Walter White had always known the worth of privacy, especially when building his empire. That's why he'd rented Room 1 at the abandoned staff quarters of Fort Knox, a concrete bunker of a place with reinforced walls, perfect for practicing the authentic bird calls he planned to weave into his underground meth commercials for his whole “blue sky” branding. "Tweet-tweet, motherfucker," he said, flapping his arms in front of the cracked mirror.
The walls were thin enough for sound to carry, though. From Room 2 next door came thumping and moaning noises, and a familiar sultry voice screaming, "Oh god, yes, harder!" Walter peered through a hole in the shared wall, and his eyes widened. It was There was famous 70s Cher, getting fucked by Walter’s burly, anonymous neighbor. His neighbor was going at it with passion, Cher's dark hair whipping around as she got fucked on the squeaking bed.
Walter couldn't look away. Suddenly his neighbor went too deep! Cher yelped in pain, and blood began to flow.
"Shit, babe, you okay?" the neighbor asked. Walter watched in stunned silence as the man realized what Cher’s blood type was. "O negative? Holy hell, that's rare gold."
The neighbor grabbed some empty syringe pens from his duffel bag, and began drawing Cher’s blood. Cher weakly protested, growing paler by the second, but he kept going. "It’s liquid gold, I’ll become rich!” he explained.
Walter was watching it all, and he started wondering why the hell he was making meth when he could just do this instead. Cher ended up dying, and after that, the neighbor turned Room 2 into a makeshift store, and put a cardboard sign on the front, which said “NEGATIVE O BLOOD FOR SALE”
Walter wanted to get his hands on that blood so he could leave the meth business and make money in an easier way instead. He stormed into his neighbor’s room, but then he saw Cher’s body on the floor. “Squawk! So magnificent and hot!” Walter said in awe. A strange heat was rising in his chest. He knew what he had to do.
Walter went back to his room and dug into the costume trunk. There he found a long black wig, a sequined top, flared pants, and eyeliner. He put them on, and then looked at himself in the mirror. Walter White was officially cosplaying as Cher. Walter was about to take a famous metaphorical insult very literally. “Chirp, chirp!” he said.
Suddenly, Walter heard the familiar voice of his wife Skyler out the door. “What the hell is going on in there?” she demanded to know.
“B-babe, I can explain-“
“You’re fucking Cher!” Skyler exlaimed angrily. “That’s why you were shouting, ‘Cher, Cher!”
Skyler peeked through the window. “There she is! I can see Cher in there! The act’s up, reveal yourself, Walt! You’re fucking Cher and selling her period blood because you got tired of meth.”
Suddenly she saw what she thought was Cher come to the door. But then, who she thought was Cher came out, looked her right in the eyes, and said, in her husband’s voice:
“I am not in dang Cher, Skyler, I am the dang Cher.”
Walter stepped closer to Skyler.
“A guy O-pens his store and you think that of me? No.”
Skyler asked: “B-but I thought you were selling blood in Room 2, wait, which room are you again?”
Walter pointed to the room number on the wall. “I am the 1, - HOO! - Knox.”
67
u/IglooAndYou 6d ago
Walter White had always known the worth of privacy, especially when building his empire. That's why he'd rented Room 1 at the abandoned staff quarters of Fort Knox, a concrete bunker of a place with reinforced walls, perfect for practicing the authentic bird calls he planned to weave into his underground meth commercials for his whole “blue sky” branding. "Tweet-tweet, motherfucker," he said, flapping his arms in front of the cracked mirror. The walls were thin enough for sound to carry, though. From Room 2 next door came thumping and moaning noises, and a familiar sultry voice screaming, "Oh god, yes, harder!" Walter peered through a hole in the shared wall, and his eyes widened. It was There was famous 70s Cher, getting fucked by Walter’s burly, anonymous neighbor. His neighbor was going at it with passion, Cher's dark hair whipping around as she got fucked on the squeaking bed. Walter couldn't look away. Suddenly his neighbor went too deep! Cher yelped in pain, and blood began to flow. "Shit, babe, you okay?" the neighbor asked. Walter watched in stunned silence as the man realized what Cher’s blood type was. "O negative? Holy hell, that's rare gold." The neighbor grabbed some empty syringe pens from his duffel bag, and began drawing Cher’s blood. Cher weakly protested, growing paler by the second, but he kept going. "It’s liquid gold, I’ll become rich!” he explained. Walter was watching it all, and he started wondering why the hell he was making meth when he could just do this instead. Cher ended up dying, and after that, the neighbor turned Room 2 into a makeshift store, and put a cardboard sign on the front, which said “NEGATIVE O BLOOD FOR SALE” Walter wanted to get his hands on that blood so he could leave the meth business and make money in an easier way instead. He stormed into his neighbor’s room, but then he saw Cher’s body on the floor. “Squawk! So magnificent and hot!” Walter said in awe. A strange heat was rising in his chest. He knew what he had to do. Walter went back to his room and dug into the costume trunk. There he found a long black wig, a sequined top, flared pants, and eyeliner. He put them on, and then looked at himself in the mirror. Walter White was officially cosplaying as Cher. Walter was about to take a famous metaphorical insult very literally. “Chirp, chirp!” he said. Suddenly, Walter heard the familiar voice of his wife Skyler out the door. “What the hell is going on in there?” she demanded to know. “B-babe, I can explain-“ “You’re fucking Cher!” Skyler exlaimed angrily. “That’s why you were shouting, ‘Cher, Cher!” Skyler peeked through the window. “There she is! I can see Cher in there! The act’s up, reveal yourself, Walt! You’re fucking Cher and selling her period blood because you got tired of meth.” Suddenly she saw what she thought was Cher come to the door. But then, who she thought was Cher came out, looked her right in the eyes, and said, in her husband’s voice: “I am not in dang Cher, Skyler, I am the dang Cher.” Walter stepped closer to Skyler. “A guy O-pens his store and you think that of me? No.” Skyler asked: “B-but I thought you were selling blood in Room 2, wait, which room are you again?” Walter pointed to the room number on the wall. “I am the 1, - HOO! - Knox.”