Breaking Bad
“That was pretty skibidi!” Kamilia exclaimed from the cuck chair. She had spent the last several hours watching Lynne and Memy’s spelunking session.
“Meow, I suppose.” Said Diesel, who was not quite as impressed.
“Shut up! Or I’ll have you fixed!” The exhausted ginger threatened. Diesel heeded this warning. He only had two nuts left. Lynne and Memry both began putting their clothes back on, helping each other along the way. As Lynne finished tying up her fiancé's ribbon, they gave each other a smile.
*Knock Knock!* Everyone turned to the door. Because of the knocking noise that presumably came from it. That’s the point of doors you oaf.
Kamila, being the apartment owner, opened the aforementioned door that was knocked. No one was there. She glances down and sees a letter. Kamila looks around again, but not a soul in sight. She shut the door and pondered the mysterious paper.
“So? What is it? It better not be the IRS!” Lynne exclaimed.
Kamila began to read the letter aloud.
“Dear pesky tenants. Your rent payment is late. You will pay the due 737,000 dollars by the end of the week. Or you will be permanently evicted. And, thanks to the contract you signed, the pets you adopted while living here will be put down. Best regards, the landlord.”
“M-Meow hold on a second!” Diesel ejaculated. “What contract!? Kamila!”
Kamila bit her lip. “Um… when I bought the apartment, I think there was a rule that pets are only allowed if you signed a contract… Um… guess I didn't read the whole thing.”
“You purple gumball wannabe! If you don’t pay your rent, Missile and I are goners! You’re killing us here!” He ejaculated again. Really hard.
“You’re giving off a negative emotional aura right now!” Kamila cried.
“Don’t worry girls! All we have to do is pay! Easy!” Said Lynne.
“But where will you get $737,000?” Asked Memry.
“Kamila and I have to break bad! We’ll cook that crystal chi chi! That's common slang, right?”
“Do you even know how to make that stuff?” Memry ejaculated.
“Shhh my olive garden baby. Let mommy handle this.” Lynne ejaculated.
Before she could inquire further, Lynne rushed out of the apartment, dragging Kamila with her. They spent the next hour preparing an RV and setting up a lab in the middle of the desert.
“So where do we start?” asked Kamila.
“The first and most important step of cooking meth Is to have fun and be yourself!” Lynne Answered. “So just be as ‘you’ as you can!”
“My name is Kamila Stronghart Alison. I live at 409 Blanca, Arroyo Lane. I don’t smoke, but I occasionally drink-”
“Ok, that step is done. Now, for the cook itself, I learned a thing or two from my work as a detective.”
“And?”
“And this one time, I investigated this guy who shot himself. His name was Walt Whitman or something. In his underwear, he had detailed instructions on how to cook that geritatric power shower! That's what we call it at the precinct.”
“And you took the list with you?”
“Yeeeup! It's also where I got all this equipment.”
“Is that legal, Lynne?”
“Kamila. We are cooking meth.”
“True lol.”
“LET'S DO THIS!” The orange haired ginger yelled. Wait, that's redundant...BEGIN COOKING MONTAGE!
Montage! They have goggles! Montage! Bubbles! Montage! Tiny explosion! Montage! Diligent drops of sulfate! Montage! Accompanied by some music too! It goes like “Las chicas necesitan dinero o el gato y el perro morirán!!!”
........
Many hours passed. The sky was dark. And a cold wind whisked through the night.
At last, the two girls stand back and admire the fruits of their labor. A perfect batch of crystal red meth, reaching a staggering 96% purity level.
“Lynne, how come it's red? Didn't you say Mr. Whitman made blue meth?” Kamila yawned.
“That would be the chili powder I added. It gives it flavor.”
“Wow… you're so smart Lynne.” Kamila said tiredly.
“And you're a great little helper!” encouraged Lynne as she ruffled her little friend's hair. Kamila smiled and giggled weakly at her affirmations.
“Alright! Now we just need a distributor!” The detective announced. “What are we thinking? Do it ourselves? Find some guys?”
...
“Uh, Kamila?”
She turns to her friend, only to find that she has fallen asleep. Kamila snores ever so quietly as she leans against her dear partner in crime.
Lynne couldn't help but to find this adorable. Silently, she picks the little girl off her feet and lays her on the passenger seat, buckling her up tight.
“We’ll figure the rest out tomorrow.”
Lynne sat in the drivers seat. But on this cold, silent, night... she wouldn't get very far.
Not when the police already had her surrounded.