The Mik 'Mutuk Show

Mik was playing with a pencil, and threw it onto the cheap plywood desk before him. It bounced right back onto his helmet, making him flinch slightly. The cushioned seat I sat it next to the desk was heated, which to Mik was ideal. The room itself was extremely hot: we both were sweating.
“You’ve seen him in video games, please welcome British SAS Captain John Price!” excitedly said Mik. He gestured to the curtains on my right, and they were pulled back. Out stepped a Human, wearing tactical gear and some sort of hat. An insignia or flag was adorned as a patch on his arm. He had a bushy moustache on his face, and carried himself with a confident swagger, gripping onto his vest. I sat up, and shook his hand. He had a firm grip. He then shook Mik’s hand, and then sat down on the chair I was previously in. I stood to Price’s right. Throughout Price’s stepping out, stock applause and cheers was played over speakers. Our show’s band also played music of their own – they consisted of the rest of our lance: Basab, Tes, et cetera.
“Oh, my man, my man!” said Mik.                        
“Hello, hello,” said Price. “Good to be here.”
“Right, right. So what’s up? Like, how’s it going?” asked Mik.
“It’s going well, actually, uhh…” responded Price. “Eh, yeah, I’ve been good.”
“Oh yeah, that’s- that’s great,” uttered Mik. He looked down. Suddenly, a sandwich fell from the ceiling: a personal assistant stood above on the catwalk and threw it down onto the desk.
“Woah, shit!” exclaimed Price. He looked up. “Fuck me!” He looked back down at the sandwich.
Mik looked up. “Oh, you hungry? We got some pastrami sandwiches if you want.”
“What?” asked Price.
“Pastrami sandwiches,” said Mik. “You want some?” Mik grabbed the sandwich.
“Ehh, sure,” apprehensively replied Price. Another fell onto the desk. Price flinched a bit, then was offered that sandwich by Mik. He accepted it, and took a small bite. He looked to me, possibly for some sort of tether to reality, but alas, all he could find was me fiddling with a Rubik’s cube. A personal assistant handed it to me while Price was not looking. My concentration was focused on it as best as it could be, but I gave Price a brief glance. I nodded once to him and then returning to solving the cube.
“Follow up question: what is this?” inquired Mik. He held up a squash he had purchased from a farmer’s market earlier in the day. “Like what is it?”
“Dunno,” said Price. “Think it’s some sort of vegetable or something like that, yeah, maybe.”
“Yeah, yeah,” said Mik. He put down the squash. “So, you’re in video games.”
“Yeah I am, yeah I am,” replied Price.
“You ever see Krystal?” asked Mik. “From Star Fox. Ever see her?”
“I haven’t personally met her, but-“ answered Price, but he was quickly interrupted by Mik.
“Do you think she’s hot?”
“I mean-“
“I think she’s hot. I mean, I’m just saying, you know? Like, I would motorboat those melons she’s got on that chest of hers, like brbrbrbrbrbrbrbrbrb, you know? I’d go furry for her. I’d go straight for her. I’d fuck her brains out, man. Like, I’d force-feed LSD to her and then dance around her screaming ‘NIGHTMARE NIGHTMARE NIGHTMARE,’ you know?”
“Mik, what is your problem, brother?” I finally interjected. “What ails you?”
“What?!” said Mik in a defensive manner. “I’m just saying!”
“You speak in tongues, Mik!”
“I’m just asking a freakin’ question, man!”
“That’s not a question!”
“Alright, alright…” Mik nodded solemnly, taking in a deep breath. He closed his eyes. “No, that was… that was racist of me, I’m sorry. That’s…” He sighed. “That’s not nice of me. I’m sorry.” Mik looked defeated. He and Price shared stares. Price looked slightly perturbed.
There was a long silence, finally broken by Mik yelling.
“And now, please welcome our special guest, Captain John Price!”
Elated cheers and applause erupted, even louder than the first time. Out came a turtle wearing a blue eye mask, but in all other matters of appearance, he was identical to Captain Price, down to the patch on his arm and the hat. He lacked the moustache of course. This turtle sat on the armrest of Price’s chair. Then, a yellow bipedal sponge wearing a Sangheili warrior’s cuirass stepped out from the curtains and stood by my side. Another Human came out as well, a child with white hair and strange-looking teeth, and he wore armor identical to Mik’s. This Human sat beside my comrade behind the desk.
“So, John…” started Mik and his doppelganger. “You were in the British Army?” Mik spoke slowly to accommodate his double.
“Yes, John…” I said, also speaking slowly and clearly for the ease of my double. “You were in the Army? You were an officer?”
“Ehhh…” both Price and his double uttered. “What the fuck is going on, mate?” All three of our doubles did our best to mimic our movements, and they were largely successful.
“What’s wrong, John?” asked Mik and his double. “Why can’t you answer the question?”
“Fuck me.,..!” said Price and his double. They both looked to me and my double.
“Are you okay, Captain?” we both asked. “You seem a bit ill.”
“Answer the question, John!” yelled Mik and his double. “Answer the godsdamn question!”
“Yes, answer the question!” my double and I said.
“The fuck kinda show is this?” asked Price and his double.
Suddenly, the curtains opened once again. Out stepped a blue vixen, by the name of Krystal. She wielded some sort of assault rifle with a chainsaw on it, and the saw revved up. She ran across the stage, and lunged towards Mik. Both he and his double fled.
Price was very disturbed by the sudden turn of events. My double and I, along with Price’s double, did our best to suppress our smiles.
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Category:The Weekly