It was just another night in the LOTL household. There was nary a sober man in sight, and those friggots Class and Gared were giving blowjobs to random objects again. "Hey Class, I bet you won't shove that table tennis racket up your ass." challenged Chris. "You're right, I won't." said Class, as he started sucking on it sexually. "If you're going to do that, at least use your racket." Bo said. "You wouldn't be saying that if it was your-""Okay!" Disco interrupted, stealing the racket and stuffing it in his pants for safekeeping. "God you guys make me so angry! I'm going to go smash things!" "Have fun, sweet prince." Bo said, as he kissed him on the cheek. The others continued to drink, and drink. They looked at the clock, and hours had passed. "Where is my sweet prince?!" cried Bo. "He's not in my pants." said Disco. "He's not under that table tennis table." said Class. "He's not in the beer." said Chris "Maybe we should check on him." A minute after Bo had left to find his sweet prince, they heard a shrill scream. "Holy shits man! Is Bo taking it in the ass?" Chris said. They all went to check. They saw Gared smashed into a bloody mush. "No, sweet prince!" Bo screamed in agony, and then fainted. "What happened, man?" said Class. "It's pretty clear what happened here. Somebody killed a bitch." said Chris, tipping his glasses intelligently. "But who? We were all out there!" Bo wailed as he cried over the sweet prince's body. "I don't know." said Chris," But we have to find who did this. Now, help me get this fat ass upstairs. We'll discuss things there."
Eventually, Bo recovered, and Chris began articulating the plan. "Alright, since Bo is a pussy, someone has to partner with him. "Bo, my nigga." says Disco, "I'm going with him." "Alright Class, you're coming with Me." said Chris, "We're going to find this bitch and avenge our sweet prince."
So Chris and Class went to search the right side of the building, and Bo and Disco went to search the left. They searched under beds and in the bath. They searched every little detail, for any clues of where the perpetrator might have gone. Disco thought he found something. It was a clue, a guitar pick, and it didn't belong to any of them. So, he turned around to inform Bo, but he was gone! "Bo?" said Disco, fear in his voice. He traced back his steps, to see if he could find him, but it was too late. He laid dead, a banana in every orifice. "Shit!" Disco screamed, violently. "My two best friends are dead! Fuck those two bitches, I'm leaving!" But, just then, he heard something creaking. "Fuck! I bet that's the guy! I'm getting the fuck out of here!" Disco began running frantically down the hallway. But then, he tripped on nothing, like a white bitch in a horror movie. "Oh shit! I think I broke both of my legs, my arm, and my left testicle!" he cried. Then, he realized he was one step closer to being his dear Führer. He chuckled to himself, but then he remembered the situation. "Shit! I'm going to be another step closer to Hitler, dead!" He tried to crawl away with his one arm, but then he realized that was fucking retarded. There was no way he was getting away like that! "Well shit, if I'm going to die, I want to die like the Führer!" But then, he realized that was also retarded, because he had no gun. "Shit! Alright, it doesn't have to be a gun. He pulled out the table tennis racket. "I'll use this!" he cried, and began bashing his head with it. But then, as he soon realized that that was also fucking retarded, he couldn't die like that! "SHIT!" screamed Disco. All of his resources were exhausted, and the silhouette of the murderer was approaching. "Screw you asshole! I'm not going down without a fight!" He threw the racket into the murderer's balls. It had no effect! Disco screamed in terror as he shoved everything imaginable in his pants, including Bo's dead body.
Meanwhile….Chris and Class continued to drink and laugh. "Smart idea, getting them to do all the work." Praised Class. "I know right! Now there is more beer for us. Why don't you go give that racket a blowjob again?" 'I can't. Disco has it in his pants." Class recalled sadly. "Maybe you can suck on something else." suggested Chris. "Good idea." Said Class, as he grabbed another object in the room. "That's not what I meant." said Chris. "Suck on something edible for once." He said, giving him a piece of candy. "Thanks man, but I prefer meat." He said, as he grabbed a pair of Disco's discarded pants and pulling a pork rib out of it. "I prefer something salty, white, and creamy." Said Chris. "I know just the thing." said Class, sensually. "Close your eyes and open your mouth." Chris closed his eyes, and opened his most trustfully. It was then, that he heard a scream, a MANLY scream, the manly scream of Class. He opened his eyes, quickly, and found the killer pelting him with table tennis balls. He screamed in agony, and drew his last breaths. "No, Class! You didn't give me something salty, white, and creamy yet!" "And he'll never give it to you." said the killer, as he thrust a metal spoon into his mouth. It was clam chowder! "Dan? Dan? Why you do dis, I thought you were a bro?!" "Shh, JUST LET IT HAPPEN!" he growled. "No, I don't want this to happen! I don't want to swallow your salty, white, creamy liquid anymore!" "You must eat it all Chris, I made it with tender care, just for you." "No, don't!" Chris cried, as spoonful after spoonful of chowder was shoveled in, until Chris couldn't take it anymore. His fragile old heart gave out, and he died. "Goodbye, Chris." Dan said menacingly. He dumped the rest of the chowder on his corpse. He dropped the bowl, and he left as he had entered the closet.
In the morning, the Merchinator entered. He looked around him; he saw Chris' dead body and got an awkward boner. He looked at Class' body, and it went away. He saw the beer, and it came back again. He sat, drank, and gave no fucks.
DAS ENDERSCHLAUFEN
