Sitting there in his meth lab getup with his cock out of the zipper, fully erect, was Walter White.
Through the negro spiritual blasting its intense and patented Brady sound throughout the laugh stadium everyone found themselves in, Mochrie was still able to make out a single phrase amongst the stomach tremoring laughter filling up the orifaces of everyone in the studio.
"We have to cook"
Colin immediately pulled off his pants and his penis hardened into a stiff fuck wand, enough blood pouring into his cock veins to supply an entire day's worth of blood donations. He began running towards his lover's throbbing dick, his Canadian ass as hairy as it had ever been.
Walter stood up, ready for the warm embrace of meth chef sex he was about to experience in front of this live studio audience. But before the male fuck fest could begin, the back exit doors flew open. Behind the threshhold stood but a shadow. A shadow with fucked up legs and crutches.
"D-d-dad, mom's w-waiting in the car w-what the f-fuck is taking you so l-long"
Walt Jr. extended the sound of "long" upon seeing Colin Mochrie's massive bald dick. He felt a rush of blood throughout his body (well, throughout everywhere except his gimp fucking legs). Flynn couldn't hold back the cripple lust he felt towards the Canadian actor.
"Sh-sh-shit nigger, I g-g-gotta get some of th-that pussy. L-l-let me-"
Flynn continues his retard outburst incomprehensibly, but his words are obviously garbled forms of affection directed at the shaved skin sausage that hung between his dad's lover's legs. Jr. let go of his crutches to reach for the pants which held his jank-ass legs and attempted to unzip his fly so as to join in the meth orgy. As he had been shopping at Hot Topic, however, his pants had nearly 50 pockets, and he could not find the correct zipper. In turn, his crutches slipped from under his armpits and he fell down the stairs of the studio.
As the cripple fell in slow motion down the stairs, hearing the beautiful sound of Wayne Brady's voice and how it elicited leagues upon leagues of raucous laughter, he became further crippled. The stairs were breaking parts of his body doctors couldn't even identify upon his gimp birth, and in turn, he became a mega cripple.
When his lank, broken body finally reached the bottom where his father and Colin stood, Walt Jr. had already been dead for 5 minutes.
"JESSE NO," Walter yelled, clearly forgetting that he actually had a son.
Colin broke the drama with his kind, beautiful Canadian voice. The first time he had been able to speak 1 word during the show thus far. He said, "Since he fell head first, guess he finally got a leg up on the world."
The crowd roared. There was applause and laughter and projectile defecating and women in labor who weren't even pregnant, obviously miscarrying some sort of egg cluster reject fetus monster that the hilarity of the joke caused to form within their whorish wombs. It had been the best joke ever told on Whose Line Is It Anyways? and all of the studio audience not only knew this instantly, but it would be etched into their brains until the very day they die (from diabetes).
Drew Carey stood up from his desk, pantless, and pointed at Colin. He shouted, "IT'S YOUR LINE. WE FOUND THE ANSWER."
And with that, Colin Mochrie had been proven as the second coming of Christ, effectively showing that all the hard religious work and sexual experimentation of the Whose Line staff had been worthwhile. Walter White was also eventually proven to be the Antichrist, forming what would soon become NBC's best rated sitcom in history.
The End.