Gizoogle Parodies: But It's Not The Same

by ConfusedColumbia26220

I love Gizoogle so much that I've decided to create a parody of every fic I've written. This is the seventh edition - But It's Not The Same. Nothing has been changed from the Gizoogle translation. Original fic summary: What happens when Columbia drags Frank, Magenta, and Riff to the beach? Read to find out. Multichaptered.

1. Chapter 1

But It aint nuthin but Not Da Same!

Disclaimer: I own not a god damn thang Rocky Horror. Shiiit, dis aint no joke. . .as much as I'd like ta own Frank, I don't. Right back up in yo muthafuckin ass. Slick Rick O'brien do (lucky, dirty playa he is muthafucka! ;) ) Oh, n' Bonnie a.k.a Blood-Sucker-1428 gave me tha scam of Columbia draggin dem up ta tha beach. ;)

"Yo Frankie!" Columbia squeaked bouncin outta tha elevator ta tha lab. Frank looked up from his thugged-out lil' project wit a irratated expression on his wild lil' face.

"What, Columbia, biatch? Can't you peep dat I be hustlin on something?" Dude asked.

"Yeah," Columbia answered. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! "And you work ta much. Come on," Biatch holla'd pullin his ass ta tha elevator by tha hand. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! "Letz git Riff n' 'Genta!" Biatch holla'd.

"For what tha fuck ?!" Frank axed wonderin what tha fuck up in tha hell Columbia had planned fo' em.

"You'll see." Columbia holla'd pulin his ass inside tha elevator amd closin tha door wit a playful smirk formin on her lips.

"Magenta, Riff Raff!" Columbia holla'd up in a rap cold lil' woo wop voice makin each sylibol of they names longer than what tha fuck it needed ta be.

"What?!" They groaned up in unison as Columbia strutted towardz dem up in tha ballroom.

"Come on, we goin' somewhere!" Columbia holla'd excitedly pullin dem by they arms ta tha door. Shiiit, dis aint no joke. Frank was tryin ta sneak away without bein noticed. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! He'd failed. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! "Oh shiiiiiiiit you don't!" Columbia holla'd grabbin his ass by tha arm n' pullin his ass back ta where Magenta n' Riff stood lookin straight-up annoyed n' mad salty. Columbia pulled open tha door n' rushed dem outside.

"What up in Godz name-?" Frank started but gots cut off by Columbia. "We goin' ta tha beach, come on!"

"Columbia, no! It aint nuthin but bright n' bangin' n' just revolting!" Magenta yelled. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! "I refuse ta follow you anywhere!"

"But tha beach is fun! Someone back me up!" Biatch protested. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! This type'a shiznit happens all tha time. "Frank?" Biatch asked.

"Sorry hun yo, but I gotta smoke wit Magenta on dis one." Frank holla'd.

"Gr playa! Come on!" Columbia holla'd n' dragged dem ta Frankz pick up truck.

"Oh no! Yo ass aint rollin our asses ta a funky-ass beach! Yo ass can't even drive!" Frank holla'd.

"Oh, is dat so?" Columbia axed flashin a thugged-out driverz liscense wit her name on it at em.

"Columbia, there is no way we goin ta git all up in a funky-ass beach." Riff holla'd. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! "We bout ta git burned kickin it!" Dude holla'd.

"Oh, nonsense!" Columbia holla'd. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! "Now git in." Biatch holla'd openin tha passenger door n' makin dem go in. I aint talkin' bout chicken n' gravy biatch. Frank first, Magenta second, n' Riff last. Right back up in yo muthafuckin ass. Biatch strutted round n' hopped up in tha driverz side.

"I'd straight-up gots nuff props fo'to peep you drive mah truck when you aint gots tha keys." Frank holla'd notin there was no keys up in tha ignition. I aint talkin' bout chicken n' gravy biatch. Columbia dangled Frankz keychain from her hand.

"Oh straight-up, now, nahmeean?" Biatch holla'd. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! "Then what tha fuck do these keys belong to?" Biatch axed n' wit dat started tha car.

"Columbia!" Frank growled. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! "How tha fuck did you git them?!" Dude asked.

"It aint nuthin but straight-up easy as fuck ta find thangs when playas be thinkin I be asleep." Columbia holla'd not straight-up givin a answer n' shit. "Or, I should say, itz straight-up easy as fuck ta find thangs when any suckas be asleep." Columbia rephrased her previous sentence.

"Mark mah lyrics, Columbia." Frank holla'd. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! "Somedizzle I be bout ta bust a cap up in you, you understand, biatch? Somedizzle I'ma bust a cap up in yo thugged-out ass." Dude holla'd angrily. Columbia just shrugged n' backed outta tha driveway.

A/N: Mo' ta come, peoples muthafucka! I PROMISE!