The following story is a parody of the video game Resident Evil.
Welcome to the island of Flying Squirrel, an isle so small that only one vast metropolis can occupy it. The year is A.D. 2998 in Flying Squirrel City, famous for its hospitable people, flying automobiles, grand buildings, and for being the largest clothing-optional resort in the world. However, it is most famous for being the base of the large-scale pharmaceutical company, Calico, Incorporated.
Recently, at a press conference, the president of Calico announced a brand-new, over-the-counter-drug, "Cold-Be-Gone:" a really-long-awaited-cure for the common cold. The president also said that the first box of this miracle drug would be given to Flying Squirrel's oldest and most time-honored family, the Stupidfolks. They lived in Flying Squirrel Forest in a large mansion, built for them by Calico.
One night, the Stupidfolks had a party at their estate, and they invited many people to come, get down, and boogie! Spontaneously, and simultaneously, the Stupidfolks and their invitees all came down with a cold. Fortunately, though, the Stupidfolks had a super-deluxe box of Cold-Be-Gone and had just enough caplets for them and their guests.
Each human at the party ingested one caplet with a glass of water. Five seconds passed, and their skin became snow white; their cheeks, noses, and lips shifted to bright red; and the males' hair turned dark green and the females', saffron. They, then, proceeded to walk around, aimlessly, repeatedly chanting the sickening word, "hug." They were humans, no longer.
It is twilight in the Flying Squirrel 1 Precinct; the sky assumes the standard orange; and a rainbow of flying vehicles zoom overhead. It is not difficult to notice them, for they all look as if they were painted with highlighters. There is one black car, however, and it breaks away from them, as it lands in the driveway of a two-story, translucent house. The gull-wing door of the automobile swings open, revealing a white man of 30 years with blue eyes and a dark blond, mop-top hairdo.
The man exits the car and stretches, wearing a silver and black uniform. The acronym, "F.A.R.S." is printed in black letters on the front and back of it. The man is 180 centimeters tall and has an athletic physique. He approaches the house's front door, which has two panels with depressions for the left and right hands. He places his hands into the depressions, and the panels begin to glow blue.
"Scanning," The computer representing the house says with its masculine voice. Then, there is a small beep and the glow dissipates. "Hand scan complete and valid. Please state your name for voice recognition."
Leon Christopher Blufeld," The man says, taking his hands out of the depressions.
"Who?" The computer says jokingly and chuckles.
Leon joins the computer in chuckling, "Very funny, House, but seriously, let me in," he commands.
"All right, voice identification valid," House says, and the door opens.
"Lights," Leon commands. The plasma-based lighting system starts to gleam, proudly. The light compliments the house's interior crystalline structure beautifully, unveiling many blues, greens, and pinks on every wall.
Leon sighs, as he enters the house, marveling at his home's beauty. The door closes soundlessly behind him. Leon then compliments, "House, I have lived within your walls for four years since I was honorably discharged from the Flying Squirrel Navy, yet you never ceased to amaze me. You're so beautiful."
"You flatter me, Leon, thank you," House responds.
"You're welcome, House. Now, if you'll excuse me, I am off to my bedroom to change because I am sick of wearing this extremely uncomfortable, dad-blasted, poor excuse of an uniform! Gee whiz, I hate this thing so! I hope that rookie, Melody Chamberlain, is glad that she is a nudist. At least she doesn't have to wear this thing! Jeez!"