Post by Jaggeroth on Jun 17, 2010 6:26:09 GMT -5
A tall brooding figure is seen walking out of a gas station right across the street from tonight's GHW venue. Long greasy hair flows over his carved up face, you can probably tell who it is already but just keep your mouth shut before I fucking split your skull in two. Anyways.... The man is wearing his favorite Slipknot shirt along with black jean shorts and romper stomper boots. He chugs down his generic slurpee rip off as he turns the corner to see his truck being spray painted by a bunch of 20 something wanna be punks. What really pisses him off isn't the fact they spray painted his beauty but what they put on it. Running off the black paint of the truck was a dripping white "ICP > SLIPCOCK!"
"Wow! My birthday came three hundred and fifty days early this year!"
The figure walks over to the largest of the group of three and pulls him by the shoulder to get his attention.
"If you ass clowns wanted your dicks kicked in, all you had to do was ask..."
The fat ass in make up puckers his lips, you could hear the sound of his butt cheeks clenching together like a bear trap. His brain, probably all messed up from huffing bargain store face paint, didn't react the same way.
"You best respect foo, you gonna get punched in the nuggs' if you ain't down with da clown."
The pissed off giant raises his hand and sends it in a wide arch across the fat face of the Juggolo before him, sending the idiot crashing backwards, the back of his head smacks across the door of the truck. He lays there lifeless as his two buddies step up to the challenge, the taller one gets in the mans face while the pudgy one sees to the fat ones wounds.
"Yo foo! Why don't yall' step off before you get knocked off!"
The pudgy kid butts into the conversation.
"Jimmy's not moving..."
"Shut up, Thug Nuttz! Gangsta Priest is just resting before the beating!"
The lanky shit talker reverts his attention back on oddly happy giant.
"Yo! Listen up, sucks! We done saw you walk into that der store donning the colors of a posers group and placed a hit out! We done don't respect your kind around here on our terf. DA BAND IS COMMEN! YO BLOOD GONNA BE FLOWEN!'"
"I can hear how stupid you are."
Suddenly a beige mini van pulls up, in the driver's seat is a disgruntled middle aged house wife. Five teenagers who clearly weren't the biggest winners in life come flooding out the side door with hatchets in hand.
"MOTHER FUCKING HOMIES!"
"Mr. Piser, I think you should come up here!"
"The detroit thugs aint buying your shit!"
"I come beatin down the block and i crack the bedrock!"
"HOW DO THEY WORK?!"
The mother in the mini van gives the boys a few words of advice to the boys before she peeled away.
"You never have time to find a job yet you always have time for your these turf wars! I hope you get your asses kicked! Maybe it will knock some sense into ya!"
*SQUEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEL*
"YA! THE AMAZING KUMM BROTHERS ARE HERE! Now this is a party!"
"HAHAHAHAHA!"
"Wutch you laffen at ,foo?"
"This is going to be the single greatest moment of my life. I'm going to tell my grand children about this someday."
Moments later, a scandily clad women comes bursting out of the gas station doors and rounds the corner with her hands in her tiny bag.
"Hey Jared? Do you have a dollar? I left my coin purse in my gear bag and I really need a pepsi....What's going on here?"
The man now known as Jared keeps his back to the women, his hand reaches deep into his pockets and pulls out a leather Pantera wallet. He chucks it backwards and rotates his face towards her with his head at an angle as she catches it. A tear rolls down his cheek as he addresses her.
"I..am...so...happy..right...now."
The seven still standing members of the ICP fan club are all standing in a circle, they're playing rock, paper, scissors to see who gets to take the first crack at Jared who was reaching into his back pocket.
"Will you grab me a forty and a pack of menthols while you're at it, babe."
"Can do, sweety."
As the group turns around they are greeted by a now masked giant, his dark blue eyes peering out of the sockets with a cheerful glee as the smile spreads up across the right side of his face. The women just walks away, she knows the situation is well under control. The 20 something clowns must not watch wrestling, or else they would know better to come at a man who values his scars with hatchets. One of the utterly hopeless amongst the group of brain washed fanatics comes charging in at the deranged mask man, his hatchet aims for the middle of the chest in the hopes to bring the beast down...It stops, nothing happens other than the hatchet bouncing off of the manly pecs of the man simply known to them as "Foo'" The masked figure looks down at his rippling man muscles, inspects the hatchet and sees that it's only plastic, but it had a nice ICP official merchandise sticker still on it. The psychotic tyrant looks back up at the shivering young adult turned pants shitting baby, his lips sucking into his mouth as the troubled youth begins to pull back the plastic hatchet in disbelief.
Meanwhile back in the gas station, the barely clothed women walks up the cash register with a pepsi and a bottle of Cobra malt liquor.
"And a pack of USA gold menthol 100's please."
Suddenly a body bangs loudly against one of the side windows that looks on towards the side parking lot. The cashier lifts his head up to see what was going on.
"What the hell is going on out there?"
"O nothing. Just a little dispute over someones taste in music."
"There sure is a lot of them. Think I should call the cops?"
"Naaaw. It isn't that serious. If it was Jared would of broken out the Bo staff. He's got it all under control. OOOOOO! You got Charleston Chews !? How much is the whole box?"
Moments later the fine ass honey walks back out into the parking lot with her goodies in hand. She looks around for her demonic lover, but he and the ruffians are no where to be seen. She walks around to the back side of the gas station and sees the brainwashed kids all sitting down against the wall in a line. Jared has his monstrous wang out and walking up and down the line, a mighty yellow river sprays over the bloodied faces of the twerps. Their make up erodes off of their facades revealing years of bad acne prevention across their unconscious, pockmarked faces. The women walks up to Jared and hands him his cigs and forty. He pats the pack of cancer sticks in his hand and takes one out, the women lights it for him as he zips up his shorts. He looks down at his work as the sun begins it's descent in the early evening sky,it was truly a masterpiece he had created. The duo of decidedness walk away after one final look at Jared's craftsmanship. They get back in the truck and look at each other lovingly in the eyes.
"I never want to have kids. If my offspring ever ends up like one of those clowns...I'll kill the son of a.....HEY! Is that a box of Charleston chew!?"
"Fuck yeah it is!"
The two stay in the parking, their work done for the night. The women shares the delicious chocolate bars with Jared, in exchange he gives her some "white" chocolate in the parking lot.
EOT
(OOC) This is part one of a three maybe five part series about the people who make me want to rage quit life.
*Announcer butts in*
"Will Jaggeroth find the strength to beat down the true filth that plagues this nation at every twist and turn or fail miserably? Or will the writer just say screw it cause no one really reads his shit anyways and focus his attention back to making more room in his fridge by finally drinking his everly increasing booze collection? FIND OUT in the next exciting chapter of Jihad: part two! Furry Hit Squad! Same Psycho time, same Psycho place!"
"Wow! My birthday came three hundred and fifty days early this year!"
The figure walks over to the largest of the group of three and pulls him by the shoulder to get his attention.
"If you ass clowns wanted your dicks kicked in, all you had to do was ask..."
The fat ass in make up puckers his lips, you could hear the sound of his butt cheeks clenching together like a bear trap. His brain, probably all messed up from huffing bargain store face paint, didn't react the same way.
"You best respect foo, you gonna get punched in the nuggs' if you ain't down with da clown."
The pissed off giant raises his hand and sends it in a wide arch across the fat face of the Juggolo before him, sending the idiot crashing backwards, the back of his head smacks across the door of the truck. He lays there lifeless as his two buddies step up to the challenge, the taller one gets in the mans face while the pudgy one sees to the fat ones wounds.
"Yo foo! Why don't yall' step off before you get knocked off!"
The pudgy kid butts into the conversation.
"Jimmy's not moving..."
"Shut up, Thug Nuttz! Gangsta Priest is just resting before the beating!"
The lanky shit talker reverts his attention back on oddly happy giant.
"Yo! Listen up, sucks! We done saw you walk into that der store donning the colors of a posers group and placed a hit out! We done don't respect your kind around here on our terf. DA BAND IS COMMEN! YO BLOOD GONNA BE FLOWEN!'"
"I can hear how stupid you are."
Suddenly a beige mini van pulls up, in the driver's seat is a disgruntled middle aged house wife. Five teenagers who clearly weren't the biggest winners in life come flooding out the side door with hatchets in hand.
"MOTHER FUCKING HOMIES!"
"Mr. Piser, I think you should come up here!"
"The detroit thugs aint buying your shit!"
"I come beatin down the block and i crack the bedrock!"
"HOW DO THEY WORK?!"
The mother in the mini van gives the boys a few words of advice to the boys before she peeled away.
"You never have time to find a job yet you always have time for your these turf wars! I hope you get your asses kicked! Maybe it will knock some sense into ya!"
*SQUEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEL*
"YA! THE AMAZING KUMM BROTHERS ARE HERE! Now this is a party!"
"HAHAHAHAHA!"
"Wutch you laffen at ,foo?"
"This is going to be the single greatest moment of my life. I'm going to tell my grand children about this someday."
Moments later, a scandily clad women comes bursting out of the gas station doors and rounds the corner with her hands in her tiny bag.
"Hey Jared? Do you have a dollar? I left my coin purse in my gear bag and I really need a pepsi....What's going on here?"
The man now known as Jared keeps his back to the women, his hand reaches deep into his pockets and pulls out a leather Pantera wallet. He chucks it backwards and rotates his face towards her with his head at an angle as she catches it. A tear rolls down his cheek as he addresses her.
"I..am...so...happy..right...now."
The seven still standing members of the ICP fan club are all standing in a circle, they're playing rock, paper, scissors to see who gets to take the first crack at Jared who was reaching into his back pocket.
"Will you grab me a forty and a pack of menthols while you're at it, babe."
"Can do, sweety."
As the group turns around they are greeted by a now masked giant, his dark blue eyes peering out of the sockets with a cheerful glee as the smile spreads up across the right side of his face. The women just walks away, she knows the situation is well under control. The 20 something clowns must not watch wrestling, or else they would know better to come at a man who values his scars with hatchets. One of the utterly hopeless amongst the group of brain washed fanatics comes charging in at the deranged mask man, his hatchet aims for the middle of the chest in the hopes to bring the beast down...It stops, nothing happens other than the hatchet bouncing off of the manly pecs of the man simply known to them as "Foo'" The masked figure looks down at his rippling man muscles, inspects the hatchet and sees that it's only plastic, but it had a nice ICP official merchandise sticker still on it. The psychotic tyrant looks back up at the shivering young adult turned pants shitting baby, his lips sucking into his mouth as the troubled youth begins to pull back the plastic hatchet in disbelief.
Meanwhile back in the gas station, the barely clothed women walks up the cash register with a pepsi and a bottle of Cobra malt liquor.
"And a pack of USA gold menthol 100's please."
Suddenly a body bangs loudly against one of the side windows that looks on towards the side parking lot. The cashier lifts his head up to see what was going on.
"What the hell is going on out there?"
"O nothing. Just a little dispute over someones taste in music."
"There sure is a lot of them. Think I should call the cops?"
"Naaaw. It isn't that serious. If it was Jared would of broken out the Bo staff. He's got it all under control. OOOOOO! You got Charleston Chews !? How much is the whole box?"
Moments later the fine ass honey walks back out into the parking lot with her goodies in hand. She looks around for her demonic lover, but he and the ruffians are no where to be seen. She walks around to the back side of the gas station and sees the brainwashed kids all sitting down against the wall in a line. Jared has his monstrous wang out and walking up and down the line, a mighty yellow river sprays over the bloodied faces of the twerps. Their make up erodes off of their facades revealing years of bad acne prevention across their unconscious, pockmarked faces. The women walks up to Jared and hands him his cigs and forty. He pats the pack of cancer sticks in his hand and takes one out, the women lights it for him as he zips up his shorts. He looks down at his work as the sun begins it's descent in the early evening sky,it was truly a masterpiece he had created. The duo of decidedness walk away after one final look at Jared's craftsmanship. They get back in the truck and look at each other lovingly in the eyes.
"I never want to have kids. If my offspring ever ends up like one of those clowns...I'll kill the son of a.....HEY! Is that a box of Charleston chew!?"
"Fuck yeah it is!"
The two stay in the parking, their work done for the night. The women shares the delicious chocolate bars with Jared, in exchange he gives her some "white" chocolate in the parking lot.
EOT
(OOC) This is part one of a three maybe five part series about the people who make me want to rage quit life.
*Announcer butts in*
"Will Jaggeroth find the strength to beat down the true filth that plagues this nation at every twist and turn or fail miserably? Or will the writer just say screw it cause no one really reads his shit anyways and focus his attention back to making more room in his fridge by finally drinking his everly increasing booze collection? FIND OUT in the next exciting chapter of Jihad: part two! Furry Hit Squad! Same Psycho time, same Psycho place!"
