"You know what I'm going to call someone today?" Lincoln Loud said. "White trash. Yeah, that's stinging. That's a biter. That one's gonna put someone in their place. All these righteous Catholic faggots ganging up on me at recess and pounding the shit out of me because I'm dating a mestizo...I'm gonna make 'em pay, they're gonna receive a verbal pounding."
He saw Ronnie Anne in the distance. His junk perked up and nearly tore through his jeans. His genitals could best be described as a cone with a mushroom top: circular and broad at its base, curving to a sharp point capped by a strange club-shaped glans. With his fleshy strobiloid thick and iron-dense, he approached the filthy Latina who smelt of weeks-old cabbage and raisins.
"You wait a second there, son."
A grisled, gnarled hand dusted with hair clapped onto Lincoln's shoulder. Stunned, he twisted around and came face-to-face with his father, Lynn Sr., but...something was off. His hair, balding though it was, was completely shaved, his head now a crystalline and bald dome. On his forehead was sliced six lines swirling into one point, tilted clockwise...a swastika.
Uncharacteristic tattoos veiled his stern face. Quotes in German and Italian, various militaristic symbols, some of eagles, other of rod-girdled axes, even a few skulls, enshrouded his erstwhile fatherly face.
"Lincoln, I'll be damned if any of my children are dating Negroes or Spics alike." His eyebrows whittled downward, a long, thin vein crossing the side of his ink-coated face. "And what do I see in front of me but a fucking burrito-vending wetback beaner-girl?"
Lynn's eyes clouded over, turning white, then glowed. He pushed his son aside, falling to the seat of his pants. Two powerful beams shot from his sockets and obliterated Ronnie Anne, reducing her body to scattered ashes.
"DAD!" Lincoln screamed, tears choking his words. "You fucking monster! You're part of the Playground Catholics, aren't you? Fucking monster!"
"Son, do I look like a Judeo-Catholic to you? I'm a pure-hearted Protestant, through and through. And I'll be equally damned if any so-called 'boy' curses in front of his own father." He spread a giant fucking hand and smacked the shit out of Lincoln, sending him flying. He skidded to the ground on his back, rugburn flaring over his backbone.
"And what did I hear about you callin' someone white trash? You ain't so refined in your manners, are you?" Another powerful slap annihilated Lincoln's face. A ghostly phantom rose from Lynn Sr. (his name was now Lynntler) of a slick-haired German with a square mustache above his upper-lip.
Plumes of smoke curled up from Lincoln's pores. He screeched, twisted, thrashed, but it was no use.
"IF I CAN'T SLAP THE JEW OUTTA YOU, I CAN SURE AS HELL BAKE IT INTO SMOKE!"
Minutes passed of agonized shrieking, before Lincoln's body was now a half-withered and gray carcass. His hair rotted into a snowy pile next to his head, and his eye sockets were empty black holes leading to mushed gray matter.
AND THEN FUCKING DANNY ELFMAN APPEARED HOLY SHIT
He just swaggered the fuck up, leaned against the brick wall of the school, wife beater and everything on.
"Oh shit, I know you! You were the—the, uh, uh, vocalist! The vocalist for Oingo Boingo! Dude, I fucking love your songs!" Lynntler said.
"Thanks bro. By the way, I retired from singing and now I am servant to a certain dreadful man reposing down below." he said, voice crooning and pitching like a fucking Disney villain.
"Satan?"
"Yup. So I need your son's body for a monetary transaction on behalf of Lucifer, of course ol' Lincoln's going straight to Hell." he said. "Dirty Jew." he lit a cigarette just so he could flick it on Lincoln's corpse. "Good think is, not much of him is left, so the trip to the Inferno should be pretty leisurely. Oh and by the way, about that swastika on your forehead…"
"Oh, you mean this?" he pointed to the Indo-European rune on his forehead.
"Yeah...you aren't a Nazi, are you?"
"A Nazi? No, I'm just a Republican."