_____________________

 

N$V: DRYDEN
"Return of the Super-Dro."

It’s late February, and a weak warm front has rolled into Ohio. On days like this, it’s good to leave behind one’s troubles, get out in God’s country and try to have a good day for once. Forget your bullshit, forget all the people who want something for you, forget each and every single responsibility. Take a mental health day. Skip out on work. Have fun, you know?

One of our heroes of the story, Seth Dryden, is currently taking one of these days. You’ve probably heard the rumors. You may have read about it in the papers or seen it on the nightly news. “Celebrity Goes Through Rough Times” or “Superstar Hitting Bottom”. One of those taglines or one like them. Seth’s had it pretty rough lately. A death of a person close to him has marred his recent days.

But he’s doing his best to put it behind him, like the cold of winter being chased off by this out-of-place late February warm front, he’s attempting to get some semblance of actual life back into his grasp. This is the reason he visited the car dealership this morning. You see, that person who died? Seth had a rather large insurance policy on them.

He felt almost sick cashing it in, but deep down, he knew that person would want him to move on at some point. Find some sort of distraction. That’s why he took a bus into Cleveland this morning. That’s why he got off at the station and hailed a cab, directing the driver to drop him off at the most posh automotive dealership in the city.

That’s why, just this minute, he’s speeding along the interstate, coming back into Toledo, in his brand new BMW Z4 Roadster. He cranks down on the gearshift, sending the car lurching past slower moving traffic. Seeing his exit up ahead, he flicks his cigarette butt out of the window and pulls off of the interstate, the F1X arena looming in the distance.

Moments later, Seth is peeling around corners of the parking lot until he slams on the breaks, muttering, “Son of a bitch…”

Seth grins and fixes his askew Ray Bans. Through the tinted windows of his sunglasses he sees a car parked in a handicap space right near the staff entrance with a license plate that reads, “JAXXSTER”. Seth smirks, revs his Roadster’s engines and pulls up beside the car. He gets out carefully, and by carefully, I mean he slams the corner of his door right into the side of the other roster member’s car, scratching the shit out of it.

“Motherfucker,” he sighs. He slides his keys down Jaxx’s car saying, “I’m such a klutz sometimes.”

Seth walks to the door, sliding his blazer on, checking his inside pocket to make sure his prize still remains safe. Smiling with content, he opens the door and walks into the arena. A few minutes later, he’s finding his way through the backstage area, corridor after corridor, until he finds a door marked, “No Cash Value”.

“Shane, stoooooooop it!” says a giggling voice beyond the door.

“What the fuck…” mumbles Seth, pushing the door open.

Seth walks into the locker room and finds his friend and stable mate, Shane Clemmens, pushing his other stable mate, Bronwen O’Connor, up against a wall. Their faces are glued together and Shane’s hands are suspiciously rising up Bronwen’s thigh.

Seth clears his throat, and gets the other two people’s attention. “Jesus, can’t you two ever take a damn break?”

Both look a tad annoyed, but back away from each other, Bronwen adopting a more serious nature and retreating to a chair, but her face blushing all the while.

“Ya know, dude,” Shane states, “you’re gonna have to get used to it.”

Seth laughs. “Why, you two getting married or something?”

Bronwen raises her eyebrows and asks, “Didn’t you see the Universal Title match?”

Seth catches Shane’s eye and figures something is up. “Er, no. Paramedics had me for a while, remember?”

Bronwen holds up her left hand, showing a glittering ring. Seth looks to Shane, shocked and says, “You mean?”

Shane nods. “Married, dude. Well, sooner before later, anyway.”

For a moment, the air is still. Seth Dryden stands at attention, his eyes drifting closed. He begins swaying back and forth while Shane and Bronwen look to one another, concerned. They jump though, startled, as Seth begins humming, softly. Faintly the tune rises until it can be determined as “Glory, Glory, Hallelujah”.

“Dude, are you okay?” Shane asks, putting his hand on Seth’s shoulder.

Dryden, as if possessed, shrugs the hand off and races to the couch. He jumps on it, his eyes still closed and holds his hands out.

“Dear congregation!” Seth shouts in between humming the hymn. “We have come here today to mourn the passing of one of the greats! NAY! One of the legends of pimpery!”

“Pimpery?” Bronwen mutters, confused as all hell as Shane laughs.

“He was taken before his time!” Seth shouts at the top of his lungs. “Gone before his prime!”

Shane jumps up on the couch and begins shaking Seth, yelling, “C’mon! Snap out of it, man!”

Suddenly, Seth stops his preaching. His eyes snap open, and he looks to the heavens, his face full of joy. Seth mumbles something inaudible, but Shane leans closer.

“What?” Shane says. “Spit it out, man.”

Seth mumbles.

“Out with it!” Shane says, slapping Seth across the face.

“Party,” Seth says, seeing Shane as if he hadn’t been there this whole time. “Bachelor party. Dude… Fucking-bachelor-party-time.”

Shane laughs and replies, “Er, yeah, sure.”

Seth looks around, confused. “Uh, Shane?”

“Yeah?” Shane asks.

“The fuck are we doing standing on the couch, dude?” Seth asks.

Shane shakes his head and replies, “I’ve got no fucking clue, man.”

Seth leaps down from the couch and claps his hands together and says, “Alright! Wedding, whatever, cool. Guess now though we got a reason to celebrate.”

“Celebrate?” asks Bronwen.

Seth reaches inside his jacket and produces a bag. But this bag is no ordinary bag. Far from it, actually. For, within this bag is something of great myth. Green, like the fields of Ireland, but with the neon of Las Vegas intertwined inside it. Silver specks lining the contents. Inside the bag?

“Super-Dro,” Shane gasps.

“In-fucking-deed,” Seth says with a sharp grin.

 

N$V: DRYDEN
"Be all End all"

Welcome, ladies and gentlemen, children of all ages! It’s been a while since the show’s been in town, but let me assure you, we haven’t missed a goddamn step in the time we’ve been away from this three-ring circus. Now, now, I know you’ve not known what to do with yourself during our long hiatus, but there’s no need to worry. The gang’s all here, the band’s back together, and we’re ready to tear into some new dipshits who think they’ve got their game under control. Which brings us to the topic of the day-- Order of Chaos, a new, shiny distraction from everyone with an ounce of skill or talent in their bones. I mean, really, how many times are we going to go through these motions? Shane and I have been around the block more than once, kinda like your mom, so we’ve seen our fair share of assholes like Jaxx and Knight. These guys are archetypes for fighters who never quite seem to grasp what it takes to be on the top tier of “wrasslin’”. Seriously, have you seen these guys? “The Sinner”… “The Catalyst”…. Fucking yawn. Listening to these guys talk and trying to actually understand what they’re meaning to say is like interpreting a “Who’s on first” bit. Jesus-tapdancing-Christ. I know I’ve said it before, but these guys like to throw around the words “clichéd” and “generic”, but for all their ranting and raving and tired ass promo’s, it’s as if they’re the kettle calling the pot a racial slur.

Jaxx-y, boy. Yes, I know you grew tired of those little names I called you the last time I slapped you around the ring, but I just can’t seem to call you by that silly fake name you’ve labeled yourself with, so I suppose you’ll just have to bear with me on this one. So, I see you beat King last time you decided to drag yourself to the ring, kudos, man. Seriously. I’m fucking so sincere here. Really. Oh wait, no I’m fucking not. You consider yourself some sort of “legend-killer” because you managed to best Jeff King? Seriously? Wow, man, has your back gotten tired yet from all that patting you treat yourself to? Look, so you beat King. Who the fuck cares? In the end, you manage to beat someone I’ve punched silly so many times, dude doesn’t even remember his own fucking middle name. And after you rag on someone who’s way past his prime, you go and pick on someone who doesn’t even know what a “prime” is. Yeah, it’s true, we used to roll with Starr. Well, Shane did, but to be honest, that’s before ol’ Dryden got back into the mix, and Shane-o probably felt like he needed a decent crew to roll with, so he tapped Starr. As it turns out, Sean wasn’t NCV material. These things happen, no one can see the future to see how shitty someone’s gonna turn out to be, but hey, what can ya do. In the end, though, everything’s worked out. No Cash Value is stronger without that scrub draggin’ us down, so, if you wanna take credit for getting rid of someone who couldn’t hold his on, good luck to ya.

Me, personally? I wouldn’t really put too much stock into it. I mean, for fuck’s sake dude, you’ve lost twice so far, and the company’s just barely opened. What-- you trying to end up a fuckin’ bottom feeder like Lucia King or some shit? But I digress… Ya know, I hear what you say behind the scenes, dude. I know you just love running that mouth, Christ, it’s like you were born with a goddamn loudspeaker installed in you or something. Every time you do something you’re proud of, it’s like Morag’s gotta come grab your report card and post it on his refrigerator or some shit so you feel justified in every little thing you fuckin’ do. So you blindsided me and Clemmens last week? Big fucking deal. Thing is-- you’re so fucking proud you and your butt-buddy managed to wipe us out for all of five seconds, but you couldn’t do half that the last time we met in an actual match. But maybe that’s what you need, you piece of shit, you need some self-reaffirmation after the fuckin’ gauntlet I put your weaksauce self through a few Aftershocks ago. I hope you enjoyed that little sneak-attack you managed enough to cover your loss to me before and your loss to No Cash Value this week, ‘cause there ain’t no way Order of Chaos is walking away from this match with anything to be proud of.

Sigh.

Jesus Christ, Jaxx… You really fucking disappoint me, man. You see, I’m the type of person who hates having to do the same shit over and over. I mean, did I not fucking take every goddamn word you said to me last time and straight up shove that shit down your throat by the time we got to the ring? You talk about how I haven’t learned anything from our match, but yet, here you are again, spouting off shit you know you don’t have enough talent to back up. So once again, we’ll do this dance. You say shit you think is clever, I’ll retaliate, and then it’ll be game time on Sunday. And once again, you’ll fucking come up short. You know why? Well, it’s the same reason I may not have learned anything from our match (outside of you being a complete gomer, that is)-- you’re not fucking special, man. You’re not that good. You talk all fucking day, because you think it’s gonna shake me, you think you’re gonna make some sorta fuckin’ headway towards winning the match, but me? I know talk is fuckin’ cheap. The only reason I’m even taking the time to respond to your broke ass shit is because I think you’re the one here with somethin’ to learn. What you need to fuckin’ learn is your place in this company, Jaxx. You and your rag tag buncha loser stablemates just aren’t up to the level that No Cash Value is. We’ve proven this multiple times, and it’s still only the first month the fucking company’s been open. Are we gonna have to spend our entire careers here in F1X trying to convince you with win after win that you’re just fuckin’ wastin’ your time?

You wanna try to bring up how I’m always talking about being some sort of “legend” and how I should stop pulling out the same stuff from the same ol’ bag of tricks that everyone else uses. Motherfucker, are you, like, retarded or something? ‘Cause if so, I should probably pull out of this match now, since I’m pretty sure beating up on the mentally handicapped such as yourself isn’t exactly kosher. Do you even know who the fuck you’re talking to? Have you ever seen me use some sort of “dictionary entry” bullshit you put on me? Have you heard me drone on and on about being a “legend”? No. I don’t have to do that shit, because really, everyone else does it enough for me. I don’t just lay claims willy-nilly, fuckhead, I earn every fucking ounce of respect people show me. And I’ve been here long enough to know when someone’s jus’ tryin’ to get under my skin. You talk about Shane like dude’s some sort of mastermind behind everything I do. You’re trying to get us at one another’s throats, but really, we’re smarter than that, you jackass. Shane’s not the Leonardo to my Michelangelo (figured I’d use a cartoon metaphor there, just in case you do in fact have the mind of a child). Motherfucker, Shane and I have built No Cash Value up together. We’ve built it on the broken dreams of fuckheads just like you, across multiple companies, and it’s lasted years. And you think your pissy little group is gonna make a fuckin’ dent in us? Think again, Jaxx.

We’re fuckin’ untouchable, asshole.

 

N$V: CLEMMENS
"Super Shane and Sexy Seth"

The Super-Dro. This is not just your average bud, it gives the smoker certain abilities. These abilities are very random and can range from “Uncontrollable diarrhea to animal like tusks on command.” Every once and a while this Super-Dro finds the right smokers and gives them abilities that lead to great adventures. In this case, Shane finds himself with super strength. Seth finds himself with increased pheromones. Bronwen simply finds herself drunk as she didn’t partake.

“I think this shit is kicking in.” Shane mutters, effortlessly ripping the door to the jockey box off the car.

“You sure?” Seth looks into the rearview mirror at Bron who hasn’t even really noticed him yet.

Shane bends the jockey box door into an airplane and sends it sailing out the window…

“I’m pretty sure.”

“Huh.” Seth pulls up to a red light next to a car full of teeny bopper girls. He tolls down the window and sticks his head out, “VROOM, VROOM!” He hollars.

All at once the girls spasm and go into violent orgasms, the windows immediately fog up.

“Maybe you’re right.” Seth says, making a left hand turn, leaving the car of girls behind. He looks into the rearview at Bronwen who finally notices him.

“What?” She asks.

“Well, my pheromones aren’t affecting you…” He raises an eyebrow.

Bronwen leans forward, patting Seth on the shoulder, “Don’t take it personally.”

“Beats me man.” Shane chuckles, punching a fist groove into the dashboard.


Meanwhile…

Across down there are men wishing evil upon Super Shane and Sexy Seth. They wish to bring down No Ca$h Value and replace it with a Complex of Superiority. That’s where they are, at the old grocery store now turned into the Complex of Superiority. Shawn Marsh is playing a ridiculously old pong game with a cracked screen. Nicolas “King of Frank Miller” Craxx and Pukas Knight, the Slimetime Champion are looking on, sitting on an old ratty couch.

“So this Fortress of Complex of Superiority is pretty sweet, huh guys?” Shawn Marsh notes, he turns away from the game which now reads “Out of Order” and he approaches Craxx and Knight. “But I just know those No Cash Value ASSHOLES have Donkey Kong.” Shawn grits his teeth, “God that just pisses me off!”

“It’s as if you’re the most Pissed off man in Ef One Ecks.” Mucus Knight nods.

Nicolas Craxx giggles nervously, “I have a girlfriend, she’s purdy! She likes me because I’m witty and ironic!”

“Indeed she does.” Mucus nods.

“Enough! There’s something I need to two to go get. It’s the one thing Shane Clemmens has that I really need and want!” Shawn Marsh commands.

“His cock?” Mucus asks.

“NO!” Shawn stammers.

“A personality?” Nicolas Craxx asks.

“NO! damnit.”

“Good looks?” Nicolas smiles wide, “I like guessing games.”

Shawn Marsh smacks Nicolas Craxx in the face, knocking the dumb assed bandaid off.

“The Universal Title!” Shawn Marsh shakes his fist. “Once I have that I can get Donkey Kong and…” Shawn Walsh looks around at his surroundings, “An interior decorator.”

Mucus pats the Slimetime Title, “Isn’t this one good enough?”

“No! It doesn’t say my name on it.” Shawn frowns. “If you guys get the Universal Title for me I will give you something awesome in return.”

“Hugs?” Nicolas asks, a big goofy smile taking over his face.

“NO!” Shawn Marsh shakes his head and goes to smack Nicolas Craxx but he flinches. “Aww, don’t be sad little buddy.”

Shawn sits down between Mucas and Nicolas and puts his arms around both of them.

“You guys are my best friends, I love you boys.” He kisses them both on the head. Nicolas turns red and giggles. “If I have the Universal Title, I will, I mean, we will be the best ever!” Shawn smiles.

“The best ever!” Nicolas jumps up into the air and makes an explosive noise, “I’m a rocket ship!”

Nicolas Craxx forgot to take his Ritalin today.

“Ritalin, make your kids into Zombies so you don’t have to act like a parent.”

“Aww.” Nicolas Craxx smiles.

“Ok, so we go and get the Universal Title for you and you dub us Kings of Awesome?” Mucus asks.

“Whatever you want.” Shawn looks over his shoulder, “Only I’m the King of Awesome, too late.” He says under his breath.

“What was that?” Mucus asks.

“The only Kings of Awesome to date!” Shawn speaks up, “Yea, you guys, seriously. Your cock, my mouth.” Shawn mimics giving head with his hand and tongue in cheek moves.

Nicolas Craxx plops down in a shopping cart, “Hey Mucus! Push me around again!”
“We don’t have time for games!” Shawn Marsh points at the door “Go! Bring me the Universal Title back! Or…at least…a..SUBWAY sandwich!”

“Check that boss, We’re on it.” Mucus says, throwing the Slimetime title over his shoulder.

“Mucus.” Shawn whispers.

Mucus turns before they go, and Shawn mouths the words “I love you.”

A tear rolls down Shawn’s face, Mucus blows a kiss.

Outside, Mucus Knight stops Nicolas Craxx who forgot to put his helmet on. Nicolas stops and put it on, strapping the chin strap under his chin.

“I don’t know if we should do this for Marsh. I think he’s using us.” Mucus ponders, using Craxx as a sounding board.

“Of course he uses us, but I like it, makes me feel dirty!” Nicolas giggles and runs circles from all the energy.

“No.” Mucus puts a hand out, stopping Craxx. “Let’s take it for ourselves.”

“How can we share a title?” Craxx asks.

“Well I’ll give you Slimetime when I win—I mean take the Universal.” Mucus nods.

“But what if I don’t want Slimetime?” Craxx tries to see but the helmet encroaches further on his view forcing him to arch his head back, “Me Universal, you Slimetime. Both United.”

“Damnit, who will hold the Vendetta Title?” Mucus wonders.

“My girlfriend!” Nicolas Craxx holds up his hand which when he makes a fist turns into a puppet with red lipstick, “Oh Craxx, that’s so sweet of you.” Craxx works the puppet, using a bad girl-voice. “It’s because I love you baby.” Craxx tongues his hand.

“Jesus.” Mucus shakes his head, walking away.

Nicolas Craxx looks up from his hand, “Did I just fart?”

Meanwhile!

“This is fucken cool.” Seth laughs. He holds up a hand for Shane to high five him.

Shane high fives Seth but doesn’t check his strength, the impact of the blow sends Seth flying through three offices until finally slamming up against the window in Adian Morag’s office.

Seth lands on the ground covered in white powder from the walls. He shakes his head.

“Cocaine use is not permitted for Fight One roster members.” Aidan Morag says, not even looking up from his paper work. “And you’re paying for that fucking wall.”

“Oh this, nah, we’re just goofing off. You know, Cheebs.” Seth stands up.

Shane rushes through the hole in the wall.

“SETTHHH!!! It’s so bad! Oh shit!”

“I’m ok, might check the fucking strength next time though buddy.” Seth says, shaking the pain out of his hand.

“Mr. Clemmens, please do not think my office is your playground.”

Three secretaries burst through the door and tackle Seth with kisses and gropes. Aidan finally looks up at the goings on.

“Why don’t they do that for me?” Aidan wonders.

“Couldn’t tell ya boss, though how about Seth and I get out of your hair.” Shane smirks.

“Next week remind me to fire you.” Aidan mutters, going back to his paper work.

“SHANE!” Bronwen screams from outside.

Shane beats back the women and pulls Seth free.

Both Super Shane and Sexy Seth rush outside to see Nicolas Craxx and Mucus Knight in the car! They have Bronwen! They have the Universal Title!

“Ha ha! Suckers” Nicolas Craxx says, leaning out of the car, looking back at them, a street sign pegs him in the back of the head and he slumps into the car.

Shane and Seth both snicker but get serious when Bronwen screams, “I will fucking kill all of you with a BOMB!”

“They’re no match for Super Shane!” Shane flexes.

“And Sexy Seth!” Seth flicks sweat at some women walking nearby, bringing them seizing in orgasm to the ground.

“Oh shit… They have the Super Dro.” Shane’s eyes grow wide.

“Oh shid.” Seth grits his teeth.

 

N$V: CLEMMENS
"Jaxxterbate"

Dear Jaxx, I hear your cries for help and attention and I want you to know that I'm here to satisfy those wishes.  I know you are one walking billboard reading "Pay Attention to me" but you've gotta realize when enough is enough.  I'm glad you have a schtick but I have to say I think it has just about run its course.  You have got to realize that the entire world laughs but it's not laughing with you, it's laughing at you because you're nothing more than a Chatty Cathy doll that went haywire and started pulling its own string.  I honestly don't know what that women or any of your other little idiot peons see in you.  At the same time I wonder why all those bozos killed themselves at Jonestown.  Yessir, Mr. Jaxx you are indeed one of those stupid people god loved so much that he made sure you carry on your stupidity.  One of these days though Jaxx you're going to run out of things to say and all of a sudden there will be silence.  While millions will recover from a ten year long headache, you're going to recover nothing but your bitch ass little career in this sport.  Don't get too excited pal, it ain't much.  You're nothing but a little bitch with a huge mouth.

Shut the fuck up.

You wanna bring up Bronwen and try to make some kind of point out of it.  Yeah, awesome, thanks.  You really shouldn't be concerned about Bronwen because: News flash numbnuts, she's not in the match.  But that's what you do--you're constantly thinking about shit that doesn't have anything to do with your current situation.  Don't get Jaxx a fucken United Title, get the man a bottle of Ritalin and save him from his horrible disease.  I'm not saying that people who suffer from ADD and ADHD are bad people, I'm just saying that people like you who get off on it--are.  You should be taken out to the back entrance to the arena and shot in the head execution style for ever trying to fuck with my ring.  Unfortunately for me though Aidan Morag will not allow executions without prior written consent so I guess we're fucked and have to keep putting up with your little monkey ass.  It's ok though, everyone needs a bitch, right?

Speaking of Bitches, I hear you're talking a lot about Sean Starr and Rayn.  Yeah you're bragging because not only did Rayn get completely punked out by Superiority Complex but he got a lucky win off a distraction against Bronwen.  Hooray for him, the little fuck needed a win, and hooray for Bron for not letting that force her out of this fucking sport.  But when it comes to Sean Starr, listen up.  I realize that you like to make assumptions and never really pay attention.  It's ok too for you to blame your case of ADD.  But the fact of the matter is, Sean Starr could not pull his weight and washed out of No Cash Value.  He took a step down because he knew that his performances in the ring were not up to the No Cash Value standard.  He did that and kudos to him for knowing to do so.  I suggest though that you stop staring at your girlfriend's tits and realize that things are not as you'd like to think they are.

The only thing you could really do with the Universal Title in your hands was hit someone Jaxx.  I commend you on that.  I figured you'd put it on and just go while a way a few hours looking at yourself in the mirror imagining what it's like to be Number One.  (It feels great by the way) but Jaxx, the only way for you to ever have the Universal Title is if you do steal it.  You'll never have what it takes to earn it.  You've already proved that you'll never change.  The big pussies never change their spots, correct?  Yeah, that's you Jaxx.  You're second fiddle to the second best champion.  How does that feel?  Does it feel awesome to look at Knight and know that you were almost in his shoes?  Does it feel shitty to know that you just didn't have what it takes to bring that title home to SC around your waist?  Fuck yea man, just like you'll never be Lucas Knight, you'll never be Shane Clemmens.  You are little Jaxx, the one who should be there Wednesday to compete for the Vendetta Title, that's the only one you have hopes of holding.  Why?  Seth and I are taking the United Titles home.  You're merely the first step in that journey.  The conclusion is inevitable.

No Cash Value (Greater Than) Superiority Complex.

Speaking of which, I know you're really bummed out that I attempted to "recruit" Lucas Knight for No Cash Value.  You got it all wrong buster, I was warning Knight.  I wanted him to know that hanging out with bozos like you and Walsh will only end with him getting stepped on.  He's a team player though, right?  How sure of that are you Jaxx?  How sure?  Do you think that Knight is looking out for you?  No.  He's looking out for himself.  I hear him in the locker rooms joking about how he carries you.  And while you're teaming with someone you cannot trust, what do you do?  Oh yeah, you decide to pick a fight with the No Cash Value.  You get this big head thinking you belong in the ring with us at the same time.  Ha.  I know where Seth's head is at.  I know that he's down with our mission.  But you and Knight.  Ha.  Are you so sure you have a friend in him?  Nah, It seems to me that your little bromance with Knight has all but faded and now you're dealing with the unknown of what he's going to do next.  Live with that, sucker.

Something else you forgot to mention, you little pecker wood, is what happened at Aftershock.  You go on and on at length about the "cool" shit you did when you attacked Dryden but you leave out the fact that you turned straight bitch at the end of the show when I hit you with that fire hose.  More proof that you just don't pay attention Jaxx.  Everything is about "Up" with you and you can never see what's really going down.  I'm not going to laugh at you about being douched out by a fucken skunk, nah, I'm merely interested in the fact that Mr. Knight was absent when it went down.  Do you think that was coincidence?  Yeah, go ahead and believe that.  Go ahead and assume that it was just dumb luck that Knight wasn't around.  There is much more to all of this than you might think but I assure you it no longer has anything to do with Knight joining No Ca$h Value.  It has everything to do with making sure that fuckers like you don't reproduce.

Your number is up come Aftershock time Jaxx, you can ignore it or get use to it.  I'll leave that up to you.

 

N$V: DRYDEN
"Battle of the Five Dollar Foot-Longs"

Like in any long told tale of heroism and marijuana, the boys have fallen on tough times. When last we saw them, their arch-enemies “fools of the week”, Mucus Knight and Nicolas Craxx, have not only Debo’ed the Universal Title, but also Shane’s beloved! What are they going to fucking do?

“What are we gonna fuckin’ do!” says Super Shane. “They made off with the Super Dro!”

“And your woman,” Sexy Seth offers.

“Her too!” Super Shane bellows.

Super Shane loses his cool for a moment in the parking lot, screams in rage and picks up a car, hurling it towards the F1X arena.

Meanwhile, inside the arena we find former Strike Towers superstar Conner Daddy-mack at the front secretarial desk, on his hands and knees, weeping uncontrollably.

“Please!” shouts Conner, his hands clasped tightly as he implores the customer service employee. “Please give me a job! You don’t know what it’s like, I can’t even get a decent table at McDonald’s anymore for God’s sake! Please!”

The woman behind the counter shakes her head mournfully and replies, “I’m sorry, sir, but Mr. Morag has put a moratorium on hiring any more mid-carders from inferior companies. You’ll just have to make do. We can, however, refer you to some place called WFW…”

“Fine!” Conner cries. “I’ll take whatever you can do!”

Out of seemingly nowhere, a Volvo crashes through the roof and falls, slamming down on top of Conner Daddy-mack. The customer service employee gives a sigh of relief and calls Janitor Lloyd to come address the blood seeping out from under the wrecked car.

Back outside, the boys are contemplating what to do next.

Super Shane suddenly has a brainwave and thumps Sexy Seth on the shoulder, sending him sideways once again, but this time through the side of the bus. Shane grimaces, but after a moment, the electric doors on the side of the bus open up and Seth trots out.

“Dude!” Sexy Seth exclaims.

“Sorry!” Super Shane replies. “Been awhile, gonna have to adjust. But I got it-- dude, didn’t you just buy a new car?”

Seth points to his Roadster and says, “Oh, you mean the motherfuckin’ Vegas-Mobile?”

Super Shane grins, “Let’s get these bastards!”

Later, a few miles down the road.

“Oh, c’mon ya stupid dummies!”

Mucus Knight is pounding furiously on the car’s horn, screaming at a bunch of ducks crossing the road slowly. Just as they’re almost out of his way, a baby duck falls down, and the mother begins attending to it.

“Aw, how cuuuuute!” squeals Craxx.

Bronwen, her hands bound in the backseat, the Universal Title being used as poor blindfold, says, “Jesus, you guys are fucking more stupid than I could have imagined.”

“Shut up!” Mucus exclaims, closing his eyes and banging his head against the dashboard. “I can’t take this pressure! Oh my God, I’m gonna shit my pants!”

Nicolas Craxx begins flicking the soft part of Mucus’s skull, whispering, “Shh, baby, it’ll be okay.”

The baby ducks finally get out of the way, and Mucus is about to step on the gas when Craxx screams higher than a eunuch.

“What!” demands Mucus.

Craxx points behind the car. Mucus turns in his seat and sees the distinct shape of a BMW Z4 Roadster, black with a green spade laid into the paint on the hood, looming in the distance, approaching very quickly. Mucus slams on the accelerator, and their car lurches forward, trying to put distance between them and their pursuers.

The two dumbbells speed along, the title and Bronwen in the backseat, weaving their way through the city. Out of nowhere, Mucus slams on the brakes, and peels into the parking lot of a Subway.

“You guys feeling hungry or something?” asks Bronwen, utterly nonplussed by the situation.

“WHATAREYOUDOINGWECANTSTOPWE’LLDIE!” screams Craxx with the voice of a seven-year-old girl.

“And the boss’ll have our nuts in his mouth if we don’t get his sandwich!” exclaims Mucus.

Our heroes pull up into the Subway parking lot, just as Mucus and Craxx leap out of their car and rush inside. Sexy Seth nods and Super Shane stops the car, right next to the bozo’s ride. However, they totally do not see the captive Bronwen, and they run right past her and into the chain-delicatessen.

The place is bedlam. As soon as they walk in, Mucus tackles Super Shane, taking him to the ground while sending actual snot all over his face, thoroughly confusing and grossing Super Shane out. Sexy Seth rushes Craxx, who is busy trying to place a hurried order to the perplexed female cashier for a Club Lite with no mayo. Craxx screams, jumps on the counter and grabs a wheat roll, brandishing it as a sword at Sexy Seth.

Super Shane manages to hurl Mucus off of him, sending him right into the ceiling and falling down on top of a rather obese man. Shane rushes over to check on the innocent Jared-wannabe while Sexy Seth and Craxx face off on the counter. Seth’s grabbed a roll of bread as well and has begun to duel with Craxx, but is impeded due to the female worker who was attached herself to Seth’s leg, dry humping it furiously.

While Super Shane is distracted, Mucus pops up to his side, grabs a tube off of the table he just landed on and shouts, “MUSTARD ATTACK”, squirting it all over Super Shane, sending him into a rage. Meanwhile, Sexy Seth wins the duel, sending the bread weapon of Craxx into the air.

“Whatcha gonna do now?” Sexy Seth says with a sneer.

Craxx panics, leans forward and “pantses” Sexy Seth, his jeans ending up around his ankles, allowing Craxx time to make a break for it. The woman previously dry humping Seth’s leg attempts to perform a much more lewd act while Seth fights her off and screams at Super Shane to stop the escaping Craxx.

Super Shane’s had enough, he grabs Mucus by his head, and spins, sending his body like a rag doll. Mucus limp body collides with Craxx, who was about to reach the door, and the two evildoers are down for the count.

Suddenly, the woman attempting to fellate Sexy Seth stops, shakes her head as if clearing it, and runs away, blushing.

Sexy Seth trots over to Super Shane and says, “I think my powers are wearing off, dude.”

Suddenly, they hear a scream and run outside. They open the door just in time to see Shawn Marsh, who had decided to get his sandwich himself, jump in the car with Bronwen in it and take off, cackling at the tops of his lungs.

“Fuck!” screams Shane.

The boys are left standing in the parking lot, wondering how to get to Marsh and stop him from smoking all their pot, and to do so utterly powerless.

Tune in next time for the exciting conclusion!