The Grammer Games revolt
GAME OF THRONE CHAIRS, Chapter 9
(with apologies to Kel Campbell and others)
[Somewhere in Hell, Day 6]
The battle continued as the Rebels, now united with the Triumvirate, began their counterattack on the dark forces that had stormed the field and taken control of the Emperor’s box. Jon Westenberg scribbled furiously into a mysterious scratch pad, and a flaming message appeared in the sky above the Colosseum:
The sky rumbled above, and the heavens burst open as a deluge of kittens and puppies pelted the forces of darkness.
The lion, roaring with the voice of James Earl Jones added
“And verily I say unto thee, thou shalt not be a tool.”
And the lion’s stomach mumbled
“Come back, Kel Campbell. Come back.”
Even Darin Ross paused from beating on the burrito guy to yell at the haters:
Would you walk into a Wendy’s, look around at all the people eating hamburgers, then announce that you hate hamburgers? I’m guessing you would not.
So why would you go online to tell strangers what you think about something they might really love?
And chances are really, really good you looked like a jerk. Even if you got hundreds of people to rally behind your meanness, you still looked like a jerk. There is no way past, through, or around that. You picked on Timmy’s backpack so the rest of the class would think you’re cool. Unfortunately for you and your comment, this isn’t third grade.
With the most solemn and dignified tone he could muster, Lon Shapiro added
Like he said, so f*ck off, you wankers!
The crowd called out to their heroes to avenge the now silenced Kel Campbell.
Todd Hannula 🤓, Hana Leshner, the ghost of Jennifer Smith, and Michelle Stone slashed their way through the hordes of masked vulgarians and approached the Emperor’s box. In the darkened arena, their progress was marked by the gleam of rapier wit and scattered explosions where the enemy’s logic of hatred was exposed to the light.
Just as it seemed they would free the Emperor, an ominous growl erupted from the irritated bowels of the stadium. In the center of the arena, a spot on the dirt floor began to glow like an irridated piece of dog sh*t. The ground shook and began to bulge like an infected bed sore on the ass of Cartman after a marathon sixteen day session of WOW.
The crowd recoiled in horror at the stench emanating from the glowing and growing mound, and screamed in horror as the puss filled zit popped. A naked, drooling, hairy manimal emerged, whose only distinguishing feature was a hollow and perfectly transparent cranium. Bouncing around inside the echo chamber of his head was a brain so small it could only be measured by the Australian microscopic unit of bees’ dicks. The only thing smaller than his brain were his exposed genitalia, which had to be measured by the French nano unit, un quart de poele de cul de mouche*.
Surrounded by his minions, he took the champion’s platform and began to recite an evil incantation that would banish all who would write with their hearts, instead of writing heartlessly, as decreed by the Legions of Blurst. Protected by a flimsy shroud with the words “1st Amendment” scrawled on it with a crayon, Mr. Bee’s Dick grabbed a karaoke microphone playing the melody of Horst Wessel Lied** and began to autotune***
I did not take my last break up well. Case in point, around 6 hours after my tumultuous love finally got sick of me, I was in a new apartment and a strange room filled with dragon dildos and a girl with a penchant for using them.
On me.
Sex for douchebags is hard...
I paid the bill for the umpteenth time on a date the other day, and like so many times before, I noticed that my partner for the evening had not so much reached for their wallet. I consider myself fortunate that I tend to date successful, powerful women who normally earn more than me — yet somehow I found myself paying for privilege of simply having someone only giving me a hand job under the table while I told them about me. Out of obligation I thanked her for the evening, but I was annoyed.
I know this is going to sound harsh, but when you speak as though you are the voice for all men, or have some kind of special insight into the entirety of a culture I’m not even sure we actually share (I’m an Azz), it makes me seem profoundly arrogant and cripplingly naive. It’s painful to…
Suddenly, the dark sky turned a crimson red, the color of anger. The heavens rumbled and the earth shook so violently that the walls of the Colosseum cracked and parted, allowing the unwashed masses to enter the field of battle, looking for free snacks and swag bags. The karaoke machine was destroyed by a lightning bolt and down from the heavens, the harmonies and piano arpeggios of the Mercenaries 2 film track tickled the ears of all Gods and mortals on the ground below…
After the smattering of applause died down, the wrathful voice of James Earl Jones doing an impression of Queen Latifah thundered down:
And I sayeth unto thee, “Oh no, you di’int!”
Then Jones did an excellent Samuel L. Jackson and added:
“And I will strike down upon thee with great vengeance and furious anger those who attempt to poison and destroy My copyright. And you will know I am the Lord when I lay My vengeance upon you.”
In unison, the crowd shouted “PLAGIARIST!” and began throwing anything that could be converted into a weapon — half empty wine bottles, stale baguettes, moldy camembert crusts, dragon dildos, even remote controls — and slowly the forces of darkness were driven toward the center of the field.
The clouds parted and a blinding light illuminated Kel’s now abandoned shield. The intricately engraved “V” began to glow and pulse with power. When the light completely consumed the shield, it burned through the ground and left an angry gash in the ground. The crack continued to enlarge, grew hair and began to emit a horrible odor that according to Medium’s legal staff was similar to, but in no way an exact copy of, a description once written by Kel Campbell herself.
and the voice of James Earl Jones boomed down again:
“For I have parted the Red Sea, motherf*cker, think not I can part the lips of Mother Earth?”
And so the Vagina of Doom came to life and a great suction sound filled the stadium. Balloons, pendants, crimson solo cups and loose scarves were sucked into the massive cooter. Up in the stands, the people murmured “shut your eyes, Marion, don’t look at it, no matter what happens!” and held on to each other and their seats. The Grammar Games warriors ran toward the stone walls surrounding the field of battle, looking for any purchase they could find, for they, too, had seen Raiders of the Lost Ark.
And then it began. I can’t even tell you exactly what happened because I had to close my eyes, as well.
But the sounds were horrifying. The screams of the dark forces were blotted out by what sounded like the combination of a Hoover CH84005 industrial vacuum cleaner, a thousand Russian men eating borscht, a forty-five foot wide garbage disposal, and my kids eating jello through a straw. As the vulgarians met their fate, the screams turned conversational.
“Well at least I won’t die without having seen one…” “Why was I so afraid of giving…?” “hmm… smells like lilac…”
And then there was silence.
The red glow faded behind the crowd’s closed eyelids and the people looked down upon the center of the arena.
The earth had healed. The Colosseum floor was again just dirt. And the vulgarians were gone.
The crowd erupted with joy, filling the entire kingdom of Medium with their cries of hallelujah! The Grammar Game survivors all shook hands, and took their places in front of the now freed Emperor. Everyone waited for him to make a pronouncement about a new and united platform.
Bending over to whisper “okay, watch this” to one of his trusted henchmen, the Emperor strode to the platform and called out to the throngs,
“Oh wise and mighty people of Medium, have we not witnessed a spectacle of indescribable action, unprecedented valor, a good old family entertainment? Have we not seen wonders that shall be celebrated for many news cycles to come?
Before I explain the new and improved Medium, I bid thee all, show our brave competitors the love they deserve!”
The multitudes in the stadium, and the unwashed masses spilling into the field of battle clicked on their smart phones and triggered an outpouring of recommendations that had never been seen before. The sky turned green as the air filled with hearts.
The heroic survivors had to climb and struggle, lest they be crushed beneath the weight of the hearts showering down upon them. But survive they did.
When the air finally cleared, Jon Westenberg and Benjamin P. Hardy stood atop massive piles of hearts that measured four and five stories high. Henry Wismayer and Todd Hannula 🤓 also stood tall, atop very statistically significant piles of hearts that were one or two stories high.
The Emperor smiled and waved to the masses. He started to speak, but Henry looking up at Westenberg and Hardy, yelled out “what the f*ck?” And all the contestants began looking at their own personal statistics. The competitors started arguing, and the crowd booed.
The Emperor extended his arms toward the crowd, signaling for silence, and then called out, “Let the Games resume!”
As pandemonium broke out on the field of battle, the Emperor walked back to his seat, and whispered to his henchman “this is going to be great for our CPM!”
(to be continued. Who will take up the clarion call next? Jon, accept the challenge while you still have a chance to fight back!)
*From the French “a quarter of a hair on a fly’s ass.”
**Disclamier: I am not a Nazi in any way and do not approve or support any of the things the NSDAP or Adolf Hitler did. This is purely for educational purposes.
***Disclaimer 2: Even though I copied almost all of the text from the writer who copied the text from Kel Campbell, I do not in any way approve, condone or support sexist douchebags or plagiarism. This is purely for educational and entertainment purposes. First Amendment. First Amendment. First Amendment. A fair use is any copying of copyrighted material done for a limited and “transformative” purpose, such as to comment upon, criticize, or parody a copyrighted work. See more at: http://fairuse.stanford.edu/overview/fair-use/what-is-fair-use/#sthash.jtSYlMUv.dpuf
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