Round One: Empowered by the might of cocaine, Lindsay Lohan and Amy Winehouse speed blitz me due to my Thor shirt which has the words "bang", woosh", and "CRACK". They then proceed to ask me how much I charge for 5 grams. Knowing that the situation required action, my friend Rob seeks to distract Brittney and leads her into the local Walmart with promises of corn dogs and 5 dollar cotton candy. Things that will help her with her lip-sync muscles. After he exhausts as much money as he can, Brittney seeks to leave the Walmart, but then is stopped by the beeping of theft machines. Not knowing that it is Brittney's barcode tattoo that set off the alarm and that she hasn't stolen anything, but the childhood innocence of an entire generation of little girls, she is BFR’d by the police. Back on the main battlefield, Lindsay and Amy are tired of waiting and are about to vibrate their molecules and phase their hands into my body for cocaine, and my friends Jared and Rini are too distracted by the beautiful melodies Paris is playing xylophone style on her rib cage to assist me. Being too much of an indie kid snob to fall prey to such mainstream playing, my friend Kori seeks to approach Lindsay and tells her that Lady Gaga has a "big, lllleeeessbbiiian crush on her"! Lindsay quickly breaks the sound barrier to get to Gaga, which knocks Amy off of me. She tells Gaga.that "she will suck her d*ck" for some drugs and promises of acting work. Gaga refuses, and this causes Lindsay's anger to snap her psyche, which causes her to tap into the latent power of the Ginger Force: a power that was birthed but deemed too unstable by the Halls of Asgard. She effectively kills the rest of her cohorts, and seeks to go after us next. Seeking to weaken her, my Wiccan friend Rini uses what she learned in Doctor Doom's Summoning for Simpletons(Not Dummies. Copyright's a muthaf*cka) to summon forth ManBearPig in order to blast Lindsay with UV light, the Ginger Force's only weakness. Being part Indian, I am equipped with more than a Ph.D's knowledge in physics and computer engineering and I use this to augment Rini's abilities so we may both transport our weakened opponent to half way across the Universe. Alone and unstable, Lindsay Lohan 's ethereal power collapses upon itself like a neutron star, and releases a flash a light that can be seen throughout the cosmos...Only to disappear within the a**hole of Lindsay Lohan’s own irrelevance....
Round Two: Gary, being on par in martial skills with the likes of Batman and being just as bat sh*t insane, effectively handles and incapacitate three of my friends. Being a lesbian and a player of women's field hockey, my friend Rini is the only one with the strength to stand with Gary on nearly equal footing. Taking a hold of this opportunity for time, I approach Tom Cruise and alert him to how Gary is in fact an aged Luke Skywalker, who has come from the future to put a halt to the progenitor's of the Empire in the name of the Rebel Alliance. Believing my slight fib, Tom Cruise employs his powers of the Sith to strike Gary with lighting. Pete is caught as is cooked like a Sunday Goose. Gary simply coughs up a small pillow of smoke and proceeds to comment on how he hasn't been that “buzzed” since Rick James' record release party for "Street Songs". I sit Gary down and tell him how he's left the house without taking his meds again. He goes, "Oooooh" and proceeds to apologize. We have him BRF'd via a taxi cab that is driven by a gentleman of very questionable mustache taste and of very disagreeable body order. Reveling in his "victory", Tom Cruise seeks to celebrate by jumping upon the highest piece of furniture available, but unfortunately neglects the fact that he is 5'5''. He falls and breaks his neck. With a crotch-withering gaze, Marylyn Manson proclaims how we don’t have a chance against him for his soul is too twisted and he's too "on the edge". I take Mr. Marylyn on a tour around my old neighborhood of Flushing, Queens in NYC. It is then that Marylyn realizes that he not only nowhere near the "edge", but that he's barely even in any of the coastal areas that are within 500 miles of the "edge". It is then our fair lass embraces his destiny and takes a position as a worker drone at the local Hot Topic hive. Mel is too busy twisting his nipple"s and saying how he can take anything we can dish out for us to actually dish anything out. We essentially spend 3 hours playing CoD till Mel tires himself out. We pick him up, put him in his Spider-Man jammies, tuck him into bed, and move on out to round three.
Round Three: Unable to take chances in the face of the Tween Heart Throb Onslaught, I immediately make way to go after the strongest threat amongst them: Rhianna. Utilizing the sheer power of racial stereotypes, I focus in my South Asianess in order to create a perfectly done, medical report; showing that Chris Brown has so many critters clawing up in his loins, they might as well be sanctioned as a national nature reserve. Being a reformed emo kid, my friend Rob's mastery of photoshop is unrivaled upon this mortal plane. He places the girl that f*cked Kobe next to Chris Brown. Now seething with anger, Rhianna uses her beluga whale-esque forehead in order to summon the Kraken, which drags Chris Brown to a watery grave. Rhianna and the Kraken start talking. Rhianna digs the Kraken's "swag" and acknowledges that Chris was "well-equipped" but to quote her ,"...DAMN....". They head off to "rock against the motion of the ocean". Though not a true threat, the Jonas Bros. prove an obstacle for Jared and Rob for they do not want to be seen near the Jonas Bros in the presence of the handful of people, with v*ginas, who think they're actually cool. Using her super di duper Wiccan abilities, Rini summons forth one of the few forces within Creation that come off as just as annoying: Fred. Though Fred sought to torture the Jonases with tales of his childhood exploits, the fray evolves into a somber discussion about the sheer misery of pretending to be 13 when you're well into developing chest hair. They exchange facebooks and go off to plan out their gay orgy/murder/suicide pact. All that is left is Justine. Though only in her senior year of high school, Kori already feels her college feelings of bicuriosity stem up. If anything, she's ahead of the curve. Kori proceeds to make out with Justine, not knowing that he's a he. We sell millions of tickets and effectively become an international phenomenon. The U.S. Navy flies in the nation's foremost expert on jailbait: Chris Hansen. He offers us anything if we would, in the words of federal government, "just f*cking quit it". Knowing full well that Chris Hansen is a high level, cosmic abstract with the power to c*ck block the internet itself....We can't refuse.
Round Four: Off the bat, we are immediately blinded by Cam'ron's hot pink and periwinkle attire. T.I., armed to the teeth with now legal, automatic weapons, has us cornered. Lil Wayne is in the corner, high out of his mind enough to think that he is actually good at the guitar and Lloyd Banks is too busy fooling himself into thinking that he is still relevant in the hip hop scene. A few threats and witty remarks later, T.I. realizes that we're actually some pretty chill dudes. My friends and I decide that it would be better to win some phone numbers from some hot video vixens than to win the gauntlet. We all spend the night slurpin' that hennessy, having girls come spread them cheeks, and prank calling Bill O’Reilly.
Results: Not cleared, but totally cool with it.
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