Continue the story...

It was quite the scene really.

Freaky misfits... dancing naked around huge bonfires as the flames licked at their bare asses... occasionally stopping to snort more fine silicate dust without a care in the world regarding the fact that they'd all been diagnosed with pneumonoultramicroscopicsilicovolcanoconiosis before setting sail.

It would have all turned out well and good had they not been hypnotized into each being an enslaved pet kitten. All slaves. And kittens to boot.

This would not do! Where were the masters? What is the use of dancing naked and crazed if there is no one to take charge?

Exhausted, they finally fell into a heap, tumbling and bumbling around each other's naked bodies, when suddenly...

Eight and bipolar showed up with whips and started lashing at the naked bodies laying in a pile, their bodies slick with sweat, rum and sex.

"We will not allow this kitten slavery, nor will we allow..."

this hypnotist to get away without paying for his crimes...

No. Wait. Think again.

Perhaps what the hypnotist did was a service to them

Perhaps this could be used.

After all, when had Eight and bipolar ever had an entire flock of naked, drugged, crazed kittens?

Never.

That's when.

Never.

This was the chance of a lifetime.

What to do? How to not blow it?

Eight and bipolar settled down with two glassed of fine wine to think this thing through, while the sweaty mess of kitten flesh dozed for a bit.

What would be their next move?

Clearly they had they had something far more important then kittens ,sex or alcohol.

They had the power to...

COMMAND.

That's what.

That's the power they had.

To command, and get other to do their bidding.

omg, this was too delicious.

But there was one problem.

They didn't know the suggestive word that the hypnotist had used.

The one word that would unlock these exhausted sleeping kitten-people to do whatever Eight (ok, bipolar too but mostly Eight) wanted of them

Rats!

How to get that word.

What was the damn word?

The word couldn't be something easy, yet had to be something easily remembered, so it was probably something that was personal to the hypnotist.

The hypnotist was a tall fellow, with a dark beard and long flowing robes with ragged edges from being dragged thru the swamp while he went across the land doing his bidding while screaming out his magic word which was...

who knows?

I'll tell you who knows.

The hypnotist himself!

Your description of him is perfect.

Perhaps if we call his name, he'll appear, that raggedy scraggly dopefiend of a wise man.

MacBuddhaburger! where are you? help a couple friends out with a whisper of a word, would you?

In the meantime...

Eight and bipolar would have a little fun with the writhing hypnotized bodies.

Bipolar wanted the best looking ones to crawl to her and perform a lovely service with their long tongues. Eight had his/her own desire. It was for...

At that precise moment MacB opened the door, took in the entire scene, and yelled: GET OUT OF MY BLOODY KITCHEN YOU BRAINLESS OFFSPRING OF A FECKING RETARDED BABOON!!!!!!!



*MacB had been delayed by a spontaneous outbreak of arson and rioting in beautiful downtown Dystopia. See the t-shirt of the trailer for the movie of the book.