It was the best of times; it was the worst of times.  Okay, so there were more bad times than good.  And maybe for some of us, life just plain stank ( stinked? Stunk? Ah…forget it).  But the fact was that we made it through them all.  Many men turned aside from the truth.  Most of the women chased after those men.  Other than that, everything was different.
By the way, let me introduce myself: I’m Captain Tight Butt, in charge of the Buffalo Strike Team (BST).  The team consists of Freddie the Freak (don’t ask about his hair), Innocent  III (no relation to the pope), and Fuchsia Hair Boy (feel free to ask about the hair, but don’t expect a coherent answer).  That fat wimp in the corner is Wes.  We don’t really know why we let him hang around, but every once in a while; he gives us food, so we don’t complain.  We don’t actually have any super powers or anything; we just call ourselves fun names. Welcome to post-apocalypse Tennessee. It might remind you of pre-apocalypse   Tennessee. This is mainly because nothing important resided here, so no one aimed a bomb at it.  World War  III, which caused the apocalypse, was started by some moron taking an alien competency test.
We live here, practically the last humans clinging to what once was civilization. We’ve gotten by on the skin of our teeth to be sure, but we’ve made it.  We’ve established a stable food source, and discovered some clean water. Incidentally, life stank so much because we were each limited to one bath a  week  (On a side note, I apologize for any perversion contained in this chapter, but you see I’m obsessed with it.  Oh, and this chapter has nothing to do with the rest. It’s kind of supposed to make fun of the Schism by starting an entirely new and retarded story line.  I’ll be writing another Chapter 6 in about 122 lines.  Yeah, right, that would require double the work.   Which leads me to ask why I’m typing this much.  Currently, I’m trying to think of a way to fit dialogue into this chapter. That’s the only reason I’m telling you all this.  I haven’t done the Wes-and-Girdy thing yet, have I? Good.)
The Captain walked up to Wes. "You’re a mama’s boy!"
  "Am not."
  "Are too."
  "Am not."
  "Are too."
  "Am not."
  "Are too."
  "Am not."
  "Are too."
There was an unerring logic in Girdy’s argument that made Wes reconsider.  Both experienced déjà vu, as if somewhere, in some alien space ship, they had participated in similar discussions repetitively.  (That didn’t work for much; I think that it’s about time for us to actually do something.   What to do?  What to do?)
Dave, uh, I  mean Fuchsia Hair Boy, suggested a trip to Longwood. ( Southwestern Virginia also includes nothing of importance and was left out of America’s enemies’ plans.) The BS Team, having nothing else to do, went along with this ambulatory yet anti- disestablishmentarianistic plan.  (I don’t have the slightest idea what those two words mean.  I just like them.)
We traveled to Longwood. Along the way, there was much dialogue, but it in no way furthers this chapter’s plot nor glorifies me in any way. For these two reasons, I decided not to write about it in the story.
After a little searching, we found an open parking spot.  It was at Wal-Mart, and we had to walk about three miles to get to French Hall, which is really just called French, but that annoys the heck out of me, so I’m renaming it French Hall.  This long walk may appear to have been unnecessary, but really it wasn’t, seeing as all on-campus parking lots are two miles away anyway. Just as we were walking up the steps, a big white van pulled up. Peter and Brett hopped out… into the path of an on-coming semi.  Sadly, they didn’t survive.  Doug stepped out of the van and shrugged, "Wow, that’s bad about Peter and Brett. Hey, Micah, do you have Final Fantasy VIII?  You’ve got to see this new game I’ve got for the computer! " (Any of this sounding familiar to you?  Pay it no mind.)
"There is no Final Fantasy VIII. Japan was destroyed on Doomsday, taking the entire video game industry with it," replied Micah. "And that’s Freddie the Freak to you."
"Oh well… " Doug started.
At this time, Dave let out a bestial yell and charged.  "DIE! " He shouted." DIE, AND MAY YOUR GREAT  AND POWERFUL EVILS DIE WITH YOU, HERETIC!!!!!"
"Uh, Dave," Joel worried. "Why are you going to kill Doug? I haven’t met any of your friends yet, but I already like this one more than you."
"AAAAAHHHHH!!!!!" screamed Dave as barreled forward.  (Oh, by the way, I’ve stopped using those nicknames I made up in the beginning of the chapter. Although I like calling myself Captain Tight Butt and I thought it was hilarious calling Joel Innocent  III, get it, a powerful but worldly Pope and an adjective usually used to describe Joel, huh, huh, get it.)
(I would continue this pointless dialogue, but the soon-to-be light is flashing and I’d better move on.) Dave missed Doug and ran into the van. (To spare you folks, I will not mention that this exact scenario had already occurred in a parallel dimension, and will not repeat dialogue you have already heard … Oh, who am I kidding?)
"You moron!" laughed Girdy.
"You  beeeeeep!" swore Micah.
"You  dufus!" shouted Dan.
"You bad person!" yelled Joel.
"You geek!" exclaimed Girdy.
"Darn swear word filter." muttered Micah.
"You really bad person!" screamed Joel.
(Yeah, yeah, yeah, on and on it goes, etc., etc. etc., dot, dot, dot, you get the general idea.)
(I just realized that I’ve started talking about  Girdy in the third person. Sorry about the inconsistency. You’ll get over it. Oh, and don’t expect Wes to be in this chapter anymore.  I really don’t like paying attention to him when he isn’t around.)
Micah, Joel, Dave, Doug, and I, Dave being somewhat stunned, all entered French Hall. (This sentence may not seem funny to you.  But I find it extremely hilarious, seeing as French Hall has electronically locked doors that can only be opened with a student ID card.  Ha ha, I laugh at my joke.) We proceeded down the hall to the second door on the left.  Amy saw Dave and started bawling, probably because of a dream.
Dave had just convinced Amy that he was not, in fact, down here in order to tell Amy he no longer loved her, when he dumped her, saying, and I quote, "I no longer love you."  This whole incident is in large part due to the fact that Dave is the First Great Liar. The rest of us, not sure just how to react, stood in shock.   (Just kidding!)  The previously mentioned group left French Hall and started making plans for a trip to Boston. However, all our plans revolved around the necessity of Doug’s van and, when he backed out like a stupid retard (which may be redundant, but gets the point across), the trip was canceled.
This is the ninety-third line in this chapter. I only have thirty-three more to go. Thank God.
The return to campus was uneventful, with the possible exception of an event. It was about this time we realized the implications of the title "BS Team," and changed our name to the TTT SO MOM NHUC FBI, which of course, sounds so much cooler. (In yet another irrelevant note, I hate my life.)  Joel changed his name to The Spider, an obvious rip-off.  Micah changed his name to Dark Star after a brief respite as Dark Cloak, which sounds much stupider.  Dave changed his name to The Juggler, which is very confusing, seeing as he had just withdrawn his connections with The Puppet Master.  I, Girdy (Yes, the narrator of the chapter is Girdy.  If you just figured that out, you’re a moron.), changed my name to The Arrow, only to be called The Spud, forcing me to settle for a compromise, The Sparrow.
Joel’s nose is roughly the size of Greenland.
(I like being in control of everything that happens. It’s rather fun.) Joel was drawing a comic book, grinning to himself, and quite unaware that over ninety-nine percent of the world’s population had killed itself just a few weeks previously.  Micah was not playing a video game, watching   Kentucky, going to class, eating, or sleeping, which leads me to wonder just what Micah was doing. Dave was drinking a beer from the fridge.  I sighed, went over to fridge and pulled out a Citra.  (Yes, that’s right folks, Citra, crack in a bottle.)
I picked up the newspaper and read the obituaries. (The Johnson City Press, much like cockroaches, could not be killed.)
Dan Carpenter and Paula Stutsman (I checked to make sure it wasn’t the wedding section.  Fortunately, it wasn’t, and my masculinity was saved.), both 19, mysteriously died after falling from a large height outside Mr. Carpenter’s dormitory. The highest point near the spot that the two bodies impacted was Webb Hall, only three stories tall.  However, death was apparently instantaneous.
I chuckled at myself for having the ingenuity to hint at previous plot developments and once more looked around the room.
"You guys want to play Nerf wars?"  Joel asked.  (Nerf is a registered trademark of Nerf, Inc.)
"No Joel." groaned  Girdy.
"Let’s stop the comments from the peanut gallery," Micah critiqued.
"Why’s  yuh’all  luk dern  nere  perpul? " Dave wondered, still on his first beer, and already drunk. "Ainn’t  yuh’all wight  lahk  uss gud  reb-bel fulk?"
I choose to the end this chapter on Dave’s idiotic statement. And a warning, wherever you go, whatever you do, The Spider knows.