JD Vance.exe Part 2

It’s been months since I’ve written about my unpleasant experience regarding JD Vance, and quite frankly it hasn’t been any better since then. My dreams don’t always take place in that Aztec temple, but they’ll always end with me getting mauled by the vice president. I don’t know how much I can take before I lose it, but I decided to start taking things into my own hands. I’ve gone through Lord knows how many forums to find answers or at least somebody who’s going through the same thing as me, but I couldn’t seem to find anything, so I decided to make my own to see if anyone else could relate.

               

Has anyone else been having strange, disturbing dreams after watching the inauguration  on fox news?  I swear there was one frame that appeared for around 0.0341832984895 seconds with a demonic version of JD Vance. Please send me an email at GaucmoleWigga27@gmail.com if you know what I’m talking about.

Of course, there didn’t seem to be anything of value, just typical troll comments calling me a “fucking worthless commie retard” and saying that I should slit my own throat. I guess that’s what I deserve for posting on Quora. I kept waiting for a useful response, my eyes watering from the blue light coming from my monitor as I was praying that there’s someone who can help. Eventually I got an email, it wasn’t something that I was happy about and it definitely wasn’t useful, but it was significant.

My post has been removed from Quora for violating its terms and services.

Okay, fine, maybe Quora just isn’t fond of politics all of a sudden, I’ll just try again on different websites. Same old thing, death threats and I even got doxxed funnily enough, but it always led to my post getting removed. Weirdly enough they’d stay up for less and less time, until they’d barely be up for a minute, needless to say I was devastated. Was I really a lost cause? Were my pleas for help so wrong that they’d be censored and removed for going against some unknown rule that was strictly protected? I thought about giving up, would I seriously have to live the rest of my life unable to sleep well and have my mind violated by JD Vance doing the goatse? Eventually this despair turned into fuming hatred for him, my life has been ruined because I decided to sit down and watch some tv. I thought about getting myself a gun and assassinating JD Vance to see if that would finally end the nightmares, but I knew that I didn’t have any way of doing so. I went back and looked at my emails one more time to check if there was a message amongst all the junk that took my situation seriously, and after some time I finally found what I was looking for.

            Dear Bartholomew,

I know exactly what you’re talking about, you’re damn lucky that I found your post. Listen, we need to meet up as soon as possible, you’ve made a mistake by talking about this subject online so you’re going to need to lay low. Don’t tell anyone where you will be going and don’t share your name with anybody. There are many things I need to explain to you that I can’t fit all in one email , we need to meet up with each other somewhere, please get back to me ASAP.

Sincerely,

Brent Peterson.

Never before was I so happy to read an email, sure I was a bit frustrated that it took so long to get a good response, but honestly it could’ve been so much worse. I quickly replied telling Brent that I’ll meet up with him at a Popeyes nearby, he said he lives in a different state so it would take him a while, but he should be there tomorrow at 1:30 in the morning. Now, I probably shouldn’t trust this dude, I know nothing about him, and I was planning to meet up with a complete stranger in the middle of the night without telling any of my family members, I’m basically begging to be kidnapped. What else am I supposed to do? I told my family about the nightmares I’ve been having before and I was met with laughter, even if they did care what could they possibly do? At best I’ll be sent to an insane asylum halfway across the country. It’s a risk I’m willing to take, but just in case I’ll bring a knife with me.

Eventually it was time to meet up with Brent, I told him I’d be in the booth in the far back of the restaurant so that he’d know where to find me once he got there. I was nervous, I know I brought a weapon with me in the event something bad happens, but I don’t want this meeting to be all for nothing. At some point a large man came in, grease pouring down his forehead and landing on his long unkempt beard. His hair was long and dark blond, his shirt covered in stains and radiated a faint smell of beer. I hoped to God this wasn’t my last hope, because being kidnapped probably would’ve been a better fate, but as he came barrelling towards me, my hope diminished into a sheer sliver of its previous state.

“Are you George aka GuacmoleWigga27?”  the man said in a large booming southern accent.

For fucks sake, this was Brent Peterson.

“Uh yeah, that’s me, you’re Brent, right?”

Please, for the love of God, tell me I’m somehow magically wrong

“YEP, that’s me, in the flesh. The drive here was a pain in the ass, I don’t know how I made it in the time with the damn shit box breaking down every 2 seconds.”

I might be better off dead at this point.

“Well, it’s nice to meet you, I got a bunch of questions man, did you also see that frame of  JD Va-“

“SHHH, listen Jim you might wanna stop bringing up his name in public, we’re already risking our lives here just by talking about it… But yes, I did see it, and yes since then I’ve had nightmares related to it.”

“Why don’t you want me to mention him? Is it related to my posts being taken down? I don’t get it, nobody wants to talk about it, and I get punished for even just mentioning it.”

“Well, I just get a little uncomfortable with people saying his name… It keeps reminding me of that awful image on the news, as for your posts being taken down, I have my own little conspiracy theory about it…”

Just Brent was about to fill me in on what’s going on the door swung open again. Immediately the room fell silent, I could practically hear the cashier breathing behind the counter. A man walked into the restaurant in an expensive suit, from the window I could see that his vehicle was a black van. The man walked over towards the cashier, his back being completely straight showing a sense of confidence emanating from him. The whole time I felt like there was something off about him, I didn’t know if it was because of the black van or the fancy suit at a fast-food restaurant, but I felt a yellow tear run down my leg in that moment.

“Have you seen a 4-foot man around here by any chance? He has a blond buzzcut, blue eyes, apparently smells like fish and shit. His name’s Jared Schwanz”

I started to panic, I never met this guy before and it seemed like Brent felt the same way as me, I wondered if either of us knew the guy from somewhere or if he was going to hurt me, but before I could ask him anything, Brent slowly got up from his chair.

“We need to get out of here, you’re not gonna be able to come back home for a while until we get this sorted out”

“What the hell? Dude my parents are gonna think I got kidnapped or something, I don’t even know how I’m gonna get JD Vance out of my head.” I replied.

The man in the suit started sniffing the air frantically, before letting out a gag and facing towards me. Immediately he broke out into a sprint, his face being completely emotionless. I didn’t have any time to further argue with Brent, I don’t know what this man planned to do with me, but I don’t want a permanent solution to constipation. I pulled out my knife from my pocket and threw a quick strong jab at the man’s stomach, which ended up being a complete failure as he parried it and grabbed me by the wrist. Brent ran, well more like quickly stumbled, into the window and managed to break it. He was moving towards an old Pontiac fiero with duct tape as fast as possible and while the man in the suit was distracted, I managed to break free and follow Brent to the car.

“Wait this isn’t my car.”  Brent heaved out

In that moment I swear I could’ve strangled him, but he waddled over to a different Pontiac fiero with two pieces of duct tape, and he unlocked the car for me to get in. We both climbed inside and managed to lock the doors in time. I looked out the window and I saw the man in the suit staring back at me, his hands were pale white as he pressed onto the glass as hard as he could. I swear I could’ve heard it cracked. Brent started up the car and the loud engine flooded the air with its rumble, and he quickly swerved the car out of the parking lot, his foot all the way down on the pedal. We were moving away from the Popeyes rapidly but for around 1.04324902 seconds I could see the man in the suit approaching the black van. Thankfully it seemed as though he had lost us, there was no sign of the black van anywhere once we got out, and although I was frightened in that moment, maybe it was a good thing that the man was so intensely focused on the car window rather than getting into his own vehicle. As tensions fell, I started to notice how much the Pontiac rattled, it was steaming hot inside and the air was stale, the backseat was littered with random garbage and a black Stratocaster. I was too tired to ask anymore questions, I didn’t even ask where we were going or who that man was. I’d never get into a random stranger’s car, but it seemed like I had no choice. It was late at night and Brent seemed like he was unnerved by the whole event, it was clear that neither of us wanted to make conversation in that moment until the next day. So, I stared out the window as we were beginning to move into the highway, the trees all passing by in an unintelligible blur putting my eyes in hypnotic trance. As I began to relax, I noticed that I was slowly falling asleep, at first, I was trying to fight against the urge to rest but I quickly gave up as my mind drifted.

I was back there again, the red sky staring back at me as I prepared myself for whatever horrors I’d have to face, but I decided to just stay where I was, knowing that I will eventually get attacked by whatever JD Vance had in mind. As I laid on the grass, I felt a ticklish sensation on my back like feathers, and it wasn’t long until that sensation began to go all over the entire posterior side of my body and began moving me towards the temple. It was like I was crowd surfing on a billion tiny people all at once with no control over my limbs or anything, my fate was completely dependent on the grass. The grass the grass the grass deGrasse? The grass the grass the grass the grass the grass the grass the grass the grass the grass the grass the grass the grass the grass the grass the grass the grass the grass the grass the grass, the hard cold brick slammed into my back or was it my back that slammed into the brick? It didn’t matter what came first the grass was gone and I was back in the temple. With control partially regained, I dragged my feet throughout the various rooms and made it to one covered in cushions. To my surprise there wasn’t any of the previous bastards that have been invading my mind, rather it was Brent. I tried greeting him, but it seemed like he was deaf to my words. A couple of bricks fell from the wall but simultaneously they never changed place, at least it seemed like it. If I looked at the floor the bricks were there, ordered by hue in a straight line but if I looked at the wall they came from it was like they never changed. I couldn’t stop looking at either one, my face would face the wall my face would face the floor, and then my face would face the wall again before my face faces the floor once more. Eventually I saw that Elon Musk and Donald Trump were in the room, with no clothes on. I looked back at Brent, fear glistening in my eyes but he too was butt ass naked. With no warning all of them began passionately licking one another, they were all standing completely still but their tongues slithered out of their mouths like snakes and were somehow stretching in impossibly long lengths, each of their tongues would go over each other’s eyes, hair, arms, legs, every possible part of their body all at once. At some point Elon’s tongue managed to get into Trump’s uncut tip and licked out what looked like feta cheese. Eventually they all began crawling over one another, the snakes returning to the shelter they came from, and their lips overlapping uncontrollably, I never been so utterly disgusted in my life but at the same time I couldn’t stop watching the horrors that took place. There had been 6 arms, 7 hands, 6 lips, and 8 eyes in an incomprehensible fleshly mass of grotesque limbs that had belonged to men in their 60s, liver spots covering them in a way that they all looked like a skinless rotten apple. Looking back at the bricks that laid upon the floor I noticed that they weren’t bricks anymore, but an army of miniature JD Vance’s staring at me, their eyes bloody as they ever were and a soulless smile plastered on their faces. I couldn’t move, I couldn’t run, I couldn’t do anything but stand there defenceless in complete fear. They began climbing up my legs, pulling on my leg hair as if it were some sort of rope, some made way to my fingers, where they would attempt to lift up my nails as high as they possibly could so that they could all crawl inside of the soft tender flesh that laid beneath it. Others would furiously create their own entrances to my body by biting and digging through skin that seemed to be infinitely thick. The worst ones would get up to my face and crawl through my tear ducts or ears, ripping any sort of membrane or ear drum that got in their way. Inevitably, they’ve made it to my brain, mindlessly consuming it as if they were starved rats that finally found food. My body begun to convulse as they violated every crevice of it, I wanted to scream in pain but not a single word could be said as my throat was just a mere delicacy in their feast. I could do nothing as my vision was slowly fading away, and I was left to stare in whatever void they had left me in.