A Sunset of Rage

Chapter 19 (unfinished)

Next day at the FBI office. "ATTENTION A**HOLES!" Cristobal hollered into his megaphone.
"Ugh!" Damien complained. He was in the middle of a really good case. The mystery of the man who stole the chuck e cheese menus. Legend said he was a pygmy.
"Dami, did you know that if you hold your hand up to your face, you have cancer?" Frederic asked.
"Ha! You get more incompetent every day, pr*ck!" Damien laughed unhappily, slapping him on the back.
"ALL B*TCHES AT THE FBI OFFICE WILL BE HOLDING A MASSIVE WALKOUT AT 10:00 TO PROTEST THE REMOVAL OF TWINKIES ON MARCH 18 2013! ANYONE WHO DOESN'T PARTICIPATE WILL LOSE THE RIGHTS TO THEIR [CENSORED]!" the chillingly orange shaped manager announced.
"Wow, that's the day before my birthday!" Frederic exclaimed, a little too happy about something so disturbingly unimportant.
"But your highness, twinkies were brought back," the employees protested.
"YOU BET YOUR A** THEY WERE! AND WE'RE NEVER GONNA LET THAT SH*THEAD OBAMA FORGIVE HIMSELF FOR LAUNCHING MY A** INTO A 2 MONTH LONG PANIC! THE ONLY REASON WE HAVE TWINKIES IS BECAUSE OF MY EXCRUCIATINGLY HARD WORK!" Cristobal screamed angrily, yet passionately.
"Actually, it's because Hostess was purchased out of bankruptcy for $410 million by Apollo Global Management and Metropoulos & Co in May," Damien corrected, reciting a result on google he looked up just to prove the large man wrong.
Cristobal whacked him in the head with a large cardboard cutout of a twinkie. "YOU'RE LIKE A TWINKIE WITH NO CREAM FILLING!" he insulted.
"Wow, that's probably the least profane thing I think I've ever heard you say," Damien commented.
"Yay, Cristobal's overcoming his cussing addiction!" Frederic clapped.
"CuSsInG aDdIcTiOn," Cristobal mocked. "F*CK!"
"Well, it was nice while it lasted," Damien said.
Frederic started coloring his age 2-3 range coloring book. After a month of working on it, he was already on the third page. He was very intelligent for his age. "Dami, what color should I make this leaf? Blue, or purple?" he asked, sorting his crayons.
"COLOR WITHIN THE LINES!" Damien shouted.
"DID SOMEONE SAY LIMES?!" Cristobal roared, clutching 20 limes close to his flabby chest.
"Dami, what's your favorite season?" Frederic asked.
"Stop," Damien replied.
"I like stop too. It's nice weather," Frederic smiled.
"Yes. Very bleak and gray. Perfect for a dead man like me," Damien nodded.
"Hey, who the f*ck is gonna ask me my favorite season?!" Cristobal demanded.
"Ugh. What's your favorite season?" Damien groaned, rolling his eyes.
"That's none of your business, a**hole! Jeez, this isn't a godd*mn job interview!" the orange-shaped man yelled, rolling away angrily. Damien rubbed his lopsided, aching skull.
"WHO THE F*CK IS MOISTE?!" Cristobal hollered. He was investigating a very suspicious facebook page called "kill the fbi".