Board Writing :: RoR: Idiotic Iteration :: Page 6
Then dispelled of confusion, Knu Wuhn rallied the now named Nameless in an assault against the Rumblers in retaliation for slaying Goeenon and the bunny girl, despite it being his own fault, with the help of Jack Phillips, who heldeth an equal vendetta against the gang. The battle that ensuethed was long and epic, or so I thinketh it was. I hath the strong urge for a cheese sandwich at the time and departed during the long uneventfulness to fulfill my desire. When I returnethed, the waging was long since passed with the defeated left licking their wounds and the victors long since departed. That, or they were at the near by juice bar of the Carpeted Canyon famous for its freshly squeezethed shag. Mmm, disgusting. As the Nary Wary Gary munched his mysteriously acquired meal, a man draped in a drab, gray coat strolled along by with something catching his eye.
"Dude! That's not cheese!"
"I cannot believe our ultimately evil and therefore better coalition failed to defeat those for some reason unified Rumblers," cursed the clothed wolf man to pull attention away from the now vomiting mouthless narrator of the Rumblo, which opened up far too many questions to even be delved into. "More unbelievable, I can't believe the arctic warrior received a perfect scar over his eye that marked only the skin and left his eye itself in tact."
"Too bad the rest of him was hacked, maimed, and cubed," the mysteriously robed Robe added with his cliche, raspy voice. "If only it was our enemy who was responsible for it." He slightly cast an eye towards Sweet Sawmill Sally but did not wish to incur the same gruesome fate. "Besides, the attributes to this failure are undoubtable placed upon the shoulders of the handyman and the lizard folk who did nothing to aid our cause."
"I'm surprised I'm still here, too," confessed the compulsive liar with undetectable sincerity.
"Hey, my time was spent sandpapering the wounded," Phillips shouted in his defense. "I mean, guarding."
"Do you even know what you are doing any more?" Ab-Omination questioned, despite having been torn in twine by the D Knight and quite dead. "Better yet, do we even want to know what you are doing? You took that poor decapitated girl behind a bush and spent most of the battle there. And, seriously, I know she was French, but was the maid outfit really necessary?"
"She was French?" Appalled by Jack's everything, the stomach faced freak returned to death.
"Phillips, you weirdo," roared the currently still Knu Wuhn as he snatched the dressed up, beheaded girl from the handyman. "Now, you best all work something out while I go away for a while." Stomping away with the corpse and a trail of still spewing blood lying in his tracks, the battered legion shrugged as to their next move.
"Well, as second in command, I say that we try to kill them again using the exact same tactics as before. Yep, if I learned anything from old, Saturday morning cartoons, it's that the same tactics applied endless will be successful," spouted out this man.
"Aw, no way," whined the drifting away spirit of Ab-Ominiation. "This man wasn't killed but I was? Lame!" And he was never heard of again. Seriously, he wasn't. I mean it. An alien soul catcher was lying in wait for his ascension and whisked his essence away to their abysmal factories to turn it into black licorice.
I always suspected it of being the purest of evils, an enraged Gary fumed with shaking fists clinching the hat he purchased from the alien gift shop on his tour of the very facilities to get his mind off the terrors of the supposedly cheese sandwich.
"Fools! That will not end the Rumblers," Robe hissed from beneath the concealment of his hood. "It will take power, dark power, true power! Behold! My true form!" Casting off his robes, he revealed... bigger robes! Its many layers and ornament points could have in no way fit under the initial robes, let alone the even smaller, second robes that were under it.
"Nay," protested a voice familiar yet different. "True power does not lie in robes but in cannibalism! Behold! My newer power!" From out of a bush suspended in solitude in all the Carpeted Canyon, the lupine beast sprung. His stylish red jacket had turned a cold shade of blue with spiked pads on the shoulders and the shirt beneath it striped black. His pants had changed to tattered and stitched with more spiked pads. "I am Gnu Wuhn!" They all knew it was spelled different despite being pronounced exactly the same.
"No! You ate the arctic warrior, the French girl, and the comparably worse stomach man?" voiced this man in shock. "And how is that even suppose to make you better? They died because they sucked."
"Yes and no," responded the re-remade being, choosing to ignore the second question. "Nothing could be gained from Ab-Omination. I merely skewered his body on this pike to wave around as a standard to make us seem slightly less crappy even in his passing." Waving around the spear with the two halves, a bedazzled hush of awe washed over them all.
"Er, then you devoured the bunny girl and the frigid gladiator?" repeated this man with the corrections, not recapturing the emotion he had the first time.
"Well, not quite..." The improved wolf man trailed off. This man's eyes travelled to the previous location of the icy soldier's remains, finding only a terrible blood stain in the carpet, then to the French girl's body, which was still quite their.
"Is her neck hole bigger?" Robe noted with his deep, ominous voice that entirely did not match the situation.
"I do not see Bad Pun Joe around either," spoke up the reptile. "I assume he was banished to the same gastric fate?"
"Bad Pun who?" Gnu Wuhn blurted with a confused twist of his facial features. "I didn't even know there was another one of you losers."
"Um, neither did I. Now, I'll have to level with you: I think I should bolt on account of being such a tool," stated the obvious, wiping his mouth with a blood soiled napkin that he for some reason still had possession of.
"Feh! You are all so pathetic. I do not even see how you could ever hope to defeat them."
"Who dared to say that?" growled Gnu Wuhn with a frosty breath. Darting around his yellow eyes, they finally caught a fleeting image. Gasping, he called out, "You!"
Departing from the many Nameless and other villainous ones-
"Hey, I was in the middle of something," whined Wuhn against the actions of Gary.
Shut up. 'Tis more suspenseful this way. To stoppeth thy yapping, accepteth this token of licorice. Tossing the man-beast the black snack as more important details were being gotten back to, he was about to partake of the soul-embodied goodness of his prior acquaintance until he remembered how nasty black licorice was and disposed of it in one of the conveniently near-by soul obliterating devices that were stationed around the Carpeted Canyon for unclear reasons.
As was being spaketh, the band of travellers journeyed through the perilous trenches of static electricity that plagued the Canyon, meeting dangers beyond ye wildest thoughts. However, I really wanted a soda and missed a lot of their exploits. I did catch them dawning into the Forest of Crayons, however, so it wilt be resumed there.
"Ye gods, you're annoying," grunted Gnu as he trotted away, shaking his head.
Dried bones swung up from below, catching on the metal divide between the bare earth and the plush tapestry on the ground as the bulky, green warrior pulled himself from the foul locations with the memento from his battle with Ab-Omination. Bounding over his climb was the cobalt traveller, immediately dashing away as fast as he could before Gariland's cycle burst out from the ravine with flames streaking from behind and landed on Rex's previous location. Bimblesnaff's rocket staggered down from up high, low on fuel and weighed down by Kodiro, who snagged a scarf belt to its tail, and the countless door latches plundered from jumbo jet carriers, all long since crashed. As the grizzled veteran struggled to pull his girth over the ledge, a shadowed figure flashed two glinting discs from behind. He could feel its presence and only flailed harder to escape, but there was no hope. The others did not look back, for they knew he was lost to the foul thing they worked so tirelessly to flee.
"Not so fast, Dee," the nerd squealed, sticking to the mammoth man like a parasite, "you must answer meeeeee! Who would win in a fight: Commander William Riker wielding Thundarr's Sun Sword after being remade like Robo-Cop following the aftermath of a Romulan attack or Captain Kathryn Janeway trained by Orko the Magician and Dare Devil's Stick equipped with an Inhumanoid armor suit in a battle set on Infinite Earths?"
"Oh, the torment!" cried out the thought impervious fighter. "Not even the Garbage Can Lid of Salvation's Daughter could save me from this... what the hell am I even saying?" Whipping around the plucked spine of the stomach faced horror, he cracked it at the over-juiced fanboy only to have it get caught in his bowl cut.
"Cool! It's like a trophy claimed by the Predators after they predate their prey, only there isn't a skull on the end. Looks like the head was blown off by one of their shoulder cannons during-" And he went on like this.
"I almost feel sorry for him," sniffed Rex, bounding through the giant columns of colored wax.
"Why? Ya prolly get all dat crap da dork is sayin'," made light the lunatic as his slowing rocket sliced the enormous crayons in attempts to have the deadfall free him of his multicolored hitchhiker.
"Shh," silenced the amphibian king, "I don't want that thing to know such!"
"But he knows all," reminded the fiend. "He e'en knows who played da extras in da forty-third episode o' da X-Files."
"I know more than that, uneducated mortals," proclaimed Hadoleo, popping up in front of them by means that could be explained but won't be. "I know the members of their extended family listed in order of height and blood type, plus-" Salvation from the too nerdy ramblings came as a paper sheathed pillar crashed onto the dweeb. He did not shut up, but the thick wax worked well to muffle his speech as well as shatter his jaw, ribs, and other organs.
"Good aim, 'Snaff," complimented the frogman with a flick of his thumb, "you stopped him with a crayon tree that you weren't even near yet and left his wallet easily picked!"
"But," the green one choked, "I dinnae cut it... unlike the cheese!"
"Weak!" chuckled the vagrant, fanning his nose while forgetting the recent events until another colored timber, this one burnt sienna, crashed towards them. Scarcely jumping off in time, the goblin's glider was destroyed and violently erupted in a massive, large budget action movie like blast despite the lack of fuel it carried in the end of its flight. Rolling across the scribbled woodland floor, Bimblesnaff clashed into a flimsy bush of crayon sharpenings, scaring out a flock of poorly drawn birds. His hatted head poking out from the shavings, the whirling blades of Sweet Sawmill Sally were seen spinning, flinging the remains of their work into the air as a colored spectrum. Pulling out his hooked blade, he lunged at the female with malicious intent, intent you do not want to know about. Yeeee. As the capped vagabond thanked the albino hamster he thought was God for Ssssss singling out the other, a great shadow loomed over him. Reaching into his blue jacket, two inscribed guns were unholstered and were discharged straight above. Springing forward and anchoring on a tree with his webbed feet, he beheld the newly unrobed Robe with the bigger robe, scarred with several new holes in the shoulders. No flesh was marked as nothing could be distinguished with the mass of cloth and more shots would be needed. The missing bullets scattered through the scenery as the jet powered bike blazed through the mock trees and stray fire, eventually skidding and tipping on a slick of ice. Hopping off his vehicle to land perfectly on his feet, the out of control ride spun wildly, colliding into a crayon with the ensuing explosion stretching just to his face, close enough to not singe any skin or well styled hair but still light his beer cigarette. Suffering no loss with the motorcycle, just the dozen or so fans that tagged along in it who would be easily replaced, he cast his head to the left, perfectly lining up with the villain who sought his destruction. Glancing at the altered beast over the rims of his lowered shades, the icon of cool drew his smaire sabre with one hand as the other was engulfed in brilliant flame. Gnu Wuhn tightened his spike knuckled gloves as foggy freeze billowed from his breath with his nefarious laughs. Meanwhile, Syniarian was able to crawl out from beneath the felled crayon only to find himself confronted by this man. Having nothing to really do, the two debated on which was worse: comic book movies or video game movies. Flying through the air, having never been stopped from the crash of the winged rocket, Kodiro tumbled until he landed in a finely crafted gazebo. A gazebo... of doom! The support beams folded in as the bladed ceiling slammed down. Jack Phillips chortled triumphantly until he remember that ample room was provided for the half wall and hand rails. Back at the entrance, having finally escaped the horrors faced in the Carpeted Canyon, the green goliath found himself confronted by more fanboy banter upon entering the non-wooden woods and stampeded off only to trample the lizard man.
"Out of my way, thing of scales," roared the bearded brute. "The grains of the hour glass grow few. I must procure the Book of Exalted Drink Mixing before it can fall into the hands of my Uncle Nester who plans to use it to make his Christmas party seem less lame!"
"I'm a pink flamingo!" told the non-pink, non-flamingo. These two were destined enemies. The fighting raged on, and Gary could not have been more pleased. Pulling up a chair, he partook in observing what his hunger had prevented him from witnessing. Although, a bucket of popcorn did sound good...
But what about that guy? shouted Gary, hoping to halt the action long enough to merit a run to a concession stand.
"Who, me?" queried this man.
Nay! None careth for thou. I spaketh of yonder figure! All eyes turned to the figure standing upon a hacked wax timber, perfectly still with arms spread out. The head was at a slant with a vicious smile and only that. Long wisps curled out from the tips of gloves and toes of boots. A pleaded skirt hung in the air as short as the jagged pig tails sticking up from her head.
"Gary, you ass," scolded the sudden character. "My name is Trilmai, and you damn well know to fear it." The jaws of the Rumblos dropped to the ground in unison, particularly Bimblesnaff's as Sweet Sally had just lobbed it off with a grinding hand, but Hadoleo did not share the same reaction. Confused by the name, he looked it up in his Big Book of Ref. Paging through the listings, he only found a redirection to another entry. The blood was drained from his face and his lips quivered as he found that entry, and it was not from the usual cause of seeing a stunning female figure gracing some pages.
"Mistress of bane? Scourge of all Refers? Crazy Mai!" That dubbing rang true to his recollection, and the aforementioned blight unleashed a malicious chorus of laughter into the air.
"Yes, it is I," she told, "and you must know how-"
"They're gone," this man whispered to her.
"During all that stuff," he explained, "they just kinda left. I mean, they'd be pretty stupid if they stayed. I guess we aren't much better for having not followed them, but... yeah, we're not better."
"Ultra-curses," she damned. "Well, it is no matter, for my ultimate plan of ultimate destiny will still be executed." Leaping straight into the air, she vanished. As "oohs" and "aahs" were sounded by the Legion of Less Important Rumblers, or LOLIRs as they would be known for added spite, Trilmai crashed back down in a mangled heap. "Okay, this time I should try jumping in a direction..."
Meanwhile, the man in gray dideth something unrelated to the story.
During this same time, the Rumblers hadeth adventures of unbelievable action and amazement in their escape from the wrath of Crazy Mai, the likes of which wilt never be seen again. Damn, I really have to choose which events to focus on better.
"I thought Crazy Mai was exiled from this fair land?" pondered the D Knight. "How is the Pistachio of Cashews suppose to be safeguarded now?"
"Ya're a moron," the lunatic tried to say, but, with a missing jaw, it came out more as, "Gggllllrrrrrrr," with a dangling tongue and an excess of blood.
"Such was just legends," told Ranarum. "She only banished herself-"
"Hot!" Bimblesnaff quickly interrupted, somehow coherently.
"-as she truly did no major offense. She is quite insane and delusional, with paranoia to match that of this green fiend." The slimy freak spewed forth some more gargled noises and made the frog shake his head. "No, she isn't a match for you in any other way."
"That's amazing," Leo commented, relieved of all his injuries unlike the maniac, much to his unintelligible protest. "Not even my book has that information. How do you know this?"
"Oh, you know," Rex said, looking forward with a wink, "I have my ways." His "ways" were the hallucinations of billowy sheep built of ground chuck manifested from a small tumor he had in his brain that he gave himself by driving it into his head with a pencil through his ear canal.
"I bet you do." With concern, they all looked over to see Crazy Mai standing there in their midst. Well, it was not exactly Crazy Mai. It was Crazy Mai with a mustache!
"What are yo doin' here?" the appalled fashion mage uproared. "We ain't had no ho fo' sho'."
"Why, what do you mean? I am a guy," the woman lied, "a guy who has been with you since you left that... er, bakery... who is named, um, Notmae. Yep, Notmae."
"Yo're crazy, Notmae, deadly crazy," declared Kodiro. "So crazy, I think we should just call you something like... Crazy Mae."
"Yeah, 'cuz she's obviously a she, first off," pointed out Gariland although it was not necessary.
"I'll say," simultaneously broke in the vagrant and the lunatic, the former clearer than the latter.
"And secondly," continued the awesome icon, "that she is-"
"What yo talkin' 'bout, jive monkey?" interrupted the rainbow colored wizard. "I don't know what yo mean wit' this gender confusion, but I'm solely not diggin' that mustache. Po-lease! Talk about '80s."
"... You're a moron," echoed the D Knight.
"Thank you!" agreed Gariland. "It's about time someone else noticed the error of his ways."
"What? He did something stupid recently?" the baffled green brute inquired. "I have no idea what he's talking about, do you Notmae, who is also a he?
“And while no one was looking, the lizard man snuck ahead and claimed the prize as his own!”
No…you really didn’t.
The UFOIFO shagged his shoulders. Kodiro gritted his teeth at the new fashion accessories. “I’ve had it with all deez bad rags, and my help has been unappreciated-” even Not Mae was snickering “but I won’t see the day when shoulder pad rugs become THE CAT’S MEOW!”
“What are you going to do, take them all on a detour to get their nails done?” the long forgotten egg friend chimed in. In a fit of prissy rage, the sorcerer of suave withdrew the ovaloid and chucked it into the liar’s face.
“I’m ok!” he screamed and writhed in pain.
Unbeknowneth to our group of protagonists, the band of LOLIRS had snuck ahead during the distraction of facial hair, gotten lost a couple of times, foundeth some change lying on the ground and laideth in wait to ambush the rumblers
“Wait really? Isn’t that them hiding on the other side of that foaming flow of turkey cuts? And why is it that turkey foams? And why does that still make me hungry?” Blithered on Hadeleo.
“It makes you hungry for victory, for that is none other than the Deli Dale” simply stated Gariland as the grand logo appeared, though not nearly as cool as it had just been stated, but very close.
“What’s going on over there? There’s some huge enchanted moving sign all the sudden! How are we supposed to ambush them when that’s in the way and they already know we’re here! How’d we even get on this side of the lake?” seethed Gnu Wuhn in a dramatic monologue. This man pointed over to Jack.
Robe spoke up “Suppose we should steal this large ferry like floatation device that reeks of maraschino?” Not wasting time the villains took the vessel.
“Mae! Distract them!” Yipped Gnu as the Rumblers were still very distracted to the shiny “Deli Dale” sparkles floating in midair.
“BEHOLD!” The barely costumed yelled out as she bent over and pulled down, her mustache. “I’m actually a girl!”
“GRRRLWHRRLLLG…” told Snaff as he rolled his eyes at the obvious.
Not to be outdone Kodiro ripped his top off and exposed his chest. “I’m actually A MAN!”
“We had our doubts at times, but my mind just went somewhere that it never wants to again” groaned Rex, along with a few others.
“I’m actually a cherry ferry!” exclaimed the reptobunny as he transformed, along with the cool unspellable mandatory transforming sounds, into a cherry ferry.
“Jehovah’s Witness is getting away with my grandmother!” Roared the Ironclad D as they all jumped aboard in hot pursuits, which they all took off(to reveal their normal garb) and threw at Kodiro for their utter suck.
“This looks like the buildup we’ve been waiting for!” mocked Phillips shortly before he was thrown overboard.
But what happenedeth next nobody expected!
"So this isn't real butter? I feel shocked," admitted Leo, adjusting his glasses while a frenzied battle waged around himself. The churned stick was used as an ineffective weapon by Gnu Wuhn, obviously with intentions other than inflicting damage.
"That's not what was unbelievable," angrily corrected Rex, pulling a wedgie on Phillips, "although I will confess it's quite amazing."
"I think the real clencher was the fact that his barge may be fruity, but it sho' ain't gay," the fashiomancer spoke regarding the ferry's demeanor.
"You'd know all about those," slithered Crazy Mai, matching sporadic bounds across the floating vessel with the other mentally deranged Rumbler.
"Well, I am a rather happy berry connoisseur," boasted the rainbow striped wizard.
"I meant clenchers."
"Innuendo aside, I dun t'ink dis be da real Merry Cherry Ferry," commented Bimblesnaff as a jumping punch missed pig-tailed female. To speak regularly, or as normally as he ever could, a makeshift jaw was compiled from folded Styrofoam trays provided by the the scene.
"What would give you this impression," questioned the frosted feral, grappling with the blazing icon.
"Well, fer stahtahs, da lyin' lizahd said it," adequately defended the maniac, "so ya know it gotta be a fabrication. Plus, we be standin' on his organs." True, the cherry float was nothing more than the UFOIFO inverting his body.
"This feels terrific," yelped the reptilian from inside his outside turned self.
"Ew, I think I'm standing on his colon," cringed Mai. "Why did I go with the heels today?"
"'Cuz" the frog king informed, sliding steplessly to her proximity, "they accentuate your-"
"As I was saying," Syniarian interrupted, "despite having not stated anything to continue from, if you will note, this isn't even the Deli Dale!" Scooping up a sample from the rapids they sailed through, he ranked the taste and looked up where the entry would fall in the oddly organized guide. "Yep, this is just the Butcher Brook, one of the many water ways that empties into the mighty, meaty river."
"But, there was a sign," whined the toad. "Signs can't lie, elsewise my ass took too many boots in high school for no reason!" Even now, one of the immature postings was taped to his back, a service that the D glady provided, thinking it was a quest provided by the Paperclip of All Knowing Lawn Clipping Salad's brother, who needed to be impressed before he could address the one he sought.
"Please, no one actually reads signs," dismissed the educated student. "They just look at how shiny they are or how many X's appear on them.
"It's true." The respondents were glad they all chimed in unison, masking their identities, although some brows were raised at the lady lumberjack.
"So... does anything of this give us a reason not to kill you?" questioned the arctic acolyte. The geek shrugged, and immediately had a whirling chainsaw tear out through the front of his torso.
"Hah! You fool," laughed the loser, wiping the splatters of his own blood from his glasses. "Nerds have no life! I'm already dead!" However, he then realized that if Sweet Sawmill Sally had her hand, even though razor sharp and killing, through him, it meant he was being touched by a woman and immediately fainted from the first time experience
Aug 11, 2006
Aug 22, 2006
"Hadoleo is dead!" reminded Rex Ranarum. "Quickly! Steal all his stuff!" the froggy freak was quick to say and quicker to act, more quickly than any could realize that the greasy geek had nothing the Rumblers would even want to touch, much as the rest of the world felt about Syniarian himself.
"Dude! Sally Sawmill still has her saw hands inside of your friend," an astonished Yugognu spat out. "If you have no decency -- which, obviously, you don't -- can't you at least be afraid of, y'know, being chopped up, too?"
"Pleas," gurgled the goblin, now choosing to move his flesh-and-blood jaw manually to make sure it stayed put, "she haf more ta feer fr'm my hands th'n I do fr'm herz." An attempt to make a kissy face at the more than disgusted cyber-assassin distracted the mean green fiend long enough for the loosened jaw to slip from his careful grasp and into the delicious gravy train they flowed over. Before the maniac's mandible could touch the savory stream, a loaf-fish leapt up and snatched the mouthpiece away, giving all but Bimblesnaff joy. The goblin swam after the pimento pilferer but quickly discovered how useful a mouth was when trying not to drown -- a task the fiend now frightfully failed.
"No!" lamented the D-Knight. "I have failed to keep the Jaw of Indeterminate Accent from the Water Fish of Stealing Jaws of Indeterminate Accents!"
"'Water fish'?" repeated Bad Pun Joe, unappreciative of how great the pun. "What? As opposed to an air fish?"
"Don't be an idiot," ironically stated Vince. "Fish can't live in the air. It was a space fish!"
"Why exactly can they live in space, you twit?" snapped the very evil and very hormonal Mai.
"Well, obviously there is no air in space," enlightened gallant green.
And whilst the Dark Knight, or the Donut Knight -- I ameth not too certain on which -- struggled to showeth the finer points of astral-aquatic life and loafs, the conniving king secretly showeth his true colors, which were sneaky instead of blue as most would cometh to expect. The amphibious anthromorph secretly lifted the treasured pack of the disemboweled Rumbler no one had even believed to be around still. Or at least he trieth hard to doeth with much secretude, and not secrete-tude which is by far more olfactorily offensive, as I stand two feet away on one inverted foot of the UFOIFO, blathering to all his dastardly doing-ings.
And lo! Whilst givething me a look dirtier than the Ghobling's mind at a playground, a most treasured book spilleth forth, opening to a random page. And lo more! The nerd riles, urged on by the need to bringeth up facts so hated by the rest!
"We... must... Desert!" scrounged up the student, rising to his feet and apparently life, despite his non-existent chest. "According to this book," he who sparkled with oils and blood recited, burying his glasses behind a cover titled Idiotic Iteration with a publication date of 2005, "after the Forest of Crayons, we must go through a Desert."
"Desert? Fo' mo', hobo 'Doleo," everyone wished Kodiro didn't say, but the sorcerer of style did just that. "Just whizzle kizzle of dizzle diddle the book say it would bizzle?" It was about now that Sally Sawmill removed the pantomancer's entire left side.
"It is the Desert of... What Art!" 'Leo directly quoted.
"Aw, no," protested the paddock. "We aren't doing that again. Abstract location names never work. Remember the Dumping Ground of Imperfect Squares? We got lost in that hellhole for months, and hellholes are so much worse than regular holes."
"I'll say. Have you ever tried-"
"No," Rex replied to -- obviously -- Kodiro. "I don't know what you were gonna say, I don't wanna know what you were gonna say, but I do know that the answer is still 'no.'"
"Wellzle," pondered the one-lunged Kodiro, who continued to agonize Rumblers and quasi-Rumblers alike by using his man-purse as a surrogate lung. The group once ridiculed the feminine carrier, but now they realized that they just plain hated it. "If da cute 'n' dreamy announcha wuz da one dat first said where we hadda go, can't he jist change up his denom?"
I'll pretendeth that I didn't hear most of thy banter and that I understood the rest of it. Ye just think I haveth the magickal ability to changeth whatever the terrains art becauseth I art the narrartor? It doth noth worketh like thath!
"... We'll give you a dollar... and a pony."
Thus, the group venturethed into the Desert of Booze and Busty Women and Busty Women Made Out of Booze! And thus, Kodiro's two halves melted.
"Waitaminute!" the geek interrupted once more to ruin everyone's celebration over the busty women and melted Kodiro. "If it is a desert of all that stuff, shouldn't it lack those things?"
"Gah!" sputtered the tadpole, "don't say that! Do you want us to kill you? Er, Sally to kill you?... again?"
Hmmm, he hath a weak point there, and since this is probably up to me, too, I shall concur! Because I am a bastard! I laugheth maniacally -- hahahahahaha! -- as I dangleth an apple spice cupcake over the frog man's head, just beyond his reach, and close to Sally so she must be subjecteth to his vile presence!
"Egads! It's terrible!" rued the Robe, hiding his already hidden face behind his billowy sleeve. "The beer and busty women are gone, and the women that are left are made of flesh! What man would want them now?"
"And how come none of the women turned into men?" Kodiro didn't have a chance to ask since he was currently in a puddle.
"Well, it's not like we have to go there," huffed the exhausted Rex Ranarum after failing to procure the snack cake. "The Butcher Brook should take us straight into the Deli Dale, and then I promise we can resume trying to kill each other." A cheery pop protruded from most of the mortal allies and enemies, but the puddle formerly known as Kodiro reformed for an instant, adorned in a fluorescent, argyle jumpsuit over his tie-flannel-dye coat, to argue on behalf of NWG.
"Da main mop man sed we gotta go, and what we is gonna do is go!" As the veterans were accustomed, the wardrobe wizard dropped a bomb from an extra-dimensional pocket, for some reason believing that the resulting explosion would force the group into the desert.
"Don't worry! I have an idea!" the robed Robe announced, imploding upon himself and vanishing into thin air. The hulk continued looking on well after the cloaked man had disappeared.
"Don't worry. He'll be coming back to save us very soon."
"Vinny! Quickly! The crab army at the bottom of the river is mounting a revolt against... uh, something stupid thing you would say!" warned the toad, freeing the dishonest raft of the massive mountain of stupidity. "Gariland, can your motorcycle transform into a boat and get us outta here?"
"A boat? That's lame," schooled the avatar of awesome. "Nothing cool is allowed to transform into boats, scooters, unicycles, or bicycles."
"What sort of motorcycle would transform into a bicycle?"
"An uncool one."
"Fair enough, but you aren't even on your motorcycle right now," reminded the king. "It blew up a while ago. You are just sitting on top of a big rock." Yet somehow he made it cool. "If we can drop a li'l more weight -- y'know, like that rock -- we'll be able to outrun the explosion, plus all the lady rafts will be into this uncherry ferry."
"No way, man. I can't use my legs. Legs are for suckas." Sally Sawmill perked up for a moment. "Using legs, shorty."
"I guess there is no other choice but for someone to plier their craft at disarming a bombsaw," Jack Phillips spoke, still proud of his idiotic punning attempts.
"I am so glad that you are gonna be dying soon," the fire-branded cyclist rubbed in.
"Stop fooling around, youse guys! And stop treating me like I'm an object!" Mai angrily stepped in, much to everyone's confusion as they had recently forgotten that she even existed. "This is a very complex and intricate device." All looked down to the black sphere with a shrinking wick burning at the top. "We are going to need someone with delicate precision to disarm it..."
One stupid decision later, Sssss bloweth herself to smithereens before she could anyone else, 'though the rest were strewn across the banks for a great distance. Aye, 'twas the greatest bomb Kodiro droppeth since announcing and proving he was a man. Not much of one, but one nonethesorta.
Long since swum ashore and nearly drowned in good gravy, the goblin discovereth the mind-boggling Gnu Wuhn and doomed Jack Phillips on the sandy coast. Immediately, the fiend set to removing the handyman's jaw to replace his own.
"Ow! Ow! Aww, why won't you spare me the pain and just eat me already, Gnu?" questioned the most hated character in the story. "Then you would get all of my powers, like... um... sucking! You can always suck more!"
"I can; you can't," clarified the icy-cloaked-coated-bald-gloved-lupine mystery. "Besides, why would I subject myself to that kind of torture? There are plenty of other things to eat around here that won't give me a case of the sucks." It was then that a soul-obliterating device caught his sharp eyes. "Meh, beats that pile of glass next to it. Of course, I am not even hungry, so I shouldn't eat either... but will!"
"That's what I keep tellin' her!" vocalized Bimblensaff with his freshly stolen mouthpiece.
"I am guessing you were supposed to say that before you had a jaw, huh?" brought down the arctic warrior between bites. Suddenly, his bald head spun and he fell to his kneepads, grasping his stomach in pain. But it was no longer his stomach, but a face!
"Bwa-hahahaha!" cackled the newly emerged visage, which for some reason grew outside of Wuhn's shirt. "I am now Gnur Wuhn!"
"Achem! Becoming part Jack Phillips is now comparatively better!" And with a swift bite of what remained of the handyman's head, all traces of Ab-Omination were erased from the universe once more. Instead, that crappy hardhat appeared on the wolf's head, and his colors brightened to a construction-friendly tone. As fortold, he finally became Knur Wuhn, and without any minor characters left to eat, it looks as though he is stuck this way.
"Ew, I feel so dirty. I need someone to make me look comparatively better."
Just then, Hadoleo plummeteth from the heavens and onto the Bimblesnaff's newly fixed head.
Don't mention it. Just remember to buyeth my new calendar and to keepeth Kodiro away fro' it. Seriously.
Hey, I wonder how the others are doingeth. Methinks someone might have hookethed up?
"Stop stalking me!" accused Crazy Mai, racing across the Desert Of, which was now its official name.
"But, you're the one chasing me!" Rex rationalized. "Although it does sound like something I would do." The king looked to his brother-in-scales for aide. "Hey, Ufoifo," acronymized the frog, "a little help? Both you and Mai are enemies of truth and simple fact."
"I don't have to splay here and listen to these wild allegations!" huffed the inverted vertibrate as he inflated his lungs and attempted to float his body to the goal.
"Yes, everything is going according to plan," conspired the Robe aloud. "Soon, the world will be destroyed."
Art thou not attempting to obtain yonder Legendairy?
"Oh, right. That's part of the world, isn't it? Hey freak, do ya think you can teleport me straight to the Deli Dale?"
Could but shan't! Instead, let us see what the other characters are doing! Bad Pun Joe is-
"No one cares about Bad Pun Joe!" boomed the shrouded black abyss. "Isn't he dead yet?"
Fine, then we shall joineth the knight, the flaming Rumbler of non-Kodiro quality, and the melty Kodiro, already in progress.
"Get it off! Get it off!" Gariland roared, launching fireballs at his enemy from outerspace.
"Space fish! I toldja!
It would seemeth that ye D-Knight hath got one right at long last. And just whence did cometh yonder space fish? Why, from...
... where art the title screen for Ye Space Fish Adventures? What? No more side plots? Very well.
"Who is he even talking to?" the perplexed paddock posed to the other Rumblers he now strove to overtake. "That guy is pretty crazy."
"Boy howdy!" announced the delusional Spirit of Rumblo.
Antics aside, all wert now locked in mortal race-bat across the Desert Of, which-
"Desert of Comma?" Hadoleo interrupted the omnipresent announcer. "I thought it was officially renamed the Desert Of?"
What? No, thou foolish fooleries! It is call-
"Desert of Question Mark?" chimed in the grizzled green goliath. "That is entirely not the name of the goal which we seek!"
Stupid, stupid peopleth! Stop listeneth to my punctuation, knaves! Thou art getting worse than that weird little man Kodiro!!!!
"Hey, kiddies!" 'Leo spoke up, addressing some invisible audience. "An exclamation point is also referred to as a 'bang' in technical and computer terminology! And that is the one joke we'll explain to you throughout the entire Rumbl-O-Rama! Hope you enjoyed it!"
"I know I did, fo' sho'!" the wardrobe wizard unfortunately admitted with a finger poking the corner of his mouth, and then sliding inside, and then another finger... ewww....
Fleeing to the goal and from the sorcerer of styles, all living Rumblers -- good, bad, and detested -- were stoppethed when a very large-type font plummeteth from the sky, reading:
"Canceled?!" spurted the vile Mai. "But then how shall I ever exact my revenge? Revenge for events which I was originally the cause?"
"What? Rumbl-O-Rama cannot die!" protested Ufoifo. Rex looked back two pages and back to the reptile, seemingly confirming otherwise.
"I don't know if it can die, but it has been in a zombie-like state for a while now -- a zombie like those wacky walking corpses in Redead, the hilarious sci-fi romp! What happens when the only thing stopping flying saucers and their reanimated army is a fat slacker and his friends? Hilarity! That's what! And now back to your regularly scheduled insanity," Bimblesnaff finally finished in an uncharacteristic announcer voice. "Hey, this new jaw rocks! And that twit Gary finally has a mouth," the lunatic explained, waving a dirty, wrapped claw to the Nary Wary one, who only had half a head remaining.
Bleedin' Hole Gary, different than the one ye rainbow mage once knew -- often -- continued to breaketh the bad news, entirely unimpedeth by not having no mouth. Rather than be canceledeth, this Rumblo shall go on hiatus until proper remedy madeth for ye low viewership.
"What?" Hadoleo fought back in the most threatening but still hilarious voice he could muster. "You can't put the Rumblo on hiatus, either!" Everyone just stood around awkwardly, just looking at one another, which is apparently what they had been doing for the last ten months.
No needeth! The Rumblo, or xRxOxRx as it is now renamed, hath bean retooled and is bland and predictable enough for the common moron to enjoy! Someone cheereth this announcement. Can you guess who?
"It was me!" proudly piped-up the student.
Fantastic. Well, instead of journeying across Ref -- where nobody lives -- you shalt now travel to Apartment in New York City, which apparently is the only place which exists in the entire world-ball! Prepare for thou repackaging in this hip and witty new backdrop which can be enjoyethed all people of fifth-grade reading levels -- which apparently is still too high for most of the masses!
A speaking frog-man is seen as blasphemous by a single crazy individual in Alabama who doth not even own a TV. Henceforth, you, Rex Ranarum, shall be a graphic from some eighties video game that children doth not recognize, hath never played, but still clamor for all the more!
And Vincent, thou antics of constantly spewing forth nonsensical gibberish from your wild, grizzly beard is obviously a crude parody of a very particular, mentally-unfortunate group. And due to her complaints, you are no longer allowed to mock Mai in this manner. Instead, we hath a wheel labeled with a variety of foodal elements. Whenever we should calleth on you to spake, simply spin the wheel and recite whatever foodstuff is pointed to. It sure as Hel isn't comedy, but it is random, and why wasteth effort developing real, well-thought humor when morons will laugh at a disembodied... "ham sammich."
Kodiro, stop laughing.
Andeth Bimblesnaff, you art far too impossible to fix and simply shall be stung with this Destiny Venom to erase any trace of your existence from forever!
"Ooo! I want ta git some new fly fash-ins, too!" jived the striped summoner. "Do me! Do me! Do me! Do me! Do me, little mop-man!" he unnecessarily repeated when everyone got the joke very early on.
"Oh, Kodiro, you are so straight!" stated the serpent-tongued sociopath.
"Hey, what happened to Gariland?" wondered all living and inanimate objects in the world at all times, including right now.
The Allcool one hath received his own spin-off as well as a nation of eager subjects! That mattereth not, however, as your retooled piece o' crap hath already been canceled before it even had a chance! Thank you very much, major television networks! Gariland's show, on the other hand, becameth the longest running series -- or story, I am not really sure what we are trying to go for here -- in all history, despite only existing since the beginning of this paragraph! With Gariland, all is possible -- except for that, Kodiro!
Instead, letteth the Rumblo redebut as one of the most boring and therefore popular devices that Hadoleo loves -- the tournament fighter!
"No, even I'm not gay for anime enough to think those are cool."
"Yowee! A tournament fighter?" the design diviner was overjoyed, or -- one could say -- overgayed. No one could wait to fight the thaumaturgist of threads, so they didn't. He was swiftly beaten into a bloody lump for being a loser anime fanboy. There were other reasons they could have picked, but that was the one they went with.
"What?" hissed the scaly newcomer, and despite being a question, he still managed to make it a lie. "Fighting each other in a Rumbl-O-Rama instead of working together? That's not what we're supposed to do!" The student abroad, in his whiny little-kid butt-into-ism (no more Kodiro jokes since he is currently a bloody, broken pile), removed his Ref Field Guide to counter his little opponent's claim.
But search as he may, the nerd could not find any evidence that battle had ever taken place in an Rumbl-O-Rama before.
"I know it is supposed to be in here!" 'Leo squealed. "We're supposed to be in competition!"
"Sure we are," laughed off Crazy Mai.
"Wait, why would you say that?" questioned the teenage ball of grease and social ineptitude. "You especially want to fight and kill Mint Man. In fact, he just wrote your name 'Crazy Mai' in the previous paragraph!"
"Sssssshhhhut up," hushed the azure amphibian. "Don't ruin my chances."
"But you hate her!" the frustrated and for some reason recently focused on student raged on. "Remember? All those stupid rants and lies and infiltrating and her persistent efforts destroy you?"
The king just stared onward blankly, blinked, and shrugged off the words. "Meh, I'd still hit that."
Well, you'll have to, for she shalleth be your opponent in the Rumbl-O-Rumble! Let the enormous but probably hastily done battle sequence commenceth!
"Aww, I have to fight Bimblesnaff?" complained the computer-enthusiast. "How is this fair? Wasn't I just eviscerated a bit ago?"
"Twice!" the mad man interjected.
"What? No I-" the student began, but then he realized just what Bogg had meant. It was difficult not to know as the fiend's hook blade had just torn through the scrawny student, who was still tortured with his unlife.
And in the next arena, the monstrous D-Knight loometh over the diminutive reptoid, who is not without a cunning of his own. The mysterious robe floateth in, ready to battle against two opponents to prove his superiority.
"I lie a lot!"
"I am wearing yet... another robe!"
This is not a summary. Aye, this actually did take place in their contest, and is in fact the only thing which transpired between these three very well-developed and cared-about characters.
In a much cooler place, both in temperature and in the measurable units which SI has just unanimously agreed to name the Gariland, the frosty Phillothor known as Knur Wuhn squareth off against his cool antipode.
"Hmm, to gain Garilands coolness," lowly growled the bald, blue lupine loser, "I shall have to eat him!"
"Missin' me now, aren'tcha?" Kodiro's pile gurgled.
"Man, what wack sheezy did I eatzy?" Kodiro wondered, looking down at his pile. "Oh, right," remembered the mage, "I didn't!"
Quickly moving on before I maketh vomitous use of my new head-hole, we come to the best of the match-ups, Sweet Sally Sawmill versus... Nary Wary Gary! In a Tickles-and-Pillows Fight! Ha-ha! The other Rumblers jeer my omnipotent decision to placeth myself in the best of matches, but 'tis the reward I deserve for narrating way too much! Of course, I should hath thought this out a little more, and Ssssss's hands will make tickling much less fun... and much more bloody... and me much less capacitated..... and un-decapitated. Whaddayaknow? I can continue to spaketh without a neck!
The final two combatants stood frozen on opposite ends of the wasted expanse. The Tyrant of Toads clasped his heavy warspear tight in his flippered fingers. The angrily and insanely mad Mai looked on from behind her wind-whipped pig tails, armed only with an electric grasp and no grasp on reality. It was truly to be a battle for the ages, the two greatest foes in the history of Ref meeting, face to face, without petty guises, without retreat. One of the Rumblers would soon meet with a harsh reality, and each was convinced it would be their opponent.
The Rex Ranarum made the first move, bounding across the dune and holding his wicked weapon high. Mai made the dodge, but as always misjudged the frog's actions. He cast down his spear, driving its point into the sands before her, catching the demented spy before she could stop. His tongue flew forth from his enormous gullet, finding his handle instead of her. Trilmai released a full charge from her gauntlets into the polearm, traversing the tadpole's tongue and forcing him skyward. The king recovered his senses -- something Mai could never do -- and flipped in midair, withdrawing his trusty six shooters. Both barrels quickly emptied, finding non-lethal marks on the former Reffer's blocking boots and gloves. The malfunctioning armor began to spew sparks, but like her logic, Mai refused to admit anything was wrong despite the obvious. She made one final mad dash to the frog, only to catch a round squarely in the head. As thick as it was, the impact still knocked his nemesis from her feet. Her eyes opened, staring down a barrel inscribed with the word "Nepenthe."
"Well, what are you waiting for?" she coughed out, with no other option left.
"You really don't get it," the blue clad vagrant scoffed. "What does it mean to defeat you here? In a battle I control? That doesn't solve anything; I would gain no revenge. Nay, I can do worse. Far worse than you'll ever be able to live down." A sly, slimy smile crept across his scaly lips.
"Wh-what do you mean?" fear filled Trilmai's voice. He gave no answer but a maniacal cackle, never lifting his empty stare from her prone body.
"Ha! Ya wrote 'I'm a big stupid face' on her in permanent marker!" wailed fellow winner Bimblesnaff. "And it's on her face! Classic!"
"Yeah, she'll never live that down," Ufoifo wanted to contribute. It, too, stood with the tournament's champions.
"Wait, how did you win?"
It didn't win. Few of the fights hath any real conclusion; most were just solveth with a coin flip. Just as well!
And so, the victors were allowed to proceed to the Deli Dale, whose gate shone on the distant horizon. And the losers? Whatever happened to them? Nothing. Absolutely nothing at all. In fact, the place where they were dumpethed is actually slightly closer to the Deli Dale than the winners' circle!
Huh, that seems unfair. Better hurry up, guys.
** There is still more to this story.
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