Uncyclopedia:Marshals Service/Nacky's Office
Hello, this is my office. It has a desk and a chair. It seems okay. I was previously in another room in this building, but they moved me to here. It's much bigger than the janitor's closet but now I don't know where the chemicals are. I still have my mop. I wasn't the janitor here. Cleaning Lady. Maybe. In a sense. At random. But only when a room was so messy and cluttered have I went in there and got Auri Katariina on its ass.
This place is a giant collection of movie theaters. It's all about entertainment even if there's zero content to learn from or lack of useful information. It's here to juggle clowns. Huff orcs. And stop the reptilians from reproducing. That's its main function. At least from what the directory says. There are alien statues in the lobby. I won't dust them. I am not going near that stuff. I had a bad experience once.
I was dusting some statues and pruning the hedges when they came to life. I had the pruning shears and took those hedges down a notch or two, but the statues had to be dealt with so, luckily I had some C4. Nevermind where I got it. There are others here who have plutonium, so it's not all that uncommon to have it around. One has to know how to survive. On most days I play it by ear. I've collected some shiny things. I have been able to stay under the radar to escape the zombies. Sometimes they find me. I keep a low hum and have been able to blend in with the static. This place is a bastion of human ingenuity disguised as an antique truck.
A New Year Approaches[edit source]
When are the nice aliens landing? I guess that's the question. But I'm just trying to survive in a world of illegal aliens who are out to kill everyone. It's so odd that cat ladies are being cloned to do evil work instead of good work. Cuties are still out there in need of rescue. But instead the shape-shifting aliens are going around trying to appear as cat ladies. They're obviously serial killing aliens and not cat ladies. I feel so helpless because now they are making a bad name for us real life Cat Lords & Ladies. So here I am, at the office late at night compiling my own investigation because everyone else is doing their own investigations and taking away the power from the lying, scathing serial killing psychopaths in mainstream muck.
I was there. There was a crowd with a bunch of aliens from District 9 going around and their on-the-clock minions were using cardboard cutouts of facehuggers and screaming while the Cops surveying the massacre of random peeps not involved were hauling off the Xenomorphs and Starfleet stood ready to beam up what was left of them. As I was saying, I'm doing my own investigation because I take offense at the fact that there are absolute psychotic orc ladies out there parading around like they are cat ladies. The Marshal is a bad motherfucker and he will hear about this. I have a report. I was taking notes. One crowd of screamers appeared to be trying to throw punches and the occasional dart at the faces of police. A few of them landed, but it only pissed the police off even more. I quickly concluded that the imposters were not there to rescue any cats. No, they were there to save the Xenomorphs and their offspring; the deadly facehuggers from which they would use the protestors as host bodies until they could be disposed of and discarded.
But a block away I saw a cat! A homeless cat that was in the cold and needed saved right then and there. I had to save that poor baby. I was driving to the store to fetch food and drink for the kitty when I saw yet another crowd of psycho alien-fanciers. And again, not too far away there were a couple of scared cats huddling next to an abandoned building. Not once did the imposters think to save those kitties! The gall! The nerve! So I shouted that there were cats right there and why isn't anyone saving them? But they were trying to kill the cops, who were trying to take the aliens down, while the nasties were talking smack about eating children and collecting millions of dollars for abandoned centers. I realized that I would have to take those kitties and get them out of the cold.
Then at midnight, things got dark. At some abandoned school where learing was advertised as a guideline rather than an actual rule, an agent showed up to take out yet another alien who was feasting on a Chinese cook. I witnessed the alien swing around and make some hissing noise and out of the woodwork and out of nowhere, a bunch of rabid protestors just showed right up. And just a few feet away there was another homeless cat! They scared the poor thing! The cat ran off and hid under a car. So I had to go over to that car and put some food down and coax the cat out from under the car. At first it was difficult because the stupid car had one of those imposters in it who had been leaning on the horn. So the cat was even more frightened and ran to hide in a tree. It took me an hour to finally get the cat down from the tree where I promptly placed him inside my Tesla Cybertruck for warmth and shelter. Then the ugly crowd started trying to disturb the vehicle where I had my rescue cats! The agents battling these assholes were overwhelmed and they started throwing more punches and darts. And by now were throwing rocks and beehives. I helplessly watched as a few agents were eaten by the Xenomorphs. Of course the aliens also ate some of the protestors, so that was hilarious. But I had to get the cats away from the battle zones. The protestors started blocking my escape to get the cats to safety. So I ran over them and rolled down the window so the cats could rip them apart before jumping back into the vehicle. The cats ripped out the protestors faces and eyeballs and shredded their limbs and left the road covered in protestor entrails. I had saved 100 cats this way. It was a tough night. All in all, this new year has been really fucked. And I will be writing all the aliens up, and handing over my report to the Marshall.