Kyle & Area 51, pt. 1

With Kyle, and Area 51 being such a big part of our lives right now, I thought that I would write you all a story about them. But I want to remind you that this is just a work of fiction. Everyone knows that Kyle is a douche. Thanks for reading. -Rob

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Picture this, if you will: It's Friday night, and you're stuck alone in your mom's basement, surrounded by nothing but cats, Monster Energy Drinks, and more drywall than any man could ever shake a fist at. You look around the room, just praying that the drywall says something to you, but it seems to know better today. Today, it is keeping its damned mouth shut. That's good for the drywall. But not for you, Kyle. Not at all.

Looking carefully around the room, you scan for something to do that could keep your mind off of the terror that will befall this home if you don't calm your frantic, and hectic thoughts. It's looking pretty desperate, but your Kyle, you can handle this, right? You can avoid destroying this damned drywall, if only something would take you from the hell of mommy's basement.

And that's when you get it: the reminder tone on your phone that lets you know that it's time to head out to Area 51. You are an asshole, so you don't really care about the end result. The only thing that you really care about is destroying some drywall, and forcing the government to foot that bill.

In your excitement, and happiness, you chug a Monster Energy Drink, and then a second and third, before you punch a few holes in the drywall. Fuck it, you've been so good. You deserve this. And to be fair, the drywall was asking for it just a moment ago. After adding a few new holes to the recently replaced drywall, you down a couple more Monsters, put a few in your pockets, and one underneath your bad ass Limp Bizkit hat. That's the perfect place to put a drink. You know this, bro. The whole world knows that you know this. Grabbing your chain wallet off the table, and punching one more hole in the drywall, you walk up the stairs, and tell your mom goodbye, throwing one more punch in the drywall, making a grand total of seventeen holes in the kitchen wall. But it's okay, you're Kyle. You're basically God himself.

Shutting the door behind you, you grab a quick smoke, and down another monster before getting on your scooter, and prepare for the drive to Area 51. They need you down there. There is no way that this fool mission goes well without Kyle. Who else is going to punch their way into their base, and lead the army of nerds, geeks, and Kyle fans? Nobody. That's who. Nobody. The world is your burrito, Kyle. The thought makes you smile, as you pull out another Monster, and chug that motherfucker like it ain't no thang. And in truth, it ain't. You're Kyle. You're more Monster Energy Drink than anything else at this point.

Suddenly, as if a sign had been dropped from Heaven, you see it: a truck stop. It had been literally fifteen minutes since you had punched any drywall, and you are going through crazy withdrawals. As you pull into the parking lot, you kamikaze jump from your scooter, and run into the truck stop. It's small, and there is an Indian man standing behind the counter. Since you're a bit of a racist asshole, you would normally tell him to go back to his own country, but since you're in a hurry, you run for the bathroom, and punch a few holes in the drywall. You feel better, much better, as you run to the cooler, stock up on Monsters and leave. You don't bother paying for them. Kyle's don't buy from un-American folks. Kyle's are better than that.

You hop back on your scooter, which has crashed into the only other vehicle in the parking lot, happy to see that your cute, pink Vespa wasn't damaged. You would totally just park your scooter, but you're Kyle. You don't have time for stupid shit like that. Nobody is greater than you are, Kyle. You smile again, as you down yet another Monster. Man, punching that drywall had been fun. But punching that punk-ass Area 51 drywall  is going to be glorious. You are so excited about punching holes in that drywall, that you can damn near taste it! "You the man, Kyle," you say to yourself, as lick that truck stop drywall dust from your hand.

Pulling your vape smoking thing out of your pocket, you take a long drag on the concoction you made, and get a taste of that Monster-Peach-YooHoo flavor. It hits you hard, and your head starts to feel a little swimmy right away. Too much Monster? Nah. Never. To you, Kyle, there can never be too much Monster. This thought reminds you that it's time to down another Monster. You reach into your pocket and pull out a tall-boy of the caffeine goodness of the best damned energy drink ever. It rejuvenates you. You feel like a new man. All badass, and with Monster running through your veins. Some would say that the size of your can of Monster would be compensating for something, but let's face it, though you let everyone know you're packing three feet down there, we all know that it's more tic-tac sized. You can lie to us all, Kyle, but you can't lie to yourself.

The night is pretty fantastic. There's a slight breeze on the air. There are birds singing somewhere in the distance. You pass by a garage, and a band is playing some awful cover of "Back In Black". The sky is partly cloudy, and blue. It's pretty perfect out. You don't even mind the truck that has stopped suddenly in front of you... until you drive your little shitty Vespa right into. You're propelled through the air at an alarming height and speed. You think to yourself for just a moment that this is not how it will end. Kyle will not go out like this. Not without drinking another monster.

Time seems to slow to a crawl for you, as you whip your bad ass Limp Bizkit hat off of your sweaty head, and crack open your emergency Monster. You down that son of a bitch like it ain't no thang, just before you start to bounce off of the road in front of you. For just a moment you're stunned at how little it hurts. That is, until the pain kicks in. It's awful. But you're heart is pumping more Monster than blood at this point, so you know that you'll be fine. You close your eyes for a moment as you come to a stop on the road.

Your eyes are squeezed shut as hard as you can, but there just isn't much strength left in you to do so. You're sure that you'll be fine, but you may need to lay waste to some drywall to let some of your anger at your new predicament out. You're pretty pissed. But you know that you have to open your eyes, and check out the situation. You couldn't possibly be dead. No Kyle could ever go out so meaninglessly. So silly. You're the best that there has ever been. When you finally open your eyes, you see that you were right, you're not losing blood, you're losing Monster.

All around you, your body is excreting the Monster Energy Drink that has somehow held in the blood that you need to keep you alive. It's at that moment that you realize that Kyle is no longer human, but is in fact the embodiment of Monster Energy Drink. "At last," you think to yourself, "the transformation is complete." You howl like a wolf. A big, hearty howl, that scares the driver of the truck off.

For just a moment you think about chasing him down, but realize that you have depleted your reserves of Monster, and you are leaking it in large puddles, from every orifice of your body. You need more Monster, and stat. And that's when you notice it... a delivery truck of Monster. You have no way of knowing that this truck is headed down to Area 51, and yet for some reason you do. You know it as sure as your name is Kyle.

The driver sees you, and smiles. "Your name is Kyle." It was not a question.

"Yes it is, Kyle."

The driver smiles warmly back at him. "Well, my fellow Kyle, hop in. We gotta get to Area 51. And don't worry," the new Kyle sales, flashing his toothless grin, "I've got plenty of Monsters right up front in my cooler.

Kyle walks around to the passenger door, and eases into the truck. There is pain, but it's not so bad. The Monster took most of the brunt of the wreck. Kyle pops open a Monster, and hand's it to you. You chug that Monster like it ain't no damn thang, and then down a few more. You feel better. You feel new. You  are Kyle again. Not a human. Not a Monster. Even better, you are Kyle. You are both Kyle. And to thank Kyle for helping you out, you do what all Kyle's do. You unzip his jeans, and repay his kindness. That's just how a good Kyle rolls. And you are a good Kyle. Clearly Kyle is a good Kyle too. And this is good. This is perfect.

The truck isn't as cool as your Vespa, but it is full of Monster. Fuel for all of the Kyle out at Area 51. This is good. With an army of Kyle, there is no way for the US Government to keep you all out. You'll all make quick work of dispatching the drywall at the base. And the outer walls? Well hell, with enough Kyle, those walls will fall faster than a Kyle's girlfriend's panties on prom night. It will be marvelous. Kyle will finally be recognized as the most amazing beings on the planet. And it's nearly time. Area 51 lay just ahead, and straight on until morning.

Soon is the time of victory for Kyle. All of you!