SPS

Hmm...

SPS...

Before I go into what SPS actually is, its specific details, and what it spells for mankind in general, I must say I really, really, really detest going into crowded shopping malls.

It's not just the crowd. It's the difficulty in navigating your way through the throngs of people, whilst having them rub your mucus, sweat, dandruff and all that onto your nice new shirt you just bought yesterday. What's worse, people tend to organize contests/shows in the malls, in the most spacious places, such that it suddenly becomes packed with people, and it's hell to get through.

It sure would be a good idea to organize a "MAKE YOUR WAY THROUGH A CROWDED MALL CONTEST".

Speaking of which, this brings me to SPS.

SPS stands for Spontaneous Parking Syndrome. What the hell is wrong with people? These people, traversing across the mall, tend to stop for absolutely no rhyme or reason. These people, I notice, tend to be of the opposite gender, but it goes both ways; some guys do it as well. You'd probably end up crashing into a group of people which suddenly parks itself right in the center of a narrow chokepoint, conveniently blocking your path. And then it's YOUR turn to say, "Oh, I'm sorry!" with them glaring at you, when it should be the other way round.

Spontaneous Parking Syndrome.

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"Sarge, Private Perks reporting for duty, mission code N472LN3, over."

"Acknowledged, Perks. How are our boys doing?"

"Fine, sarge. Howitzer tanks rolling, ETA 1427."

"Everything's going as planned. Transmission out."

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"Shit, sarge, one of our tanks got stuck! Looks like a trench, sarge. Over."

"Damn, I need to go take a look. Tell the men to prepare to break for cover and hold positions, over."

"Acknowledged."

...

"SHIT! IT'S NOT JUST A GODDAMNED TRENCH! IT'S THE DREADED SPONTANEOUS PARKING SYNDROME!"

"What, sarge? What's that?"

"Spontaneous Parking Syndrome! That shit our commanding officer told us about! It's the enemy's secret weapon."

"I thought our tanks were invulnerable sarge?"

"You stupid fool, that's just propaganda. How the hell do you think they'd have gotten you to join?"

"O...kay..."

"They're now using "Inconsiderate" and "Unreasonable" branded weapons! TELL THE MEN TO BREAK FOR COVER! FALL BACK!"

"No, sarge! I see it! It's the revolution!"

"Shut up, Private Parts!"

"It's Perks, sir."

"Perks. Shut up."

"No sir, it's the revolution! We must join the revolution sarge! The Spontaneous Parking Syndrome is a symbol of divine and holy power, sarge! That's what my grandmam told me sarge!"

"None of your superstitious bullshit, Private. I'm the commanding officer here; I give the orders, the buck starts HERE."

"SIR BUT IT'S THE TRUTH! WE'LL ALL BE LIBERATED BY PARKING OURSELVES IN THE CENTER OF NOWHERE AND BLOCKING ALL PROGRESS..."

"I order you, Private, give the order now.

"Sarge, please, we mus-"

"It's a now or never moment Private. Your chance to get a bloody promotion. You know how long you've been a private? 2 BLOODY YEARS, THAT'S HOW LONG."

"Sir, with all due respect, sir-"

"I SAID, GIVE THE BLOODY ORDER NOW, OR I'LL CUT YOU DOWN!"

"Sarge, no!"

"Is this mutiny, Private?"

"No but, sarge..."

"No butts. That's my order."

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To be continued.

Now continued.
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"We have absolutely no choice. We must begin extermination of the Spontaneous Parking Syndrome."

"How, Sarge?"

"Classified information, Private Par-..."

"It's Perks, sir, PERKS."

"...-ts, but I'll tell you all the same. It's known as the Elbow."

"Sir?"

"Yes, our ultimate weapon to counter them, the bastards. The Elbow is always useful in a demanding situation, when you feel yourself hemmed in, in all directions by your foes, then unleash your wrath in the form of the Elbow, and they'll all fall to their knees groaning!"

"Shit, sarge, that sounds nasty!"

"They deserve it, the bastards!"

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"Here they come, Private. Here's your chance to make a name for yourself."

"But sarge, they're the saints, the holiest-"

"What the hell did I tell you about that hocus-pocus? This is your chance to get promoted and jump-started out of this hellhole! Shut your trap and do what I say!"

"Sarge, I protest!"

"Press the red button."

"Sarge, no.."

"Press the red button."

"Please, sir, no!"

"I SAID, PRESS THE MOTHERFUCKING RED BUTTON!"

Deet.

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"Phew. I think that was all of them."

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"HOLY FUCK, THEY'RE BACK!"

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Fin.