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Solid Snake: military operative. Guy with a badass beard who has a weird fetish for cardboard boxes. Once the world's most beloved children's musician, he has been torn away from the career he loved by an overbearing government with too much time on its hands. Having had his posterity stolen, Snake is forced to serve as the personal errand boy for Wario Jon Bon Jovi Wario, the morbidly obese, morally corrupt President of the United States. Embittered and disillusioned, Snake finds himself once again thrust into a harsh and unforgiving world; a world where greed and corruption rule supreme. A world where all…

HAIL TO THE CHUMP

Previously on Hail to the Chump:

Snake went to a library to read to a group of children in Wario's place when all hell broke loose. After upsetting the kids by reading them an M-rated Clifford fanfic he had stolen off some guy he tortured, Snake incurred the wrath of a mob of angry mothers who tried to kill him. Narrowly escaping sudden death, Snake ran over an old lady and her dog, shot a ninja who also wanted him dead for some reason and made it back to the White House to receive his meager pay.

And now…


Snake had just about enough of Wario for one day. He began to leave when Wario called to him, "Uh, Snake? There's just-a one-a more-a thing I need-a you to do for me today…"

Snake shivered. As long as it didn't involve flossing the gunk from between Wario's toes, he could probably make it through the day without throwing up.

"What is it, Mr. President?" he growled.

Wario got up from his seat again and walked over to Snake. "Let's-a take a walk and I'll-a explain everything."

The president led Snake out of the Oval Office and down the stairs to the White House's kitchen. Wario stood in front of the massive doors that led into the kitchen and made a motion with his right hand for Snake to come by him. Snake walked over to Wario's side and the fat little man suddenly hopped up on to Snake's neck. The operative almost let out a cry of surprise, but the president clamped a hand over his mouth to silence him.

"Don't-a make-a too much noise," whispered Wario as he pointed to the door's glass window panes. "Look-a in there…"

Snake inched his way to the glass, straining under the titanic weight of Wario. This guy really needed to learn the meaning of the words Weight Watchers.

Snake looked through the window panes and saw that big pink puffball we all know as Kirby, but who is alternatively known as Sir Kirby Puffington in the UK and Rafael Zarragosa in Mexico. He was dressed in a chef's hat and was hard at work, cooking up something in a large steel pot. As he stirred the concoction, purple smoke and flames rose up from deep within the pot.

"You see, Snake," began Wario, who was still sitting on Snake's shoulders and giving the poor man a backache that would make any chiropractor proud, "We-a hired this-a celebrity chef who was-a big a few years back, but then he had a bad divorce and ate-a his therapist and-a spit-a him out because he taste-a no good. I heard-a his story and felt-a bad for him, so I gave-a him the job as-a the White House's chef."

"Yeah, so what's the problem with that?" asked Snake impatiently, his back aching and his nose burning from a foul smell that came forth from Wario's hindquarters.

"Just-a watch and see," said Wario quietly.

Kirby continued to stir his mixture and added some salt to it. He then put his spoon and shaker down on a nearby counter and returned to the pot. He looked around the kitchen to make sure no one could see him (He was unable to see Wario and Snake because of an unexplained plothole). Determining the cost was clear, the puffball proceeded to suck up the entire contents of the pot, as well as the pot itself. He then threw himself onto the kitchen floor, clutching his stomach while moaning in ecstasy.

"That's-a the problem," said Wario as he hopped off of Snake's neck. "He make-a the food, but he eat-a it all for himself!"

Gee, I wonder who that sounds like, thought Snake sarcastically as he recalled the time Wario held a brunch for the members of the Senate and the House of Representatives to celebrate the passage of his healthcare bill and ate all of the food for himself (Wario's healthcare law really didn't change anything, but it did have a bill attached to it that provided free body parts to zombies, thus reducing the chances of a zombie apocalypse by 95 percent).

"You want me to fire Kirby?" asked Snake nervously as he rubbed his aching back and neck. He had no desire to get tangled up with Kirby at all. He had a long record of bad experiences with Kirby. There was that awful day three years ago when he caught Kirby cooking eggs, bacon and biscuits on his satellite dish back at his log cabin in Maine. The puffball had beaten him up badly, pounded his face into a pile of compost and then went on to eat a couple people.

And then there was that time four years before when Kirby ate his prized sleigh dog team on Christmas Eve…

"No, that's-a too dangerous," said Wario, interrupting Snake's sad thoughts. "We'll hit-a him over the head when he's-a sleeping, put-a him in a box and mail-a him to Somalia. What I need-a you to do for me is-a to go to Taco Bell down-a the road from here and get-a me twenty chicken gorditas, thirty grilled steak tacos and-a one of them caramel apple empanadas I like-a so much."

That nauseous feeling Snake was fighting was coming back again. He was really getting annoyed now. "Why can't you just go yourself?" He said in an angry growl. "It doesn't sound like it's that far away from the White House."

"Oh, I would-a go, Snake," said Wario, a very sincere look spreading across his ugly face. "But you know— AAAAAAAAHHH!"

Suddenly, Wario dropped to the ground and began clutching his left foot.

"Oh, what a horrible foot-a pain I've got-a all of a sudden! Mama Mia! I don't-a think I could-a make it down there! Oh Snake, you've gotta go in-a my place. I'm-a in a bad-a state!" Snake could swear that for a moment he thought he could see Wario smiling as he held onto his "sore" foot.

Snake rolled his eyes. "Yes, Mr. President…"

It was going to be a long night…


It was finally about nine o'clock that evening when Snake finally made it down to Taco Bell. His consternation only grew larger when he saw the long line of hookers, drug addicts and other lowlifes spilling out of the eatery's entrance.

Snake lit a cigarette, inhaled the carcinogenic smoke and blew it out of his mouth. He tapped his foot impatiently, wishing that he had brought his iPod with him.

After what seemed like an eternity, Snake finally got inside Taco Bell. In the eating area, he saw that some inner city street gang was having a poetry slam/breakdance hybrid event going on in there. He always fancied himself as a guy with a thing for the arts and would have gladly joined in with them, but he was on a mission from the Moron-In-Chief. He couldn't be bothered with really meaningful stuff like the arts right now.

Snake stepped up near the front of the line. There were two scummy-looking guys in front of him who were dressed in boxer shorts and a-shirts and had really long, hair band-like hair styles. As they took their orders, they talked amongst themselves about how they both had just been paroled.

When they had taken their orders, Snake walked up to the counter and gave his order to some nerdy high school kid with frizzy red hair and bad acne. He opted to get a wheelbarrow to carry out Wario's order. Realizing that he hadn't he eaten any dinner, he ordered a steak quesadilla for himself.

After wheeling the wheelbarrow outside and parking it near one of the tables out in front of the restaurant, Snake sat down at the table and unwrapped his steak quesadilla. Just as he was about to take a bite out of it, he heard a small voice that seemed to come from below say "Yo quiero Taco Bell."

Snake looked down. Sitting on the ground next to his chair was a blonde-furred Chihuahua with bright little eyes and a wagging little tail. It looked longingly up at Snake, its bright little eyes wide and its little pointy ears flattened against its head. "Aw, poor little guy," said Snake quietly. He ripped a piece off of his quesadilla and gave it to the dog. The Chihuahua happily ate the food and quickly trotted away from the table.

Snake watched as the Chihuahua walked away. He smiled and thought I should get a dog again someday…. He turned back to his quesadilla, picked it up and took a few bites out of it. A minute or so later, he heard a familiar sound: "Yo quiero Taco Bell". He looked down again and saw that the Chihuahua was back. It looked up inquisitively at Snake, cocked its head to the left and started whimpering softly.

Snake got up and looked down at the dog. I guess he isn't full yet. He put what remained of the quesadilla on the table and reached down to pick the cute little doggie up.

"Aww, what's wrong, little— AGGHHHHH!"

Suddenly, the Chihuahua threw itself on Snake's face and proclaimed angrily in Spanish, "¡Voy a rasgar su cara fuera de su cráneo, Gringo estúpido!"

Snake could feel the dog's claws digging into his face as he tried as hard as he could to rip the beast off of him. The dog was slobbering all over his face as it was trying to bite his nose off. Snake fumbled around blindly as he searched for the table. He hoped that he could find the last piece of his quesadilla to try to get rid of the dog.

Success. Snake's left hand had found the table and the piece of quesadilla, while his right hand was trying to rip the Chihuahua off of his face. Holding the quesadilla between his left ring and little fingers, Snake used both of his hands to rip the rabid dog off of his face. He heard a loud tearing sound as he pulled the dog off, but whatever that was didn't matter now.

He held the dog by the scruff of its neck with his right hand. The Chihuahua thrashed violently as it tried to break free from Snake's grasp, uttering various colorful vulgarities in Spanish. Snake walked behind the Taco Bell and threw the quesadilla and the dog as far as he could towards some bushes far in the back.

Snake wiped his hands in accomplishment. Coming out from behind the eatery, he walked to the table, dug a napkin out of the environmentally-friendly paper bag that his meal had come in and wiped the blood off of his face. He then began to notice that a crowd of college kids had begun to form around him and none of them looked very happy.

Some blonde college girl wearing a green shirt and blue jeans yelled at Snake "You monster! You threw a poor defenseless dog!"

"Lady, that dog was far from defenseless!" Snake argued, feeling more blood running down his face from the dog attack.

"You were the one who provoked him!" shouted an irate male hipster dressed in an orange shirt and brown pants.

Snake waved his hand dismissively at them. He was so angry with Wario and his face was mauled so badly, he didn't feel like getting into an argument with these kids. He walked over to his table and grabbed the wheelbarrow with the president's order in it, while ignoring the angry rhetoric of the collegians. He probably should've gone to the hospital to get his injuries examined, but Wario was the kind of guy who hated waiting.

He could feel his hatred, along with his stomach acid, rising inside of him as he began to make the trek back to the White House. He was so lost in his thoughts of the kinds of Quentin Tarantino-style vengeance he wanted to inflict upon Wario, he didn't the black Sedan racing down the road towards him.

Before he knew what was going to happen, the car slammed into him and sent him flying into the sky. Snake came down on the pavement with a loud crunch, his head striking the ground. Hard. At least he was in so much pain that he couldn't feel his horrible neck and back pain anymore.

He blacked out for a minute and had a near-death experience where an angel and a demon that both looked like Wario argued over who got the rights to take his soul. Then he woke up.

Snake lay there on the blacktop, floating somewhere on the threshold between life, death and that blessed place they call Miller Time. While he was trying his best to remain in this mortal coil, he could see through his weary eyes a cat approaching him. The cat, a white Siamese, stood inches from Snake's torn-up face.

"Who are you?" asked Snake weakly.

"I am Pissy Galore," said the Siamese in a reedy voice, its green eyes widening.

"I must be dreaming…"

Snake passed out, colder than a guy in metallic underwear. The cat jumped on Snake's back and urinated on the unconscious man. The only consolation was that the wheelbarrow was untouched, still standing in the spot it had been when Snake got hit.


Later that night, Wario sat in the Oval Office, greedily munching down his dinner, taking huge bites from a chicken gordita and a grilled steak taco in his left hand and the caramel-apple empanada in his right.

"Mama Mia! That's-a the good stuff!" said Wario happily as he continued pigging out. "Kirby only wished that he could make-a stuff this-a good! That-a is, if he didn't eat-a all of it…" He sipped from the soft drink on the desk and stared at Snake.

"What? Are you gonna stand-a there all night or something?"

Snake stood about ten feet away from Wario's desk. He was so badly mangled up that if he were one of those rubber corpses on NCIS, Ducky would be having a field day right now. He was bleeding profusely, his ribs broken and his clothes were drenched in bodily fluids. Snake would've cussed Wario out something fierce, but after what he had been through, he was afraid that if he started talking his jaw might fall off of his skull.

A couple minutes later, Snake passed out on the floor from blood loss with a loud thud. Wario was too busy eating to give a crap.

Sometime later, Wario got up and walked over to the unconscious Snake, sniffing the air. He shoved a plastic tray full of Mexican rice and beans into his mouth. "The least-a you could do is-a take a shower; you smell-a like cat pee."


A/N: Here's a translation guide for the stuff that the Chihuahua was saying:

"Yo quiero Taco Bell."

I want Taco Bell.

"¡Voy a rasgar su cara fuera de su cráneo, Gringo estúpido!"

I will rip your face off of your skull, stupid Gringo!

I'm not really good with Spanish (I had to use an English-to-Spanish online translator to come up with these), so if I transcribed them wrong, feel free to PM me.