Super Smash Bros: Random
Leon walked slowly down the dimly-lit street, his black trench coat flapping behind him in the cold winter wind. His sunglass-shielded eyes remained focused on the ground as he quietly walked the road to an unknown destination. Given his appearance, one could only assume one of the following: he was a criminal, he was in the Matrix, or he was just really freakin' cool.
The truth is all eight of these were correct.
It was barely past midnight, and the street was slightly illuminated by the lights of the buildings towering overhead. He had been walking, seemingly without direction, for forty-two hours now. Anyone who might have been pursuing him to learn his destination would certainly be extremely frustrated by now.
"ARRRGGHH!!! I certainly am extremely frustrated right now!" cried a voice from the shadows. Leon quickly glanced in the direction of the noise as a small, rotund figure revealed itself.
"Where in the HELL are you going?!?" the person screamed, pointing a stubby, shaky finger at Leon. "You've just been walking aimlessly for ages! Are you stupid? What's wrong with you?"
Leon opened his mouth, realized that poop doesn't come out that way, then opened his butthole instead and released a flurry of small, ball-shaped poops.
"Oops," he said with a grin, "It looks like poop has invaded my pants."
The pursuer, assumedly male with a round, bald head, trembled with fury. "Do you know who I am?!?" he demanded, shaking his fists in a twitchy rage.
"I know who you aren't," was Leon's reply. He then went on to list approximately two thousand people whom the small, bald man wasn't. Besides angering the shadowed man, the only thing this accomplished (via a mutated form of the 'butterfly effect') was the legalization of shredded children as a food item in Massachusetts.
The next thing Leon saw was a small, bald man exploding violently out of sheer anger. This was also the next thing Leon heard, tasted, smelt, felt, and enjoyed.
After surveying the scene of the explosion for traces of reverse kittens, Leon headed home for some microwaved oven. He hadn't eaten for over forty-two hours, and was quite famished. Upon reaching the door to his glamorous, two story thing, he noticed something quite peculiar – an invisible, completely undetectable note sticking out from his mailbox. He opened it (it wasn't folded) and carefully read the open space two inches to the left of the note:
We hereby extend to you
A very Super invitation
To Smash with us!
Welcome, Brother!
At this time, several people in the area reported Leon's face turning so white as to instantly blind three already blind people in the vicinity. A few others reported slight discoloration of the pants and a sharp decline in pantsular desire.
His jaw dropped. His eye twitched. His hands dropped their fingers. He didn't want to believe that he had received this invitation. Such was his disbelief that he actually willed the note out of existence. In its place appeared a quaint little mountain village with quarantined residents suffering from Get-Hit-By-Car Syndrome.
After dodging all the random vehicular mayhem surrounding him, Leon stood panting by the side of the road and contemplated on his plight. He didn't want to go there. He didn't want to see him. He removed his sunglasses, revealing hideous burn scars streaked across his eyes.
He didn't want to face that horrible red fire ever again.