Jim sighs and saves his bosses financial report, downing the last of the moist coffee grounds in the bottom of his coffee cup. The office is silent.
"Ayy Jim whatta fuck am I rite," Scrotum enters the scene. His name isn't actually Scrotum, Jim just calls him that on the account that he shares numerous characteristics with the male genitalia.
"What do you want, man," Jim asks, the annoyance clearly communicated through his voice. He stares into the stain left in the bottom of his coffee cup, and silently weeps for his coffee comrades.
Scrotum jams a twinkie into his fat fucking gullet, "quit crying over coffee ya pussy, ya fuckin nerd." Little did Scrotum know, Jim was projecting his feelings about his wife onto the poor beverage. "Hey Jim, is your dead wife still hot?" That was the last straw.
"My wife's not dead you fuck!" Jim screams his voice cracking, his body trembling, his anger bubbling, "that's it, you fuckin teste. I'll kick that landmass you call and ass!"
Scrotum activates his fat powers and swells to roughly the size of a four door compact. "This'll be the last time you talk shit about my arse you fuckin pizza shit!"
A troop of men in black clothing rush into the room, guns held high. Also Will Smith was there. "We finally caught up with you, Scrotum the 22nd from the ball sack nebula! Why don't you go back where you came from!"
"Ayy lmao, you'll never take me alive, you shitlords," Scrotum says, as his dick explodes.
Fucking hell I don't know how to end this shit.