WARNING: The following story contains copious amounts of graphic violence, sexual themes, swearing, vulgar language, drug use, crimes against humanity, self-harm, dated and obscure references, anti-capitalist propaganda, arson, mentions of suicide, and petty name calling. Any and all potential allusions to real world individuals, places, things or events (past or current) are entirely coincidental and should not be taken seriously.
Viewer discretion is advised.
Wolf's Journey to 7-Eleven
Once upon a time, there was a fanfic writer who wanted to create top quality content for others to enjoy and appreciate. Unfortunately, he soon began to struggle under the pressures of maintaining a consistent schedule while multiple art blocks began to pill up, impeding his progress even further.
Feeling drained of his creativity and believing he was a fraud, the fanfic writer OD'd on generic low-grade German brand alcohol and flintstones gummies, a deadly combination. After being rushed to the emergency room and making a full recovery, he was admitted to a mental institution amicably named "The Loony Bin" where he would likely spend the rest of his miserable days on this uncaring Earth.
With the author out of commission for who knows how long, the characters in the fic he was writing lost all interest in maintaining the tightly padded continuity of the story they were in. This ladies and Gentlemen, is where the story truly begins so buckle up.
As the sun rose over the horizon of Smashville (Author's Note: Yes, there is a whole town dedicated to the smash games where the fighters live. No, I don't understand how this would work in any realistic sense considering all the fighters are from different universes. Not to mention the finances and government policies that would need to be implemented to allow a single mansion designed for fighting tournaments to be converted into an entire living community, just go with it), Wolf slammed open the front door of his house and promptly left to go to the store and buy a pack of cigarettes.
He promised his wife Isabelle that he would quit, but after she told him that she was pregnant earlier that morning, Wolf decided that this was the only way possible to cope with the situation he was in just short of blowing his brains out. It was obvious that Wolf wasn't ready to be a father!
Evidently having really hot and sweaty sex (but you know, the furry kind because they're both anthropomorphic canines) leads to children, something Wolf apparently missed the memo on because he never went to 4th grade biology class in elementary school. Why would he? He was too cool for that nerdy mumbo-jumbo.
As far as Wolf was concerned, all he needed to know about sex was Isabelle's tight shih tzu ass turning him on and him subsequently shooting his load into her Va-jay-jay. For those who don't go to urbandictionary, that's slang for vagina.
As Wolf walking down the ludicrously long road to the convenience store, he couldn't help but look at the constant defilement of the natural order going on around him. For one thing, Sonic was walking around in a royal uniform, complete with a crown and gold scepter, being hailed as the new king of video games by his loyal followers due to the perceived high quality of every single installment of his franchise that had been released in the past two decades. A finer example of Bizarro world being real I can't think of. I mean honestly, a good Sonic game? Who ever heard of such a thing, it wasn't the 90s anymore.
Elsewhere Beyleth (aka. Marth clone no. 21471 - FORGODSAKES SAKURAI STOP PUTTING FIRE EMBLEM CHARACTERS INTO SMASH GAMES, 3 WAS ENOUGH!) was giving a physics lecture, but instead of it being inside the smash university classroom like a normal professor, he held it outside in a grassy field like some sort of fucking new age hippie who thinks eating discarded fruit skins helps the environment. Not that anyone was paying attention anyway.
And Pac-Man was square for some reason, SQUARE!
Wolf then stopped in his tracks when he saw Villager burning down the Smashville orphanage for unoriginal OCs like the lunatic arson he was. The agonizing screams of crappy recolors not unlike Coldsteel the edgehog and Bluckles the enchilada being sent to an early grave put a smile on Wolf face and stiffy in his pants. The internet was spared once again from the depraved imagination of obsessive fans with no creativity.
Having enjoyed the brief moment of bliss, Wolf's euphoria was broken by loud bird noises coming from the resident cupid impersonator Pit. The half-man half-turkey thing spotted Wolf standing in the middle of the side walk with a pitch in his tent and made a b-line straight towards him, flying in a manner much a like a chicken with its head cut off and its body spazing out due lack of oxygen.
"Golly gee Wolf, did you hear about the election that's going on right now? The race between the candidates Master Hand and Crazy Hand is really close, either one could be our new dictator for life! Is that where you're headed right now, to go vote?"
"Hell No!" Wolf scoffed, "That shits for fucking braindead losers."
Coincidently as Wolf said that, Luigi and Bowser were currently at the polls on the opposite end of town submitting their ballots. After doing some in-depth research, and by research I mean they both just browsed Twitter consuming mind-numbing conspiracy theories and ill-informed opinions from people who frankly have no business in talking politics, Both Luigi and Bowser came to a very well educated decision. Both had voted for Crazy hand, feeling that his policies regarding tax breaks on the middle class were very sound, even though half the people living in Smashville didn't even have a job. Crazy Hand also promised to outlaw Melee if he were to be elected, saying it was a high time that that half-finished mess of a game be finally put to rest, which was generally agreed upon to be a fair statement. BTFO Melee tryhards, Brawl is where it's at!
Elated that they had done their civic duty, Bowser and Luigi happily skipped out of the building where the voting took place, unaware that their votes got thrown into the incinerator as soon as their backs were turned. The excitement was too much for the stereotypically Italian man and giant turtle-dragon to contain themselves. As such, Bowser put his arm around Luigi and gave him a cheesy wink to let him know that it was happy super fun time. With haste, both consenting adults went behind the local Target supercenter where Bowser gave the plumber the blowjob of his life.
Meanwhile, back to our main hero of the story. Wolf had had enough; he couldn't stand being withing 50 feet of Pit when the quantity of nicotine in his body was as low as it was. Thinking quickly, Wolf created a distraction.
"LOOK OVER THERE PIT!" Wolf shouted, pointing in the direction directly behind him. "It's Sakurai announcing a new kid Icarus game, and he says he's going to increase Palutena's bust size for better player immersion!"
Like a starved coyote spotting a road runner in the distance, Pit instantly laser focused his sights in the direction wolf was pointing. Charging up, Pit flapped his wings with enough force to launch himself forward at such a high speed that his skin began to peel off from the sheer velocity. His mouth began to drool at the thought of grouping Lady Palutena' enlarged breasts. But before Pit realized that he didn't exactually know where he was going, he smashed into a conveniently placed billboard that was suspiciously painted the same color as the sky and ironically advocating for bird safety. The splat was akin to that of a mosquito hitting the windshield of a moving car.
"Sucker" Wolf snickered.
With the chicken man finally out of his fur, Wolf once again, continued his journey.
Intermission
In the formation of their plans, they are conscious of caring chiefly for the interests of the working class, as being the most suffering class. Only from the point of view of being the most suffering class does the proletariat exist for them.
The undeveloped state of the class struggle, as well as their own surroundings, causes Socialists of this kind to consider themselves far superior to all class antagonisms. They want to improve the condition of every member of society, even that of the most favoured. Hence, they habitually appeal to society at large, without the distinction of class; nay, by preference, to the ruling class. For how can people, when once they understand their system, fail to see in it the best possible plan of the best possible state of society?
Hence, they reject all political, and especially all revolutionary action; they wish to attain their ends by peaceful means, necessarily doomed to failure, and by the force of example, to pave the way for the new social Gospel.
Such fantastic pictures of future society, painted at a time when the proletariat is still in a very undeveloped state and has but a fantastic conception of its own position, correspond with the first instinctive yearnings of that class for a general reconstruction of society.
But thes-
Intermission is over, get back in your fucking seat
After what seemed like an eternity of walking through the most mundane modern neighborhood ever, Wolf had at last reached his destination, the fabled rundown 7-Eleven from spoken of in legend. As the myth goes, if a person should enter this prestigious and holy place, they will be faced with three trials to test the purity of their character.
Though he was never one to turn down a challenge, Wolf felt a sense of dread as he stood in front of the automatic sliding doors. His canine instincts were going wild, warning him that if he entered the building, there was a huge possibility that he would not make it out alive.
To combat his fear, Wolf conjured up an image in his mind that reminded him of why he set out on this quest in the first place. It was Isabelle chewing him out for merely suggesting that she looked fat due to the pregnancy.
As a shiver ran down Wolf spine at the mere thought of what was in store for him in the near future. Determined now more than ever to get the one thing that would ease his suffering, Wolf stepped through the automatic sliding doorway without hesitation.
The pungent stench of mold on the decaying plaster walls coupled with the excessive amounts of vomit sprayed across the floor was enough to make Wolf sick to his stomach, even if this was a pretty common sight for any local convenience store.
Just then a groveling deep disembodied voice came out of nowhere to greet the bipedal space animal.
"Congratulations ye who have entered the hellish prison of low wages and broken dreams, I commend your bravery. However, first ye must prove your worthiness by navigating the endless labyrinth of poorly stocked shelves full of high calorie snacks and find the only turkey club sandwich that hasn't expired. Then ye must destroy the undead monster of terrible AUs that has plagued this accursed land since the begone era. Only when you have faced these three trials will you find what you are looking for. Good Luck."
Using his acrobatic skills developed from his lifetime on the battlefield, Wolf began leaping over the numerous pools of regurgitated half-digested twinkie soup coating large sections of the floor. If Wolf had to guess, this mess was probably the aftermath of the King of Lardasses King Krool having another bi-weekly junk food binge fest. The Wii fit trainers had joked that Krool couldn't possible get any fatter if he tried and the mean green crocodile machine clearly took it as a challenge. Unfortunately, even pros have their limits and a 7-foot-tall 680-pound obese alligator can only shove so many sugary snacks down his throat before his stomach decides execute order 66 on his innards.
Running out of clean floor and just barely making his way to aisle 8, Wolf pounced at the opportunity to make it to stable ground. Once he did, Wolf sprinted through the hallway that seemed to stretch onward across the horizon as fast as he could, jumping over Krool's unconscious body in the process. It was clear the kremling had tried to make his way to the restroom but fell short, collapsing into a small pool of his own sick.
The farther down Wolf went in the aisle, the more unkept the products on the shelves where, with some of the racks completely trashed. The off-brand T-shirts had penises drawn on them in permanent marker, half open bottles of bleach and other cleaning solutions were tipped over and leaking onto the milk jugs, and all the boxes of cereal were smashed in. The black Friday level of disorder indicated a lack of enthusiasm on the part of the employee who had been charged with stocking duty. I really hope they got fired for that : ( Soul crushing labor is no excuse for poor work ethic.
Once Wolf had arrived at the processed meat kiosk in the refrigerated section, he hastily began rummaging through numerous plastic containers of saran warped sandwiches. Tossing all the expired ones he found in every direction, even managing to blindside a few other unsuspecting customers in the adjacent aisles. So many of the containers had had their bar codes ripped off and the ones that didn't, looked like they belonged in a science lab. One tuna melt had obvious purple mold growing on it, with the bacteria causing the food item to mutate into a parasitic life form that was squirming around in the box trying to get out, and a near-fossilized philly cheesesteak was dated as far back as 1842?
"How old is this fucking place!?" Wolf shouted in frustration as he hit the bottom of the barrel of diseased gas station food that would violate any country's heath code regulations. Realizing that the sandwich he was searching for wasn't there, Wolf turned his head to see Krystal Queen of the furries in her skimpy bikini top and loin cloth that barely covered her private areas, tear open the packaging of the last remaining sandwich.
Just as Krystal was about to take a bite, she paused as her eyes locked onto Wolf who had lunged at her. Like a deer in headlights, she could only stand frozen in place as Wolf jump kicked her in the face Bruce Lee style coupled with a loud "Hiiiiiiiiii-yyyyyyaaaaaaaah" in an extremely offensive Asian accent. With his cat-like reflexes, Wolf managed to grab the sandwich Krystal had dropped before it could hit the ground.
"That's for ruining our series you, blue furred wank-fuel furry succubus" Wolf sneered, having wanted to do that ever since Starfox Adventures got released. It seemed that Wolf just wouldn't let Krystal enjoy her sandwich.
While most people would be against hitting a woman, Wolf was an equal rights advocate and did not discriminate. As his childhood hero Batman once proclaimed in earnest "the hammer of justice is unisex" meaning everyone is fair game in the world of fake martial arts.
Despite the powerful impact, Krystal's giant chesticles thankfully cushioned her fall as she hit the floor, enough to avoid a serious head injury, but not enough to prevent a total knockout like getting uppercutted by Mike Tyson after his new shipment of steroids came in.
With Krystal's unresponsive body faceplanted onto the ground, the amount of lifeless corpses cluttering the aisle way was increasing at an alarming rate. If Wolf didn't act fast, he could be next.
Nonetheless, Wolf held the sandwich up in the air in a triumphant pose, celebrating his success over the first trial. The sandwich began to glow rapidly, dissolving into nothing more than a shining ball of light as it ascended up into the heavens, or in this case the giant hole in the ceiling caused by extensive water damage.
As if on que, the store's cheap florescent lighting went out likely due to a lack of maintenance work on the electrical systems. Thus, a blanket of shadows covered the store in complete darkness. With no other choice, Wolf whipped out his pocket lighter to illuminate the path forward.
Seconds turned into minutes, minutes turned into hours, hours turned into days, and then days turned back into minutes as Wolf slogged through the maze-like layout that seemed to have no end in sight. The further Wolf walked, the more the environment around him changed. What was once tile flooring and plaster walls turned into a dungeon of cobble stone from the middle ages.
After passing by the fourth fork in the road, Wolf came across something deeply depressing. It was Yoshi, or at least what was left of him. His immaculately preserved but lifeless body was hunched up against the wall, surrounded by bloody razors from the Men's health section, with the words "once you go black, you never go back" craved in blood above him. Poor fool had apparently offed himself by slitting his wrists and writing his final message to anyone who made it this far.
Sadly, Wolf knew that this would happen eventually. Poor Yoshi just wasn't the same after losing his black alt in Smash Ultimate. Being revoked of his N-word pass broke Yoshi in a way nothing else really could. After all, if he couldn't shout that magical word from atop a cliff every once in a while, or whenever someone screwed up his order at the McDonalds drive through, what was the point of living?
Just then Wolf's ear flickered in terror. He heard a faint sound that was steadily getting louder and louder. It took him a few seconds, but Wolf recognized what the sound was, and it filled him with unimaginable fear.
"Oh God…..oh God No, please" Wolf whimpered as his hairs began to stand on end. The noise in question was the original uncut version of the song Megalovania! Which could only me one thing.
"God please no, not him!" Wolf pleaded as he turned around and saw a tiny blue eye flash in the distance. As the music began to blare across the stone walls, the midget skeleton in a blue hoodie stepped into view.
"SANS UNDERTALE!" Wolf shrieked in terror.
"Sup? Hey why did the wolf leave the Halloween store? Because he found a lamb costume on clearance, but it still wasn't sheep enough for him."
"GAH" Wolf scoffed in agony. That pun was so terrible that blood shot out from his ears, nearly causing him to go deaf. Truly the undead monster lived up to its name, how could Wolf stand up to such a creature?
The short answer is, he couldn't.
Unwilling to risk listening to any more third-rate jokes, Wolf turned tail and ran in the opposite direction. He didn't know where the corridor would lead to, but he didn't care, Wolf had to escape the pain by any means necessary.
"Hey where are you going? I still have some amazing knock-knock jokes to tell" Sans spoke as he began to follow the canine space pilot at a leisurely pace.
Wolf ran as fast as he could, but every time he looked over his shoulder, he saw the image of the skeleton trailing behind him as the music continued. The worse part was the fact that the funny bone man didn't even have a walk cycle, he was just casually gliding across the floor in that one static position with his hands in his coat pockets.
"I JUST WANT MY SMOKES!" Wolf shouted out in anguish, still running from the skeletal goatfucker.
Out of nowhere, Wolf tripped over the holy grail and somehow clipped through the ground as if the universe was suddenly being rendered through the Sonic 06 game engine. He was falling into an abyss of psychedelic imagery. You know the kinda shit you see on bootleg Japanese VHS tapes of obscure horror anime from the 80s. Yeah like that.
As Wolf fell deeper into the void, he made peace with his inmate demise.
"At least I don't have to pay for child support" Wolf whimpered as he closed his eyes.
Back in the realm of reality (or at least what counts as reality in this god forsaken fever dream) Wario had gotten into a fistfight with two-time smash fighter reject Isaac from the Fire Emblem rip-off RPG series Golden Sun. The skirmish had started after both Isaac and Wario had spotted loose change on the sidewalk and Wario had made a preemptive strike to get the upper hand.
Being the greedy A-hole that he was, Wario was willing to fight to the death for what amounted to a total of 14 cents. Alas Isaac was not, having surrendered 10 minutes ago but his pleas falling on deaf ears as Wario continued to pin the anime twink on the ground and bitch slap him in the face as if he were in the finals of a Russian face Slapping competition. And with giant yaoi hands like Wario's, each slap hurt worse than the last.
Back at the convenience store of no return, A portal spontaneously opened up in front of the cash register with Wolf jumping out. He dusted himself off and he turned back to face the entity that saved him from his YouTube OST remix purgatory. It was none other than Marcus Aurelius, the god of vaporwave.
"Thank you for saving me" Wolf said as he uncharacteristically bowed down to the Greek God before him.
"Think nothing of it Wolf. I should be thanking you for aiding me in defending my home dimension from the unparalleled darkness known as the Disney Lawsuit division. Had those vile monsters been victorious, my kingdom and entire culture would have been gutted to the bone and turned into a shitty straight to DVD animated movie that would only be marketable to mentally challenged 10-year olds."
"It truly was an amazing 3 weeks we shared together in the heat of battle as comrades in arms. A grand adventure that needs no further explanation" Wolf said looking at the camera like he was in the Office.
As the portal closed up, Wolf prepared to face his final challenge…which was just buying the packet of cigarettes from the cashier. A little anti-climactic I guess, but as the old saying goes "it's the journey and not the destination that counts." So fuck you MinecraftFan420xxx69, this is my fanfic and I will write it how I want!
In a surprising twist of events, Wolf was shocked to discover that the 7-Eleven cashier was in fact Ridley. The massive pterodactyl fetus looking monster had been behind on his rent lately and was forced to seek out menial employment because his life partner Kraid blew all their money of an expensive VR headset to have virtual sex with his 2D waifus. Although Ridley was furious at first, he eventually calmed down when he realized that this was the life he willingly chose. He just wished Kraid would wipe the cum stains off the fucking walls of their apartment. It had gotten so bad that if one were to shine an ultraviolet light in their bedroom, the interior would look like a "modern art" masterpiece. The kind where talentless art college dropouts just splatter buckets of paint on a canvas and call it a day.
"What'll it be?" Ridley said in a voice that was devoid of any hope for his future.
"Just a pack a'cigs my good man!" Wolf said with an enthusiastic smile, deliberately ignoring the tears streaming down Ridley's face and onto his work uniform.
"That'll be $12.57"
Wolf handed Ridley a $20 bill instead of just playing the exact amount with a debit card, necessitating that Ridley make change, which pissed him off even more then he already was. To add insult to injury, the cash register was completely empty, forcing Ridley to pay the difference in change out of his own pocket like the disposable wage slave that he was. If only there were an alternative to this capitalistic society that was hellbent been on robbing the working class of their lives.
*Communism has entered the chat…*
THAT DIDN'T involve the common men starving to death as he breaks his back working for shit money while his private property gets stolen by those around him.
*Communism has left the chat…*
As the transaction finished, Wolf grabbed the magical box of cancer sticks from the decrepit claw of discount barney the dinosaur and ran out the store entrance in celebration. Wasting no time, Wolf torn open the box and shoved 5 cigarettes in his mouth simultaneously, lighting them up in a flash.
This was it, Wolf's quest had finally come to an end. The magical feeling of nicotine entering his body released all the stress that had accumulated over the course of the day. As the sun began to set on the horizon of Smashville, Wolf headed back home to his tiny wife, no longer caring about the horrors of parenting that awaited him.
And everyone lived happily ever after…..except for Ness who got thrown into a shredder and had his tattered remains used as fertilizer. The people who main him are a scourge on the human race and need to be purged.
Fin
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