Crack Attack: A Collection of One-Shots and Other Disturbing Shit

Victory Chant (Sequel to "Endstone"; The Pack)

This story is the sequel to "Endstone" and it is based very loosely on the Minecraft parody "Victory Chant" from Vikkstar123.

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All according to plan. Harangues about morality and sanity aside, everything is going according to plan. However, as to be expected, once one obstacle is removed from the middle of the road, another one appears. I have to get out of here before I lose control of the situation. To be honest, though, I'm already home free.

Preston thought he could get me with his sob story; he thought they would buy his waterworks and believe his testimony when he was beyond incoherent. He doesn't even know what happened and he's still trying to push the blame off on poor Little Lachy. What a joke.

Lachlan might have been laughing, but he was laughing at the GIF I had tweeted him, not at Preston falling over like the noob he is. Rob was too busy screwing around with his fancy ski gear for the hundredth time to see what happened. Mitch was turned the other way while he tried to grow some balls and go down the icy slope. And I was just waiting my turn, as always. I waited all weekend for that moment. As soon as Jerome turned around to bitch at Lachlan for giggling like a schoolgirl, I tipped Preston's right ski forward and knocked him off balance, causing his ski pole to shove Mitch to his doom, at long last. But no one can prove it, not even Preston. He is such a piss-poor skier that the police thought he had just slipped while he was teasing Mitch. They aren't even going to prosecute him.

But can he live with the guilt of knowing that he killed one of his best friends? That he killed the famous BajanCanadian, the man with over five million sobbing subscribers, the one who had sparked his Minecraft career, the one who introduced him to his sweet bro-friend, Rob? How can he live with himself now that Mitch is dead and everyone is falling apart?

I can live with myself just fine. I'm free. The Bacca's electronic tentacles and Mitch's lovely plans have no sway over me anymore. I'm finally, finally free. Life is brilliant over in England, and my flight back home is tomorrow afternoon. After that, I am golden no matter how hard Preston wails from the other side of the ocean. No regrets to be had. Now I can have the spotlight back. Now I can record with whoever I want without having to ask anyone for permission. Now I don't have to share my subs and my sponsorship deals with anyone. Now I am free to do as I please without having to worry about Jerome coming after me for leaving "The Pack." Let's see him try to pin this on me; Baccas aren't smart creatures.

It was so easy. It was shocking, really. Just one push and he was off, like a Mario Kart on the final stretch of Rainbow Road. I don't know what Rob thought he could do by stopping his fall halfway down, but it failed, whatever it was. And Jerome! He just slipped and slid his way down there and started bawling! It was all worth it just to see him wale on Preston like that - everyone knows he had been holding it back for years. I think he would have killed him if Rob hadn't pulled him off and Lachlan hadn't held him back until the helicopter arrived. The flight medic said she thought he'd broken Rob's nose, and Lachlan looks like a goth punk now, with two black eyes, tear-stained cheeks, and a split lip. And poor, pitiful Rob-a-Dob-Flob did it all for a relationship that will never happen in ten thousand years - Poofless was dead before it was even thought of.

I'm glad I followed them down there, though. I got to fix a little problem I hadn't anticipated and see the show from the front row. He was still breathing when I got to him, but that was easily taken care of. All I had to do was "straighten out" his neck to give him CPR, and with one little pop, he was gone for good. It barely even looked like him, with all of those cuts and scrapes and shattered bones. He looked like a pigeon that had been crushed by a car, with his arms, legs, and neck sticking out at awkward angles from his oddly shaped torso. There is no doubt in my mind he was conscious for most of his little tumble, and after all of these years of him and Jerome blackmailing people and threatening to ruin their careers, he deserved it. After a fall like that, I was just doing him a favor.

Mitch is dead and he took The Pack with him. Maybe Jerome and Preston, too.

The King of the Hunger Games is gone and, finally, I will reign supreme once again.

Can I hear a Viktory Chant?