By Backstabber 11 Comments
It was a question that has plagued him for years. A question that was so deep, so dark and so agonizing that he could not rest until solved. So serious that he could not even be aroused while watching his favorite VCR classic “Naughty Nurses Meet Naughty Teachers IV” until finally solved. That question being...how to kill a speedster! In Jason’s world any and everybody should be able to be killed by a bullet, except him. If he was to shoot at you, you should be hit, not running around it at a speed so fast that the bullet would appear to stop moving. Not only that but in his world no one should be able to move so fast that they could do whatever they want while you are standing there motionless. Perhaps it had something to do with being pants hundreds of times in middle school, by the bigger smarter kids, but the fear of what those speedsters could do while he stood there unaware plagued him! But as he sat on his stain soaked couch, with a bong in one hand and the other scratching his a$$, he swore that he would never leave his apartment until finding a way to kill those freaking speedsters one way or another! After another long toke from his bong shaped like a naked woman, he lets out a loud “Oh Yeah Baby!” followed by a slew of painful coughs, he decided to put his full attention on the problem at hand.
Like the great Dr. Frankenstein, the one who came up with the theory of relativity, he choose to start with one fact and work from there. In this case Jason choose to start with the ‘Speedforce’ or at least what little he knew about it. Based off rumors and misconceptions, all he could assume is that the speedforce is all around you and when a speedster runs he taps into it. Therefore with the strain of what little gray matter he had left, the idea crossed his mind, to blow everything up. Feeling like he had made a scientific breakthrough, he could already picture the grand moment in which he would light a handful of dynamite and throw it forth into what he would consider the speedforce, thus igniting it in a ball of fire that would take half the world with it, as well as every last freaken speedster. Although there would be considerable collateral damage, with the up side of killing every speedster, it would be worth it. So with great pride he lept from his couch knocking over a two day old pizza box, and shouted the word “Alleluia!’ But then, just as an evil smile crossed his face, he sadly realized that he didn’t have a single stick of dynamite, let alone enough vodka to make a Molotov cocktail.
In a sad state of mind, and brief moment of realization, the only true ammo he had in the house was four clips for his trusty 9mm, that he bought off Ebay! Somewhat depressed, he plopped back down on is couch, spraying a thick layer of dust and Doritos chips around the room, while twirling his gun around his finger. “Damn it!” he barks as he strokes his ego, “My bomb plan would a worked and I would have gone down in history as the man who killed all the speedsters!” But then as he continued to play with his 9mm, by popping out the clip and replacing it in record time, he ejected a single bullet and caught it in his right hand! It was then at that moment as he looked down upon the great equalizer, that a new plan crossed his mind. If it were impossible to throw a bomb into the speedforce, why not let the speedforce come to him. In his mind his new plan was simplistic and beyond perfect. If the speedforce was everywhere and activated when a speedster ran, if he were to put a single bullet on his table, naturally the speedforce would be shot the moment a speedster began to run! With no idea how Wile E. Coyote his plan sounded, he was already salivating over how famous he would be. Therefore with great pride, he strategically placed the single bullet on his table and slowly stepped back for safety. Now hiding behind his couch, he continually leered over, waiting for something, anything to happen, while holding his breath in anticipation. Unfortunately for the next three minutes he became overly board with the whole thing, and in a hissy-fit he knocked the table over shouting, “Damn it, they did it again! Some how those speedsters got wind of my plan and changed time again so that it wouldn’t work!” With that said he packed another round in his bong, taking in a monumental hit, all the while boasting, “If I had the freaken dynamite my plan would have worked”, while coughing between each word!