Daaaaang, I must be funny, cuz the most popular term in the past two reviews is "LMAO/LMFAO". Well, muchas gracias to those elite two (as I write this, once again) who reviewed, you people are probably the only reason why I am inclined to continue this shizzle-izzle. So, before I begin the third chapter, another Friday quote, this time from that cute little crackhead.
"My neck! My back! My neck and my back! I'm suing y'all for a hundred thousand dollars! But I'll settle out of court for twenty. Hey, why don't y'all just give me ten dollars?"
Convenience store clerk: "Man, get up, it ain't even wet over there."
HAHAHAHAHAHA!!! I watch this movie every week, man, it is too funny.
-----------------
Of Mutilated Cars and Albino Twins
-----------------
"Owwww...dayum." Tyler slowly opened his eyes and saw quite a blur of black and white and shades of grey. "That white boy punches HARD." He attempted to get up, only to find himself strapped to a strange contraption. "What the fuck? Am I the prisoner of a dominatrix or something?"
His nose suddenly screamed a request to stop working, as a rather large man covered in hair walked up to him, with a bullwhip in his hand. He was smiling widely, showing his sharp, shockingly white teeth. Tyler looked up. "Who the fuck are you?"
"If you don't cooperate, I'll be the last thing you'll ever see." The man reached over to a wheel and turned it a notch.
Pain shot through Tyler's body and tears sprang into his eyes. "Oh fuck! I'm on the rack!" He strained to break free, only to have his limbs demand that he stop his pointless struggle.
"That's right." The man's hand inched towards the wheel once more.
"No, wait, uh...what should I call you?"
"Cujo."
"Oh, okay." Tyler struggled some more in vain. "Cujo! Don't turn that wheel! I promise I'll give you whatever you want! But you see...I think I'm kinda tall enough already, don't you?"
Cujo grinned. "This is almost too easy. Okay, the Merovingian wants to know who you are, and why you're here. Seeing as the war's over, there is no reason for any rebels to come here."
Tyler nearly lost it. "What??? What the fuck is this Merry-faggot [1] talking about? What war? What rebels? I'm just a poor black man who wants his money because some insolent white boys destroyed his car!"
Cujo's mind went blank, for he had not anticipated this. "Well...uh, stay here." He left, and conveniently forgot that Tyler was still on the rack, slightly stretched out.
"Hey, uh, Cujo? Buddy? Can you get me off of this thing?"
************
The Merovingian was normally a frog-eating, cake-baking, sock-sniffing bastard program who put France and everything to do with France to shame. But as of this moment, he was now a CONFUSED frog-eating, cake-baking, sock-sniffing bastard program who still put France and everything to do with France to shame. [2]
Cujo tailed closely behind as the Frenchman stormed back to the torture chamber. Neither were all that used to interacting with coppertop humans (with the exception of the Merovingian's periodical cakes, though Persephone promised to slice off a certain body part if she ever saw one of those cakes again), and neither knew what to do at this point. They had captured and tortured a human over something that he knew nothing about. If he killed him, the System would use that as another reason why the Chateau should be destroyed. If he kept him, the crazy human would probably try to attack the Twins for (what Cujo said) his money. And if they let him go, he'd probably go screaming to more humans about how there was a house full of werewolves and vampires, and then they'd all have even more humans to get rid of.
The torture chamber's door slammed open, and Tyler strained to see who it was. He saw the same smelly Cujo, and next to him, a shorter man, with a hooked nose and a very creepy smile. The shorter man spoke.
"Vell, vell, vell. Vhat do ve have here?" It was now decided. Tyler now hated the French.
"You are NOT a rebel, as you claim. But you came here to attack us, did you not?"
If looks could kill, the Merovingian would have exploded. "Who the fuck are you?"
"I am..." the Frenchman made a sweeping gesture, as if Tyler would care, "the Merovingian."
"Oh...so you're the asshole that had me put here."
"Yes."
"Oh, okay." Tyler suddenly tried to spring out of his bonds, only to be sharply held back by the ropes. "I'll fucking kill you, AFTER I take care of those white boy twins of yours!"
The Merovingian laughed. "And why would you want to kill the Twins?"
Tyler lost it, for the third or fourth time that day. "Does nobody fucking LISTEN anymore?? Your fucking twins destroyed my car, and now they're being a pair of cocky crackers [3] and instead of simply handing me a check so I can leave no question, they pull out switchblades, laugh in my face, and sock me unconscious! And nobody bothered to answer my primary fucking question: how the fuck did your shits survive that explosion?!"
The Frenchman only chose to smile. "Firstly, you vill not speak to me in such a manner."
"I'll fucking speak to you however I chose, you fucking piece of Eurotrash!"
The Merovingian snapped his fingers. "Cujo?"
Cujo jumped at the chance to torture some more, and ran to the wheel. After turning it about two or three times, he paused to fully enjoy Tyler's yelps of pain.
"And secondly, the Twins found it imperative to destroy your car because they had an objective to complete, and your slow, careful driving hindered them."
"That's...fucking...bullshit...Merovingi-whatever..." Tyler gasped.
"Thirdly, I do not find it necessary to pay you back for your damages. Your insurance should cover it."
"What??" Tyler tried to jump up again, and fell back in pain. "I can't afford the jump in my insurance, I just lost my JOB!"
"I am afraid that is not my problem, c'est la vie. Finally, the Twins survived that explosion because I rebooted them and their car."
Tyler couldn't get angry at this, mostly because he had no idea what the Merovingian what talking about. "You refer to them as if they were some sort of programs..."
"You vill hopefully understand one day...but for now, I vill have to keep you here. I not need you running around the city telling people about le chateau. Cujo, cut him free."
*************
Tyler limped out of the chamber, and looked carefully around. He was going to find those damn pimp Twins and put a bullet into each of their heads. Money was no longer the issue.
As he shuffled down the hall to where the Merovingian said his new room was, he looked around the chateau, and his new housemates. A long-haired, pale-faced man who went by Vlad glared back at him. Tyler walked up, out of sheer friendliness, and held out his hand.
"Hey, I'm Tyler. You are...?"
Vlad hissed back at him. "The Merovingian probably wants you alive, but I just may...kill you." He revealed very long and deathly sharp fangs.
"Oh shit!" Tyler jumped back. "You're a fucking vampire!" He found it imperative to run the rest of the way to his room, taking a convenient shortcut through the library.
Two men quickly got to their feet, and also glared at Tyler. "Oh, er...sorry." He glanced at the television screen. "Hey, 'Willard'! That's a good movie. The newer one's slightly better though."
The shorter one, who had a very interesting soul patch, dropped his fists. "You've seen this one?"
"Hell yeah! Though I myself am partial to black people's comedies, old horror flicks aren't half-bad."
The man with the soul patch held out his hand. "I'm Abel." He nodded to the taller man next to him. "This is Cain. You'll have to excuse us, we're not quite used to a lot of people just barging into our library."
Tyler shifted nervously. "Er...sorry...That vampire guy was scaring the fuck out of me."
Cain snickered. "Vlad's a pussy, don't worry about him." He sat back on the couch and stared at the movie screen once again. Abel sat next to him.
Tyler prepared to join the two, but at that moment the Twins chose their weekly "Let's try to scare the shit out of the newbies" session, Tyler being their next target. The moment they walked through the door, he whipped out his Desert Eagle and pulled the trigger twice.
They both phased through, and grinned at their attacker. "Oh shit!" Tyler dropped his gun, as Cain and Abel watched with interest. "You're fucking ghosts!" He backed away, and tripped on the glass coffee table, crashing right through it.
Abel looked over his unconscious body. "Way to go, you fuckhats. He's knocked out cold."
Two shrugged. "He overreacted."
------------------------
Alrighty, chapter three finished. NO, there will be no slash. Abel does not get with Tyler. Neither does Cain. And neither will the Twins. This fic is PURE humor, I despise most romance fics, seeing as most of them have no point. (Except for Dark Puck's stuff, y'all gotta peep it.)
Concrit is desperately needed, flames are nonexistent, and where are those marriage proposals?
notes:
1) I do not like the word "faggot." Period. However, when you're being tortured, that's probably the last thing you'll be thinking about.
2) Okay...I don't like the Merovingian all that much. Does it show? Back off, Mero fans.
3) Don't whine to me about how "cracker" is a racist term. I don't care.
"I may not be the smartest man in the world, but it looks to me like you is taking a SHIT!"
"My neck! My back! My neck and my back! I'm suing y'all for a hundred thousand dollars! But I'll settle out of court for twenty. Hey, why don't y'all just give me ten dollars?"
Convenience store clerk: "Man, get up, it ain't even wet over there."
HAHAHAHAHAHA!!! I watch this movie every week, man, it is too funny.
-----------------
Of Mutilated Cars and Albino Twins
-----------------
"Owwww...dayum." Tyler slowly opened his eyes and saw quite a blur of black and white and shades of grey. "That white boy punches HARD." He attempted to get up, only to find himself strapped to a strange contraption. "What the fuck? Am I the prisoner of a dominatrix or something?"
His nose suddenly screamed a request to stop working, as a rather large man covered in hair walked up to him, with a bullwhip in his hand. He was smiling widely, showing his sharp, shockingly white teeth. Tyler looked up. "Who the fuck are you?"
"If you don't cooperate, I'll be the last thing you'll ever see." The man reached over to a wheel and turned it a notch.
Pain shot through Tyler's body and tears sprang into his eyes. "Oh fuck! I'm on the rack!" He strained to break free, only to have his limbs demand that he stop his pointless struggle.
"That's right." The man's hand inched towards the wheel once more.
"No, wait, uh...what should I call you?"
"Cujo."
"Oh, okay." Tyler struggled some more in vain. "Cujo! Don't turn that wheel! I promise I'll give you whatever you want! But you see...I think I'm kinda tall enough already, don't you?"
Cujo grinned. "This is almost too easy. Okay, the Merovingian wants to know who you are, and why you're here. Seeing as the war's over, there is no reason for any rebels to come here."
Tyler nearly lost it. "What??? What the fuck is this Merry-faggot [1] talking about? What war? What rebels? I'm just a poor black man who wants his money because some insolent white boys destroyed his car!"
Cujo's mind went blank, for he had not anticipated this. "Well...uh, stay here." He left, and conveniently forgot that Tyler was still on the rack, slightly stretched out.
"Hey, uh, Cujo? Buddy? Can you get me off of this thing?"
************
The Merovingian was normally a frog-eating, cake-baking, sock-sniffing bastard program who put France and everything to do with France to shame. But as of this moment, he was now a CONFUSED frog-eating, cake-baking, sock-sniffing bastard program who still put France and everything to do with France to shame. [2]
Cujo tailed closely behind as the Frenchman stormed back to the torture chamber. Neither were all that used to interacting with coppertop humans (with the exception of the Merovingian's periodical cakes, though Persephone promised to slice off a certain body part if she ever saw one of those cakes again), and neither knew what to do at this point. They had captured and tortured a human over something that he knew nothing about. If he killed him, the System would use that as another reason why the Chateau should be destroyed. If he kept him, the crazy human would probably try to attack the Twins for (what Cujo said) his money. And if they let him go, he'd probably go screaming to more humans about how there was a house full of werewolves and vampires, and then they'd all have even more humans to get rid of.
The torture chamber's door slammed open, and Tyler strained to see who it was. He saw the same smelly Cujo, and next to him, a shorter man, with a hooked nose and a very creepy smile. The shorter man spoke.
"Vell, vell, vell. Vhat do ve have here?" It was now decided. Tyler now hated the French.
"You are NOT a rebel, as you claim. But you came here to attack us, did you not?"
If looks could kill, the Merovingian would have exploded. "Who the fuck are you?"
"I am..." the Frenchman made a sweeping gesture, as if Tyler would care, "the Merovingian."
"Oh...so you're the asshole that had me put here."
"Yes."
"Oh, okay." Tyler suddenly tried to spring out of his bonds, only to be sharply held back by the ropes. "I'll fucking kill you, AFTER I take care of those white boy twins of yours!"
The Merovingian laughed. "And why would you want to kill the Twins?"
Tyler lost it, for the third or fourth time that day. "Does nobody fucking LISTEN anymore?? Your fucking twins destroyed my car, and now they're being a pair of cocky crackers [3] and instead of simply handing me a check so I can leave no question, they pull out switchblades, laugh in my face, and sock me unconscious! And nobody bothered to answer my primary fucking question: how the fuck did your shits survive that explosion?!"
The Frenchman only chose to smile. "Firstly, you vill not speak to me in such a manner."
"I'll fucking speak to you however I chose, you fucking piece of Eurotrash!"
The Merovingian snapped his fingers. "Cujo?"
Cujo jumped at the chance to torture some more, and ran to the wheel. After turning it about two or three times, he paused to fully enjoy Tyler's yelps of pain.
"And secondly, the Twins found it imperative to destroy your car because they had an objective to complete, and your slow, careful driving hindered them."
"That's...fucking...bullshit...Merovingi-whatever..." Tyler gasped.
"Thirdly, I do not find it necessary to pay you back for your damages. Your insurance should cover it."
"What??" Tyler tried to jump up again, and fell back in pain. "I can't afford the jump in my insurance, I just lost my JOB!"
"I am afraid that is not my problem, c'est la vie. Finally, the Twins survived that explosion because I rebooted them and their car."
Tyler couldn't get angry at this, mostly because he had no idea what the Merovingian what talking about. "You refer to them as if they were some sort of programs..."
"You vill hopefully understand one day...but for now, I vill have to keep you here. I not need you running around the city telling people about le chateau. Cujo, cut him free."
*************
Tyler limped out of the chamber, and looked carefully around. He was going to find those damn pimp Twins and put a bullet into each of their heads. Money was no longer the issue.
As he shuffled down the hall to where the Merovingian said his new room was, he looked around the chateau, and his new housemates. A long-haired, pale-faced man who went by Vlad glared back at him. Tyler walked up, out of sheer friendliness, and held out his hand.
"Hey, I'm Tyler. You are...?"
Vlad hissed back at him. "The Merovingian probably wants you alive, but I just may...kill you." He revealed very long and deathly sharp fangs.
"Oh shit!" Tyler jumped back. "You're a fucking vampire!" He found it imperative to run the rest of the way to his room, taking a convenient shortcut through the library.
Two men quickly got to their feet, and also glared at Tyler. "Oh, er...sorry." He glanced at the television screen. "Hey, 'Willard'! That's a good movie. The newer one's slightly better though."
The shorter one, who had a very interesting soul patch, dropped his fists. "You've seen this one?"
"Hell yeah! Though I myself am partial to black people's comedies, old horror flicks aren't half-bad."
The man with the soul patch held out his hand. "I'm Abel." He nodded to the taller man next to him. "This is Cain. You'll have to excuse us, we're not quite used to a lot of people just barging into our library."
Tyler shifted nervously. "Er...sorry...That vampire guy was scaring the fuck out of me."
Cain snickered. "Vlad's a pussy, don't worry about him." He sat back on the couch and stared at the movie screen once again. Abel sat next to him.
Tyler prepared to join the two, but at that moment the Twins chose their weekly "Let's try to scare the shit out of the newbies" session, Tyler being their next target. The moment they walked through the door, he whipped out his Desert Eagle and pulled the trigger twice.
They both phased through, and grinned at their attacker. "Oh shit!" Tyler dropped his gun, as Cain and Abel watched with interest. "You're fucking ghosts!" He backed away, and tripped on the glass coffee table, crashing right through it.
Abel looked over his unconscious body. "Way to go, you fuckhats. He's knocked out cold."
Two shrugged. "He overreacted."
------------------------
Alrighty, chapter three finished. NO, there will be no slash. Abel does not get with Tyler. Neither does Cain. And neither will the Twins. This fic is PURE humor, I despise most romance fics, seeing as most of them have no point. (Except for Dark Puck's stuff, y'all gotta peep it.)
Concrit is desperately needed, flames are nonexistent, and where are those marriage proposals?
notes:
1) I do not like the word "faggot." Period. However, when you're being tortured, that's probably the last thing you'll be thinking about.
2) Okay...I don't like the Merovingian all that much. Does it show? Back off, Mero fans.
3) Don't whine to me about how "cracker" is a racist term. I don't care.
"I may not be the smartest man in the world, but it looks to me like you is taking a SHIT!"
