Tears on his Guitar
A songfic
Billy Joe Cobra opened his eyes for the last time. The doctor standing over him kept screaming his name, "BJC! BJC! Stay with me! Don't die on me now!" He yelled, then slammed down the paddles on his chest and shocked him again. His body jolted as the electricity coursed through his limp, noodly body. Not even peanutbutter could save him now. Smooth peanutbutter.
Everyone gathered around the rich and famous popstar began singing BJC's latest love song, How Can I Live Without Me, as he slowly closed his eyes. He was dying.
His last breath of air left out his dry, cracked, dead lips and a bright light overcame him.
"What's going on?" He asked, not sure if he was still tripping acid.
"BJC," A loud voice boomed. "You are DEAD!"
"Morgan Freeman? Is that you?" He asked, shielding his eyes from the bright light.
"No, you BUTTHOLE! I am GOD!"
"Is this heaven?" He asked, looking around. "Is this… broheaven?" Mountains of smooth peanutbutter surrounded him. It truely was paradise. Little naked babies were playing in a lake of chocolate milk, splashing and giggling like little babies do.
"Come join us, BJC," they teased.
He was so excited he nearly shat himself and began crying tears of joy. "The only thing that could make this better is if my little second cousin Spencer were here!"
Suddenly, out of nowhere, God smackcammed him out heaven yelling "DO IT FOR THE VINE!" as BJC's ghost rocketed down to HELL.
"NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!" BJC screamed as he plummeted down into the black pit. He began flying back up until he'd made it back to earth and was from then on a wandering, restless spirit among the living, searching for his purpose in the afterlife.
10 YEARS LATER
Newspaper headline: The body of the Late Superstar, BJC, has been STOLEN!
Spencer Wright woke up early one Monday morning feeling particularly groggy. He looked over at his screaming alarm clock, and groaned as it was time for him to wake up and get ready to go to his day job of working on a police force. Years before he had given up his dream of being a director for a couple of joints from a dirty hobo he met in college. His life had become a downward spiral of drug abuse ever since. In order to lessen his feelings of guilt, he turned to a life of crime fighting.
He sat up and rubbed his eyes, then stared out his dirty bedroom window. The sun was just beginning to rise and over the tall buildings up the high rises around him. Two dogs were fighting over some left out garbage by the back alley where his window was. They growled and barked and howled at each other, and once the garbage had been torn to shreds by the two dogs, one mounted the other and began humping.
Spencer watched them, and couldn't help but feel captivated by the scene unfolding in front of him. He took out his crappy camcorder from when he was nine years old, the one with the alien ufo stickers on it, DO YOU BELIEVE?, and began to record. Filming stray dogs getting it on was his only companion in his lonely, regretful life. That and the ghost of BJC, who was in his shower, using up all the hot water.
"Hey, Bromethius," BJC's ghost called. "Where's the soap?"
Spencer made no attempt at reply. He just went on, filming the dogs in heat, then took out a bottle of prozac from his nightstand and dry swallowed two of them. The daily grind.
"BROMETHIUS," BJC screamed when no reply came. "THE SOAp."
Spencer went to the kitchen so he could have some cereal and milk before heading off to his horrible desk job as a secretary at the police station. He had yet to be promoted to the force because the police chief thought he was kinda gay. And kinda gay he was!
He didn't like to admit it, but he had a serious BROner for his second cousin (a/n: lol! bro puns!)
He went to the door to get yesterday's mail because the night before he had spent at a bar getting shit faced with Rajeev, and passed out in his doorway the second he got home. The daily grind.
In his stack of bills and late fees, was yesterday's newspaper. He glanced at the headline as he drank his black coffee. Almost as black as the bags under his eyes. And his soul. He did a comical spit take and then pressed the print to his eyes to see it better.
"WHUT? BILLY'S BODY'S BEEN STOLEN?" He couldn't believe it. "It's like ten years old! That's hella nasty!"
Billy's ghost phased through the bathroom wall then, wrapped in nothing but a towel and some of that cool green face stuff. "What's going on?" He inquired. "I heard you screaming!"
Spencer had to sit down to keep from passing out from shock. "Why would they want your body?"
"Who doesn't want my body?" BJC asked, striking a promiscuous pose. Spencer nearly got a nosebleed looking at him.
"Someone dug up your body from the super rich and famous popstar cemetery!" He said, picking up his mug of coffee once more. He sipped it and nearly did another spit take when he began reading the details on page 5. "It happened just last night! They say someone snuck into the cemetery shrouded in darkness, and snatched up the body of the late popstar, BJC!"
"No way!" BJC yelled, the facial mask flying off of his face. He flew around and snatched up the newspaper. "I made the front cover! This can be like BJC's return!"
"More like return from the dead!" Spencer cried, then stood, grabbed his coat, put on some pants left by the door, his camcorder, and ran out the door.
The same dogs from before were now gangfucking a cat by his front step, but Spencer didn't have time to film them, as he was now a man on a mission from GOD. He Jumped on his really sweet motorcycle, BJC hopped on the back and rode him (a/n: lol XD Xp) all the way to the police station.
They rode on the motorcycle for what felt like hours, but was only ten short minutes before they arrived at the Beverly Heights Police Station. Spencer parked, and BJC went ahead and phased through the wall into the station so he could listen in on the juicy corpse details. Spencer used the front door because he's alive. He then went to his desk to begin filing papers for his emotionally abusive boss.
Lolo Calorie had been his boss for about 5 years and took every chance she had at making his life a miserable hell. One day she even made him lick up pudding he spilled in her office. No one would ever let him forget the pudding accident of '95. (a/n: because it takes place in the 90's)
She came out of the back then, her body a fat husk of what it once was. "SPENCER!" She yelled, lighting a cigarette. "Did you get my files organized yet?"
"Yes, Miss Calorie," he said, handing her the file off his desk. "I heard the news about BJC's body. Why did you not tell me before I had to find out form today's newspaper?"
Lolo cursed, "Motherfucker, how do those reporters always find out about our cases?" She gave him a hard look and exhaled smoke in his eyes. He'd had to get glasses from how many times she'd done that over the past 6 years. The glass couldn't even protect him the smoke and his eyes watered and burned.
She took her cigar out of her mouth and dropped some ash onto his desk, leaving another burn mark.
"I think because The Cobra was so close to me when he was alive," Spencer said, glancing over at BJC's invisible ghost, who was busy looking at the framed headline of the pudding incident of '95, "Don't you think it'd be a good idea to put me on this case?"
Lolo paused, thinking, and threw up a bit in her mouth at the idea of Spencer in a cop hat. "I don't know if you're cut out for it. We already have a Paranormal Investigator on the case."
Spencer glanced over at the framed movie case of an autographed copy of Paranorman in Blue Ray HD.
"Who?" he demanded. "Who could be better fit to take this case than me?"
Suddenly, Dib Membrane bursted through the backdoor, coattails flying everywhere. Every girl in the station began menstruating simultaneously. He put his hands on his hips and his hair thing whipped back and forth until the door was shut and then everything seemed to stop. Spencer could feel his heart beating in his throat. This motherfucker was going to take his case!
Lolo bounced over to him, fat rolls jiggling. She puffed up her lips, "Oh, Dib! Thank god you're here!" she said, blood dripping onto the floor, as she had forgotten to put on underwear that morning.
He pushed her aside. "Show me the evidence," he demanded, going over to the monitors.
"NO!" Spencer yelled, jumping out of his seat. Everyone, including BJC, who was stuffing his invisible mouth with dunkin donuts, looked over at him. "I should take this case!"
Everyone started laughing at him and pointing, except Dib, who was backing away from the growing puddle of blood. The distinct smell of period blood had infiltrated his nostrils and images of the last time he'd taken a case at the Beverly Heights Police Station flashed in his brain.
"You can have the case!" Dib yelled, running for his life out the back door, already broken on the inside.
Lolo cried and chased him. "Dibbeh, no!" But it was too late!
"Yes!" Spencer cried, finally feeling like his life wasn't meaningless. He took his bottle of prozac out of his coat pocket and drop kicked it out the window. He was free.
Lolo had no choice but to finally give him his badge, then grabbed his shirt, and pulled him in close. "If you fuck this up," she said, pausing to take a drag on her cigarette, "you'll be out of here forever!"
Spencer considered the risk quietly to himself before he nodded to her in acceptance. "I understand," he said, grinning. He figured since he had some of Billy Joe's gear, it would be easy to find his disgusting body. Oh how wrong he was.
BJC's jaw dropped and all the donuts fell out. He began scooping each one up like a newborn child and sobbed at his loss. Rajeev, seeing this, dove for the donuts, and began swallowing them whole. "5 SECOND RULE!" he all but screamed.
Spencer began throwing files off his desk to make room for his case, then grabbed the evidence, contaminating it, and headed for the door, grabbing cop car keys on his way out. Billy's ghost followed suit.
Lolo shook her head, and her whole body began to fill with regret of the life she had lived.
"Wait for me, bros!" Rajeev called, running for the door, in his high pitched, screechy voice. Spencer and Billy stopped in the doorway, and looked back, light from outside shining against them, casting epic silhouettes. "I'm coming too!"
Spencer looked over at Billy, who was a bit weary of this idea. If Rajeev came, that meant they wouldn't have brolone time together, but before he could say anything, Spencer agreed.
Rajeev took out his handgun from his belt and began shooting for no reason. "Whoo! Broad trip!" He yelled, running for cop car #1.
Spencer and Billy followed, less enthusiastically, and exchanged glances of lust before getting in and phasing into the cop car. On the dashboard was a laminated copy of the pudding accident of '59 article. Spencer tried not to look directly at it as he started the car. Rajeev put up some fuzzy dice on the rearview mirror, Billy tantalized by their similarity to testicals, before he smacked them down like he would a drunk hooker.
They began to drive down the shitty streets of the city off into the sunrise.
Meanwhile
"Shanilla! Bring the body into the light so I see it!" a mysterious voice boomed. It was not Morgan Freeman.
"Yes, master," the soft and timid voice of Shanilla replied. She began to lug the heavy, and bloated with drugs body into the middle of the room.
"Ah yes, very good, my pet," the same voice said from the dark corner. A dog treat was thrown to the girl, which she scampered to pick up, and then ate ravegly. The person in the corner stood and walked around the body, examining it for fakeness. "We've done it!" She cried, "Billy Joe Cobra's body is now mine!"
From her dress she pulled an XXL Magnum buttplug, causing Shanilla to gasp and cower, and then lifted the body of the late popstar, and began cackling. "I have some wicked ideas for you, B. Joe Co."
As she began to shove it in his ancient butthole, she began to softly sing his latest love song, How Can I Live Without Me?
to be continued...
AN: plz no haters, this is our first fic!