[ WP ] A post apocalyptic society finds an ancient device that gives them instructions on what to do next . This device - the Bop It

Yolo stood before the Tribunal, three prisoners to his left, three prisoners to his right. He had n't died in the underground prison, he was n't killed working in the gulag, but the tribunal was sure to do him in. It was what scared all the prisoners the most; men would only hear stories of what treacherous means the tribunal used to thin the herd of prisoners. Scores of convicts impaled outright, others dismembered, many burned alive. Yolo had survived this long, but he was sure not to survive much longer. 
 
 The torchlit grand hall that housed the Tribunal sat atop a hill and was ghastly in presentation, adorned with skulls and painted red with what was certainly the blood of executed prisoners. Even outside, the grand hall was painted red to match the big letters of the word `` Costco'' that stood menacingly above the entrance. *You never come back from Costco*, he remembered Rofl and the other prisoners say. And here he was today. 
 
 Two members of the Tribunal came out, draped in yellow radiation suits and gold chains, the ceremonial garb of the *Juan-Persent*, the tribe that ruled USA 2.0. The two sat on either side of a large throne, uttering no words as they stared condescendingly at Yolo and the other prisoners. After a minute, the Tribunal Head came out and stood before the throne. 
 
 `` What's crackin', mothafuckas?'' spoke the Tribunal Head, in a perfect classical dialect. `` Y'all have been brought up in this bitch for judgment and shit, and this Tribunal shall judge yo' stupid asses to determine who shall live, and whose shit is gon na get fuckin' rekt.'' 
 
 Yolo fought the urge to shake in terror. *This is it*, he thought. *They'll kill me here for sure. * 
 
 `` We will now select a method of judgment for yo' stupid asses,'' said the Tribunal Head. `` The age of technology fucked this Earth straight up, so you mothafuckas will be judged by the same shit that ruined this planet.'' 
 
 The two members flanking the Tribunal Head spoke in unison. `` Word.'' 
 
 `` Shall these mothafuckas be judged by the Furby?'' asked the Tribunal head. A moment of silence from the others. 
 
 `` Naw dog.'' 
 
 `` Shall these mothafuckas be judged by the Simon?'' asked the Tribunal head. 
 
 `` Naw dog.'' 
 
 `` Shall these mothafuckas be judged by the Bop-It?'' 
 
 `` Hell yeah.'' 
 
 A thud echoed through the grand hall, and another Juan-Persenter in yellow and gold walked out with a wooden box. He handed the box to the Tribunal Head who opened it to reveal a plastic Bop-It. 
 
 `` And the the demonic pills.'' 
 
 The Juan-Persenter produced three small metallic canisters, each which bore the name Duracell on their shells. The Tribunal Head placed the canisters inside the Bop-It, and walked down to where the prisoners were standing. Face to face with the first prisoner, the Tribunal Head turned to the rest of the prisoners. 
 
 `` If the Bop-It judges you unfit and shit,'' he said, `` yo' stupid ass is gon na get rekt as fuck.'' He turned the Bop-It on, hit it on its side, and gave it to the first prisoner. 
 
 The Bop-It began to emit a humanoid sound in the hands of the first prisoner. `` *boom tch, boom boom tch, PULL IT tch, boom bo -- AGHHHH*'' A shot rang out and the first prisoner fell to the ground. The Tribunal Head had shot him straight through the chest. He handed the Bop-It to the second prisoner. 
 
 `` *boom tch, boom boom tch, TWIST IT tch, boom bo -- AGHHHH*'' *Crack*, another shot rang as the second prisoner fell to the floor. The Tribunal Head handed the Bop-It down the line. 
 
 `` *boom tch, boom boom tch, TWIST IT*,'' the third prisoner twisted the yellow end. `` *boom tch, PULL IT*,'' he pulled the purple end, shaking almost uncontrollably. `` *boom tch, TWIST IT*,'' but just as he tried to twist the yellow end, the Bop-It fell out of his hands and hit the floor. *Crack*, and he fell to the floor, shot point-blank by the Tribunal Head. 
 
 The Tribunal Head, almost inconvenienced by this, muttered as he picked up the Bop-It. He handed it to Yolo. *This is it*, thought Yolo. *I will die now*. 
 
 `` *boom tch, boom boom tch, PULL IT*.'' Yolo remembered the last prisoner, and pulled the purple end. `` *boom tch, TWIST IT*.'' He twisted the yellow end. `` *boom tch, PULL IT*.'' Another pull. `` *boom tch, BOP IT*'' 
 
 *What was BOP IT? * Yolo saw the gun. He imagined how it might feel for the gun to go off and fill his chest with pain and death. How the life would feel draining from him. *What is BOP IT? * What his last thought might be before his life evaporated from his body. He was panicked. There was nothing to do, but nothing to lose. He desperately whacked at the side of the Bop-It. It made a tinny crashing noise. 
 
 `` *boom tch, TWIST IT*.'' It worked. Hitting the Bop-It on its side was *BOP IT*. He twisted it. `` *boom tch, PULL IT*.'' Pull. `` *boom tch, BOP IT*.'' Bop. Twist. Twist. Bop. Pull. Twist. Bop. The pace accelerated, as terror and sweat washed over his face. Faster and faster. Twist. Bop. Pull. It seemed like forever. Twist. Twist. Pull. Bop. 
 
 Then, suddenly, the Bop-It starting *woop*ing uncontrollably. *Woop woop woop woop*. *What does this mean?! * thought Yolo. Thoughts of the bullet entering his chest resurfaced in his mind. *What do I do? * 
 
 Yolo heard a gunshot and shut his eyes tightly. It did n't feel like he thought it would feel. Even stranger, there was no pain. He heard another shot, and another. He opened his eyes to see that the Tribunal Head had shot the remaining three prisoners, but not him. 
 
 `` Give me back the Bop-It mothafucka.'' Yolo handed the Bop-It back to the Tribunal Head. The two other members stood up and folded their arms. 
 
 `` This mothafucka,'' said the Tribunal Head. `` This mothafucka gets technology and shit.'' The others nodded. `` Yo, send word to the council that we've found a mothafucka who can do technology.'' Yolo wondered what this all meant. *Is n't technology evil? Is n't it the problem? Why do they need technology? It has n't been around for 45 years. * He was too afraid to ask, thinking that even an utterance would get him shot. 
 
 The Tribunal Head looked into Yolo's eyes and for a brief second stepped outside his condescending glance. `` It's your lucky day and shit.'' He holstered the gun. `` What's your name mothafucka?'' 
 
 Yolo hesitated, and stuttered his name. `` Yo... Yolo Swagger.'' 
 
 The Tribunal Head pointed back at the others. `` Follow those mothafuckas, Yolo Swagger. Today's your lucky day, bitch. You're gon na save the planet and shit.''
