Path of Vengeance

III Payload

Fatty spun around and did a backflip that a gymnastic critic would have dubbed "flawless enough for a hamster". Dusting himself off, Fatty once again glared at where Jerry was sitting. By then the lackadaisical gamer grew bored of his 2D combat simulator and switched to a more realistic FPS that I won't bother identifying.

It was at this moment that Fatty saw the open window. Heavenly light seeped into the room, and he couldn't help but wonder why Jerry had the habit of taking such beautiful things for granted. He then realized his dilemma. Was Fatty truly fit to challenge such a large foe? Escape was less than 200 yards away (keep in mind, the perception of length is different according to a hamster). He could easily climb out and live a life of unimagined luxury.

Fatty shook his head furiously. Backing out was in no way honorable. He dared not let Mr. Gameoholic get away with forgetting him. Punishment was far from futile in his mind. Though he would have to go about his endeavours vigilantly. Luckily, he put a lot of thought into how things would go down.

Fatty recalled a time in which Jerry tossed a half-empty box otter pops over his bedside and never bothered to retrieve it. More than enough popsicles were at his disposal. There were also tough pieces of string Fatty had been saving, and a roll of duct tape conveniently close by. Synapses fired off in his tiny yet unaverage brain like a volley of cannons. He knew exactly what he was going to do.

I will spare you the details, for you shouldn't put a lot of thought into the process of constructing a makeshift trebuchet so long as you don't plan on actually making one. Thirty minutes into Fatty's little project, and Jerry still hadn't taken his eyes off the screen. Needless to say, the hamster had to drown out his nemesis's constant bursts of outrage. It was funny how Jerry, although quite addicted to competitive games, never seemed to enjoy them. Fatty decided not to concern himself with any of that.

For the final steps of preparation, Fatty found some metal BBs that as far as he could tell — Jerry had not fired since his discovery of realistic shooters and dating sims. He stuffed them in his cheeks without a second thought. Additionally, he found the optimal projectile for his trebuchet: an average looking, yet undoubtedly effective Airsoft grenade. Not only would it hurt like a "buttcheek on a stick" but it would likely neutralize Jerry long enough for Fatty to initiate in his Taratino-styled revenge.

After loading up his epic artillery model, Fatty cleaned his face and stretched his abdomen once more. Things were finally looking up for Fatty, and he could hardly stop himself from grinning with malicious intent. Jerry was simply minding his own business (whilst being obnoxious, of course). Shortly however, he would come face to face with his worst enemy yet.

Uncovering a little plastic sword, he brandished it playfully. Yes, this should do the job.

Now for the moment you've probably been waiting for. Fatty locked his little paws and teeth around the pin of the grenade and yanked it out. Suddenly, an odd mist began to waft out of the lethal barrel of BBs. But the intellectual furball was quick to act — using the plastic sword to slice a designated piece of string. The catapult launched the grenade with ease, sending it at just the direction Fatty was hoping for. He quivered in anticipation. Things were about to get wild.

It won't be long before Jerry realizes his greatest mistake. I will make sure he acknowledges the reason for his downfall. Justice will prevail!

The Airsoft grenade flew directly over Jerry's head and bounced onto his LED keyboard. Before he could exclaim any sort of surprise, it spayed over a hundred metal BBs, quite a few ricocheting off the flesh on his face with a couple managing to shoot up his nostrils. That's when he sprang up from his chair and emitted a nasally cry of distress.