Post by Vince McMahon on Aug 30, 2007 20:19:25 GMT -5
The camera focuses in on a large, painted cardboard box with a hole in the middle, and the backdrop of a blue sky and clouds in back. A sock pops up, smiling, his large eyes staring straight into the camera. Mr. Sock hops from side to side, parts of an uncovered arm sticking up occasionally. Mr. Sock leans into the camera, and stares for a few seconds.
Mr. Sock: “Hello Everyone! As you know, this Wednesday, I’m facing Armpit Hairs! What a wierdo! I mean, he’s a bunch of hairs from some fat italian guy! I am at least cool! I am . . . A SOCK PUPPET with an unusual saying, and you all know it. Yes. Muhaha. Muhaha indeed! Pronounced like it looks. One ‘mu,’ then a ‘ha,’ then another ‘ha.’ Yes. SO anyway. Hey buddy, would you mind getting your hand farther up my butt? I’m sagging a little here. Oh, that’s better!”
Mr. Sock has begun bouncing out of the box, and is headed for the door. It opens magically, as most who are blind think. However, the heavy wire, usually used in electrical wiring, is seen by all others. Out in the hall, the lights are off for some unknown reason. I’ll let you piece that one together yourself. Muhaha. Wait, I’m the narrator. I’ll let Mr. Sock talk now.
Mr. Sock: "Oh jeez it’s dark out here! Anyway, as I was saying before I was so rudely interrupted. You see, Arm Hairs, your problem is that you suck monkey breath. Disgusting, flatulence-like breath coming from teeth with fleas crawling through them. You can’t wrestle much either, so you may want to consider giving that up too. And while you’re at it, why don’t you go back to where you came from! I mean, some man somewhere has no arm hair, but is probably hairy everywhere else! WHY WOULD YOU DO THAT TO HIM! WHY?!”
Mr. Sock has been walking through the halls, and now appears sad, as he pities the original owner of the Arm Hairs. I myself wonder how many of them are actually, like, toe hairs that got jealous and snuck in. Gosh darnit, I really probably shouldn’t comment. I’m the narrator. I promise I’ll try not to talk anymore. So, Mr. Sock has now made his way to the parking lot, where there are many very expensive cars.
Mr. Sock: ”Do you see this car? Yes. Otherwise, you’re blind! Haha! I only have flipping buttons for eyes, and I can see! Hahahahahaha! Some lawyer for the NHBWO is going ’Crap! Why the heck did he have to say that?! Shut up, shut up shut up!’ Anyway, yeah, eyes and stuff. Oh right, car. Anyway, this is Goldberg’s car. What importance is it to me? None, so I’m going to drop it on one of these poor pedestrians below me.”
Mr. Sock bites the bumper, and in an incredible feat of strength, not to mention flight, lifts the car so that the hood is facing the ground. Mr. Sock, who is now floating in the air, walks to the edge of the parking garage. I guess it helps to have the world’s strongest man as your controller. Anyway, he waits, targeting a large man who is obviously a fat slob with no future. Some people refer to him as Ruben Studdard, the guy who, even though he beat that decently-talented guy who was possibly leading an "alternative lifestyle," Clay Aiken, has failed to put anything noteworthy out. Mr. Sock sends the car pummeling down, and when it hits Ruben in the head, his whole body explodes like a watermelon.
Mr. Sock: “Haha, You idiot! You goat dung! Sheep dung! Horse dung! You cow dung! You pig filth! You human dung! You dog dung! Fox dung! Cat dung! Chicken droppings! You donkey dung! You fox cu of all fox cubs! You fox tail! You fox beard! You skin of a fox cub! You idiot and halfwit! You buffoon! At least you aren't completely useless. You can be used as a bad example. Once again, for those of you at home, if that offends you, there’s already some lawyer going, Gahh, Shut up you stupid dung of all dungs!! Complain to him. Chances are if you are offended though, you need to lighten up and accept political incorrectness. Aren’t all the redecks happy right now? I’m sure you’re all laughing your stained tighty-whiteys off. And rightfully so, I mean, who would want to live in a home or apartment when you can have a house on wheels? You all know it’s true.”
The ever-politically incorrect Mr. Sock walks back into the building, where he takes an elevator down to the bottom floor. He walks out of the elevator, and outside. Mr. Sock walks down to the spot where Ruben Studdard had been scattered, and finds his head. Mr. Sock looks down, and Ruben still has a fixed smile glued to his face. Mr. Sock looks deep into the camera.
Mr. Sock: ”Muhaha. Muhaha indeed!”
Edit: It was a bit too inappropriate for me. I had to fix it up a bit.