A Sunset of Rage

Chapter 9

"Yay, cinnabons," the manager chuckled, drooling over a large pile of cinnabons.
"No, Cristobal," a subject corrected.
However, Cristobal was not just a mere chuck. He grabbed the slave by the neck, strangling it in the air. "WHAT THE F*CK DID YOU JUST SAY YOU HOMEWRECKING A**WIPE?! YOU GOT SOMETHING AGAINST CINNABONS?! I'M A CINNABONKIN YOU F*CKING F*CKER!" he hollered.
"Ugh. I'm killmyselfkin," Damien grumbled.
The slave was dropped onto the ground with a splat. Cristobal rolled over to his subordinates. "WELL HELLO, B*TCHES! Hello, Arnoldo. Good day to you. P*RNELIUS! SH*TPIRO! WHERE'S MY RESULTS?!" he unevenly yelled.
Damien winced from the extreme ringing in his ears the manager's batsh*t crazy screaming caused. Frederic, on the other hand, was numb to the physical world. His alcohol problems had stripped him of all human pain. He had transcended mere human mortality into a new level of indestructibility.
"Here, sir," Arnoldo saluted, handing him the samples.
Cristobal enthusiastically grabbed them, holding them up close to his beady eyes. "WOW! THESE GLASSES ARE OUT!" he commented.
"Wahh. I'm Bob. I wanted Negan," Frederic whined, looking at a Walking Dead MBTI.
"I'm the Governor, as expected. I'm very evil, very wicked. Look at how dark I am," Damien scoffed.
Cristobal clapped two cinnabon boxes against Damien's head, making the tiny emo scream in pain. "YOU F*CKING B*TCHES! WTF DO YOU THINK YOU'RE DOING?! WE'RE INVESTIGATING A MURDER HERE, F*CKERS! Wait, who am I?" he blabbered.
"Merle, the worst character," Damien grumbled.
Cristobal buried his face in his fat hands. "I'm not...Daryl?" he wept, blubbing in tears. Large tears dripped down his big cheeks, forming a big puddle on the floor. "B-But all I ever wanted was to be my hero, Daryl...and now I can't even be that..."
"Cristobal, you're a verbally and physically abusive and mentally deranged FBI director," Damien pointed out.
The large man rolled away to sulk in the corner, hugging his plush doll of Daryl and murmuring prayers to it. Damien rolled his eyes, sassily putting a hand on his hip. He was far too good for these pathetic fools.
"Great, now you've made his majesty upset. How are we ever going to solve the case now?" Arnoldo complained.
"Tsk. Obviously inexperienced, huh? The world does not depend on a fool like Cristobal Schuster, but rather, the expertise of a great emo such as myself," Damien chuckled.
"And me," Frederic added, trying to be cool. The petty emo stepped on his toe, making him scream.
Damien gripped his skull, suffering from a flashback. He was just remembering when he got weird looks from the employees in hot topic. They said, and I quote, "Sir, you're 25. Stop shopping here." The social stigma of being emo was far too much for the average human. He was very glad he made that facebook post, "Veterans' Day Should Be Changed To Emo Day", to bring society's attention to the issue.
Suddenly he got a big foot in the back. "HEY A**HOLE! STOP HUGGING YOUR HEAD! NOTHING WILL STOP ITS SQUASH LIKE SHAPE! GET BACK TO WORK, B*TCH!" Cristobal screamed in his face, rolling back to his desk.
"Ugh. I hate Cristobal's mood swings," Damien scoffed.
"Who's Cristobal?" Frederic asked curiously.
Damien pulled out an album of Cristobal photos. "That," he said, pointing.
"No, no, I think he looked more like that," Frederic corrected, pointing to another picture.
"Frederic, that's the same picture."
*starts new chapter*