DA FINAL CHAPTA!!!
That's right, kids! The only way that we could give you this final insult is to collide our skulls and merge into one entity (which ISNT as easy as you might think). Yep! We spent hours upon hours smashing our heads until finally... we gave up and just made a funny name. But all that head-smashing DID inspire to write this stupid and final chapter to the tale of Hans and Sven and explain ONCE AND FOR ALL how they did stuff. So without further a doo-doo: DA FINAL CHAPTA!
Hans woke up in a dark place. A dark, dark place. A dark, dark, crowded place. Could it be true? Was he destined to be in Frank Zappa’s groupy room? Had they REALLY survived a sing-along-sequence? No. This must be a dream... A dream with a chubby, ugly vykker drooling all over him. It was a nightmare. That idiot was here. That’s right, THAT idiot. No, not just any idiot. Any idiot would’ve just taken the bacon, shaken to the makin, but this one was rakin’... for the leaves. Or something like that. But anyway... It was an idiot next to him. Yeah, I know what you’re thinking. “That sexy guy? The one with the six-pack and freestyles like there’s no tomorrow?” Yes, that’s right my friend. JA RU- wait, he sucks... No, this was SVEN! Our ever-lovable protagonist Vykker who has gotten into so much mischief. Hans poked Sven in the side.
“Sven!” shouted Hans. Sven didn’t move. Hey! It WAS a dream! “Sven, GET UP!” he plead again. Sven still didn’t move. Hans began to get a little jumpy. Could they have come all this ways for Sven to suddenly die? And to add insult to insanity, died drooling all over Hans. Hans reached around the small, pitch-black enclosure to find something suitable to perform a test to see if Sven was alive. “Ah! This’ll do!” said Hans as he grabbed a long, hard stick from the wall. **WACK!!** went the broom as he smashed it against Sven’s cerebrum.
“NO! JENNIFER! DON’T DO IT! IT’S NOT WORTH GIVING YOURSELF AN ENEMA!” screamed Sven as he shot back to life. Hans gave him a queer look.
“Do you remember the raisin-guy?”
“The one with the thtriped pantieth?”
“No, that was Humphrey... He’s dead now, remember?”
“Well, it wathn’t my fault!”
“Err... yeah it was...”
“Wath not! Those futhzles said they had candy for anyone who opened that door!”
Hans sighed, “Yeah, whatever, at least you remember!”
“Remember what? The pantieth?”
“No, you loony! Not the panties! The-”
“You were talking about the pantieth!”
“Yes, but I was, err, I mean, NO! I was talking about the raisin!”
“Did he wear pantieth?”
“No... well I didn’t see...”
“Then how do you know they weren’t thtriped?!”
“Because I... umm... THERE WAS RAISIN... HE ATE US... WE CAN GET THE DANISH NOW!”
“...I think he was wearing thtriped- THE DANISH?!”
“Yes, the danish!”
“Where?!”
“I have no idea.”
“Yeah, you wouldn’t! You didn’t even know who’s pantieth thothe were!”
“Hey!! The panties didn’t matter! And besides, I always know what’s going on!”
“Like when?”
“Like that time I... well, there were... things going on... and I, umm, knew about it....”
“AH HANTH, LOOK OUT!” shouted Sven as he violently swung the broom, now in his clutching clutches, in the direction Han’s voice was coming from. The broom smashed into Han’s face and knocked him unconscious. The hours passed... Sven sat in the dark. After a while he got bored and started twiddling his thumbs. “HEY! I’VE MADE A TERRIFICAL DISTHCOVERY!” shouted Sven. “By twiddling my thumbs I can figure out the constant age of the Universe! But I can see you don’t care. Eh Hanth?” asked Sven, who wasted no time in smashing the broom into Han’s head again.
“The clowns!!! The clowns!!! Get your poetry and spandex away from my grandmother!!”
“What the hell are you talking about?” asked Sven.
“Ummm...er... nothin’. Why‘d you hit me with that?”
“I thought I thaw those pantieth! They were on your fathe!”
“You’re going insane.”
“Tho what if I am?”
“I really hate you.”
“Whatever, let’th find that Danish!”
“Okay, well we seem to have been locked in some type of impenetrable cell, to wait gleefully for our dooms. I will meditate on the idea and try to channel my chi into a way to conserve air before we explode into little itty bitty bits... But only because we didn’t notice the surveillance cameras... THEY’RE ALL AROUND US!!! EVERYWHERE!!! There’s no escape! Life has lost it’s purpose!! We will surely parish in this cage of death until the maggots devour our eye sockets and use them to feed their evil Queen Nemificlikimus III!!!” cried Hans as he sunk into a corner and held tightly to his body in a small ball of depressed, horrified paranoia. Sven on the other hand opened the door.
“The light!” shouted Sven as he put his claws over his eyes and squinted, “The light of the danish! For it ith the only light of true purenethneths!” Hans crawled out of his ball and went out the door. After their eyes adjusted, they noticed that they were in a hallway and had been in a broom closet this whole time.
“No... the chicken! The egg had nothing to do with it! Think about it! How would the egg come first? Who lay the egg? Huh? HUH?!” The voice continued. There was no reply. It just kept talking. Neither Hans nor Sven had ever heard that kind of voice before. Though somehow, it seemed amazingly familiar. It was coming from just around the corner. The two moved to the edge of the corner to hear more.
“Yeah, and get me some REAL food, okay? This pastry stuff is killin’ me!” said the voice to no one. “If I eat another danish, I’m goin’ to be on the porcelain for weeks!” Sven heard the final statement of blaspheme and just went off. He stormed out from behind the corner, Hans following.
The creature that was speaking was talking to what looked to Hans like neuron-drill. It didn’t look like anything in particular to Sven, who hadn’t seen straight for a couple of decades. The creature looked rather pale, though not as pale as the vykkers. It had a thick tuft of black hair on the top of its head that reached downwards. A black rim of hair ringed its mouth.
The beast looked at Sven, closing in on him. He was in an amazing state of fear. He dropped the danish towards the floor.
All time paused... or at least moved very, very, very, very, very, very, very, very, very, very, very, very, very, very, very not-very-quickly. The danish tapped against the floor. Sven could not take his eyes off of it. Sven was full of pure hatred for this monstrosity that sat before him.
“Learn thome rethpect!!!!” shouted Sven. He then, to both the creature and Hans’ astonishment, leapt into the air. He froze in the air, legs and arms in a strange pose. The creature had seen something like this before and expected to be kicked violently in the face, followed by a part where the vykker would fling chairs through the air in amazing speed, run on walls, dodge bullets, leap from building to building and dodge more bullets. Fortunately for him, none of this happened and Sven fell to the ground, landing hard on his face. There was silence.
Sven slowly pulled his body back up, which was a hard task for this fat-ass. When he finally made it up (much to the help of the creature’s desk, which was used as a balance), he stared into the eyes of his adversary. There was nothing but fire in Sven’s eyes... that, or his veins were still red in his eyes after all those shrooms... but anyway... Sven walked up to the creature, who was still shocked. He bent over, which horrified the creature almost (and some say completely) to the point of insanity, and picked up the danish.
“I’ll be taking that!” he shouted as a sign of his personal victory. Sven walked out of the room.
Hans stared at the creature for a moment. He then broke out in laughter and chuckled his way out of the room.
Hans and Sven walked out of the building and towards the street.
“Eww... coconut!” shouted Sven as he through the danish to the gutter. Hans was stunned. He had come all this way, for something that REALLY didn’t matter that much! It’s like Armstrong looking over to Aldrin and going, “Oh, sorry, I forgot to tell you! I thought the flag would look better in a triangle shape with the stars taken off. My bad!”
After a long pause, Hans decided that all that mattered was the present, and so he thought of the future (never being able to keep his mind on the right thing). “So where do you want to go now?” asked Hans.
A taxi drove by with a picture of casinos, dancers, and wine on it. Hans and Sven looked into each others eyes. The were both thinkin’ of the same thing.
“VEGAS!” they shouted together. Well almost. Sven said it more like “vegath” but that didn’t matter. The two walked off, Sven twiddling his thumbs and Hans screaming the number 42. Little did they know that this new, strange world had something they could have never contemplated: MARSHMALLOWS... but that’s a story for another day.
Meanwhile, in an office far far... a block away, the creature began to come out of the trance that he was caught in.
“Lorne?! LORNE!” shouted the phone which the creature had been still holding at his side. He picked it up and put it to his face. “Sherry... I’ve... got an idea.” And so Lorne made a line of videogames that really, REALLY sucked ass and earned him no notoriety from a couple of assholes from mid-west USA.
DA’ END!
__________________
Sal: Merry, merry, dingleberry?
Joe: No, you may not have that donut!
|
hahahahah!
