Mirror: Wait, isn’t this the part where you make some sort of remark about the subject of story we’re Riffing?
Dorkpool: I would, but seriously, “Rust the Lusty.” Sounds like someone’s telling people to rust something called the Lusty. Or like a male stripper. If Rust the Lusty isn’t in the new Magic Mike movie, I will be very disappointed.
Mirror: I’m pretty sure he isn’t…
Dorkpool: Damn. Well, anyway, let’s have a silly name and Riff this bitch.
Dorkpool: (Narrator): Apocalypse’s new costume looks kind of silly!
Three girls, one a policewoman, had been found dead at a basement in a retreat house in California. The girls were confirmed to be r*ped.
Mirror: Confirmed to be what? Roped? Riped? Rap – oh.
The suspect is still at large, but a witness who managed to get a glimpse of the suspect running away from the house manage to sketch a drawing of the potential criminal.
Dorkpool: (Narrator): Unfortunately, it was drawn by Rob Liefeld, so police officers assumed they were going after someone made of balloons.
Blood everywhere. The pleasure of women. It's everything to me in this world.
My name is Rust. I'm a regular 18 year old boy. But that's all about to change.
Mirror: (Rust): Today I’m going to be 19!
It's one day before my first day of college. My twin sister and I are going to our school's bookstore to buy the supplies we need.
"Are you done picking up what you need, Rust?" my sister, Alex asked me, starting to line up at the cash register.
"Almost. I just need to buy some pencils." I replied.
"Well, hurry up. I'm saving a spot for you." she shouted impatiently.
My twin sister is older than me by 14 seconds.
Dorkpool: That’s important, thank you.
I reached for some pencils in the top shelf. It was the cheapest ones they had. Instead, I touched something that felt like paper.
'Lussuria' it said.
I ignored it. I continued getting the pencils.
That was my first mistake.
Mirror: (Rust): My second was not changing my name from Rust to literally anything else.
We took the taxi on our way back home. Alex was blabbering about how exciting college would be. One day left until our very first day of college. Suddenly, I felt something strange. My hands felt hot. My feet were numb. My head ached.
Dorkpool: (Rust): I knew I shouldn’t have had that gas station sushi.
"What's wrong?" Alex asked, noticing the unusual expression on my face.
I shaked off the feeling. It went away after a few seconds.
"It's nothing." I replied.
That was unusual. That was the first time I felt that feeling before.
When we returned back home, I collapsed on the couch. I kept on thinking about that weird feeling I had.
I almost fell asleep, if it wasn't for my phone. My girlfriend, Daphne was calling.
Mirror: (Daphne): Hi, I’m breaking up with you for a guy named Fred.
"Rust! I can't wait for tomorrow! I haven't seen you in a while." she said excitedly.
"I'm excited too, Daphne. But please, I'm trying to sleep. Let's continue our talk tomorrow. I'm tired as hell." I replied. I was too exhausted to even talk.
"Fine." She said grumpily. "See ya tomorrow, bae! Love ya." she ended the call. I could finally get some shut-eye.
My alarm clock woke me up. Relieved from my sleep (even though it was short), I got up and prepared myself for today. Alex had already left for school before I even woke up.
My house is not that far away from our university. So, I walk going there. Wasn't long before Daphne popped up and hugged me from behind.
Dorkpool: Surprise Anal Violation!
"RUST! There you are!" she screamed.
"Hey, Daphne." I replied. "You look great in that uniform."
She blushed. "I know. Hehe."
I felt that weird feeling again that I had yesterday. I dropped to the ground. Daphne noticed and asked if I was okay. I said that I was fine, and slowly regained my strength. This was unusual. It felt painful, but it also felt nice. I wonder.
Mirror: Great, he’s a masochist now.
We arrived at our new school. I was studying under marine biology. Daphne and Alex were just on the other side of the building, studying psychology. Our professor, Sir Flickens, was absent so our substitute was Miss Chelia.
Miss Chelia had a curvaceous body, but she was really the devil. She slapped anyone who was misbehaving. What is this, nursery? On top of that, isn't physical harmind against the rules of the teacher?
Dorkpool: That depends on what the hell physical harmind is.
Miss Chelia caught me sleeping in class. She told me to meet her in her office after class. I had a bad feeling about this.
After an hour of listening to boring lectures, I met Miss Chelia in her office.
"Mr. Fichwood," she said "You know I'm a considerate teacher," she said calmly. I thought she wouldn't hurt me, but she took a metal rod from under her desk, and approached me.
I knew what was going to happen. I ran to the door, but it was locked from the outside. She hit me hard with the rod. My body took multiple blows until she stopped.
Mirror: No shit.
Suddenly, that weird feeling I had. It returned. I got back up, ignoring my injuries. It's as if I couldn't feel anything. The numbness spread all throughout my body. I couldn't feel anything anymore.
I bolted at Miss Chelia. I took the metal rod from her. She pleaded for mercy, but how could I pass the opportunity of beating the crap out of a jerk like her? I struck her body. I kept on striking her until she passed out.
Then, the feeling had completely took over me. "Remember, I couldn't feel anything physically?" I thought to myself. "How about this.."
I forcefully tore Miss Chelia's dress apart, and engaged s*xually with her.
Dorkpool: Whatually? Saxually? Are you doing Bill Clinton things with her?
I stabbed her in the heart after that, and hid her in a secret compartment inside her faculty cabinet.
It worked. I actually felt something. I assumed that it was the only way to feel something. I had gone mad.
I broke out through the window, and ran away to what used to be my parent's secret retreat house in the other side of town.
Mirror: Well, it’s not much of a secret if you know about it now, is it?
It haven't been sold yet, so I stayed there for the night.
The next day, my face was all over the news. The cops were at my tail. Suddenly, there was a knock at my door.
"Open up! This is the police!" a feminine voice shouted. She forcefully opened the door. I immediately knew she was strong. She pointed her gun at me, but I couldn't care less. I charged at her. I was too quick for the bullets to reach me. I evaded most bullets, except one which hit the right side of my face.
It didn't hurt. I couldn't feel anything. That's where I was sure that I am immortal.
Dorkpool: (Rust): My sureness lasted all the way up until I was shot in the head and died.
Aware of my powers, I casually walked across the room, and took some bandages from a drawer, and wrapped it around my bloody face.
The confused policewoman asked, "What are you doing?!"
I smirked. "It would ruin my good looks."
Bang! Bang! Bang! The gun was destroying everything in the house. When I was close enough to the policewoman, I knocked the gun off her hand. She retaliated with an attempt to tazer me.
I couldn't feel anything. Too bad.
I took a scissor from my sling bag and stabbed her unconcious. I took her body to the basement and r*ped her.
Mirror: You know, “Max the Killer” handled sex scenes better than this story.
The feeling was great. This time I knew this was what life awaits me.
Alex and Daphne came in, hearing the gunshots.
I looked at them, smirked, and said
"Take a seat."
Dorkpool: (Rust): And take off your shoes. I don't want you scuffing the floors.
Dorkpool: This story sucks.
Mirror: I’m not quite sure this story knows what it wants to be. It’s trying to be a story with sex and rape, maybe step on some toes or something. Yet it’s also trying to be politically correct and not offensive. Add into this mix a half-hearted retread of “Jeff the Killer,” and you’ve got yourself a confusing mess of a story. Oh, by the way, word to the wise: don’t censor words in your story if you’re telling it like this. If it’s a transcript from a show, fine, but if it’s being told in the third person, and profanity is in the dialogue, please don’t censor it. It just doesn’t work. Other flaws of the story include the characters: there’s no development for any of them. You don’t feel bad when Rust (by the way, what kind of name is Rust? Who names their kid Rust? Just asking) gets his ass handed to him, you don’t feel bad when Miss Chelia gets raped (nor do you feel she deserved it. It’s not only because Rust wasn’t a developed character you care about, but also because no one deserves rape. Rape is bad. Very, very bad), and you don’t feel bad when anyone dies. Daphne and Alex are barely in the story, and have no real personality. Hell, no one does. This is problematic when bad things happen to them, since you feel no emotion other than, “Oh. Ok.” This story also has the “Jeff the Killer” problem of not explaining why it is the character now has these powers. What happened to cause this? That’s a legitimate question that really needs an answer outside of “because plot.”
Dorkpool: There are some good things. For the most part, the spelling and grammar are pretty decent. The story itself is short, which is nice. And it’s not as stupid as the story it’s ripping off. It still isn’t good though. But that’s what we think. What do you guys think? Was the story good? Was the Riff good? Do you wish we’d be r*ped by some guy named Rust? Leave your thoughts in the comments below.