The desert sun beat down on pinky buster, the earth red and fucked surrounded him. It was the year 2048, and pinky was pissed. He was quick to crack wise and his face showed it, however people did not put up with this shit on account of him being 50. Nowadays pinky stuck mostly to his job as an archeologist. He tapped the fingerprint scanner on his space watch and the robot hologram on it informed him was almost 8 in egypt time, which was where he was at, egypt. He was digging in egypt, doing archeologist stuff, is what im trying to get across, also its the future. Pinky looked up from his space watch to a tall lanky faggot standing above his dig site. The man stunk of cum and checkers hamburgers, his white and gold suit reflecting off the sun like something really bright white and gold. The man had a shit eating grin on his face as he chomped a big cigar like it was a gay dick that he was suckin'.
"Pinky you cocksucker, its almost 8 o clock in egypt time! You really need to pack up your shit and hit the road, when it gets dark the giant scorpions come out."
Pinky wiped the sweat off his brow and chuckled to himself while shaking his head. He continued digging as if he hadnt heard a word.

The suited man was pissed. "Pinky you got egypt dirt in your ears? Did you perhaps forget im the money behind this trip? and i didnt pay millions of dollars to get a top archeologist out here in egypt so he can find nothing for three days and then get killed and buttfucked by giant desert scorpions? "
Pinky chuckled and graced the angry faggot a response, "You wouldnt know shit about passion Christian, youve never worked a day in your life. Look bakery tits.. im not out here jerkin off... im gettin close to finding some info on those damned balls... i can feel it in my gut."
Christian Harris was pissed because of the backtalk, but he knew what to expect from pinky. He lit a cig, gayly. He had hired pinky because he was a master of archeology, the backtalk was to be expected of someone who was the master of his craft. But christian knew if anyone could dig up some information on the balls, it was pinky. Christian looked back down at Pinky and tightened his fancy white gloves. He held up one finger.
"Youve got until 1 o clock, any later and ill have the boys come out here and drag your ass out of the dirt. we clear?"
Pinky hadnt taken his eyes off his work. "crystal" he shouted to the gay millionaire as he continued digging.

Christian noded his head and flicked his cig on the hot egypt dirt, it burst into flames. He whistled for his hoverboard and it flew over to him, christian hopped on and flew away, leaving pinky to continue his work in peace.
A Discovery
The sun was setting, and with it the insanity of Christian Harris sprung forward. He took off the mask and looked for a long time in the mirror- at the scars. That day. That day when Ocean Smith burned it to the ground. I’ll never forget that day. Christian slammed his fist onto the counter top and screamed with rage. His bones, indeed his very existence was rattled. After some time he remembered. I’m bitter again. I’m angry again. Then he remembered his medication. He lit up the obama kush and inhaled deeply, feeling the tension evaporate off of his body. He had a curious mental condition indeed. A single thought warped his mind and sent him into a state of being not unlike that of a raging bull.
Chill dubstep was playing. He layed back onto the couch with the back of his neck curved around the top of the couch cusion, just staring. Thinking. About her. She was an angel.
Pinky buster was toiling in the black of night with only a torch. These transcriptions are fucked up! I need to decode… ah yes. The emerald tablets of Thoth springing into being from the angelic horsemen? The….balls….into existence from the….source? What source? Lets read further into this mystery. The archaic….tomb of Xerxes….Ramses trine to the seventh equinox….on the first of May? Ah! And with these thoughts he realized it. He must go to the tomb of Xerxes to retreive the key, and then to the tomb of Ramses to put it in the lock! Then the mystery will be revealed.

Sharkey Collins was eating grapefruit. His house was luxurious, yet barren. Cold stones. He liked the stark reality of the stones. Jean Michel Jarre was playing on the speakers nearby. Sharkey’s eyes were closed, and he was in another world. Then the phone rang. It was Pinky.
“Yo”
“Sharkey, you need to come to Egypt, right this minute.”
“Bro. I’m tryin to chill here. I was about to snort some Zaka.”
“Zaka is about as useless at this time as poop!”
“What’s all the racket?”
“The element balls…. I know how to get the element balls.”
“Still believe in the mystery school teachings? Come now.”
“The plane is paid for, my friend.”
“Well…. Money’s not an issue for me, but fuck it. I’ll snort a double and be there on the double.”
“Cya pal.”
“Cya nigga.”
Sharkey was looking out the window, Arkansas below. Ah, the Ozarks. If only I had a log cabin out there. The lady beside Sharkey was eying him sternly.
“Are you on something?”
Sharkey looked her in the eye until she quickly turned her head in the other direction. That’s more like it, fat bitch.
Sharkey farted hard. Then the plane came to a halt. The fatass held her nose and Sharkey sneered. Hope the vacation’s fun, retard! Pinky greeted him as he exited the plane. Before leaving, he waves by the the pilot, who he gave some speed so he could stay awake.
Rooster Perkins was in a hot tub. Smoking a joint, snorting zaka. I am so high.