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Antonizoon edited this page Aug 13, 2014 · 3 revisions

FLIES IN BACKWARDS LIKE POWDERED TOAST MAN, A NOBLE OWWWWWWWWWWW EMANATING FROM THE MOUNTAIN TOPS IN A MYTHIC TONE LIKE THAT OF PERSEUS. HE LANDS IN THE DRIVER'S SEAT OF PABLAR'S MAJESTIC TRUCK, EATING COLD SHEPHARD PIE WITH A MENACING SCOWL, IGNORING HIS BOSS AND HIS CAPITALIST DEMANDS AS THEY BOOM FROM THE RADIO. HE WIPES THE GROUND BEEF FROM HIS SHIT STAINED BEARD, "SORRY BOSSMAN. THE ORPHANAGE NEEDS ME MORE THAN THIS LUMBER."

says with a pained expression, clenched eyes and blood curdling in his cheeks, "Your sandwich is bullshit and your mother is a smut," proclaiming this while slapping Ricky Steamboat in the chest with a ferocious knife-edged chop in the corner of the squared circle in Superdome 1986, the title on the line and the xions paying fines.

jacks his huge black erection until red white and blue confetti spurts out in several thick, ropey gusts. "The land of the free? Ask Huey Newton."

his eyes tightly closed, he whispers a cluttered maze of Oriental phrases. The hopeful result is the same as all those before him, the summoning of the four armed warrior strategist Gilgamesh. "Xion Ougi Sayonara Seppuku.......Hildegard, Butts and Daizepam." He opens his eyes to behold the sight before him, Gilgamesh in all his glory. He takes the imitation Buster Sword from the God of War and spins it over his head like a helicopter blade. "This one'

PUTS A CAN OF SPAM BETWEEN HIS ETNIES AND DOES AN OKLAHOMA JUMPING FOOT TAP, SLINGING THE MEAT INTO THE AIR AND SHOOTING IT WITH THE LASER BEAM EYES DENDE TAUGHT HIM TO DEVELOP

SPINS AROUND IN A 360, REAPPEARING WITH SOME WONDER BREAD AND SLAPPING THE MEAT INTO A DELICIOUS SANDWICH

GOBBLES DOWN A FEW TWINKIES AND SNOWBALLS AND ROLLS OVER THE WHITE HOUSE, KILLING BUSH

PM's IGotLostOnTheRoadOfLife and tells her what a cool name she picked after reading the back of a hyundai in the passenger seat as her mom told her that a c-section was much more painful than the abortion would have been

halts his wheelchair and does a sick manual on the front wheel

IM NOT A STAR WARS NERD PUNTS A BABY INTO A NUCLEAR MUSHROOM CLOUD

BACKFLIPS INTO THE GRAND CANYON AND REAPPEARS CHUCKLING ON THE WAY UP WITH DR. ROBOTNIK ON A MECHANICAL BALLOON

kicks rocks down shobon avenue...

looks down at his ironed polyester suit, the glisten from his badge meeting him as it catches the light of an escape pod ejecting towards Titan in the distance of space. He tilts it up with his hand to read, "LEE ADAMA" "IT'S ME!!!!!!!!!"

power ranger leaps into a robotic parody of Daffy Duck, the cold steel of the beak echoing the sentiments of his heart. "Wait til the boys down at Human Resources see what I've done," he says with a besmirched and jaded tone. He steers the Mechanical Quacker over the white house, trampling the Oval Office and killing Bush. "Inexschplicable."

PULLS HIS PANTS UP AND LOOSENS HIS SUSPENDERS, JUMPING TWICE IN THE AIR TO FEEL THE HEAVY WEIGHT OF THE OLD FAMILY JEWELS SETTLE SECURELY IN HIS PANTS, THEN RUNS UP THE BRICK WALL OUTSIDE A WALLGREENS TO GET TO THE ROOF, STRIKING A TODD MACFARLANE POSE, HIS CAPE FLUTTERING IN THE WIND

HITS THE BRAKES ON HIS 74 CAMARO, A MAN WORKING ON A STOREFRONT SIGN CATCHING HIS EYE. HE GRABS HIS STRATOCASTER AXE AND SMASHES THE DRIVER'S SIDE WINDOW WITH IT, LEANING OUT THE WINDOW AND PLAYING THE BRIDGE OF IN-A-GADDA-DA-VIDA UNTIL THE MAN FALLS OFF THE LADDER AND CATAPULTS THE PAINT THROUGH THE WINDSHIELD OF THE PRESIDENTIAL MOTORCADE, KILLING LAURA BUSH.

grabs onto the vein-ridden and slowly dilapidating cranium of McCain, swinging him around by his head and launching him through the roof of the senate hitting a plane full of vietnam veterans and dogs owned by people on other flights

whips the tablecloth off of the mystery food on the banquet table, revealing rings and chili dogs

does donuts in an AutoZone parking lot in the general lee, his head out the window as he whistles dixie

WINDMILLS HIS ARM OVER THE STRINGS OF HIS SW8 AXE

sits down in a rickety wooden rocking chair, the sun illuminating his bangs ever so much as to add an extra tinge of sorrow to his words. "I remember the first time I fucked my sister." he digs into his Pepperidge Farm bag of crackers, popping a few into his mouth. "It was a Wednesday. I skipped school. Sonic had just got done eating a chili dog on USA. I wish he had given me a warning of things to come."

never has he seen this. Not in Kalm, not in Bone Village, not in the City of the Ancients. But here it was, infront of him, staring him defiantly in the eye. He kneeled down to get a better look, the material of his SOLDIER suit cupping his Scrote with vigor. Xion's eyes matched his own quizzical expression as he stuffed another ruby red Summon Materia into his broken lightbulb pipe, setting it alight and inhaling the fumes.

looks with remorse into the eyes of his lover during her last breath. If only she had known about his immortality, his inability to feel. Maybe she would have left, and he wouldn't have this hole in his heart. Maybe she would find the resolve to live another day. He exhaled a breath in her place and turned away from the corpse, taking a step before farting. She didn't hear it, and he didn't feel it.

Lt. Commander Xion opens the hatch of Jehuty's crotch, stepping out onto the platform it has created and looking down onto the new World they have breached. "Finally, fresh air and nutritional food. Like Ramen." No sooner do these words leave his methmouth, however, before Tony Hawk, Bob Burnquist and Bam Margera ollie up in the devalued gravity, doing Sick Grinds across the extended lip of Jehuty's dick. "F*ck."

a young Xion looks at his mother with contempt as she comes out of the kitchen with a Sam Adams. "Yea, Eminem. Yea, Rabbit. I feel you. I got you." He walks over to her and slaps the beer from her hand, sweaty palmed and teary eyed. "You had me cuz you lost a bet with your friends over a Coors Light pitcher, and now you love Black Dicks like Whores Like Spitzer!!!" He walks off as the alcohol soaks into the shag carpenting, not waiting for a retort

kickstarts his rusty moped and sets out once again on that lonely road of life, a satchel containing 2 cans of spam, some homespun pants with an 80 inch waistline, and 3 oversized books containing the assorted works of Heidegger, Turgenev, and Nietzsche slung over his shoulder

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