The shade was nice. I found a little bit behind some rocks. Climbing this giant fucking monstrosity was easy as shit. Going down—what the actual fuck. It’s like I forgot how long my legs were. I kept slipping and falling. The rocks out here were crumbling like cheese, but I was huffing it. I had to punish that piss ant king.

I couldn’t believe I let him live. I mean, that was pretty stupid. Like why would I want to leave him alive? I had just killed 3 people. Dang. I killed three people.

As I jumped out, a rock slid out of my way. I tumbled straight into a bush of spikes. Face first. Oi FUCK!

My eyes were good, but my nose had some had a crap ton of needles poking into it. One went clean through the bridge of my nose.

I REALLY hoped it wasn’t poisonous. This desert really is trying to kill me.

Up and at em, Hefty.

Down the mountain. My feet started moving again, and my fingers got busy pulling out the pokey fucks.

God, you better not just be fucking with me.

I tripped and tumbled through the bush, trekking the rocks. My nose got free of needles, and I could smell nips of my own blood. My tired legs were so happy to be crunching downhill, all the way to Zeb-rover. I made it to the crest and I saw it.

Blinking AGAIN. In that hot sun.

Coming closer I saw blood. A stream of blood from Zeb-Rover. It was the side where I left the king. I took his AK and let him bake. Well that was dumb of me. Did I really think he’d just stop playing chess? Bank a dumbshit, Hefty. You really messed up this time.

I’m going to kill this dude. I unshouldered his stupid golden AK and cocked back the chamber. A live round popped out. The round was some nickel-type of metal. Not even golden bullets, huh, king cheap-ass. I picked it up and threw it in my pocket. And then. I got angry. I got real pissed. At this guy who almost killed my mother. Killed so many. Screw this guy. Now I’m pissed. I’m gonna shoot him up the butt. With his gun. He’s gonna feel this one.

I tracked his trail. It wasn’t too long before I saw his target. A tiny cave structure 1000 yards from Zeb-Rover. The opposite way I went. Crap. He found shade in like 20 seconds. I had to climb a damn mountain. I started running, Pulling my achy legs together sucked. My body was failing me. One foot in front of the other, Hefty. I wish I wasn’t fat. My side! It was like a ball of iron lit in my right side. What was that? Was that my liver? Why was I STILL fat? I’d been starved for weeks.

How’d the king get so far with a shoulder full of bullets? Wasn’t he tired? He had to be tired. I was so thirsty. I could really go for a VitaminWater XXX. Get out of your head. Eyes on the prize, Hefty.

“GOD! Allah! You listen to me. You better give me everything you fucking got to do this. I don’t know why you made me so fat and so fucking hard to—exist, but you do me this, fuck I’ll become a monk. Just give me strength.”

Running into the cave, I started to see less of the blood trail. The cave was only at tall as I was, and hardly even that deep. The king couldn’t have stayed here long. I looked around, and saw a boot print in the sand. On it. I started tracking the footprints, and made out tiny specks of blood. Less than before, but enough to give me a scent. Come on you little bastard.

These canyons were incredible. The formations weaved in and out. Ancient boulders all over these landscapes. I wish I could come back here when there wasn’t a deadly mastermind I had to kill.

Then I heard a rock tumble. It echoed through the walls. Gotchya.

Jumping from boulder to boulder, I got to where the rock was, and then I heard it. The crash and tumble of bigger rocks. I looked up and saw granite death coming right for me. A bunch of rocks the size of my head were coming down right for me. Behind them I saw some camouflague.

The king.

I put the Golden AK up and blocked the first rock. It didn’t hit my head. It instead hit the AK, which hit my forehead. I thumped onto the ground. Then I felt it. A big rock crunch down on my index toe. I howled. I looked down, head hurting, and saw a rock the size of my CPU covering my foot.

Boom. Boom.

Sand exploded by my head. Looking up, there he was. About 20 feet above me. Golden Desert Eagle in his usable hand, dropping slugs over me. I’m not dying without a fight.

Lifting the Golden AK, I unloaded some bullets up the canyon. Our golden guns burst hot, and rocks and pebbles were flying all around us. The king turned and went for cover. I could hear him running away, further into the canyon. I lifted up, and pushed the CPU rock. It was so heavy. Come on Hefty. It must have weight 200 pounds. Come on! You’re fucking Hefty!

The rock leaned off my foot. It wasn’t pretty. My pants had blood soaking through the cloth. I touched it. Mistake. I could still walk on it though. Don’t be a little bitch. Yullah!

Lucky it was so silent in this canyon that I could hear the king’s every breath. I bit down on my cheek to forget the pain on my foot. I tasted blood on my cheek.

Then I saw him. Limping and running.

Alright bitch, let’s play.

I shot a slew of rounds downrange. The king was slumped over his bad shoulder. The rounds hilariously missed him. Not even close. Great job, numb nuts. Way to waste bullets.

I started a full-out sprint. I leapt from rock to rock. I didn’t even know I could jump that far. I closed in on him. I could hear his footsteps pouncing in the gritty dust. I lined the sights of the gun directly on his ass. Just like Johnny would. Shoot ‘em up the butt. Click.

No bullets. NO BULLETS? I wasted them. SHIT.

Wasn’t that poetic. I couldn’t even kill him with his golden gun. I’d have to beat him to death. With these rocks.

But then I remembered. His bullet. I could kill him with his own bullet. ’Cause I still had one in my pocket.

I pulled it out.

I opened up the… the cocking thingy on the AK.

I don’t know what you call it. I released the door-thingy. Then I ran. Rivers of sweat were down my face. They tasted great.

I was 5 meters away. I wondered if how many rounds were in his Desert Eagle. A part of me was alright with dying. Cause you know, this SUCKED right here.

And then we connected. I dropped my shoulder and knocked his dumb ass. We tumbled to the ground. He held his golden handgun as he cart-wheeled into a rock. He coughed up blood. I stutter-stepped and fell on my butt, nailing it on a tiny rock. I pooped myself a little. Now I had a real fucking problem with this asshole.

I kicked at him. He was spitting. I kicked him good in the ribs. Then in the head once, and then he turned over. I switched to the golden AK. On my knees, I butted the AK down hard on his wrist, the one with the Desert Eagle. His gun went off. It bounced out of the king’s hand, and wedged into some rocks. It was jammed there. The king railed in pain, and I realized that smashing his wrist wasn’t as violent as I imagined. It wasn’t like Hollywood gore. It just looked big, almost swelling.

With the golden AK’s wooden stock, I made his nose bleed. I remembered all the awful things he did to everyone he knew. From day one in that mosque. To making me kill Big Ass. Making me build his empire. Nearly killing Ghada. Going back on his deal about Mom and the Browns. This guy was Satan. At some point, the AK was out of my hands, and I just started going off on him. My teenage knuckles changed his face. I couldn’t see those honey-red eyes of his anymore.

I was in charge now. I could have used that bullet, but I didn’t.

I unplugged. UN-plugged from the Darkwebs, internets, iPhones, iPods, Galaxys, Facebooks, Garmins, Wiis, Xboxs, Playstations, RAZRs, mP3s, Digimon, Pokemon, Gameboy colors, Gameboys, Microsofts, Dells (fucking Dells), PDAs, CD players, Floppy disks, word processors, Apple IIs, Xeroxs, landlines, Ataris, answering machines, typewriters, blenders, microwaves, ovens, steam engines, windmills, machine guns, machines--any working gear that didn’t come out of a mother’s womb.

And if there’s one thing I learned from all this mess.

It’s that technology will always fail you.

Cause of people like him.

You fucking pig

of war.

I

alone

am the

one who

drives your

unrecognizable

face to a rigamortis

swelled-up, ballooned

lump of human flesh that

doesn’t resemble anything that

used to be human. This is the price

I paid for wanting to blow up the world.

For daring and dreaming to buy the world.

And as I look down at this asshat I realize that

no matter who you are or what you did to hurt

our human race, you’re still gonna be trending on

Facebook, as trending in the world consciousness as

Bin Laden and Stalin, and you’ll always find some odd

lonely bastard in some corner of the internet that surely

sings your praises however far we get into this thing called

humanity.

And now that his breathing had stopped, and he was making that

stupid face at me, I wondered… would anyone sing a song about me?

I sat down. All I could think about was the sun. I saw my masterpiece. Wished I had a phone. I could have taken a picture. But I don’t have a phone. The last one I had was turned on, and back in Zeb-rover. I thought the army was supposed to be good about tracking terrorists.

But don’t call a boy to do a man’s job.

Just send the boy.

I’m the boy.

I didn’t need that rock after all.

I had my fists. And I’d just killed the most-wanted, most powerful man in the world.

And I’m not fat.

I’m Hefty.

It was over.

I was over. I keeled over and crunched into the dust. I saw the golden pistol, stuck in the rocks. I reached in my bloody hands, and loosened it. A golden trophy.

I put the gun in the back of my pants, like a gangster.

A plane SHOT overhead. Good God, that’s close.

Uh-oh.

I tensed, and every particle of sand around me turned in one direction. The Zeb-rover turned the color of the

SUN.