Green Sunday part 2: Second Sunday

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Marilyn Monroe

Across town the town the donut shop continued to burn. The giant donut on top creaked and moaned as it strained against it’s metal struts. It groaned and heaved against it’s restrained as the bolts loosened with the heat. The sound like a ship about to burst a bulk head. The bolts flying off with the weight of the giant metal donut bearing down upon them.

The thing lumbered forward and broke loose. Popping off almost like the button on a torn blouse and rolling down the hill.


Smoke rose from the barrel of the oversized anti-aircraft cannon. The sound of sizzling and heavy breathing.

“Who the hell is this now?” Rigby yelled from across the mall.

The panting gave way to a swallowing sound, dry lips clicking and licking as the newcomer tried to speak.

“I’m-“ panting “Juanita” panting “Horker”.


“Who?” He called out again from across the hall.

“Juanita Horker!” she spat.

The fat green haired girl looked a mess. She was sweaty. Her makeup had shifted across her face like a landslide. It made it look like she was wearing a weird mask or she was looking in a funhouse mirror.

Her tights were torn and she was bleeding from her head. Dizzy maybe from that but probably more from the fact she walked all the way here.

Her oddly cut green hair was stuck up in places and now looked more like a bad costume shop wig.

“I’m here to chew bubblegum and Kill Sunday Morgan” She paused to catch her breath and continued “And I’m all out of gum.”


“No one gets that reference, that movie is like thirty years old” Rigby called out again.

“Fuck you!” She screeched as she lifted the cannon firing vaguely at where she thought the voice was coming from. “FUCKYOUFUCKYOUFUCKFUCKYOUFUCKFUCKFUCKYOU!


The shell hit the balcony a couple of feet away from Rigby and Evergreen. Evergreen unmoved said “Now it’s time to go.”

“Couldn’t agree more” Rigby said.

They started across the walkway to the service elevator when a voice came from behind them.

“Where do you think you’re going?” They turned to see Sunday standing behind them. This one was wearing a long t-shirt that had a picture of a smiling banana split on it. Her bat slung over her shoulder.

“Leaving so soon?” Another one said climbing over the balcony wearing a torn up furry head.

“Oh jesus” Rigby said. “Where are they all coming from?” He said looking over the balcony. He saw a human pyramid of Sundays in various stages of dress climbing up to the balcony. “Shit” He said taking out his pistol and shooting the one that came over the balcony in it’s furry head. It crumpled to the floor only to be climbed over by two more.

“Bet you regret making me a freak now huh?” The one with the bat said. As she sauntered over to Evergreen.

Evergreen smiled baring a sharp canine and started to roll up the sleeve of his right hand and said “Not at all”.


“Fughk you!!!” Juanita screamed as she fired wantonly at everything and nothing. Her heaving bosom and gut lurching up and down as she flailed the huge gun incinerating furries and Sunday clones alike. Cutting huge swaths through the crowds. Holding the gun between her thighs and humping it everytime she fired. Sweat beading on her forehead.

She huffed and puffed and paused for a moment to comment “I’m pretty good at this” Quaking.

“I’m literally shaking.” She took hold of the gun tightly, “All I needed was a big hard, gun” She panted.


The donut was still rolling. It picked up some pace coming down the hill. Parting cars and crushing parking meters as it rolled on it’s path of destruction, down the mountain. People watched through their curtains as it rolled past and made a sound like thunder or someone moving a heavy dumpster down a cobbled street.


Rigby was covered in naked Sundays. One had him in an headlock with her legs wrapped around his waist giving him a noogie. Two more grabbed his legs and were biting him through his pants.

He angled his gun up and shot the one that had him in a headlock in the head and it fell off. He kicked away from the others annoyed. The large man wading through the slight under dressed girls.

“Sir, I think we should start getting on don’t you” He said dryly.

“The chopper will wait”. He said not taking his eyes off the Sunday in front of me. “Come at me Sunday-girl, if that is the real you.”

The Sunday with the bat scoffed “You think I give a shit?” She said as sauntered over to him swaying her hips and letting the bat fall by her side, dragging it along the floor.

“You think you’re the real you?” He said smiling with those dead button like shark eyes in that flat featureless face. “The girl that was Sunday is probably in a vat of semiotic fluid somewhere in our vault. Or chopped up for parts.” He paused and smiled and waited for a reaction. He watched as her brow scrunched up and the bat scraped the parquet floor. “You’re a by product, a mistake, a copy of a copy. The real Sunday probably never existed, your ‘persona’ if you’d like, is a concoction of a marketing team.” Her face got red, he smiled wider. “You’re an amalgamation of keywords and hashtags. #Greenhair #hairypits #feminism #girlpower #strongfemalecharacter #gamergirl #nerdgirl #femaleempowerment. All just designed to get more clicks. To stir up constroversy” Her face was hot now and he knew he was getting to her. “You’re human clickbait.” He said with a gleeful clicking with his tongue.

“Fuck you!” She cried out with a wobble in her voice like she’d been stood up for the prom and brought the bat up fast and down hard with a dull thudding crack noise.


A lost drone buzzed overhead at the carnage in the town, it was well and truly awake now. People running around like ants, fires, screams, cars crashing. The clean up crew was moving in early, like a swath of black beetles. Armed mercenaries shooting any survivors that were trying to escape the imploding mountain town. It also took note of a giant donut rolling down mainstreet.


When she opened her eyes she saw his shark smile in the shadow of his forearm. She’d hit him as hard as she could but he was still standing, still smirking. The vibration of the strike running through both her tensed arms. They shook so much it felt like she hit a tree or a solid concrete block. The force of the blow was reverberating through her whole body.

She tore her eyes away from his beady doll’s eyes and looked at his arm where she hit. He’d put his arm up to block her strike, maybe intending to block her arm but being too slow, like he didn’t even care. It had hit him in the middle of his forearm, the saw blades biting deep into his suit jacket arm, but there was no blood.

He scoffed and took the bat away from her like you would a naughty child. He punched a hole clean through her head with his other hand making a popping crunching sound. Like someone taking a bite out of an exceptionally juicy apple.

He sighed and went into his pocket for a handkerchief and started dabbing at his arm. Removing chunks of brain and skull and wiping away the blood and fluid from the brain sack.

He looked over his other arm, at the torn suit jact and tutted saying “Should have rolled up both sleeves.”

“Can we go now!” Rigby shouted in the tone of a tired day care worker as a Sunday was putting her fingers in his nose and fishhooking his nostrils and mouth. Another beating on his broad back with bare fists doing little more than annoying the large northern man.

“Goddamit.” Evergreen said as he tore off the damaged sleeve of his suit jacket, revealing a hard sinewy jet black arm. “Let’s get out of here” He sighed.

“Finally.” Rigby said shaking off the Sundays. The last one wrapping itself around him he picked up and threw off the balcony.


“I’m glowing, I’m floating.” Juanita imagined herself gliding through the christmasy mall firing the giant gun with ease. Dancing through the furries and the Sundays, vapourizing them effortlessly. Not a bead of sweat. Fingering a necklace of white pearls, platinum blonde hair flowing in an up draft. A white taffeta dress floating like tissue paper as she gracefully bounced around the room. Her skin clean and soft and white. “I’m Marilyn Monroe” She said to herself.

She dragged herself across the mall floor, her dark green hair matted with blood and dirt. She dripped with sweat. Her breathing laboured and wheezing. Her longs moaning lifting her huge saggy sandbag breasts up and down. She was soaked head to toe in sweat, and blood. Furry fluff sticking to her wet patches her vision blurred. Her eyes almost sealed shut with caked makeup. She was firing the gun at the movement and sound around her. Bouncing around with the recoil as the shells hit structural columns and the walk way above the icerink.

She coughed like she was on twenty packs a day and heaved the gun up. “Marilyn Monroe was plus sized, everyone knows that” She coughed and belched like she was going to throw up.



“That’s just some fucking myth spread by fat girls like you to make yourself feel better”

“That’s a lie!” Juanita squealed firing the gun in the direction of the voice. The voice bounced around like it was everywhere, echoing, flying on the waves of the explosion.


TJ and Sunday, the one wearing the red cape hadn’t moved from their hiding spot in front of the shoe store. A phone started ringing in the back of the store and they both turned to look in the direction of the noise.

I think that’s for you” She said.

He looked back at her and said “What are you gonna do?”

She sighed and said “Distract her”

“Why, we can just go, we can outrun her”

“You still don’t get it”

“Get what?” He shouted.

“This is a show, running is boring.” She stated matter of fact.

“You know that’s crap, this our lives, fuck the show!”

“You should answer that” She said before she volted over the side of the balcony. Her cape flying up as she went over flashing a small round ass.

TJ went after her, watching her land, rolling as she fell on the ice.



Sunday hit the ice hard but rolled with it and spread the impact out, the cold of the ice licking her bare flesh.

“Marilyn Monroe was not ‘curvy’ or ‘plus sized’ or ‘big boned’ she was a model and an actress and you’re a landwhale wannabe.”

Juanita spun around hearing one solid voice and fired in the general direction of the noise.

Sunday slid forward on the ice, the shell passing over her and hitting the pirate ship. The mast of which snapped in two. The entire thing shifting and making a loud creaking cracking noise. Then rolling and crushing the sea of furries.

“You! I know it’s you!” Juanita screeched between huffing and puffing slurping breathes. “Do you know who I am? I’m the future! I’m here to..” She paused to catch her breath, letting the gun droop a little.

“You wanna sit down?” Sunday shouted, keeping low, moving around the rink. Her doubles were keeping the furries busy, the herd had been thinned out now. It left large pools of open spaced littered with furry limbs.

“Fuck you!” She screamed firing the cannon off a few more times hitting walls and pillars, popping furries like pinates full of luncheon meat. She stopped again panting, trying to think. “I’m here to replace you, you’re a symbol of the white male cis het oppression.” She coughed and swallowed and kept going like she was reading a script. “A living embodiement of the male gaze and the Mrs male character.”

“What the fuck does that even mean?” Sunday shouted, keeping low. She moved through outside coffee area, around the chairs and tables getting closer to Juanita.

Veins popped up on her wide forehead and she started to make an odd noise “Reeeeeeee!” She squealed. She fired indiscriminately into the mall, taking down the second floor walkway above the icerink. Collapsing on a group of Sunday’s keeping the furries back like weird naked bouncers.

“You’re just a man with tits, you’re not a real feminine woman like me.” She stopped to make another series of slaking breaths. “You’re a character written by some misogynist asshole who lives with his mom and writes Naruto fanfiction. Designed to appeal to the male fantasy of a manic pixie dream girl.” She scooped makeup out of her eyes letting the tip of the cannon hit the floor sending a vibration up her arm. “When I kill you, I’ll show that plus sized gender queer women of colour can be just as good at… err… zombie killing I guess.” She said as raised the gun again seeing the floor of the mall more clearly now.

“So kill me then, if you’ve got the balls!” Sunday said as she stood up from her hiding place behind an overturned table. She walked out into the open.

“This is exactly what I’m talking about, why do I need to have balls to kill you? Why can’t it be ‘if you’ve got the ovaries’ women have to push out babies, a man couldn’t do that!”

“Have you pushed out a baby?” Sunday said as she raised her hands in surrender cocking her head to the side.

“No! I just mea-”

“Yeah I’ve heard enough. Your whole monologue is just rambling self serving bullshit and excuses. Kill me if you want, get it over with, like it’ll make a difference, I’ve died a maybe a hundred times just today.” She smirked.

Juanita sneered and raised her gun, huffing and puffing as she aimed at Sunday’s head. “Maybe not, but it’ll feel really really good!” She said as she cocked the gun.

A moment of silence passed, an ill wind. The background noises of zombie furries wrestling with naked Sunday clones and a slow rumble like coming thunder.

Juanita’s sweaty finger with it’s green polished nail tickled the trigger of the cannon. She stuck her tongue out of the side of her mouth to catch streams of sweat coming off her wide brow.

“No rehearsed witty sign off?” Sunday mocked.

“Actually now you mention it – Asta-!“ Her voice was choked off and became a squeaky small thing. Accompanied by grotesque noises of bones crumbling and guts pouring out of every orifice. Not unlike a toothpaste tube rolled over by a steamroller as a giant metal donut crushed her into the parquet flooring.

Sunday thought of doing a double take as she took her hands down out of the air and wiped spattered blood off her face. She just watched as the donut rolled off and out through a glass store front. Continuing on out the other wall again carrying the flattened remains of Juanita Horker.

“What the fuck?”

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