In My Pants
~~~Steve Studnuts is seen in his VERY SPACIOUS AND LAVISHLY DECORATED mansion which is nestled somewhere in Phoenix, Az. A scantily clad Connie Lingus is also seen, sitting on Steve’s ALL BLACK & GENUINE LEATHER sectional. She’s watching some kind of crappy awards show on Steve’s SUPER EXPENSIVE PLASMA SCREEN T.V. THAT’S BIGGER THAN YOUR HOUSE. Steve now moves off screen, but you can still hear him as the view focuses on a VERY BORED AND NEARLY SUICIDAL Connie as she’s forced to continue watching Steve’s SUPER EXPENSIVE PLASMA SCREEN T.V. THAT’S BIGGER THAN YOUR HOUSE. Did I mention that Connie’s nipples are ERECT AND EASILY NOTICABLE?~~~
Studs: (from off screen) Hey, Connie… did I win niecs ass?
Connie: No, Steve… some dumb chick won it.
Studs: (still off screen) What about Goodest Good Guy?
Connie: That was a joke, hon… I don’t think that was an actual award.
Studs: (continuing to be off screen) GAT-DAMMIT!
~~~Steve now appears in view because I’m tired already of writing ‘off screen’. He joins Connie on the sectional and he’s looking very tan and muscular. Look at him and you’ll see.~~~
Studs: I hated that fed, but I thought they’d at least give me something.
Connie: Come on, Steve… you didn’t REALLY work there, you just like watching MST.
Studs: WHO DOESN’T? Well, not counting the fuckin’ retards that run those shitty feds. I mean really, you have to LOVE retarded fed heads that run those piss poor shitholes, which in turn causes cool and smart dudes like Trey and Seth to pick on their stupid, retarded, no spellin’ skills havin’, retarded, retard feds. THEY’RE RETARDED! And their feds are retarded. And if they shit on their own promotion, their shit would be retarded.
Connie: Ooooooo-kay.
Studs: Say, wasn’t that an AWESOME party I threw last month? GAT-DAMN that was one for the ages! I’ve never seen Seth so drunk. I think he did it with Jizzabelle.
Connie: No, that was Trey.
Studs: No, Trey watched from the closet. HEY! What time is it? I need to see what’s goin’ on with the BOB. Turn this shit off… put it on forums. Ya know, the Rant Zone shit.
(She complies. Steve watches, albeit very briefly. )
Studs: Who the fuck is Jerry Curl? At least he could have been somewhat 21st Century and called himself Jerri Kurl. You’re nobody until you intentionally misspell your name to get over. Ya dig?
Connie: But you don’t…
Studs: I don’t NEED to misspell MY name to get over, Connie. I’m over. Big time over. I’m over like over the fuckin’ rainbow over. That’s a fact. Jerry Curl? How fuckin’ stupid is THAT?
Connie: I think he’s douja’s nephew…. at least that’s what I think I read. Ummm, saw.
Studs: douja… prime example of a black dude threatenin’ to sue the man if he didn’t put multiple straps on him. douja sucks, always sucked, always will suck, yet that sorry fucker has held every single title in BOB. Al Sharpton had a hand in that, I tell ya. Jesse Jackson and that fucker that said, “If the glove don’t fit, you must acquit,” did to. It’s a conspiracy, I swear it is! If douja was in WWE, he’d be just another Booker T. An Intercontinental title and that’s it. IF he even got THAT. Punk ass bitch….
Connie: Steve?
Studs: What?
Connie: You’re sounding very racist.
Studs: Am I? Shit, I didn’t even get to the one where I asked you, “What do you call a black kid with a brand new bike?”
~~~Cut to static, for the simple reason that Steve Studnuts is dangerously close to breaking one of the few rules that’s actually enforced in BOB so they don’t get kicked of Proboards. Besides, his handler is at work and is dangerously close to getting busted in his office, fucking off on the computer, and wasting valuable company time playing when he could be designing a new form or something. So, in an attempt to save his job, Steve’s handler types:
Hey, douja IS black, isn’t he? Been so long, I forgot if he was a black dude or a white dude actin’ black…
So, douja… what flava are ya, bruddah?
And you won’t have to worry ’bout your greasy head nephew getting activator juice on your car seats… I’ll be more than happy to smack that shine right out of his hair… I’m gonna smack that shine right out of his hair. OH YEAH! SING IT, PEOPLE!
And then Spacecop can rape him in the ass with his giant smilie wang. Cool?
yo’ mamma knows what flava i am fa’ damn sho’!! 15 inches of choclatey goodness in her mouth!! i hate sh*t talkin’ third-rate heels!! where is smp when you need him?
AtomoMail
To: Steve Studnuts
CC: douja
From: Azathoth@AtomoMail.doom
Re: Douja’s Identity.
So, the truth is revealed at last: Douja is not a human being, but a jumbo sized candy bar. Now, If I can only find out whether he has caramel filling or nougat, I can formulate a plan to destroy him.
P.S. Steve Studnuts is a stupid name.
AtomoMail did in fact have intercourse with your mother.
–HACKING IN PROGRESS–
–INCOMING TRANSMISSION–
*The screen of Steve Studnut’s television goes staticy, and the por- I mean game show he’s watching is replaced by an image of Sir Zeno on his couch, staring out at the onlookers. Mr. Paradox is in the background, typing at a computer.*
Sir Zeno: Steve, Steve, Steve. Why do you cotinue to waste the time of everyone in this federation with your whiny little comments? Honestly, Raven was less annoying than you.
*Throwing back his green, bishounen-style hair, Sir Zeno leans back on his couch, plucking a grape from the bowl. Mr. Paradox types faster, sweat developing on his forehead.*
Sir Zeno: Is that all you do in this fed? Sit around and show off your… (Leans forward) …non-existant muscular structure? Honestly, just making fun of you is a waste of time I could have spent seducing your mother, or watching a rerun of “You Can’t Do That on Television”. While I’m complaining, what’s with the random all-caps? It’s like listening to Torgo.
*Mr. Paradox slides off of his chair in exhaustion, and a 10-second counter appears on the screen.*
Sir Zeno: To conclude, once I decide to act… Your days of self-amusement will end…
*He goes into a long, evil laugh, which is cut off.*
–TRANSMISSION INTERRUPTED–
–TRANSMISSION LOST–
*The Seka video starts up again. At least he has good taste in smut.*