Lately, I’ve been wondering, Just how do they get the peanut butter into those peanut butter cups and still get the chocolate to surround it on all sides. I figured the best thing to do was to sit down and think about it. After 8 months, that chair had really stiffened my spine, and I had only reached a lone conclusion. I didn’t know. So, it seemed the only really logical thing to do would be to visit the peanut butter cup factory of Billy Bonka. Now, there lied a problem in this. Billy Bonka was a Nazi, as was evident by the Swastika-sporting guards that constantly roamed the grounds, preventing the dirty hands of children from reaching his glorious peanut butter cups. I figured I’d just try the good-old fashioned approach.

“Excuse me, Mr. Guard, sir,” I found myself saying one day, to the mean Nazi Guard, “can I see how you get the- AUGH!”

At this point, I yelled. Not because the guard was so ugly but because I had been shot in the knee. I limped home with low hopes. I didn’t think anyone could EVER get into that factory.

The next day, I heard the news that Billy Bonka’s factory was holding a contest. In 5 of his peanut butter cups, one could find a special ticket. That ticket was your one way access to a concentration camp located inside of his factory. I don’t know what the hell came over me, but I had to get one of those tickets.

It seemed like I was the only person in the city actually trying to win that ticket. What fools, I would often find myself thinking, that they would give up this once in a lifetime opportunity out of fear. What fools, indeed. In fact, it just so happened that the first winner didn’t even want to win. This kid must have been near 600 pounds. I could instantly see why Mr. Bonka would want him in a camp. I mean, if it takes more than one car just to fit you enough so you can drive, you practically deserve to die.

I realized then, that they might not even be in my city. In fact, chances were extremely high that not even one was in my city of uh… Well, I don’t remember the cities name but you get the point. It occurred to me then I was going to have to try an idea to get peanut butter cups from around the world!

“But I wanna move to Asia, mom! Waaaah!”

“Shut up!”

“Please?”

“No!”

Well, that idea was an absolute waste of time. As I went outside to find new ideas, I caught an announcement on the television. Apparently, Gary Coleman had won the next ticket, and he had responded by saying “Whachoo talkin about, Willis”.

Well, times were getting desperate, so I moved to Asia, anyway. Point being, Only 3 tickets were left, and I had to get looking on. The next day, I was digging through all the peanut butter cups at the candy store. I knew that golden ticket was in here somewhere. The store owner with the shotgun was only a minor controversy, so I continued digging until nightfall.

That night, as I lay in bed stabbing myself for my own stupidity, for not looking hard enough I learned of very bad news. 2 more tickets had been found, each by a Siamese twin. Well, that was it. Only 1 ticket remained, and I had 1 peanut butter cup left. Slowly, ever so slowly, I began to remove the wrapper………

20 minutes, the rope by swung back forth, as it hung from the ceiling of the basement. Always, the corpse attached to it kept it swinging, as it cast it’s stretched shadow against the bare, and cracked wall. One might pity me, I suppose. I hadn’t found that last ticket, and now I was sitting here watching some movie about some random guy who kills himself. I might kill myself If I didn’t get that ticket, but what were the chances that-

“We interrupt this stupid movie about a random guy who kills himself to tell you this! The last ticket has been found, by some guy with an East Asian accent. When we asked him for an interview, he quickly proceeded to stab our reporters. In other news, I’m in the hospital because I was stabbed.”

That was it? That was all there was? I had done it. To inspire myself by raising my spirit upon the deceiving currents of happiness. I constantly told myself it was not over yet, but if it did end, I would kill myself. I had made the pact no more than 30 seconds ago. This was what it felt like to lie to yourself, to raise yourself away from the jagged rocks of defeat, so that the fall down is all the more horrifying. I stared at my hands. All hands have seen blood at one point, but could I really quench the thirst of these with the liquid sweet nectar promised by my own pact? Could these hands really start the sequence, knowing the pain it would bring their master? Afraid does not describe what I felt, yet honor is my powerful than fear and my pact was tied to both of these. I rose up from the chair, and watched as everything around me became lower. I was a man of my word.

I decided it would be best to execute my dark deed at a drug store for some odd reason. I wanted 1 last peanut butter cup before I died, so I carried in my pocket that last piece, and the gun with 1 bullet. The bullet would ever so quickly twist as it lunged forward. It would peel, and tear away at the lairs of my skin, until blood would begin to seep from every crack or crevice it would make. Slowly, at first, but then in a spray that would gloss anything nearby in a fine red coat. The bullet would not stop there. It would push at the bone. The bone was tough, but it would give in. In fact, It would shatter at the very touch of the bullet, leaving nothing but a thin corridor to which it could travel. At the end of this path of darkness lied it’s final target: my life. Excruciatingly painful, yes, but it would end soon, or at least soon enough.

I put the bullet in the gun and spun it. I suppose I knew it was coming, yet I still wanted my own death to come as a surprise. I put the gun to my head and pulled the trigger………

*click*

I flinched. I had not died, but I feared it. I pulled again:

*click*

Wow. This was just getting annoying.

*click*

*click*

*click*

Here it came. This time it was for certain. The victory had been laid out, now I merely needed to draw my Royal Flush. I rested my finger idly on the trigger.

“It was a fake! The last ticket was a fake! It could be anywhere still!”

I’ll never know who yelled these words, but at that moment, I somehow noticed the peanut butter felt heavier, as if something extra was in it. This time I did not do it slowly. I pulled it out and unwrapped, and:

“I got the last ticket!”

It was the guy next to me who had yelled this.

“Damn it!” I screamed.

I pulled out the gun, aimed it at his shin, and pulled the trigger. The blood came out in a sort of mist, as though one might inhale it like morning fog. I snatched the ticket from the man’s shaking palm, and ran. I just ran. I don’t know what it was. Maybe I was excited, or panicked, or scared. Maybe it had something to do with the fact that the cops were chasing me, but I just kept running, and didn’t stop till I was back in America.

(Author’s Note: Yes, America and Asia are connected by land. You just didn’t know it.)

I had it. I had the last ticket. I would soon be in a concentration camp. Here before me, in my very fingers stood a slip of paper that represented all I lived for………

2 months later………

The camp was hell. No. I take that back. If this were hell, then what people have said of hell is not true. Hell is far worse. But if this were not hell, than hell be heaven, and heaven a dream beyond any lone sole’s greatest fantasies. However, you word it, there has never been a place worse than this. For example, the water park was only open 5 days a week.

Yet, beyond this nightmare, there lay a rift between the 2 worlds, for on the other side of the fence I could see the factory, as if it were the only hope outside my realm of darkness. So one day, I jumped the fence, and made way towards the factory.

The front door was heavily guarded, but I assumed there would be a back way. Otherwise, how was I to progress in this story? I snuck quietly around the back, and climbed into what looked like a bomb shelter door. Beneath the wooden planks lay a set of stone stairs that plunged into the very heart of the unseen. I went down , and down, and down, until suddenly it stopped. That was when I nearly vomited.

I had no idea what they are, nut they were hideous. 100 test tubes on either side of the room, each 1 containing an orange abomination with a swastika burned into his by the searing touch of red-hot metal. They were only 2 feet tall at most, with green hair to match the orange skin. Worst of all was the clothes. Overalls are like, so, 1987! This time I did vomit.

Suddenly, I heard a voice coming. I was at the back of the test tube room and was trapped. Just to the right of me however, I saw a small gap between a test tube and the wall. I inched between it, bit by bit. I was hidden well, but my left leg was exposed. The Nazi took a quick glance around the room and began to leave. As he left I began to inch out again. Unfortunately, I tripped the power cord on the test tube. The sound of energy suddenly vanishing occurred. The orange man in the tube began to shake violently, his skin rippling as if closing in on it itself. That’s when it began to scream. The guard had easily noticed by now. That scream, as if the only thing in the world that mattered was to make it as horrific as possible, was blood-curdling. The skin on the orange man had begun to give in at certain areas, oozing out squirts of a bright yellow blood, which quickly faded away with the liquid of the test tube. The Nazi ran at me, but was crushed, as I had pushed the tube on top of him. I grabbed his gun and carried on.

No longer did I have any interest in the peanut butter. I wanted to know what was happening. The hall ways carried on, as to say sweet oblivion awaited me on the other side. Then a light stabbed the darkness of these twisting passages. At first I could not see through the barrier it held, but then as I wandered into the promising warmth, I was chilled by what I saw.

He was back. I don’t know how they had done it but he was back. Adolf Hitler stood high above the crowds of Nazis deep underground, giving a speech in German. At certain intervals everyone cheered. Could it be the orange men were his artificial army? No! That was impossible! But then, what explanation was there? I couldn’t allow it……… I wouldn’t allow it. My hands were shaky, but nothing can stop you when you’re saving the world from WW III.I slowly raised the gun and aimed it at Hitler’s head. All I wanted was to know the secret of peanut butter cups…Why had it come to this? It didn’t matter. There was no time to think, no reason to. All that was need was I pull the trigger. I had once accepted pulling it on myself, but this was not me I was shooting. Somehow, it felt so different, no matter how evil this man was. NO! There was no time for that! I erased all thoughts from my mind, even the trigger. All that was left was my finger and I, and how I must move it slightly closer to me. It felt so far off, but it was so easy to bring it back. Then why was I so afraid to? Something didn’t feel right. No. There was only me and my finger. Come home little finger. Come in-

BAM!

Oh yeah. Heh. Kinda forgot about the trigger. Whoops. The blood splashed from the cranium of Hitler, upon the swastika on his podium, putting a dark red line through it. About 2000 Nazis turned around to look at me, still in the firing position.

“Uuuh…Hi?”

And with that I scurried out of the room, but the guns had already gone off. Most missed me, but one hit me right in the ankle. I limped slowly down the passage, turning every way I could to avoid guards. Stairs! Stairs! I needed stairs, the pathway to my salvation of true sunlight. A gun went off and I was struck in the right hand making me drop my own gun. I dropped to the ground as quick as I could, grabbing the gun with my left hand. I couldn’t aim, but then again, I couldn’t see either. I stopped firing when I heard a body hit the ground. I continued running, and at last came to the test tube room. What the-?

The orange men were gone! I bullet whizzed past my head and I carried in. I passed through a door, which I barred behind me. I was safe, and at last I was at the stairs. The journey up the stairs was torture. They were so long, but I only had 1 good leg, so I had to crawl, which led me to avoid using my shot hand. At one point I determined I was halfway through. That’s when it happened.

I didn’t notice at 1st, but it came to me at the sharp pain in my other leg. It felt like something had bit me. I turned around to see a shadowy figure scamper away. It blended in , but I could tell, there were more, not just behind me either. I was surrounded. Surrounded. A figure in front of me came closer, and at last, I could see it. It was an orange man. I expected him to kill me, but to my surprise, he sang:

OOMPA OOMPA OMMPIDY DOO!

WE’RE GONNA BEAT THE SHIT OUT OF YOU!

OMMP RYE OMMP RYE OMMIDY TRY

YOU WILL SOON BE BEGGING TO DIE

“Aw shut up! Damn!” I yelled.

With that, he also bit my good leg. I couldn’t walk for the life of me, which was exactly the case here. Before I knew it, they were all over, biting me with their many fangs, that felt as though they were tipped with some burning acid. I pushed one down the stairs with my good hand , and was sure he was dead. After that, they all started biting my arms. I was doomed. I couldn’t fight back. I’d stopped Hitler, but still had doomed myself. They kept biting. Biting me everywhere, how it burned. I squirmed, I slithered, anything to anymore of that horrible pain. It felt as it were setting ablaze my very nerves an muscles. I squirmed and just kept it up. It kind of worked! Then I felt, they were chewing through the back of me, getting at my spine trying to paralyze me. I screamed more, and more, but they were emotionless, apathetic. One bit into my eyeball, and blinded me. He laughed, and squished what remained, before tearing it out a bit. One bit into my neck. I began to breathe less easy. There was no more hope to cling, only the pain to distract me. I wept blood as they moved ever so slowly towards me, fangs grinning…