Born Hard Again: Book Three of the Future Remembered Chronicles by Bo Unce Page A

gotsta get my brain fixed up, son.  Downlo' some skills!" Koochy said, getting agitated.  "Dis surgipod suit needs juice!  I gotsta wear the juice!  Gimme dem lemons!"
    "What?" I queried.  "Never mind.  Yeah, we need to fix you up and get Marcus back.  So this house, it has power.  Is that enough?  Can you plug your fingers into the wall or something?"
    "Unngh, powah makes me mo' betta but --"
    "Wait, plugging your fingers into the wall heals you up?" Alphonso asked desperately.  "I'm dying here!  You did this!  Look at me!" he almost screamed, pointing at his blisters.
    "I meant --" I started to say.
    Alphonso practically leapt at the nearest ruined wall.  An electrical socket was dangling by a few wires and he grabbed at them.
    BZZZZT!   Sparks flew from Alphonso's hands.  The house lights flickered and then went off completely.  Alphonso twitched violently and fell to the ground gritting his teeth and drooling.
    "Muthafucka!  You need a damn suit!  Fuck's wrong wit' you?" Koochy shouted at Alphonso.  "You a dumb!"
    "Urrrrrg," Alphonso grunted.  "Urg."
    My confidence in our team's ability to successfully get through Old Cleveland was falling.  I noticed Alphonso's shoes were smoking slightly and his hair was standing on end.
    "But damn, yo' hair be on fleek, kid, it ain't nappy none.  Shit be snatchin'!"
    "Th-th-thanks," stuttered Alphonso from the floor.  "I...  I shouldn't have done that.  I wasn't myself.  G-guys, I'm really tired.  I think...  I think I haven't slept since Putin's party.  How long has it been?  I usually have a siesta.  How do you guys do it?  I'm just..." he trailed off, softly snoring.
    I pondered this for a second in the dim morning light.  Neither reanimated bodies nor gods needed sleep, I supposed.
    "Sheeit," Koochy lamented.  "No juice!  Dat fucknut broke the wi-fi too!  Cain't see if any hos retweeted muh shit!  Bitches be hoin' and we gots no bandwidth!"
    I heard a slow, heavy pounding on the front door.
    "Who is it?!" I yelled.
    The pounding continued, getting louder and more urgent.
    "What the fuck?  There's a hole in the wall right next to the door!" I screamed in response.  "What's wrong with you?"
    The front door completely collapsed and an enormous mobility scooter trundled through the newly-made opening, crushing various potted plants that were unfortunate enough to be in the way.
    "Nobody answered the doorbell!  I was waiting out there!" Yvonne bleated without introduction.  She was even more hideous in person, and I was immediately hit by the smell of rotten forgotten food and fold-mold.  "Is the power out?  Just so you know, that means we're going to have to eat all the food in the fridge before it goes bad.  Junior, get to it!"
    A smaller scooter appeared from behind her immense girth and a chubby young boy drove inside, crashing over broken pieces of lumber and drywall.
    "Junior, fetch me a soda," Yvonne ordered.  "Put it on my eating shelf.  Oh, and say hi to your dad."
    Koochy stared at the marshmallow-like child rolling by him.
    "Damn, son.  You my son, son," Koochy greeted him, earnestly.  Koochy looked over the small mobility scooter laden with snack pockets and then threw up some incredulous gang signs.  "Whafuck's wrong wit you, kid?"
    "Bluuuh bluuuuuh," the boy said.
    "That's right!  Nothing's wrong with him!" Yvonne wheezed.  "I homeschooled him myself.  He takes after his mother's genetics, and we're proud of who we are!  I'm a big, beautiful woman!"
    I looked askance at her.
    Yvonne held her strong woman smile for a few seconds and then burst into tears.  "Stop body-shaming me!!  It's triggering!"  She glared at Koochy.  "It's your job to make this a safe space!  FUCK YOU, DINNY!  Junior did you fetch my dinner yet?"
    I was flabbergasted at this invasion of our household.  Koochy and I had been roommates here in the OC suburbs for a few minutes before she came into the picture, and we'd had some really good times