First things first.
I wanna give you, the readers, an idea of how stupid this story's gonna be, and I'll do so by showing you the cast.
Characters:
J.P.- JPWordsmif (WHUT?!) Freddy Kruger- Jim Brewer (The "slow" guy on "Half Baked") Jason Voorhees- Homer Simpson Chucky- Chris Rock Candyman- Chris Tucker Ghostface from "Scream"- Marlon Wayans Michael Myers- Eminem Leprechaun- Verne "Mini-me" Troyer Jay & Silent Bob- Jason Mewes and Kevin Smith Carrie- Shannon Elizabeth Rachel from "Carrie 2"- Beyonce Knowles Hannibal Lecther- Drew Carey Stone Cold Steve Austin- himself
See? This is gonna be one stupid story, but that's the intention. Enjoy and, as always, read and review. I do care about what you think.
Narrator: J.P. sat on his bed bored out of his mind. It was one thing to smoke a bag alone when you can't find anybody to smoke with, but it's another thing entirely when you can't call people cause it's three in the morning. J.P. didn't like to smoke alone unless he had something on his mind, and his mind was blank as a motherfucker. Then again, he'd smoked a maximum of 9 blunts that day, so what the fuck did you expect? Anyway, his eyes got heavy, he started to drift, etc, etc.. Awww fuck it! Let's get to the gawddamn point already. This isn't even a serious fic anyway.
J.P.: If you'd shut the fuck up and read the damn cue cards, it wouldn't take so long to get to the damn point. In fact, you're fired! Someone send in a new narrator! SECURITY!!!
Security: What do you want us to do with him, sir?
J.P.: Put him in the stupidest B movie you could find.
Narrator: NO! Not "Night of the Scarecrow!" NOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!
The guards take the jackass away as J.P. looks around for a new narrator. Suddenly he notices someone.
J.P.: Hey! It's Stone Cold Steve Austin.
S.C.S.A.: WHAT?! I hear you need a narrator.
J.P.: WHAT?!
S.C.S.A.: I said I hear you need a narrator.
J.P.: Yes, I do.
S.C.S.A.: WHAT?!
J.P.: I said. oh, never mind. Just get over there and start narrating, and if the old narrator tries to bounce, give him a stunner. Got it?
S.C.S.A: OH HELL YEAH!
J.P.: Cool. Now maybe we can get to the fucking point.
S.C.S.A.: Well, when we last left off, I had just stunned Kane when Eric Bishoff ran down to the ring and.
J.P.: Dude, wrong script. This is a fan fic, not Monday Night Raw.
S.C.S.A.: My bad. Anyway, when we left off that crazy pothead sumbitch JP had just fallen asleep. He opened his eyes moments later and realized that he wasn't in Brooklyn anymore. He was in a run down abandoned house that looked remarkably like it went thru a TLC* match with Brock Lesnar. If this was some stupid white teenager from, say, Springwood, he would've tried to explore the place. Then again, they make white kids, as well as anyone else, look absolutely stupid in the movies. Besides, JP's from Brooklyn. He knows bullshit when he sees it. With that said, the smart sumbitch ran straight for the front door. He turned the knob, but the door wouldn't budge. Thinking on the fly, JP grabbed a steel chair and went to town on the windows, but that didn't help. He hit one window.
Mystery crowd: WHAT?!
S.C.S.A.: .two windows.
Mystery crowd: WHAT?!
S.C.S.A.: .three windows.
Mystery crowd: WHAT?!
S.C.S.A.: But, to paraphrase the Rock, it didn't matter! The little bastard was screw like he was set up by Vince McMahon. Then he heard some footsteps coming down the stairs. Old Stone Cold will give ya three guesses who it was.
Audience member: Was it Mr. McMahon?
S.A.: No.
Audience member: Was it Kurt Angle?
S.A.: No! Stop with the stupid guesses before I have ta open up a can of whoop-ass on ya!
Audience member: Was it Kevin Costner, cause "Waterworld" kicked ass and.
JP hits the idiot with the steel chair he was using.
JP: Get his dumb ass out of here! NOW!
S.A.: And that's the bottom line, cause JP's steel chair said so! Can you handle the narrating for chapter 2 JP? Old Stone Cold needs a few beers to relax.
JP: How many is "a few?"
S.A.: 'Bout twelve.
JP: (thinks for a second) Alright, that's cool. Maybe by the time you get back I could've ran into Freddy already.
S.A.: Aren't you blowing the story?
JP: The damn thing's called "JP's Stupid Nightmare." I'm pretty sure even a complete simpleton could figure out where this thing's going. Anyway, I'll see you again in chapter three and, hopefully, something that has to actually do with this damn story will have happened by then. Well, later.
S.C.S.A.: Later.
Yes I know. This is stupid. Hopefully I gain a cult following or something. We can call it the "People Who Like Stupid Shit Club" or "P.W.L.S.S.C." Just a thought. Remember, read and review, or I'll send Freddy and Jason to YOUR house so they can run up your electricity bill by playing GTA: Vice City all the damn time!! Mwah-ha-ha-ha-haaa! Well, see you in chapter 2. *TABLES, LADDERS, AND CHAIRS MATCH.
I wanna give you, the readers, an idea of how stupid this story's gonna be, and I'll do so by showing you the cast.
Characters:
J.P.- JPWordsmif (WHUT?!) Freddy Kruger- Jim Brewer (The "slow" guy on "Half Baked") Jason Voorhees- Homer Simpson Chucky- Chris Rock Candyman- Chris Tucker Ghostface from "Scream"- Marlon Wayans Michael Myers- Eminem Leprechaun- Verne "Mini-me" Troyer Jay & Silent Bob- Jason Mewes and Kevin Smith Carrie- Shannon Elizabeth Rachel from "Carrie 2"- Beyonce Knowles Hannibal Lecther- Drew Carey Stone Cold Steve Austin- himself
See? This is gonna be one stupid story, but that's the intention. Enjoy and, as always, read and review. I do care about what you think.
Narrator: J.P. sat on his bed bored out of his mind. It was one thing to smoke a bag alone when you can't find anybody to smoke with, but it's another thing entirely when you can't call people cause it's three in the morning. J.P. didn't like to smoke alone unless he had something on his mind, and his mind was blank as a motherfucker. Then again, he'd smoked a maximum of 9 blunts that day, so what the fuck did you expect? Anyway, his eyes got heavy, he started to drift, etc, etc.. Awww fuck it! Let's get to the gawddamn point already. This isn't even a serious fic anyway.
J.P.: If you'd shut the fuck up and read the damn cue cards, it wouldn't take so long to get to the damn point. In fact, you're fired! Someone send in a new narrator! SECURITY!!!
Security: What do you want us to do with him, sir?
J.P.: Put him in the stupidest B movie you could find.
Narrator: NO! Not "Night of the Scarecrow!" NOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!
The guards take the jackass away as J.P. looks around for a new narrator. Suddenly he notices someone.
J.P.: Hey! It's Stone Cold Steve Austin.
S.C.S.A.: WHAT?! I hear you need a narrator.
J.P.: WHAT?!
S.C.S.A.: I said I hear you need a narrator.
J.P.: Yes, I do.
S.C.S.A.: WHAT?!
J.P.: I said. oh, never mind. Just get over there and start narrating, and if the old narrator tries to bounce, give him a stunner. Got it?
S.C.S.A: OH HELL YEAH!
J.P.: Cool. Now maybe we can get to the fucking point.
S.C.S.A.: Well, when we last left off, I had just stunned Kane when Eric Bishoff ran down to the ring and.
J.P.: Dude, wrong script. This is a fan fic, not Monday Night Raw.
S.C.S.A.: My bad. Anyway, when we left off that crazy pothead sumbitch JP had just fallen asleep. He opened his eyes moments later and realized that he wasn't in Brooklyn anymore. He was in a run down abandoned house that looked remarkably like it went thru a TLC* match with Brock Lesnar. If this was some stupid white teenager from, say, Springwood, he would've tried to explore the place. Then again, they make white kids, as well as anyone else, look absolutely stupid in the movies. Besides, JP's from Brooklyn. He knows bullshit when he sees it. With that said, the smart sumbitch ran straight for the front door. He turned the knob, but the door wouldn't budge. Thinking on the fly, JP grabbed a steel chair and went to town on the windows, but that didn't help. He hit one window.
Mystery crowd: WHAT?!
S.C.S.A.: .two windows.
Mystery crowd: WHAT?!
S.C.S.A.: .three windows.
Mystery crowd: WHAT?!
S.C.S.A.: But, to paraphrase the Rock, it didn't matter! The little bastard was screw like he was set up by Vince McMahon. Then he heard some footsteps coming down the stairs. Old Stone Cold will give ya three guesses who it was.
Audience member: Was it Mr. McMahon?
S.A.: No.
Audience member: Was it Kurt Angle?
S.A.: No! Stop with the stupid guesses before I have ta open up a can of whoop-ass on ya!
Audience member: Was it Kevin Costner, cause "Waterworld" kicked ass and.
JP hits the idiot with the steel chair he was using.
JP: Get his dumb ass out of here! NOW!
S.A.: And that's the bottom line, cause JP's steel chair said so! Can you handle the narrating for chapter 2 JP? Old Stone Cold needs a few beers to relax.
JP: How many is "a few?"
S.A.: 'Bout twelve.
JP: (thinks for a second) Alright, that's cool. Maybe by the time you get back I could've ran into Freddy already.
S.A.: Aren't you blowing the story?
JP: The damn thing's called "JP's Stupid Nightmare." I'm pretty sure even a complete simpleton could figure out where this thing's going. Anyway, I'll see you again in chapter three and, hopefully, something that has to actually do with this damn story will have happened by then. Well, later.
S.C.S.A.: Later.
Yes I know. This is stupid. Hopefully I gain a cult following or something. We can call it the "People Who Like Stupid Shit Club" or "P.W.L.S.S.C." Just a thought. Remember, read and review, or I'll send Freddy and Jason to YOUR house so they can run up your electricity bill by playing GTA: Vice City all the damn time!! Mwah-ha-ha-ha-haaa! Well, see you in chapter 2. *TABLES, LADDERS, AND CHAIRS MATCH.
