Post by Toz76 on Oct 23, 2017 0:29:48 GMT -5
Fark Devonshire was having a rough day.
Stripped and beaten by the Cult Of Cthulu Tennessee Branch, he was currently restrained in a cold metal chair. But the worst part wasn't the pain, the humiliation, or even the fact that he was in Tennessee. No, it was... the music.
Slow country ballads played over the intercom, crooning about how the crops had died; trucks, guns, and fishing were the only things that gave life meaning; and "mah gurl" has left the singer for someone with a less stupid accent. The guitar playing was weak and unimaginative, and the lyrics were petty and unfeeling. It was the perfect thing to put anyone with a shred of decency on edge.
The door swung open and a tall, skeletally thin figure swept in, followed by a scarred, lumbering giant of a man, easily seven feet tall. Behind him came a lanky figure in a ten-gallon hat and spurred boots, carrying a sleek ebony cane that just happened to house a Shard Of Cthulic Kings (SOCK).
"So," the third figure said, "we have the great Fark Devonshire. I'm surprised the Guild Of Death would send someone so high-ranking to infiltrate this here little outfit."
"Ah, Peyton McKenly. The leader of the Tennessee Cult Of Cthulu. I assume those must be your subordinates, Carter Lovecraft and Freddy "Supreme" Sanchez."
"Y'all can call me "The Skeleton", if you please, tee hee." Carter, the thin one, said in a whisper of a voice.
"No, thank you." Fark replied.
"Silence!" Peyton ordered. "Now, Fark, I expect y'all to tell us exactly why y'all're here."
"Alright, but first, I have to ask. How did you know it was me?"
"Why would a black person willingly "move to Tennessee"?"
"You've got me there." Fark smirked.
"So, Fark, y'all better 'splain."
"Simple. The Guild Of Death has been negotiating with Cthulu for some time. He said if we could successfully destroy all fifty of the State Stereotype Cthulu Cults, he'd join us."
"Lies. Cthulu does not negotiate, he only destroys, tee hee." Carter hissed.
"Listen, bud, your god is awfully cliched. I mean, we've been fighting SCP for a while, and they've got, like, five creatures basically identical to Cthulu at Site-19 alone. All you do is wave that SOCK around and proclaim about the end times and all that crap."
"Untrue!" Peyton snapped. "We've gained access to the Fabled Gulf, Unicorn Tapestry, Priastic Avenues, and Tupac's ghost. Y'all underestimate our might."
"Wow. Two magic pilgrimage sites, a one-use wish granter, and a benevolent ghost rapper. I bow to your obviously superior might."
"I know, right?" Peyton grinned.
"That was sarcstic."
"I knew that." Peyton lied.
"So, are you gonna, like, torture me, or do you want something?"
"We do want something- the secret to faster-than-light travel."
"Oh, that's easy. The secret to FTL Warp Drive is a guitar riff from the song "Impulse" by Nirvana, off their 5th studio album, Corporate Angel."
"Y'all know I'm not gon' fall for that. The leader of that f** band died in, like, 1970."
"Actually, you're thinking of Hendrix. Cobain died in 1994 in most universes, but that doesn't really matter, because the way you people say "Y'all" is so Abbadondamn annoying, you just used a slur, and this story is starting to drag on and get bogged down in obscure references anyway, so it's time to move on to phase 2."
"What is "phase 2", tee hee?" Carter asked.
"The part where I go Bugs Bunny on your asses."
The trio suddenly realized that Fark was not even in the chair anymore, right as an anvil fell onto Carter, crushing his already paper-thin ribcage.
"He's loose! Dominic, Penislicker, y'all get him!"
Peyton, Sanchez, Dominic, Penislicker, and four extras raced out of the room into the rest of the compound.
Penislicker led two of the extras to the guard tower. Two guards stood, armed with tridents.
"Hail Cthulu." The first guard said.
"How Perfect He Is." Penislicker said, giving the countersign.
"Bitch, it's me." Said the other guard, ripping off a full-body suit to reveal Fark, still naked because comedy. He stabbed Penislicker, the guard, and the extras with his trident before running off cackling.
The two other extras were running along the battlements when the music changed from FUCKING SHITTY UNORIGINAL BLAND FUCKING EMOTIONLESS WHITE TRASH LAZY-ASS FUCKING country music to Rebellion by Van Canto.
"Dude, is this... a capella metal? That's so gay."
"It's retarded." Agreed the other extra.
"Bigots." Said Fark, popping up between them and kicking them both between the legs.
"That's why you shouldn't use slurs, kids." Fark said as he threw them off the battlements.
Sanchez thought he saw Fark on a wall and punched it. It failed, so he punched another. Soon, the compound was reduced to rubble in many places.
At a still intact section of wall, Dominic was surprised to find his hat was missing.
"Eh, what's up, doc?" Fark asked, sitting on the wall above him, munching a carrot and wearing the missing hat.
"Where'd you get that carrot?" Dominic asked, confused.
"Let's just say... it was a gift." Fark said, hoping the he audience got the reference.
"I don't-"
Suddenly, a 16 ton weight fell on Dominic.
Peyton was pissed.
"Sanchez! Stop smashing stuff!"
"Sanchez smash puny wall!"
"Damnit! GO GO SANCHEZ SKI SHOES!"
Metal blades suddenly emerged from Sanchez's feet, and he was instantly teleported to Utah.
Peyton turned to where Fark had appeared in the ruined courtyard, now dressed in his usual tux.
"Y'all think y'all've won, but I've still got the SOCK." Peyton cackled as he summoned an orb of darkness to destroy Fark.
Suddenly, something began moving the rubble in the courtyard. It gathered in the center and formed into a giant humanoid figure.
"Oh sh-" Peyton began, before the brick avatar punched him into the dusty ground.
"Damn. Thanks for the assist, Tupac's Ghost!" Fark yelled.
The brick avatar turned and nodded, before dematerializing into a pile of rubble.
"One down, 49 to go." Fark muttered, picking up the SOCK and wandering offscreen.
********
"Um, what was the point of that story?" Man In Gold asked.
"That I'm always several steps ahead." Fark explained.
"Okay, but this is my wedding. You're supposed to be giving a toast. Why did I even invite you here?"
"I invited him here, remember?" Woman In Silver asked.
"What were you thinking! It's Fark! He's a nutcase-"
"I just thought since he's sort of on our side sometimes now, it would be a nice gesture-"
"Nice gesture? Nice gesture? I'll show you a nice gesture-"
Fark chuckled. "Hey, look, the newlyweds are fighting already! Looks like I win the wager! Pay up, everyone."
The rest of the table grudgingly handed over crumpled 20 pound notes. "I think that's cheating." Inferno muttered.
"Drinks are on me, y'all!"
Stripped and beaten by the Cult Of Cthulu Tennessee Branch, he was currently restrained in a cold metal chair. But the worst part wasn't the pain, the humiliation, or even the fact that he was in Tennessee. No, it was... the music.
Slow country ballads played over the intercom, crooning about how the crops had died; trucks, guns, and fishing were the only things that gave life meaning; and "mah gurl" has left the singer for someone with a less stupid accent. The guitar playing was weak and unimaginative, and the lyrics were petty and unfeeling. It was the perfect thing to put anyone with a shred of decency on edge.
The door swung open and a tall, skeletally thin figure swept in, followed by a scarred, lumbering giant of a man, easily seven feet tall. Behind him came a lanky figure in a ten-gallon hat and spurred boots, carrying a sleek ebony cane that just happened to house a Shard Of Cthulic Kings (SOCK).
"So," the third figure said, "we have the great Fark Devonshire. I'm surprised the Guild Of Death would send someone so high-ranking to infiltrate this here little outfit."
"Ah, Peyton McKenly. The leader of the Tennessee Cult Of Cthulu. I assume those must be your subordinates, Carter Lovecraft and Freddy "Supreme" Sanchez."
"Y'all can call me "The Skeleton", if you please, tee hee." Carter, the thin one, said in a whisper of a voice.
"No, thank you." Fark replied.
"Silence!" Peyton ordered. "Now, Fark, I expect y'all to tell us exactly why y'all're here."
"Alright, but first, I have to ask. How did you know it was me?"
"Why would a black person willingly "move to Tennessee"?"
"You've got me there." Fark smirked.
"So, Fark, y'all better 'splain."
"Simple. The Guild Of Death has been negotiating with Cthulu for some time. He said if we could successfully destroy all fifty of the State Stereotype Cthulu Cults, he'd join us."
"Lies. Cthulu does not negotiate, he only destroys, tee hee." Carter hissed.
"Listen, bud, your god is awfully cliched. I mean, we've been fighting SCP for a while, and they've got, like, five creatures basically identical to Cthulu at Site-19 alone. All you do is wave that SOCK around and proclaim about the end times and all that crap."
"Untrue!" Peyton snapped. "We've gained access to the Fabled Gulf, Unicorn Tapestry, Priastic Avenues, and Tupac's ghost. Y'all underestimate our might."
"Wow. Two magic pilgrimage sites, a one-use wish granter, and a benevolent ghost rapper. I bow to your obviously superior might."
"I know, right?" Peyton grinned.
"That was sarcstic."
"I knew that." Peyton lied.
"So, are you gonna, like, torture me, or do you want something?"
"We do want something- the secret to faster-than-light travel."
"Oh, that's easy. The secret to FTL Warp Drive is a guitar riff from the song "Impulse" by Nirvana, off their 5th studio album, Corporate Angel."
"Y'all know I'm not gon' fall for that. The leader of that f** band died in, like, 1970."
"Actually, you're thinking of Hendrix. Cobain died in 1994 in most universes, but that doesn't really matter, because the way you people say "Y'all" is so Abbadondamn annoying, you just used a slur, and this story is starting to drag on and get bogged down in obscure references anyway, so it's time to move on to phase 2."
"What is "phase 2", tee hee?" Carter asked.
"The part where I go Bugs Bunny on your asses."
The trio suddenly realized that Fark was not even in the chair anymore, right as an anvil fell onto Carter, crushing his already paper-thin ribcage.
"He's loose! Dominic, Penislicker, y'all get him!"
Peyton, Sanchez, Dominic, Penislicker, and four extras raced out of the room into the rest of the compound.
Penislicker led two of the extras to the guard tower. Two guards stood, armed with tridents.
"Hail Cthulu." The first guard said.
"How Perfect He Is." Penislicker said, giving the countersign.
"Bitch, it's me." Said the other guard, ripping off a full-body suit to reveal Fark, still naked because comedy. He stabbed Penislicker, the guard, and the extras with his trident before running off cackling.
The two other extras were running along the battlements when the music changed from FUCKING SHITTY UNORIGINAL BLAND FUCKING EMOTIONLESS WHITE TRASH LAZY-ASS FUCKING country music to Rebellion by Van Canto.
"Dude, is this... a capella metal? That's so gay."
"It's retarded." Agreed the other extra.
"Bigots." Said Fark, popping up between them and kicking them both between the legs.
"That's why you shouldn't use slurs, kids." Fark said as he threw them off the battlements.
Sanchez thought he saw Fark on a wall and punched it. It failed, so he punched another. Soon, the compound was reduced to rubble in many places.
At a still intact section of wall, Dominic was surprised to find his hat was missing.
"Eh, what's up, doc?" Fark asked, sitting on the wall above him, munching a carrot and wearing the missing hat.
"Where'd you get that carrot?" Dominic asked, confused.
"Let's just say... it was a gift." Fark said, hoping the he audience got the reference.
"I don't-"
Suddenly, a 16 ton weight fell on Dominic.
Peyton was pissed.
"Sanchez! Stop smashing stuff!"
"Sanchez smash puny wall!"
"Damnit! GO GO SANCHEZ SKI SHOES!"
Metal blades suddenly emerged from Sanchez's feet, and he was instantly teleported to Utah.
Peyton turned to where Fark had appeared in the ruined courtyard, now dressed in his usual tux.
"Y'all think y'all've won, but I've still got the SOCK." Peyton cackled as he summoned an orb of darkness to destroy Fark.
Suddenly, something began moving the rubble in the courtyard. It gathered in the center and formed into a giant humanoid figure.
"Oh sh-" Peyton began, before the brick avatar punched him into the dusty ground.
"Damn. Thanks for the assist, Tupac's Ghost!" Fark yelled.
The brick avatar turned and nodded, before dematerializing into a pile of rubble.
"One down, 49 to go." Fark muttered, picking up the SOCK and wandering offscreen.
********
"Um, what was the point of that story?" Man In Gold asked.
"That I'm always several steps ahead." Fark explained.
"Okay, but this is my wedding. You're supposed to be giving a toast. Why did I even invite you here?"
"I invited him here, remember?" Woman In Silver asked.
"What were you thinking! It's Fark! He's a nutcase-"
"I just thought since he's sort of on our side sometimes now, it would be a nice gesture-"
"Nice gesture? Nice gesture? I'll show you a nice gesture-"
Fark chuckled. "Hey, look, the newlyweds are fighting already! Looks like I win the wager! Pay up, everyone."
The rest of the table grudgingly handed over crumpled 20 pound notes. "I think that's cheating." Inferno muttered.
"Drinks are on me, y'all!"