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"Ever heard of a doppelgänger, kid? That is who I am, or what I think I am. I do not know who or what created me. A few hours ago, I woke up in someone's backyard, and a guy threatened to shoot me! So, I hopped on my Segway and drove away, far away from that guy. And while I was driving on this road, I felt this feeling; a strange feeling, I might add, to come to your house. And..." he sighs, "Now I'm here."
 
Baffled by this bizarre backstory, I had no comment. I ponder what to say, but I instinctively reply with a soft "Welcome to my home." With nothing else to say, I contact my friend, RyanRyen, on my phone. He was not pleased.
 
"Karl... Why the '''''FUCK''''' are you calling me at midnight?!"
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Startled by his exclaimation, I stumbled my words. "I-I need your help. Please come over. Paul Blart is in my home, and he gave me a scroll with a language that he didn't know."
 
"Paul Bla-, what are you talking about? He is not re-" Out of nowhere, Paul interrupts RyanRyen and exclaims, "Excuse me, do you have any Skittles?" RyanRyen heard him, "He's real, is he?" "Yes, he is. And could you buy some Skittles? I don't have any." RyanRyen was silent for a while, and reluctantly accept the offer, and hung up. I look back at Paul. "Skittles? Out of all food and beverages, you want that?" He was slightly embarassed, "I have hypoglycemia. I need sugary food."
 
Oh my God, this is going to be one long night.
 
== Chapter 3: The Deciphering ==
15 minutes pass, and RyanRyen has arrived in the household. He was still perturbed by Paul's existence.
 
"In times like this, I would ask 'This better be good, Karl.' But the fact that Paul Blart gave you a scroll with an unknown language, and you need me to translate it, I got nothing to say." He points at the scroll, which is resting on the coffee table. "Hand me the scroll."
 
"Hold up!" Paul exclaims, "Where is the Skittles?" His voice express exhaustion; his blood sugar was running low. RyanRyen shrug, "The stores are usually closed at this hour. Sorry." Paul, much to his chagrin, collapsed. I look at Paul for a while, as he rests his upper torso on my crushed couch, and then ask RyanRyen, "Is he going to be okay?" "I'm not a doctor, but I think he'll be alright. Give him some chocolate bars when he wakes up. Now, hand me the scroll." I did what he asked, and gave him the scroll.
 
He looks at it, with a surprised look. "This is a written language I have not seen for a long time. I do believe it is...yes, it is." He looks at me, with wide eyes. "This scroll is written in Tralbart, an ancient language that was estimated to be 100,000 years old. I barely know the language, as it is considered a dead language, but I'll try my best to decipher it."
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I sighed with frustration with the timer running in my mind. "Alright, alright, alright. We will wait till tomorrow, when they open, and we ask them to find out who donated this, and then we'll give the person justice, alright?" Paul nods, "Alright. I'm game."
 
RyanRyen comes back with all of his stuff packed up, "If you don't need me anymore, I'll be heading on my way back tonight. Goodnight, all."
 
With the plan in mind, Paul and I sleep for the night.
 
== Chapter 4: The PeculiarRedacts Dreamin Goodwill ==
Morning came, and the hourglass was ticking. No time to stall. I woke up, and woke Paul up too. With no time to lose, he and I sprint to my car, and drove our way to Goodwill.
During my slumber, I dream a quite peculiar dream, to say the least. I was in a rusty apartment room. It was quite a small room, probably roughly the size of a Motel 6 guestroom. There was a CRT television that was on, but there was nothing on there apart from the static and the high-pitch squeal of the cathode tubes. The door that exits this room is bolt shut, no man can open that door. The bed I rest on was dirty, with a design that is reminiscent of the 1940s. However, the most strangest thing in the apartment room was the closet. There was a faint knocking noise, as if someone was in there. With curiosity, I got out of the dirty bed and creep my way to the closet. I open the closet door, and a skeleton falls down upon me. It appears it was resting its weight on the door. I screamed at the sight of it.
 
"Karl, I'm hungry."
"That's one hell of a way to say hello, you flesh-bastard."
 
"But you had chocolate waffles for breakfast, how are you hungry?"
Oh great, the skeleton can speak. I ''am'' high as a kite.
 
"It's not enough. I want McDonald's. Big Mac, yeah, a Big Mac."
The skeleton got up on his feet, and walks his way to the bed. "Wonder why you are here, Karl?"
 
"They don't sell Big Macs at 9:30 AM. You have to wait an hour or two, which is something we cannot wait."
"How do you know my name?" I ask the skeleton. It chuckle, and replies [[Category:TOTALLY NOT UNFINISHED U GUIZE]]
 
"Fine. But after we go to Goodwill, we eat?"
 
I groan, "Ugh... Yes, Paul."
 
Paul was more annoying in real life than he was in the movie.
 
Finally, we arrived at the Goodwill that I got the bootlegged DVD. At the front entrance was the manager.
 
"Excuse me, ma'am. Do you know who donated this DVD?" I handed her the film. She look back at me with a look of strictness.
 
"Sir, we do not reveal one's personal information over the donation of a DVD. We can return it for some credit, but-" "WAIT!" Paul cried, as he catches up. He was exhausted, after running 10 meters! What a lethargic man! He pants heavily, trying to catch his breath. "We....we...we need the information.. We are cursed. Please..." Paul lets out a good exclamation, like a howler monkey flexing his vocal cords.
 
"I'm sure there is a good reason, fellas. But it's persona-" "Karl, I don't feel good.."
 
''YOU GOT TO BE FUCKING KIDDING ME!''
 
Like a towering tree, he falls, and the manager was the cushioning. The keys to the office flung out of her hands. I pick them up, and...idea! I will use the keys and go into the admin's office, and investigate the donation logs for whoever donated the bootlegged DVD.
 
So, like a ninja, I sneaked my way to the office. The staff were like Skyrim NPCs. They could not detect me, even with a bucket on their head. In fact, they were busy preoccupying themselves by flipping a plastic water bottle. Millennials these days. Either way, I arrive to the office, and I rummage the entire area for the binder. It took me a while, but I found it. It was right next to a box filled with yaoi. How peculiar, indeed. I open it, and rummaged it.
 
4/16/17 - ISSAC COSTANZO, ''Toaster Oven''
 
4/16/17 - TERENCE D'ARBY, ''Video Game Console''
 
4/16/17 -██████████████████''wed DVD''
 
4/16/17 - GODDY DIVIERTAS, ''History Book''
 
Strange...whoever donated a DVD had their name redacted... Maybe if I can scratch it off.
 
...
 
Much to my chagrin, the ink of the donation log was scratched, making the name barely legible.
 
R-e- Y-v-s-l-k.
 
Re Yvslk? Who is-
 
"YOU! Get out of my office!"
 
Oh no, the manager.
 
Paul came out behind her, with handcuffs.
 
"Sorry, Karl...I didn't mean to fall down on her."
 
Well, shit. We're going to jail.
 
== Chapter 5: The Cursed, The Mall Cop, and The Bereaved ==
[[Category:TOTALLY NOT UNFINISHED U GUIZE]]
[[Category:Pages with grammar that doesn't suck]]
[[Category:Delusional retard that should be in an asylum]]
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