Tales From The Burgerverse: Jeff Eats A Sack of Bagels

'Twas a brutal winter in downtown Manhattan, New York City. The snow was telling people "I'm walkin' here!" as if it, too, had a dead end corporate job to get to. A scrawny broomstick of a man bundled under several pounds of jackets emerged from an alleyway with a cheerful grin on his face.
"I'm so glad I moved here!" The man said. "I just love the nice people and how affordable everything is!"
"Out of the way, jackass! I'm walkin' here!" A businessman said before shoving the cheerful man out of the way.
The scrawny man, named Jeff because I can't think of a better name for him, walked into a kosher deli with his stomach about as empty as his bank account.
"You're the man who ordered an entire sack of bagels? Are you going to eat it all in one sitting?" The baker said in jest.
"Indeed I am." Jeff wheezed.
The two exchanged laughs as Jeff handed over a single month's rent: Twenty five thousand dollars.
Walking, as much of a stretch of the word that would be in this context, out and into the foot of snow, Jeff started eating the bagels.
One by one the bagels were devoured, and one by one they left the bag until nary a bagel was left. Jeff clutched his stomach from the sheer volume of food he ate before sitting down in an alleyway where he got held up at knifepoint for the burlap sack.
Two middle aged men approached the bloated Jeff in a panicked frenzy.
"SEYMOUR! CALL AN AMBULANCE!" A man with a distinctive Utican/Queens accent barked.
"I don't have a phone, Chalmers. Mother sold it to pay the phone bill." The man named Seymour whimpered.
Jeff woke up in a hospital room with the two men who helped him standing over him. The doctor, Doctor Feelgood, slid into the room like a Garry's Mod animation.
"Jeffery No Last Name... you've been hit by, you've been struck by, indigestion!" Doctor Feelgood danced. "Wait no it says here your heart was overworked and you need nitro glycerin."
"What else does it say?" Jeff asked as he pushed himself up slightly.
"Apparently your super powered magical ghost best friend, uh... Stone Temple Pilot... also needs nitro glycerin." Doctor Feelgood dribbled.
"Well, when you get out, we're going to have an unforgettable luncheon." Seymour cheered.
Soon afterwards, because Doctor Feelgood thought the recovery time for a heart giving out was a mere few hours, the three of them walked out to have an unforgettable luncheon: A roast glazed with maple syrup, with twice baked potatoes and bacon wrapped asparagus. Upon entering the rather modest home of Seymour, the distinctive smell of burnt sugar infiltrated the air like a burglar.
"OH EGADS! MY ROAST IS RUINED!!" Seymour wept. "OOOOOOOH NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!"
Quickly thinking, Seymour started cleaning a small bag of New England clams and preparing a pot of salted water for steaming. The savory scent of freshly picked basil and oregano flooded the novel kitchen. The heat of a diced cayenne pepper warmed the house. This was going to be a truly unforgettable luncheon! One even the most snooty of critics would be hard pressed to be loathing of.
A shrill wail of despair broke the calming mood. "IT'S RUINED! RUINED! MY STOVETOP! MY STOVETOP IS RUIN!"
The kitchen door was roughly thrown open as Chalmers stormed into the room. The stovetop, a simple natural gas stovetop, was missing the pilot lights and some of the heaters were cracked irreperably.
"How can this be?! These were in flawless condition when I was preparing the ingredients!" Seymour yelled in desperate panic. "Someone's sabotaging my luncheon!"
"Why not just go out somewhere for lunch then?" Jeff asked, not reading the room clearly enough.
A loud thud and the cracking of linoleum was Jeff's answer as a saute pan was embedded into the floor. Something clearly loathed Seymour's attempts to use his kitchen and his food. A blinding green glow flooded the kitchen as an indescribably bizarre sound rampaged its way through the household. I'm going to describe the indescribably bizarre sound: a mix of an air raid siren backwards, flooded with abandoned spider webs and pitch (the resin so viscous it takes over a decade for a drop to fall), combined with the crackling of electricity.
"AURORA BOREALIS!" Seymour yelled.
An instance of Aurora Borealis was, in fact, happening at this time of day, at this time of year, in this part of the country, localized entirely within Seymour's kitchen. The bedazzling light faded to a soft glow upon the ceiling as a blue humanoid appeared to stand by Seymour, looking like a hazmat suit with a snorkel emerging from the top of the hood. The purple hue of the bizarre humanoid was the least unusual thing about it, as the thing's joints were clockwork gears.
"All of this because I ate a sack of bagels?!" Jeff screamed internally.
"There has to be an enemy Stand User around!" Chalmers loudly stated.
"But where?" Seymour asked.
"RIGHT HERE, YOU LOWLY MORTAL! MY NAME IS MAJOR CARNAGE!" Migraine Creator answered.
"It's Not Unusual!" Chalmers ordered.
The being called It's Not Unusual was, by all metrics, very unusual. Having a pair of lightbulbs for eyes and what appeared to be a seismograph for a head, tripedal and having no lower torso but severed copper wiring. The torso was horizontal and the head seemingly haphazardly glued on top.
"FINE! MEET MY STAND! WAKE ME UP!" Major Complication blabbered out. "Wake Me Up isn't an alarm clock, but a chainsaw in bright neon black, covered from top to bottom in fridge magnets faded by harsh exposure to sunlight and water damage! IT MAKES SENSE THAT IT'S NEON BLACK!"
"No. Not really." Seymour and Chalmers flatly responded with.
Major Carnage grumbled and walked away, ranting and raving about how cool Wake Me Up is and how it's "Totally not lame, Zyler!"
An unforgettable luncheon was had, with hamburgers made from real beef instead of the liquid beef from a tube that's common for fast food places.
"Seymour, you steam a good ham." Chalmers laughed quietly.
And then a THEN END popped out. Then ending.
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Category:Jeff the Killer