with the statue but it really was wedged up in there and Chel didn’t want to touch it.

So there Chel was two hours later lounging on some lawn furniture, eating spare ribs, when the heroes decide it was time to show up. She hadn’t even had time to finish them either, also she wasn’t wearing a bib and there was sauce everywhere; so embarrassing. The heroes stuck one of their iconic poses; the two flyers in the air, the two physical guys in front and what appeared to be a telepath in the back. The heroes went into some sort of stupid monologue as Chel tried to clean herself up a bit. Finally, something they said caught her ear.

“What possessed you to declare war on Norway anyways?”

“What? When did I declare war on Norway?”

“Just now. You know, when you attacked the ambassadorial residence.”

“You mean an ambassador lives here?”


“I’m eating an ambassador?”

“What? Oh that’s disgusting.”

“Shit, I think I got the wrong mansion.”

“Who were you trying to declare war on?”

“No one. Say, you wouldn’t know where the nearest mob mansion is, would you?”

“Nobody in the mob is stupid enough to live anywhere near here.”

“Well shit.”

“So are you going to surrender or are we going to have to take you in by force?”

“Well, fuck surrender.”

It took ten minutes, some fertilizer, and an antique eighteenth century desk to take down the heroes. Some people were just broken and Chel wouldn’t have it any other way.



  1. This is my experiment at comedic sociopathy. I don’t think it went all that well and probably won’t be repeating the experiment. You can blame Psycho Gecko and CCoyote for goading me into writing this.

    I would also like to thank PG for some editing and giving me some good jokes. Because he is a really cool guy.

    1. While I wont pretend to know you; you appear to be suffering from some identity issues. I would recommend trying some long pork as you work through them.

  2. Where to start.

    First of all, when you have an insane character, you never leave them alone. Leniency is made in some instances, of course, but the general rule is that a quack person who is alone is just a sad headcase which happens to be alone. (This is the main reason Deadpool have that voice in his head.)
    In other words, you need someone – or something – that the Insane Personage can play off with, be it contrast, comparison, oppose or foil, there need to be some sort of conversation going.
    Then, learn from the classics, take refuge in audacity – which you did – but it was somewhat expected as soon as you read the first line, you did not really cash in on a really great continuation joke there. Also, there is a great deal of material to be found in the real world, emergency rooms and other professions that deal closely with death and other horrible stuff is dark humour galore. Read the list of emergency room slang below, and be amazed.
    And even though I probably did hint at it, it still bears fleshing out, learn from stuff that is already there. Goof Troop, amusing injuries. The dynamic between The Joker, Robin and Batman. Richard from LFG and of course Derek Landy’s Skulduggery Pleasant.

    1. Get a spring board for all of that crazy and steal jokes from theoretically good people. Because I can’t come up with things better than ‘Pillow Consult’ on a regular basis. Got it.

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