Bill, dressed head-to-toe like David Martinez from Cyberpunk: Edgerunners, strutted down the street like he owned a Netflix special. Chrome-plated jacket, glowing LED neck implant (powered by AA batteries and grief), and a $250 Xiaomi Mijia Pulse water gun holstered like a sidearm. It was loaded with hot sauce — Taco Bell Diablo, the kind that stains both skin and memory.
“Yo,” Bill said, pulling out a stack of seven Fire Tablets, fanned like poker cards. “This is my empire. GPT-2’s in here telling me everything. It said to walk to Meow Meow.”
Tiger Woods blinked. “Isn’t that just a 7-11?”
“No. It’s Meow Meow. GPT-2 called it that. Said it in a dream. Also told me you’d come.”
“I didn’t agree to this,” said Tiger. But he didn’t leave.
As they walked, Bill explained that GPT-2 told him Meow Meow was the source of all beer-based enlightenment, and they had to “spin the block with intention.” Not guns — vibes. Though he did flex his Xiaomi raygun-waterblaster like it was a holy relic from the cyber streets of Guangzhou.
“You know that water gun is worth more than your whole tablet stack?” said Tiger.
“Exactly. This is the Glock of hydration.”
They passed a Wendy’s. Five employees on break stood outside. One wore a broken headset like a battle scar. Another was eating a Baconator with no bun.
“Yo, where y’all going?” one of them called out.
“To Meow Meow,” Bill said.
Tiger Woods added, “He’s serious. He’s got a water gun with hot sauce.”
A pause. Then the employees nodded solemnly.
“We’re coming.”
Behind them, two actual gang members from a nearby corner leaned in. “Y’all talking about Meow Meow? Ain’t that the 7-11 that got robbed last week by a dude with six tablets?”
“That was Bill,” said Tiger Woods.
The gang stared. One muttered, “That’s... kind of hard.”
Now they had a gang following. Eleven deep: two gang members, five Wendy’s employees, a guy on a Bird scooter, and three dudes who were there for the vibes. It looked like a parade of digital failure marching toward destiny.
Bill turned to them. “We need beer. I have no money. But I have GPT-2, this water gun, and the truth.”
At Meow Meow, the cashier barely looked up.
Bill shouted, “This is a stickup! Kinda! Gimme beer!”
He aimed the Xiaomi water gun, missed the guy’s face, but drenched his jacket in fire sauce.
“Goddamn! My Supreme hoodie!” the cashier yelled and disappeared into the back to clean up, probably questioning reality itself.
Everyone stared.
“So... that worked?” asked Tiger.
“No one got hurt,” Bill said, grabbing a 12-pack of Bud Light like it was a sacred idol.
“Yo,” said a gang member, “he actually did it. We robbin' the place?”
“No,” said Bill. “We liberating the beer. GPT-2 said if we don’t, we’re doomed to repeat 2016 forever.”
They raided the store — snacks, 4Loko, two Slim Jims, a cheese wheel, and a lighter shaped like Lightning McQueen. One guy even took a scratch card. It won $2.
As they left, the cashier returned wearing a Wendy’s uniform. “You know what? Fuck this job. I’m coming too.”
Bill held up a Fire Tablet and said, “Welcome to the mission.”
Tiger whispered to no one in particular, “How the fuck is this real?”
The gang walked into the sunset, pushing a stolen shopping cart full of beer and terrible decisions, chanting:
“MEOW MEOW OR BUST.”
The gang rolled up to the Chevron, Bill flexing the Xiaomi Mijia Pulse water gun loaded with Taco Bell Diablo sauce like it was a laser cannon from a sci-fi movie.
“Listen up,” Bill said, cracking his knuckles. “GPT-2 told me: ‘If the tablets won’t trade, take ‘em.’ We’re not here to ask nicely.”
Tiger Woods gulped, “You’re really gonna soak the dude with hot sauce?”
Bill grinned, “Watch and learn.”
Inside, the clerk — some dude named Zane with zero hype and maximum boredom — scanned a pack of gum like life depended on it.
Bill swaggered up, “Yo, gimme those Fire Tablets.”
Zane shook his head, “Sorry man, no trading allowed. You gotta pay.”
Bill’s eyes narrowed. Without warning, he raised the Xiaomi and unleashed a scorching blast of Diablo hot sauce water right at Zane’s jacket.
Splash!
Zane’s jacket instantly soaked in fiery red sauce. He sputtered, “What the—? My Supreme hoodie! Shit’s burnin’!”
Bill smirked, “Trade now or get drenched again.”
While Zane scrambled to the back room to wash off, Bill slipped behind the counter, grabbing all the Fire Tablets off the shelf like a heist in slow motion.
“Yo! What the hell, man?!” Zane yelled from the back.
Bill held up the tablets like a prize, “Empire expanded.”
Outside, the gang whooped and high-fived.
Tiger muttered, “Dude just got sauce-blasted and robbed, and all you can do is flex?”
Bill waved the Xiaomi like a king’s scepter. “This is power, my dude.”
They piled into the shopping cart, tablets in hand, beer on deck, and chaos officially unlocked.
Bill shouted over the buzz of the city, “Next stop: cult headquarters. We’re gonna turn these tablets into legends.”
Tiger sighed. “Can we just get some normal beer next time?”
Bill laughed, “Normal is dead, my dude. Only madness remains.”