A/N:Well, time for me to write another chapter of my satire that makes fun of the rampant stupidity in our society. Now, for me to dash another thing many people enjoy and make it stupid...movies!

Chapter 15 Stupid movies

Charisma Zi Briticism was quite honestly pissed. No, it wasn't that her children were refusing to share her wonderful love of anime, no it was because they were washing away their vacuous minds by watching stupid, pointless, and dumb movies. What was the point of such stupid, idiotic crap anyway? It wasn't like it taught you anything different from what you already knew anyway.

It was so pointless and stupid. Speaking of pointless and stupid, she could hear Carl and Cassius Claypot watching a stupid soap opera. They were both laughing out loud at the top of their lungs while a frustrated Guinevere was turning up the volume so loud her ears started to hurt.

"Turn that crap down!" Carl cried. "You know full well what'll happen in this by-the-numbers plot!"

"But I like predictability," Guinevere whined, tears rolling down her fat, ugly cheeks. "It makes everything better."

"Sure it does," Carl sniffed. "When you've seen the same thing ten thousand times, it doesn't change the fact that it's the same stupid crap."

"But I love it!" She whined.

"Why not go watch it on the Demon Tv network like all your other shallow, narrow-minded friends?" Carl snorted, also snorting down some food as he did so.

"What's going on down here?" Vincent Van Goggle boomed as he came frolicking down the stairs, three at a time. He looked like a girl and yet he spoke deeply. It was a living contradiction. No one knew how that somehow made any sense.

"V.V, use the stairs properly!" Charisma scolded.

"Sorry," He boomed, jumping so hard on the floor that he cracked it and made a huge hole in the wall.

"VINCENT!" She screamed.

"I suppose you're going to say that's my fault as well?" He said sarcastically, removing a plank from his shoe and throwing it down into the hole.

"OWWW! WHO THREW THAT DAMNED PLANK AT ME?" A voice boomed.

"Sorry about that-wait a second, why is there a voice from down in the basement?" He cried down into the hole.

"HEY, TURN YOUR VOLUME DOWN! WHAT'S AN OLD GUY GOTTA DO TO GET LISTENED TO AROUND HERE? FOR THE PAST SIX HUNDRED AND SIXTY SIX YEARS, I'VE BEEN SUFFERING FROM IDIOTS WHO WON'T LISTEN TO ME!"

"That's because you're yelling every time you talk to me! Wait, you're Uncle Generic, our relative who died from Fecesbook disorders!"

"I didn't die, you nitwit. I just faked my death and went into hiding under your house. Half of you are so thick you wouldn't notice if I was alive or dead." The old man scoffed.

"I'm so glad you're alive, Grandpa! I-AHHH!" Before he knew it, poor Vincent had gone and fallen right through the hole, until he landed right on top of poor Grandpa Generic.

"That was an Idiot Ball, if you ask me," Grandpa Generic replied, "I've been researching a website devoted to the art of words and picked up lots of tropes from it. I've also been faking the dead."

"Don't start now! I think my immortal leg is now broken!" Vincent complained. He concentrated. "I think it's normal now."

"Eww, I can see yer blood on there, sissy boy."

"I am NOT a sissy." Vincent protested.

"How many of dem boys up there have got pink eyes?" He pointed out.

Vincent paused, seemingly ashamed by this statement of truth. "You're right...I'm an idiot. A hopeless idiot."

"That's my boy!" He cried before slapping him on the back with his cane, which hurt a lot.

Vincent cried out in pain. "Hey, that hurts, old man!"

"WHO ARE YOU CALLING OLD?" He cried as he attacked him.

Everyone else decided to pretend they hadn't heard him screaming in pain.