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Wiggerocity – pt.3

July 28th, 2008
Comments Off on Wiggerocity – pt.3

Axl

[We open once again upon the Residence of Evil, where the VW Beetle… of Evil… has just pulled into the driveway. The doors swing open, and Axl steps out from the front passenger’s side seat, before heading to the back door and opening it. From within emerges the Lord of Darkness. No, not THAT ‘Lord of Darkness… or even THAT ‘Lord of Darkness’. Not that ‘Lord of Darkness’ either. No, the one I refer to, is none other than Garth Vader, the one and only. Viruz exits from his spot behind the steering wheel, and the trio head toward the inner sanctum of the Residence…]

> > > a few minutes later < < < [Axl and Viruz are testing out the latest prototype of the very first widely released X-Station game, 'Super Mario Whatever', when four Dollar Store Troopers walk into the den from the kitchen... all wearing cheap "rapper" gear, ontop of their customary Trooper attire. They part to the sides, and Garth walks onto the scene...] Garth Vader

Garth: *wheeze* Axl-walker… Viruz. I have assembled the Troopers here for an emergency meeting… to call down within your beings, and pull forth the power…

Garth: … of the FUNK.

[Axl and Viruz look at eachother with a quizzical expression across their faces.]

Axl: [looking at Garth] Uhm… What the funk is the… Funk?

Viruz: … [looks at Garth… then back at Axl] Ya know, Trable might have been right. We do sort of get cruddy material.

Viruz

Axl: Hey, I try hard, ‘kay?

Garth: … Again, I’m lost…

Axl: Sorry, inside reference…

Garth: *shakes head* Annnyway… *wheeze* … Really need to check with the doctor about that asthma… But back on point. The Funk is the power… the inner energy… the “force” if you will, within us all, to bring out something incredible… something stupendous… something… Fresh, Hot, and Spankadellic!

Viruz: [looking at Axl] Ya SURE we got the RIGHT Vader this time?

Axl: I… think so…

Garth: Ugh… In other words, you two are going to have a second chance to rap, but this time, I’m going to provide you with something VERY powerful. Something you didn’t have back at the day care center.

Axl: A wooden paddle to smack those kids around with?

Garth: No! A beatbox!

Axl: … Wow.

Viruz: Can I get back to playing the game? It’s VERY important, and CAN’T wait!

Axl: STOP CAPITALIZING EVERYTHING!!!

Viruz: …

Axl: And cut it with the damn ‘…’s! CHRIST!!!

Viruz: 😉

Axl: ARGGGHHH!!!

Garth: These four Troopers are going to provide the beatbox for the most masterful combination of rhyme and rhythm ever!

Axl: I highly doubt that…

Viruz: :p

Axl: WILL YOU STOP THAT?!

Garth: Hit it boys! And May the Funk Be With Yooooooouuuuuuuuu!!!

[And so – ]

Garth: *wheeze*

[…]

Garth: I need an inhaler…

[The Troopers cup their hands around their mouths and begin a beat, while Axl and Viruz begin to rap. Well, this oughta be… terrible.]

Axl: Yo dawg, yo dawg, YO!
My name is Axl, The Great’s an asshole.
I crap things with more cred than ‘XFactor’ Trable.
The Great has the nerve tah call a guy like ME a tool?
He must be talkin’ about my nuts and bolt, cuz if he is, that’s cool.

Viruz: I –

Axl: I ain’t gonna cut him down for wantin’ a piece of The Axl.
Just as long as he knows, I ain’t a homosexual.
But if HE is, then that’s fine, that’s just Great.
Better for him to go out with a feminine looking guy than that wife that looks like a primate.

Viruz: The –

Axl: The dude’s got a slut for a daughter, named Lauren or some shit,
The chick’s probably got the gat dam Grand Canyon for a clit.
One of his boys is a retard, who’s just not that smart…
His other son’s named Nick. Atleast he doesn’t accidentally blow the house apart!

Viruz: And –

Axl: And then you’ve got the grandma, the dusty old witch.
Wah wah wah wah wah. Decipher THAT one, bitch!
And Petey, you’re your own number one fan.
The only action you ever get is from your right or left hand!

Viruz: … Ahem. So –

Axl: So, to sum this shit up, cuz I know you two got ADD,
You have only one chance to defeat the Hierarchy,
And that’s if XFactor dies and the Great passes too,
So we have tah face two undead zombies. Instead ah just two braindead foo’s!!!

Viruz: … Foo’s? … Axl, you didn’t let me get any lines in! Not even a word in edge-wise!

Axl: Huh. Well, go ahead. Say something.

Viruz: … Word.

Axl: …

[Yeah… as I thought. Terrible.]

Garth: Dammit! I could have sworn the beatbox thing was what got Trable over! But this rap was just… just… Well, what do you think judges?

[The camera switches to three judges at a desk. One, a black man. One, a white woman. And the third, a white man. A BRITISH white man. Yep, this is familiar…]

Black Guy: Yo, man, that was some crazy shit right there. … Crazy as in bad. Really. Seriouslly, just plain bad. … Yo.

White Chick: I love it! It’s wonderful, it’s awesome, it’s fabulous! … Oops, sorry, let me take my headphones off, I was just listening to “Straight Up”! Uhm… from what I could actually hear… yeah, your rapping stinks. Very much. … Sorry.

British Dude: Pip pip, cheerio, and all that good rubbish. As for the “rap”, if you can really call it that… rubbish. Without the ‘good’ part. The absolute most terrible, horrible, terrible, awful, terrible… did I mention terrible?

Axl/Viruz: YES!

British Dude: – thing I’ve EVER had the dishonor of listening to. Abysmal. And terrible.

Axl/Viruz: WE GET IT!

Garth: Well, *wheeze*, it’s obvious ‘The Funk ™’ isn’t going to help you defeat Great and Pete… Maybe the Shchwartz… I hear that SpaceBalls FlameThrower packs some… heat. … Geez… This script is…

British Dude: Terrible?

Garth: Uhm… yeah. That.

Axl: Hey, I said I try my damndest. It’s just hard, what with the… thinking. … I’m hungry.

Garth: Well, damn… Axl, maybe you should just do what you’re best at. Talking. … You need another balloon microphone, I’ve got plenty.

Axl: … No thanks.

[Axl plops down on the sofa, and while Viruz returns to plugging away at his beta, Axl begins to share a few words with… ugh… “The Axl-Holics”…]

Axl: Hello, my Kingdom. It’s good to see you again. As you know, at Power is Stolen, the Hierarchy has an opportunity… a SHOT at a title shot… against the number one rising star in Brawlers today, The Great… and his flunky.

Viruz: YES! Level 2!

Axl: … You’ve been on the first level for FIVE hours…

Viruz: I know… I’m good at making games. Never said I was good at playing them…

Axl: … Anyway, Great has stated that he hopes for my prescence in the contest, so that Great can “destroy” me. And while normally, I wouldn’t just bow to the whim of another… in fact, if there’s to be ANY bowing, it’s to be done at MY feet… Well, I’m going to let you know Great. I’ll be there. My brother over here? He’ll be there as well. And the two of us… the Brothers of Jawesomeness… instead of being destroyed? We’re going to be the ones destroying the two of you greased up monkey butts!!! Not just for the sake of the titles… NOT just for the sake of the Kingdom… But because Pete… you broke one of the King’s Golden Rules!

Viruz: Uh, lemme guess… he called you a que-

Axl: DON’T you dare! Noone is allowed to mention that word around me! And Peter! I am not… and I repeat, NOT… that word. I am no longer a lipstick and fingernail polish wearing goth poser. I Am no longer a hair-metalist with caked on makeup! I AM… me. Myself. I am simply… The Axl. The Axl that the entire wheel that is BoB rotates constantly around. For without me, BoB would SUFFER! It would flounder, slowly dying… slowly creeping closer, and closer, and closer still… to its dying breathe. And with me as one of its champions? BoB will become the very pinnacle of professional amateur fake-ass e-sports entertainment wrestling!!!

Viruz: This game sucks.

Axl: You MADE the game! I thought you said you were good at that?

Viruz: Uh… I lied?

Axl: … As I said, Pete, I am NOT… you know what. And the next time you refer to me as such, I shall have to force you to choke on those words! And furthermore, while my bit at the day care center may have sucked, my rap just a few moments ago? It was better than each and every last one of your pathetic ‘rhymes’, wrapped up and rolled into one huge, gigantanormous ball of… of… WIGGEROCITY!!!

Viruz: DAMMIT! FUCK!!!~!1 Game Over!

Axl: Shit dude, you suck at the game you yourself made. That’s… that’s just sad. But you know what won’t be sad?

Viruz: When I edit the game so you win by beating the first level?

Axl: … When you and I defeat Great and Trable, and go on to obliterate Studnuts and that guy ‘??’, whoever HE is, for the tag titles! And Pete… Great? When the four of us meet, what happened to Thrilla and Paradox… well, it’ll PALE in comparison to what the Hierarchy does to the two of YOU! You’ll be dead! You’ll be deader THAN dead! In fact, you’ll be SO dead, it’ll give an all new meaning to what the word dead even means! It’ll mean… uh… REALLY… REALLY fuckin’ dead! We’re going to do things that Space Cop and Space Duck and Space Dick and Space Cock and Space Spacely never even DREAMED of! … Except the raping part.

Axl: Because I’m not gay.

Axl: …

Axl: PERIOD.

Viruz: OH, FUCK THIS SHIT!

[Viruz sends the controller hurtling through the tv screen.]

Viruz: Uh… didn’t Michelle buy that thing the other day?

Axl: Man… it’s going to be hard to replace a 60 inch, plasma screen tv… Wait, I’ve got an idea.

> > > a few minutes later < < < Axl: There, that oughta do it. Viruz: You think she'll notice? [The camera takes a quick shot of an 8 inch, black and white tv built into an A.M. radio...] Axl: Uh... nah. ... Probably. Aw well, you did it, so what's the big deal? ... I mean, if you're me. ... Sorry, bro. Anyway, I'm hungry, I think I'll go grab a bite. Ya want anything? Viruz: The number of a good doctor... I think I'm gonna need it... |the|

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Driving Miss Lazy

November 25th, 2003

~~~You’re sitting there enjoying a FOLLICLE-BE-GONE infomercial when all of a sudden… (and it was right at the good part where it mentions the removal of unsightly “bikini line” hair with accompanying footage of a shapely model in a bathing suit. Bad timing indeed, especially if you’re the type that really gets into or likes to watch the removal of bikini line hair ) … the image cuts to a deserted strip of asphalt set in a desert surrounding. Coincidentally, “deserted” has double meaning in that sentence. Brief shot of a lone cactus until a yellow blur whizzes by….

…the very next image is of Steve Studnuts, behind the wheel of his Faience yellow, Porsche Carrera GT. Since your view is now from the passenger seat, where Connie Lingus, Steve’s Cindy Crawford, Angie Everhart, Sarah Michelle Gellar, with a pinch of Tara Reid looking splooge dispenser, is desperately trying to hold a camera straight, you can’t really see the outer paint job. You will notice, if you please, that black leather interior. Thank you. You may also happen to notice Steve is wearing an Arizona Diamondbacks baseball jersey and not an Arizona Cardinals football jersey because quite frankly… Steve likes sports, especially football, but the Cardinals suck.

Steve acknowledges the camera from time to time, glancing at it out of the corner of his profiled right eye while he continues to drive well above the posted speed limit. Connie shall be heard and not seen for obvious reasons.~~~

Connie: Steve, can you slow down a bit? It’s hard to concentrate on filming you when I can’t really concentrate on what you’re about to run over… I’d like to at least be able to brace myself.

Studs: (while shifting to a higher gear) Shuddap and keep rollin’. (He glances over at her for a nanosecond before quickly focusing back to the street) Felicia called yesterday after watchin’ the latest round of feeble attempts to thwart my efforts of insulting douja and his faggy nephew and said I caused quite a stir. douja was pissed and called me a third rate heel… then mentioned something about some SMP character being a “real” heel. Yeah, I remember SMP… that’s that gimp Lance Mayhem and I damn near killed at Sunday Bloody Sunday. What a pussy…. I think that dude cried after we started beatin’ his ass. (He glances towards Connie again, then back to the road. Steve then leans to his left as it appears he’s beginning to hang a curve. He then straightens back up.)

Listen, Toby… I also heard you dared question my title history. Man, I’ve FORFEITED more World Championships due to lack of competition and or interest than you’ve won matches, pal. Maybe even HAD matches. To be brutally honest, I could beat you, your nephew, your Aunt Jemima, your Uncle Tom, and your sister Thelma from “Good Times” all in one fair swoop…. and not even break a fuckin’ sweat. (Steve quickly checks his rearview mirror, then continues without looking over towards Connie) And that’s a fact, jerkweed.

So, anytime you’re feelin’ a little froggy… sign the dots, buddy. And from there, I’ll do somethin’ I haven’t had to do since I was in third grade… and that’s SPANK MY MONKEY! ‘Cause you’re my monkey, douja… and you’re MY BITCH. Take it to the bank and live off the interest, Chim Chim.

(Steve then gases it a little more)

Studs: As for the retard that said my name was stupid…. you are….. WHO? Never heard of ya, jerkweed. Aren’t you some kind of robot? Or a scientist or something? Maybe I HAVE heard something about you… in a poor joke told by one of my party guest. You appear intelligent, yet you can’t figure out how to destroy douja because you don’t know if he’s caramel filled or nougat filled? Tell ya what, sit at ringside when I beat the shit out of him and then you’ll know. Better still… why don’t you just open that big mouth of yours and SWALLOW him? Don’t grab him, just swallow him…. everybody knows milk chocolate melts in your mouth and not in your hands. I guess simple logic doesn’t apply to robots/scientists. Go do a chemistry experiment or somethin’ and keep your gatdamn nose out of my biz-nass before I take the one of you that’s posin’ as the scientist and shove you up the ass of one that’s posin’ as the robot. Ya dig?

Hey Connie? Who was that other fag that had somethin’ to say? Jizzabelle say anything to you?

Connie: Yeah, she talked to Felicia, too. His name was Sir Zeno.

Studs: (Looks towards Connie with that “What the fuck?” look on his face. Then…. back to the road.)
Is that the one that’s “tired” of my whining?

Connie: Think so…

Studs: Tired, huh? Well, superstar…why don’t you fuckin’ do somethin’ about it? I’m not a hard man to find. Pick a match. Sign a contract. Get in the ring…. then I’ll make you disappear quicker than I did Spaceduck and Spacecop. Or Essa Rios, he was gone pretty quick, too.

Speakin’ of Spacedick and his ass rapin’ sidekick…. where DID they go? I whipped out the jammy and told those two what’s up, and nobody’s heard from ‘em since.

SEE? SEE WHAT I DO? You people are goin’ to FUCK with ME? I ran off Festering Death. Come to think if it, I ran off Bobo Q. Fiendish back in the day, too. I killed SMP. I’ve ended more careers over more promotions than ruptured ACL’s, jack.

You wanna join the rest of the rabble out in the pasture? Step up, climb through those ropes, and stand there… stand there and TRY to maintain some dignity while I pound your fuckin’ head into a barely recognizable nub.

And if you REALLY want to get nasty… go right ahead. Trey Vincent and Seth Harker have my back. We’re iAd…. and nothin’, and nobody, is better than we are. Period. And if you ever interrupt my porn again I won’t kill you, and then make Spacecop buttfuck you like I planned… but you can pretty much bet the rest of your meals will be of the pureed variety. That too… is a fact.

P.S. Mr. Paradox can suck my dick.

Okay, I’m done….

~~~He steps on it. The view jerks quickly to the left as Connie falls back into her seat. Static soon follows.~~~

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Zeno’s Confusion

November 15th, 2003

–INCOMING TRANSMISSION–

*Your monitor’s screen fades out, and we cut in on a scene of Sir Zeno’s throne room. The Paradox King himself is sitting on his couch, holding a long-arse printout and occasionally clucking to himself not unlike a chicken. Mr. Paradox, meanwhile, is attempting to work a VCR. He’s not doing too good at it.*

Sir Zeno: Greetings, creatures of Dimension E. I am, as you know, Sir Zeno, ruler of this dimension… and right now, I’m in a bit of a tiff. My manservant, Mr. Paradox, hacked into the active roster of BOB Wrestling, and it’s proving to be quite interesting – and laughable – reading.

*He turns to the list and snickers a bit.*

Sir Zeno: Starting from the top: Albert DeSalvo. As someone who once had dinner with the Boston Strangler, and actually recorded a cover version of “Strangler in the Night”, I must protest. This is just… wrong, somehow.
Moving down the list, I see Atomo the Living Robot. While I’m amused that my old college roommate, Dr. Azathoth, is doing well for himself, I must question why he built that thing. It’s such a letdown from the good old days, when he was planning to genetically alter asparagus to make them all uniform lengths.

*Mr. Paradox is electrocuted by the VCR, and Sir Zeno doesn’t even blink.*

Sir Zeno: Now we come to BVD… Eew. Get me the penecillin, please.
Next is Coma. Excuse me while I snicker. *He snickers.* I could defeat him with a leg tied to my arm.
Hmmm… Death is a wrestler here? It’s almost amusing. Too bad he couldn’t think out the roster some more. And I’m going to skip right over the Detatched Narrator…

[Fucker.]

Sir Zeno: Stop that. Now we reach the…

Mr. Paradox: (badly dubbed) Hirohito, Where am I? This is Not Tokyo!

Sir Zeno: …title belt. *He stares at Mr. Paradox for a brief moment.* Either way, an easy victory.
Insano Mano is a luchadore, which means that he’s into the high-flying, which means I just have to step to one side every few seconds.
And now… you know what, all of this people are wastes of time to discuss. I have better things to do, like sorting my laundry!

Mr. Paradox: What about Festering Death?

*Sir Zeno smiles, then gets up, grabs Mr. Paradox by his collar, and performs a reverse backbreaker with a Spanish twist. After checking to make sure the odd manuever didn’t kill his manservant, he turns back to the screen.*

Sir Zeno: Ah, yes, the emoticons. Spacecop and Spaceduck, the two most aggravating people since the end of Doink’s career. Well, all I have to say to you is this…
<( ' . '< ) <( ' . ' )> ( > ‘ . ‘ )>

*Stepping up to the VCR, Sir Zeno hits it and begins watching a classic Hogan match.*

–END TRANMISSION–

*You now have fifteen spam messages in your mail. Sorry about that.*

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WE ARE LOVED.

October 15th, 2003

=<>: WE HERE IN FESTERING DEATH HAVE WRITTEN SOME OPEN LETTERS TO THE PEOPLE WHO HAVE CARED TO RESPOND TO OUR REPETITIVE, SPELLING-IS-OUR-BITCH, KILLING, STABBING, AND GENERALLY WRONG ANTICS. LET’S BEGIN WITH ATOWEDON’TGIVEAFUCKWHATYOURNAMEISMOS.

DEAR FUCKFACE,

WE DON’T LIKE YOU EITHER.

SORRY THAT YOUR ROBOTIC EGO THAT’S BEEN PROGRAMMED INTO YOU BY RETARDED GOATMONKEYS HAS BEEN BRUISED BY US NOT GIVING A FUCK ABOUT YOU. OR THE LAWS OF ENGLISH, FOR THAT MATTER. THEN AGAIN, WE’RE SMILIES, NOT FUCKING ENGLISH PROFESSORS. WE SCREAM IN ALL CAPS AND ARE GENERALLY, IN TERMS OF THIS THING CALLED THE INTERNET, RUDE.

SO, SORRY, SPELLING YOUR NAME ISN’T OUR PRIMARY CONCERN, BUT WE’LL BE MORE CAREFUL. IN A “LITERALLY SHOVE YOUR HEAD UP YOUR ASS” KIND OF WAY.

ON A COMPLETELY DIFFERENT NOTE, WE ALSO DON’T GIVE A FUCK ABOUT GIMMICK MATCHES, AND WE ALSO DON’T WANT TO KNOW WHY THE FIRST ONE YOU SUGGESTED JUST HAPPENED TO BE THE WORST AND LEAST VIOLENT FUCKING GIMMICK MATCH IN THE HISTORY OF WORST AND LEAST VIOLENT FUCKING GIMMICK MATCHES. GIMMICK MATCHES ARE SIMPLY MATCHES THAT HAVE DIFFERENT SETS OF RULES, AND WHEN THE FUCK HAVE FESTERING DEATH EVER ABIDED BY THE RULES AND LAWS OF THE WORLD/AFTERLIFE?

BESIDES, AS SMILIES, WE DON’T EXACTLY HAVE A HAND TO FIT A COAL MINER’S GLOVE ON.

ANYWAY, THE POINT IS, WE HAVEN’T FORGOTTEN ABOUT YOU, AND WE STILL INTEND TO KILL YOU IN SOME REALLY HORRIBLE WAYS. IT’S JUST THAT WE DON’T CARE ENOUGH TO TORTURE YOU BEFOREHAND.

LOVE,
SPACEDUCK & SPACECOP
FESTERING DEATH

=<>: NEXT UP, WE HAVE TREY VINCENT.

DEAR TREY,

WE HAVE BEEN DISAPPOINTED IN YOUR PORNOS AS OF LATE. PLEASE STOP SUCKING AND GET BACK TO BEATING UP YOUR HOOKER AS YOU’RE FUCKING HER IN THE ASS.

LOVE,
SPACEDUCK & SPACECOP
FESTERING DEATH

=<>: FINALLY, WE COME TO THE CONDEMNED MOTHERFUCKER WHO WILL LIKELY BE HORRIBLY KILLED AT THE NEXT TIME OF CONVIENIENCE… YOU KNOW, WHEN WE’RE NOT INVOLVED IN SEGMENTS ANNOUNCING OUR POLITICAL NATURE ON HORRIBLY LATE SHOWS LIKE THE COMA PPV OR ON A SATURDAY MORNING CHLOROFORM WHEN WE’RE NOT DOING SOMETHING VERY WRONG TO EITHER A) SPORTS TEAMS OR B) FUCKFACE. THAT BEING STEVE STUDNUTS.

DEAR SHITHEAD,

YOU ARE GOING TO DIE PAINFULLY.

YOU ARE GOING TO BE RAPED.

WE WILL KILL YOUR FAMILY.

WE WILL RAPE YOUR FAMILY.

IN THAT SPECIFIC ORDER.

WE’D KILL YOUR FRIENDS, BUT WE THINK TREY VINCENT IS AN ALRIGHT GUY EVEN THOUGH HIS PORNOS HAVE BEEN SLIPPING AS OF LATE, AND SETH HARKER HASN’T ELECTED TO DO ANYTHING OF THE “SAY STUFF ABOUT FESTERING DEATH” SORT. EVEN THOUGH HE MAY DO THAT AS SOON AS HE SEES OUR OPEN LETTERS TO YOU FUCKERS.

THE SAME GOES FOR RAPING YOUR FRIENDS.

WELCOME BACK TO THE INJURED LIST, MOTHERFUCKER.

LOVE,
SPACEDUCK & SPACECOP
FESTERING DEATH

=<>: SO, THAT ABOUT DOES IT. WE THANK YOU FOR YOUR LOVE AND YOUR KIND WORDS, AND REST ASSURED THAT YOUR RAPE-FILLED DEATHS WILL BE MOST PAINFUL AND GRUESOME, AND WILL INDUCE VOMITING BY THOSE INNOCENT ONLOOKERS.

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Whore Man Smiley

October 14th, 2003
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~~~Shot of Steve Studn….~~~

Studs: Hey, fuck knuckle. Yeah you… scene set-up guy, shut your cakehole, pal… I don’t have time to sit through that shit today. Okay? Look… I’m at home, I have two slutty, half-naked sluts around here somewhere, I’m tan and I look good. That’s all you people need to know.

ANY-way, I see that Spaceduck got pissed… okay, PISSED, ‘cause I ribbed him a little. Dude, I was just trying to be cool like I thought you guys were. I wanted to join Festering Death.

Alright that’s a lie. Sue me.

I didn’t wanna join you two cyber fags, and why would I? I’m iAd, BEEE-ATCH! Everybody that’s ANYBODY knows iAd is the shit, man. The greatest fuckin’ thing to hit wrestling since G.L.O.W., jack. And that’s a fact. Gorgeous Ladies of Wrestling revolutionized the biz, that is… until the iAd came along. You can make book on that, Missy…

( Steve walks over to his computer )

Studs: Now then, if my shenanigans from the other day ruffled your feathers, Spaceduck… you’re REALLY gonna LOVE this!

( Steve starts typing away, the camera zooms in on his Magnavox Super VGA comp monitor. )

=C]

Studs: Ya see that, Spaceduck? There’s your boy Spacecop, sitting there mindin’ his own business. He’s oblivious the fact that I’m getting ready to bunghole rape his stupid ass. But first, I have to work my stick a little and get it ready, ya dig?

8=D

Studs: There’s my wang, dude, all soft and lifeless at the moment… but a little lube, a stroke or two… and wah-lah…

8==D
8====D
8======D

Studs: OH YEAH! LIKE A BRICK, BABY!

8======D …………. =C]

Studs: There’s Spacecop again, with my wiener creepin’ up on him, the dumb ass doesn’t even see it coming…

8======D . =C]

Studs: I’m getting closer, but that retard doesn’t run at all. I think he WANTS it! Heh.

8======D =C]

Studs: He’s still sitting there, kinda like a sitting spaceduck. Nah, that would be you. I’ll get back to you on that…

8======8C]

Studs: LOOK AT HIS EYES! HIS EYES! I think it’s hurtin’ him a bit! BWAAAA HAAAA!

8=== >C|

Studs: He’s sqeezin’ those eyes pretty tight! That’s not the ONLY thing that’s tight if you catch my drift.

8== >Co

Studs: CAN YOU FEEL THAT? HUH… HUH…. HUH?!

8= >CO
8= >C (

Studs: What a trooper, he took the whole thing! And he told me his glory hole was pure! LYING BASTARD!

< ===o===8 Studs: As you can see, I’ve withdrawn and flipped my doob. It’s also appears I’ve picked up a foreign object on my shaft. Could be a kernel… DID YOU EAT CORN RECENTLY, SPACECOP? YOU FILTHY SMILEY FUCK? I guess it COULD be a speck of shit on there or somethin’, I’m no expert, ya know? It also would appear my meathead got mashed into a point from Spacecop's sphincter... but after the head got through it was smooth sailin' from there. Calm seas and blue skies... =<>

Studs: Uh oh, there you are, Spaceduck…. and my, don’t you look hungry.

=<> < ===o===8 Studs: Here it comes, big boy, and ain’t washin’ it off either! =<. .> < ===o===8 Studs: Well… would you look at that? Spaceduck looks very receptive for a dookie covered love muscle coming his way! You’re even openin’ up that gutter-talk spewin’ bill of yours... =< < ==o===8 >

Studs: WOW! I’m gonna start callin’ you SpaceJennaJamison! Or maybe after that chick from the porn classic, Deep Throat. SpaceLindaLovelace, yeah… that’s it. Or maybe just SpaceLace for short… has a nice ring to it, don’t ya think?

B<>

Studs: You’re eyes are all bugged out, but you got it down. Congrats, dude.

So tell me, what did Spacecop’s asshole, plus my cyber trouser snake, taste like? Does it taste like chicken? I’m dyin’ to know… tell me! The suspense is riveting. I hope it lasts…

( Steve gets up and faces the camera )

Studs: Listen, you scroungy fuck… do you KNOW who I AM? DO YOU KNOW WHO WE ARE? We’re the iAd, you smiley little shit ass.

Don’t fuck with the fuckers… you might get FUCKED. Ya dig, jerkweed?
Roll the end of promo stuff, butt plug. I’m outta here.

~~~Steve stomps off, his computer screen still displaying a lot of equals, capital D’s, a capital B, several 8’s, and numerous arrows pointed east and west. Oh yeah, and a couple of lower case o’s~~~

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Please Don’t hurt me- No, please do hurt him.

October 14th, 2003
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AtomoTron online
Run “Omega_Hack.exe”
Working.
Working..
Working…
Comm. system override successful
Broadcasting Live

(Fade up on Atomo, looking at himself in the mirror)

Atomo: GREETINGS-HUMANOIDS-AND-NON-HUMANOIDS.

A: IT-HAS-RECENTLY-COME-TO-ATOMO’S-ATTENTION-THAT-TAG-TEAM-UNIT: Festering Death HAS-EXPRESSED-NON-HATRED-FOR-THOSE

“OBSESSED WITH WRONG-DOING LIKE WE ARE”

A; IT-SO-HAPPENS-THAT-ATOMO-WAS-IN-FACT-BUILT-FOR-THE-PURPOSE-OF-WRONG-DOING. ATOMO-WAS-NOT-BUILT-FOR-BEING-RAPED. TO-DEMONSTRATE-THAT-ATOMO-IS-ON-YOUR-SIDE-ATOMO-HAS-COMPILED-THIS-TAPE-OF-ATOMO’S-NEFARIOUS-ACTIONS. ROLLING-CLIP:

(We now witness a video montage of Atomo’s reign of terror. Highlights include: Atomo failing to hold the door open for a lady carrying several packages; Atomo pulling someone’s hair on the bus; Atomo starring in a collect call ad with Carrot Top; Atomo refusing to share his lunch with the hungry beggar kids from Aladdin; Atomo pushing all the buttons in the elevator; Atomo letting his dog pee on someone’s lawn; And Atomo putting an empty milk carton back in the fridge.)

A: END-CLIP. AS-YOU-CAN-SEE, WE-ARE-KINDRED-SPIRITS, AND-YOU-SHOULD-REFRAIN-FROM-STABBING-AND/OR-RAPING ME. FURTHER-INDICATIONS-OF-SIMILARITY-INCLUDE-THE-FACT-THAT-WE-ALL-SPEAK-ONLY-IN-CAPS, AS-WELL-AS-

Interrupt Transmission:
Priority Override

(Atomo’s speech abruptly fades out, and is replaced with a shot of a groggy looking Dr. Azathoth lying in bed)

Dr. Azathoth: I would have stopped that travesty earlier, but I’m still a bit hung-over from last night. Man, that Krangkor sure knows how to party.

Dr. A: Anyway, Festering Death, you should pay no attention to what you just saw. That was… uh… created by my enemies to make you lower your guard! Yeah, that’s it, but I wouldn’t want an unfair fight, so I’m correcting things. That sounds plausible.

Dr. A: Anyway Atomo really hates you guys. He’s been making fun of you for misspelling his name by calling you “Spacedork”. He also said Spacecop is fat.

Dr. A: Remember, sports entertaining is all about giving the fans a good show, and there is nothing earth creatures like more then gratuitous violence, especially if it is sexualized! Don’t hold back, my smiley brethren.

End Transmission

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PISSED.

October 13th, 2003

(We join Spacecop and Spaceduck in the middle of doing something morally wrong, and frankly, it’d be a wasted effort to talk about how they’re viciously cutting down the population of virgin girl scouts. Finally, they stop, and a few whimpering girl scouts who managed to survive the carnage with their lives, and, in an couple of cases, virginity intact, manage to scurry away. The reason why the carnage stopped?

Because somehow, they found out about the promo that Steve Studnuts put out.)

=<>: DON’T EVEN QUESTION HOW WE KNOW.

=C]: WE JUST DO.

(I mean, come on, they finish each other’s sentences for God’s sakes. How could they not know?)

=<>: LET’S FACE THE FACTS. WE. ARE. PISSED. NOW, MIND YOU, THIS ISN’T GOING TO END UP LIKE OUR USUAL HOMICIDAL SPREES OF SPORTS-RELATED DEATH. THAT’S US WHEN WE’RE NORMAL AND WELL-ADJUSTED.

=C]: WHEN FESTERING DEATH GETS PISSED, THE ENTIRE WORLD COWERS BEFORE US, HIDES THEIR CHILDREN, THEIR PETS, AND THEMSELVES IN THE DEEPEST PART OF THEIR HOMES. WHEN FESTERING DEATH GETS PISSED, PEOPLE COVER THEIR ASSES WITH PADDED PILLOWS FOR FEAR OF RAPEY DEATH. WHEN FESTERING DEATH GETS PISSED, GOD HIMSELF COMES DOWN FROM THE HEAVENS, WAGS HIS FINGER AT THE PEOPLE WHO HAVE GONE SO FAR AS TO PISS US OFF, AND SAYS, “MY MY, YOU ARE SO FUCKING SCREWED.”

*SCLORTCH!*

(You know that scout leader who wasn’t crawling away fast enough? Yeah, Spaceduck just put his knife through her skull, so she isn’t crawling any more. Now her corpse is being raped. I’m sure you really needed to know that.)

=<>: YOU SEE, FOR THIS ONE, SHE HAS IT EASY. INSTANT DEATH, INSTANT RAPE. BUT NOW THAT WE’RE PISSED, TORTURE IS BACK ON THE MENU, AND BELIEVE ME, WE’VE GOT SOME GOODIES COOKED UP. HELL, WE MAY TRY THAT TRICK WHERE WE MAKE YOU DIGEST ONE END OF A TOWEL AND YANK IT AND YOUR INNARDS OUT, LIKE KEIFER SUTHERLAND TAUGHT US.

=C]: WE LOVE KEITHER SUTHERLAND.

=<>: IN A MORAL WAY. NOT THAT WE HAVE MORALS.

=C]: IN CONCLUSION, THE STREETS WILL FLOW WITH THE BLOOD OF THE NON-BELIEVERS!

=<>: AND MAYBE SOME OF THE BELIEVERS, TOO!

(Fade. Thank God.)

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Smile High Stadium

October 12th, 2003

~~~ Back in Steve Studnuts’ mega-cozy, over extravagant pad… Steve and Jizzabelle Cummings are catching up on recent BOB happenings, sitting on a black leather futon and watching Steve’s obscenely expensive JERI-TRON 5000 ripoff, The STUDS PLASMA SCREEN 6900 ~~~

Studs: Look at these fuckin’ guys. No wonder Trey and Seth never called me… they didn’t NEED any help. Some dumbass that thinks he’s a robot, the fag-less lion tamer guy… some backyard fuckin’, wrestling on trampolines dude. Death is cool. Who the fuck is Massive Man Rendition 1st? That’s the most retarded gatdamn thing….

Connie Lingus: Steve, here’s the DVD’s you wanted. Do you want me to play them now or wait until this camera dude leaves?

Studs: Nah, play ‘em now… you gotta see this shit. These guys are awesome! These cats are the only fuckin’ cool shit in this place besides iAd and that Death guy. Check this shit out…

(Steve inserts a disc and hits play on his remote. Connie squeezes in between Steve and Jizz on the futon.)

Jizzabelle: Ste…

Studs: SHUDDAP, BITCH! It’s coming on, don’t you see it?! Stupid, gatdamn, bit… OH WAIT! Watch this! OH MY GOD, THESE GUYS FUCKIN’ KILL ME! Ummmm, not literally, though… or they might rape my ass.

(The camera focuses on the giant screen)

=<>: SOME OF YOU MAY BE WONDERING JUST HOW WE ACCOMPLISH WHAT WE ACCOMPLISH. AFTER ALL, WE’RE SMILIES. REST ASSURED, OUR POWER COMES FROM THE VERY ESSENCE OF IMMORALITY. SOME SAY THAT WE GAVE BIRTH TO WRONGNESS IN OF ITSELF.

=C]: NOT TO MENTION THAT WE’RE THE ONLY ENTITIES IN EXISTENCE TO EVER BE KICKED OUT OF HELL BY SATAN HIMSELF FOR BEING TOO WRONG.

=<>: THAT’S ONLY BECAUSE WE KILLED AND RAPED THE CORPSE OF SATAN’S GIRLFRIEND.

=C]: OF COURSE.

=<>: ANYWAY, HOW DO I STAB PEOPLE AND HOW DOES SPACECOP RAPE THINGS? WELL, IT’S EASY TO STAB PEOPLE WHEN YOU HAVE A DUCK BILL LIKE MINE, AND IT’S EASY TO RAPE CORPSES WHEN YOU HAVE A GIANT SMILEY DICK LIKE SPACECOP DOES. SPACECOP! SHOW YOUR STUFF.

*BOING!*

=C]============C>

=<>: SEE, WITH A GIANT SMILEY DICK LIKE SPACECOP’S, IT’S EASY TO RAPE CORPSES.

=C]: FO’ SHIZZLE, DIZZLE.

Studs: BWAAAAAAAAAAA HAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA, oh my, oh my… OH MY GOD! Ow, my side! HAAAAAAAA! That’s the greatest fuckin’ thing I’ve ever seen! A GIANT SMILEY DICK! That’s genius!

Connie: That was disgusting….

Jizz: Well, Spaceduck is kinda cute….

Studs: Man, I gotta party with those fuckin’ smiley dudes. Or better yet… maybe I should join ‘em!

(Steve runs to a nearby computer)

Studs: Look at this, you smiley fuckers…

^^^
| |
| |
| | : See? I could sign on like this, man! Look at that shaft, boyee !
| |
| |
OO

Connie: Your balls look too small, Steve. Not very complimentary to the ring name you chose for yourself.

Jizz: Yeah, and what’s up with the head? It looks like a Ruffle.

Studs: So I’m ribbed for your pleasure, big deal? Besides, I couldn’t find anything rounded right away…

Connie: I don’t know, Steve… that looks really stupid.

Jizz: I’m gonna have to agree, and I also don’t think partying with those…. ummm, smilies, is a good idea.

Studs: See? Ya see that? That’s why you two bore me so much and I have to score some squirrel on the side. You two don’t know how to live it up.

Aw, fuck it. I’m calling Trey and Seth then and we’re goin’ out to get piss drunk and bone some hos. Don’t wait up.

Hey, Spaceduck…. drop me a line or two sometime. Maybe we can go out and have a cyber drink or something. Maybe I can become Spacefuck. Spaceduck and Spacefuck. Yeah! Hey, I do like to screw, kinda like you guys but the bitch has to have a pulse, ya know? I’m funny like that. Check it out!

(Steve types on his comp some more)

8====== > <> : THERE I AM, DUDE! SPACEFUCK! Now, here I am with Connie…

8====== > ( ) : HA! And now Jizzabelle !

8====== > (( )) : HOO HA! Look at THOSE labia, baby!

~~
< > <=========8 : * LOOK, I PUT SOME HAIR AROUND IT AND ADDED A CORNHOLE! ~~~ Connie and Jizz leave, Steve continues typing , camera guy has seen enough ~~~

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PILLAGE.

October 4th, 2003
Comments Off on PILLAGE.

=<>: SOME OF YOU MAY BE WONDERIN–

(Hey, I thought I was supposed to introduce you two, like I normally do. You know, with the wacky “immoral thing Spaceduck and Spacecop are doing” speech and how much I think it’s wrong that you’re doing that, and yet I don’t feel like stopping you because it’s also an intoxicating thing to watch.)

=<>: YEAH, ABOUT THAT, DN… WE DECIDED TO GO AGAINST THE NORM TODAY AND START FIRST.

=C]: WE WOULD SAY “WE HOPE YOU DIDN’T MIND”, BUT THE TRUTH IS THAT WE DIDN’T GIVE A FLYING FUCK.

(*sigh* Okay, go on. *grumbles about a paycut to Festering Death, but then realizes that these two don’t even get paid to rape and pillage BOB of its corpses*)

=<>: SOME OF YOU MAY BE WONDERING JUST HOW WE ACCOMPLISH WHAT WE ACCOMPLISH. AFTER ALL, WE’RE SMILIES. REST ASSURED, OUR POWER COMES FROM THE VERY ESSENCE OF IMMORALITY. SOME SAY THAT WE GAVE BIRTH TO WRONGNESS IN OF ITSELF.

=C]: NOT TO MENTION THAT WE’RE THE ONLY ENTITIES IN EXISTENCE TO EVER BE KICKED OUT OF HELL BY SATAN HIMSELF FOR BEING TOO WRONG.

=<>: THAT’S ONLY BECAUSE WE KILLED AND RAPED THE CORPSE OF SATAN’S GIRLFRIEND.

=C]: OF COURSE.

=<>: ANYWAY, HOW DO I STAB PEOPLE AND HOW DOES SPACECOP RAPE THINGS? WELL, IT’S EASY TO STAB PEOPLE WHEN YOU HAVE A DUCK BILL LIKE MINE, AND IT’S EASY TO RAPE CORPSES WHEN YOU HAVE A GIANT SMILEY DICK LIKE SPACECOP DOES. SPACECOP! SHOW YOUR STUFF.

*BOING!*

=C]============C>

=<>: SEE, WITH A GIANT SMILEY DICK LIKE SPACECOP’S, IT’S EASY TO RAPE CORPSES.

=C]: FO’ SHIZZLE, DIZZLE.

(*sigh* Fade.)

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DIE.

September 17th, 2003
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=<>: HELLO, BOB ROSTER. ALL THREE OF YOU.

=C]: TODAY, WE’RE HERE TO GIVE YOU ALL A LIST OF PEOPLE THAT WE… FESTERING DEATH… PLAN TO KILL AND RAPE IN OUR BOB FUTURE.

(If I have to say “in that exact order” for you people, you don’t read enough Festering Death segments.)

=<>: NOW, OF COURSE, IT IS OUR MISSION TO CONTINUE OUR NO-SELLING, OUR KILLING SPREE, OUR RAPING SPREE, AND THE HOGGING OF TAG TITLES ALONG THE WAY. SO, ON THAT NOTE, HERE ARE A LIST OF PEOPLE WE ARE PLANNING TO HORRIBLY SLAUGHTER IN A SPRAY OF BLOOD, AND PREFERABLY IN FRONT OF A LOT OF PEOPLE SO THAT THEY CAN ALL SIMULTANEOUSLY THROW UP.

=C]: AT THE TOP OF OUR LIST IS BILLY POLAR. WE HERE IN FESTERING DEATH DESPISE PEOPLE NAMED BILLY WITH EVERY OUNCE OF OUR BLACKENED SOULS, SO I GUESS IT’S TOUGH LUCK FOR THE HOLDER OF THE ONLY WORLD TITLE THAT MATTERS. NOW THEN, SPACEDUCK, PLEASE SPIN THE WHEEL OF RAPE AND CHOOSE A DEATH FOR THIS FUCKER.

(Round and round she goes, where it stops… we hope it doesn’t.)

=<>: AND IT LOOKS LIKE THE EVER-POPULAR “DEATH BY HANSON MUGGING” IS TODAY’S WINNER FOR MR. POLAR.

=C]: I WOULDN’T WANT TO DIE FROM THAT.

=<>: NO, I WOULDN’T EITHER.

=C]: NEXT ON OUR LIST IS, OF COURSE, ATOMOS. WE DON’T LIKE THIS GUY BECAUSE HE’S A ROBOT, AND ROBOTS ARE NOTORIOUSLY GAY. AND SINCE WE’RE VERY RACIST AGAINST EVERYBODY THAT ISN’T A SMILEY OR OBSESSED WITH WRONG-DOING LIKE WE ARE, YOU SUCK.

=<>: SO, NOW IS THE TIME TO SPIN THE WHEEL OF RAPE.

(And round it goes, again, and where it stops… OH JESUS CHRIST!)

=<>: OOH. ATOMOS, YOU ARE GOING TO BE GANGRAPED BY A BUNCH OF SEXUALLY DEPRIVED GIANT FIRE ANTS BEFORE YOU ARE SLOWLY DIPPED UPSIDE-DOWN IN A VAT OF NITRIC ACID. HAVE FUN.

=C]: NOW, NEXT UP ARE A BUNCH OF PEOPLE WHO ARE ON OUR LIST ON GENERAL PRINCIPLE. FIRST OF ALL, BIGBOSS.

=<>: BIGBOSS, HERE IS YOUR DESTINY, COURTESY OF THE WHEEL OF RAPE!

(Good lord, someone get rid of this Wheel of Rape already.)

=<>: IT LOOKS LIKE BIGBOSS IS GOING TO BE TURNED INTO A VIETNAMESE HOOKER BY THE DETACHED NARRATOR AND THEN GET BEATEN TO DEATH BY A RUSSIAN PIMP.

=C]: THAT’S NOT SO BAD.

=<>: …IF YOU’RE THE PIMP.

=C]: TOUCHE.

=<>: NEXT ON OUR LIST, ON GENERAL PRINCIPLE, IS SARAH THE JOBBER SLAYER AND HER MISFITS. YOU’RE ALL A BUNCH OF MORONS. ESPECIALLY LITTLE GOOD. I HOPE DEATH COMES BY AND PLAYS TAG WITH YOU MORONS.

=C]: AND, HELL, WE HATE THE ENTIRE BOB ROSTER. WE WANT TO SHOVE A STRAW THROUGH DOVE’S BRAIN AND DRINK IT LIKE A GRAY SLUSHIE. WE WANT TO BEAT THE STREETMIME UNTIL HIS INTESTINES SPILL OUT WITH THE “ARE YOU OUT OF YOUR FRICKIN’ MIND” HARDCORE TITLE BELT. WE WANT TO SHOVE THE UNDIETAKER’S HANDIS UP THE FAKE UNDIETAKER’S ASS, AND THEN KILL THE REAL UNDIETAKER… AGAIN.

=<>: AND THAT’S BEING NICE!

=C]: SO, ANYWAY, THERE WAS A POINT TO THIS, BUT I SUPPOSE “FUCK YOU, BOB” WILL WORK FOR THE TIME BEING.

(End.)

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