FAIL BROTHERS
(A fanfiction)
(Done in Kings James english)
On the 13th day of the thirty-first year of the most holy game dubbed Fix it Felix Jr., the two most honored and noble of the game layeth out in front of the house of the most wrecked, which had been made of bricks of the finest quality and stature. His holyness Felix lay on the most enchanting and exquisite belly of the mighty wrecker, happy in the fact that he hath chosen this position to put his body in. The two of them were most stonedeth out of their noble minds, for they had recently eateth brownies of the most unusual composition, causing them to be come faced with shit, of the most brilliant type. And They saw that it was good.
Behold! The holy fixer speaketh fine words!
"Ralph, my fine friend, why do we not goeth into the apartment, and taketh off our garments called clothing, so that we mayest become undressed?"
The wrecker replies!
"What the fucketh, most holy friend? I hath no desire to look at your garments which cover such areas as the realm of the phallus, and I doubt that you hath longing to witness my own, thou derpeth?"
The fixer called Felix stood up in a most joyful mood, and called the mighty wrecker to doeth the same.
"You do not understand the true and most holy and magnificent purpose of our act of uncovering ourselves," declared the holy fixer. "We shalt dress ourselves in the most amiable of suits, and weareth hats which matcheth the suits, and we shalt sing and dance and perform in the most amazing and holy way, and we shalt be called 'The Blues Brothers', which is the way that we shat become most enjoyable to the people of the arcade."
And behold! The wrecker agreeth with the fixer, and the two of them stride their most beautiful legs into the apartment, where the disrobe and place such garments upon their noble bodies. They attached most shiny and manful sunglasses upon their brows, and frowneth so, as to look as though they were Blues Brothers.
The wrecker and fixer were about to leaveth their apartment, when a small child of nine appeared and scolded them on their noble costume choices.
"Behold! Art thou not wearing the suits that thou worest to the matrimony of Felix and the woman Calhoun?" the imp declared.
The holy fixer wrinkleth his nose. "Noeth, dear imp. These are Blues Brothers suits, which we will useth to entertain the people of the arcade, and they will agree with us most joyously."
"Fear not, dear Vanellope," said the mighty wrecker, Ralph. "Felix has stondeth himself out of his mind. I mearly put on these garments to appease him, and to keep his holy jimmies unrustled."
And behold! The imp sticketh her tounge out at the holy fixer.
"Thou art a Poopbutt!" she declared.
And the mighty wrecker and the holy fixer walked out of the game, to singeth and dance for the citizens of the arcade, which will happen when the apostles of fixing have taken a most holy shit.
(To be continued...)