The Lunatic Asylum
They are everywhere.
There is no escape. No matter what you do, they will find and confront you. Their numbers grow daily.
And on that fateful day, I made a brave assault on their best-fortified stronghold. The cinema.
Did I make it out alive and normal, or was I tortured and eventually converted into one of them?
Would the idiots be too much for me?
I had been sick with the flu for the past two days. Despite this, I was scheduled to spend 4:00 pm to 9:00 pm on Saturday watching a movie and eating dinner at a restaurant.
My attendance there was mandatory.
Was this because I was determined to go out and have fun?
Was it because I really wanted to see the movie?
Was it because I had a hot date for the film?
Here’s the real reason; I would be kicked out of the National Honor Society if I didn’t go.
The event was community service for a school club.
After much cursing, I got into a car to generously help the less fortunate by watching a film with rich, obnoxious bastards and gorging myself at a diner.
Approaching the large, gaudy walls of the cinema, plastered with poster advertisements for films and products, I took a long, deep breath.
Then, in a daring act of bravery, I entered.
Feeling dehydrated and weak, I stood in line to buy some bottled water. Situated in front of me were an enormous American family, a couple and their son, whose cumulative weight was at least 900 pounds. Waiting for the giant hippos to order their seven mega popcorn bags, eight boxes of candy, and dozen super-size Coke drinks, I observed the Dance Dance Revolution battle going on at the nearby arcades.
There was a line of several dozen Asians from school just itching to play next, all against one sophomore girl who dismantled her competition with 200 perfects in a row while simultaneously carrying on a conversation with her girl-friends about Ben Affleck’s sexy ass and Lindsay Lohan’s perky tits.
Yes, I was definitely inside a lunatic asylum.
Once the All-American fatties left, I approached the food stand. Eyeing me was a small, pudgy, brown-skinned woman. She looked Cambodian and bore a mean, disgruntled expression on her face.
KI: "I would like some bottled water."
IllegalAlien: "Haaa naww…. wat yooo wont?"
She stared at me as if I were a retard.
KI: "Bottled water. I want bottled water."
IllegalAlien: "Dis?"
She pointed to a Coca-Cola can.
KI: "No. I want BOTTLED WATER."
I pointed to it.
Her blank, confused face confronted mine for a moment. Then, she finally grabbed the correct beverage and charged me the astronomical price, $4.60 . As I handed over the money, she gave me a haughty look a queen would give her subject. Clearly, her generosity, kindness, and intelligence in dealing with me were commendable.
A sane person, once inside a loony bin, is viewed as crazy by the inmates.
I glanced at my watch and noted that the film was already starting.
No rush.
We were going to watch "Hitch", a movie where Will Smith plays a hip, cool, pimping black guy who teaches fat, retarded, cockless, middle-aged white losers how to bang hot, sexy bitches who wouldn’t give those men the time of day in real life if their lives depended on it.
Films like this make "Santa Claus Conquers the Martians" http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0058548/ seem like a masterpiece.
Fifteen minutes later, I still stood in the lobby, the only one from my school left. ‘I’ve probably missed part of the film, but it’s no big deal’, I thought to myself.
I finally entered the screening of the film. How much of the film had I missed exactly?
None.
The previews were still playing.
Suddenly, a deafening roar came from the screen.
"HAW ME BOOTTY LOOKIN????!!"
"ITTTT BBIIIIGGG."
"GAOOOOODDD…"
Queen Latifah is bellowing and burping to the audience about her big ass, and how she likes it that way. Later, she multiplies; there are more and more fatass, disfigured black women screaming in Ebonics about how they need their hair cut and how bad, evil men mistreat them, all in the confines of a single barber shop.
Instead of haircuts, they should get their heads cut. Off.
Better yet, the US military should nuke that entire shop, just to be on the safe side.
More ass jokes and men-hating follows, with the retards of my school squealing with hilarious pleasure each time, like pigs in mud on a hot summer day, only less intelligent.
The omniscient narrator informs us that the producers and directors of both "Barber Shop" films and "Bringing Down the House" were responsible for this gem.
I never would have guessed.
At this point, I shook my head, impressed that the idiot stronghold was even more annoying and stupid than I had ever imagined.
I judged too soon.
Next, I was treated to a Fandango commercial. http://maddox.xmission.com/thx_moron.html
Unlike the commercial Maddox described, this one featured several hand puppets with facial features drawn by an autistic four-year old with two broken crayons. The creatures spoke to each other in incomprehensible babble, with some of them wearing wigs and coconuts.
After feeling a powerful physical sensation of pain, I thanked God for ending the commercial just as I was about to rip my eyes out of their sockets.
The movie finally started, and about twenty or thirty minutes later, I left.
Not only was the movie as awful as expected, but LO sat two seats to my right.
LO is Chinese and the most obvious, unequivocally homosexual person I have ever met. I have absolutely nothing against gays, but this guy is just annoying.
Imagine the most flamboyant, feminine, high-pitched screeching voiced gay you have ever seen, in real life or film, and then multiply that by twenty.
The result would be far more butch than LO.
I have yet to meet any girl, straight, lesbian, or bi, who is more feminine than him.
He made comments during the movie all the time, like this;
"Oh MMYYYYYY GOD…… That guy is SUUCHHHH a LOOZER!!"
"Awwww….. that is SOOOO cayute!!"
"WhaTTT Aaaaaaa NERD!"
I could even hear pants of desire when Will Smith appeared on camera.
More disturbing than this is his laugh. His laugh is an ultra high-pitched half scream that would make a fat opera singer envious. He laughed constantly, whether anything was funny or not. Several times, he had to be calmed down by those sitting around him. The mad cackles of "Aaaaaa HA HA HA!!!!" were as constant as the stupid jokes making fun of bumbling male morons.
However, LO wasn’t even the most annoying spectator in that screening. There was a seventy-year old woman a seat in front of me constantly shaking her body back and forth as if she was humping someone. Believe me, this becomes very disturbing when one sits a foot behind her and attempts to focus one’s vision on a screen. At first, I thought it was Parkinson’s disease, and felt deeply sorry for her. However, she would always stop shaking after a certain period of time. After a while, I noticed the shaking coincided with the music and sound effects of "Hitch".
Dear God, end it now.
Walking out of the screening of "Hitch" to watch a different film, I suddenly realized I’d seen practically everything featured in the theatre.
"Million Dollar Baby"? Yes
"Ong-Bak"? I bought the DVD two years ago. It opened yesterday in theatres.
"Assault on Precinct…."? Yes.
"Hide and Seek"? Unfortunately…. yes.
"Sideways"? Yes
"Phantom of the Opera"? Yes.
The only two films I hadn’t watched were "Meet the Fockers" and "Boogeyman". I’ll have my left ball cut off before I watch another Ben Stiller movie, let alone one about fuckers, so I decided to watch "Boogeyman".
I covertly entered a screening that had started thirty minutes ago.
I stayed for about twenty minutes, waiting for something frightening and bloody to happen. What did I get?
1. Boring flashbacks about the main character’s (we’ll call him Goldilocks) father telling him a scary ghost story.
2. Goldilocks looking around a giant house with wide, dilated pupils and flared nostrils. Piano music is playing in the background.
3. Pseudo-pedophilic discussions between Goldilocks and a girl about how cute and sexy they both were as children.
Just as I was about to leave, something scary was about to happen. Goldilocks got locked inside a closet and ominous music started to play. His body turned around and around like a merry-go-round, his eyes resembling those of a wild, caged, desperate animal.
Alas, after endlessly bumping his head into shit like Courtney Love on crack, the main character easily got out.
The door wasn’t even locked.
Goldy was simply suffering from PMS this whole time.
Horrifying.
At this disturbing development, a bunch of girls several seats behind of me screamed so loudly that my ears started to ooze blood. I was more frightened than I had been at anything in the movie.
Leaving that screening, I felt dejected and hopeless. Suddenly, I remembered something; there was a second screening of "Boogeyman" somewhere in the movie theatre, one that started long ago and was almost over.
Maybe something frightening happens near the end!
I found the screening, and belatedly entered.
For the first time since entering the theatre, I felt genuine anticipation and excitement, like an eight-year old boy opening his presents on Christmas Day.
After watching the last twenty minutes of the movie, I felt like a mugged man that had all his money stolen.
Imagine how bad I would have felt if I had paid for that film.
Walking out of the hall in a foul mood, I heard a high-pitched, whiny voice behind me. Oh God, did LO, the gay Asian, somehow follow me here???
I turned around, and witnessed a monstrosity that would cause the Boogeyman to wet his pants in horror.
I saw a 250 pound fifteen year old boy with flushed red cheeks, oily hair that had never touched shampoo, and a 49ers shirt that hadn’t been washed since the last time San Francisco won a championship. The shirt nicely framed his naked belly button, a navel with what looked like food inside of it.
But the worst part was his breasts.
I’ve seen fatasses with tits before, but never this large. His were a C-cup at LEAST; large, triangular sacks of lard plopping up and down, his tight T-shirt functioning like a bra. Suddenly, Fatass started talking,
"Oh MY GOOODDDD!!! Frank, that was the scariest movie EVER…..I give it TWO THUMBS UP!!!!"
The self-anointed critic demonstrated this with his hands, his tits jiggling like Jello in the process.
I also wanted to raise some fingers at him.
Not my thumbs.
Leaving the scene before I gave him something to truly be scared about, I decided to watch the last twenty minutes of "Hitch".
After doing so, I had a finer appreciation of the type of torture Vietnam veterans suffered at the hands of the VietCong.
Thinking about this for a second, I realized I was exaggerating too much.
The veterans were damn lucky "Hitch" wasn’t made back then, or else the Vietnam War Memorial in DC would be twice as long.
Once outside, I breathed a huge sigh of relief. Somehow, through all the pain, I made it.
The idiots hadn’t succeeded.
Then, I saw Mr. RD, one of our chaperones, waddling about as usual.
Maybe not.
RD has the largest ass I have ever seen in my life; I’m 6’ 4" and have a giant head, but my cranium is more than twice as small as a single RD butt-cheek. The material that was supposed to form his brain was accidentally used to build up his ass. I’m thinking of devoting an entire rant to this character, so that explanation will have to suffice for now.
All of a sudden, I saw an amazing sight; my Statistics teacher was walking with a friend to the box office. She was not among the chaperones for our trip, she was just there to have a good time. I exchanged pleasantries with her and asked her what film she was about to watch. She replied, "Phantom of the Opera", and I informed her that it is an excellent film. Nodding her head, she inquired what movie I watched.
"Hitch"
"Did you like it???"
"HilarrrRRRIOUSSSS!!!!"
Mr. RD has just waddled his ass over there, interrupted me, and spit all over himself while displaying his love of the film.
When he left, I answered my teacher;
"No….."Hitch" is the worse movie ever made. Avoid it like the plague!"
After taking my leave of her, I received welcome news; apparently, there were too many people who wanted to eat at the restaurant, so that part of the day’s activities have been canceled. Three hours of community service would be enough for the first semester.
Rescued POWs have been less ecstatic than I was then.
After calling my parents, I still had half an hour left to burn before my mother arrived.
I decided to go back into the movie theatre. I told the employee that I wished to play arcade games and that I have already seen a movie, producing my ticket stub.
He honestly didn’t care.
Once inside among the giant quarter-guzzling machines, I saw two twelve year olds, with hoods, gold chains, and sagging pants acting like thugs. This thug behaviour consisted of roaming around the arcades without playing anything, all while walking "gangsta’ style"; dipping their knees and butts really low to the ground every time they took a step, reminding me of a cripple trying to avoid shitting in his pants as he rushes to the bathroom.
They also talked like "thuggaz"; they kept on saying "fucker" and "shithead" to each other.
Finally, I found the arcade game I was looking for; Tekken 5.
Although I consider myself one of the world’s foremost experts in fighting games, Tekken is my weak spot.
Virtua Fighter? One quarter at the arcade buys me an hour of play.
Mortal Kombat? I can beat the game with any fighter easily.
Street Fighter? I can beat the game with any fighter from start to finish without losing a single
round.
Killer Instinct? I’m the greatest KI gamer to ever live.
Tekken? I once spent three quarters playing Tekken Tag Tournament for about ten minutes five whole years ago. I only won against the first fighter.
Now, the first thing to test with any fighting game is whether button mashing works, such as in "Marvel vs. Capcom". Button mashing consists of repeatedly slamming one’s hand into the controls over and over with as much force as possible. It doesn’t matter which buttons are hit, just as long as you hit most of them and do so quickly and painfully. As I started to do this, I created an incredible racket. The two thugs looked at me with open eyes, and the employee eyed me nervously, thinking I might be trying to break the machine.
Apparently, button mashing doesn’t work. I lost against the second fighter again. I also couldn’t bend the tips of my fingers anymore.
In my second go around, I chose a fighter whose special moves were listed down on the machine, and a few of which were easy to execute.
I won the first fight.
Then, unexpectedly, the second.
Then, the third.
And fourth.
At this point, I was on a roll; I started playing this game ten minutes ago, and I was already deeper than most players will ever be. By then, the two little gangsters had left, and I was alone.
Not for long.
Suddenly, I was surrounded by ten 18-22 year olds who had just finished shooting a rap video.
Eight of these guys were Korean or Vietnamese gangsters; large gold chains, gold earrings on several of them, orange-blond spiked hair, black jeans, large, white, baggy T-shirts. They confronted me with angry, blank stares.
The other two looked like members of the And1 MixTape tour; African-Americans over six feet tall, LeBron/TMac/Iverson sneakers, sagging basketball shorts, Fubu jerseys, Jumping Man headbands, diamond earrings, etc.
They’re all surrounding me. Basketball dude #1 took some objects out of his pocket. One of these was four quarters to play Tekken 5.
The other was a card.
First, he inserted the money.
Then, he inserted the card into a slot on the Tekken 5 arcade machine I hadn’t even noticed before.
Suddenly, I saw a strange character materialize on his side of the screen, one that you can’t normally choose.
As if that weren’t bad enough, the character had a special weapon and the following words written over him;
Wins: 75 Losses: 1
Points: 4592
Weapon: Super Sword
I asked him, "Do you have this game at home?"
"Yeah…"
Holy fucking shit….. I am lost. Not only did I have a mere ten minutes of experience to this guy’s months or years, but he also had some super-character.
We started fighting, and my only goal was not to embarrass myself. As the battle progressed, he repeatedly attacked me with special moves. As my character lay on the ground, I notice he didn’t get up, even after several seconds.
Surprised that I was killed even quicker than first imagined, I checked the health bars of both characters. My fighter still had some left, but he didn’t get up.
I then pressed several buttons.
Not only did my character rise, but he knocked my opponent down with a special move in the process, who was getting closer and closer to my character the whole time.
"It’s HIS STRATEGY!!!! HE DID THAT TO LURE YOU AND THEN ATTACK YOU!!!" one of the Korean gangsters screamed.
I just barely managed to not burst out laughing.
Somehow, I won the first round.
The second round, I suddenly forgot all the special moves of my character. I spent part of the round looking down near my controls, away from the screen, figuring them out. I couldn’t see what was going on.
I won the second round.
At this point, I was surprised as fuck. So too was my opponent. I needed only one more round to win!
He won the third round. I understood then. He was just getting warmed up. Now, I was in for it. RIP KIMaster.
Then, I won the fourth round.
Basketball dude #1 was razzed by all his companions, and went back into the gangsta’ crowd in disappointment. Next up was Asian gangster, who had another card ready.
Wins: 58 Losses: 0
Points: 5389
Another hidden character.
Now, up until now, I had been scoring 30% of my damage through throws and submissions. For some reason, I am always able to endlessly throw my opponent in any fighting game, and this was no exception. However, against the Asian gangster, I was unable to do so, as he used a certain sequence to push my character off.
‘Now’, I thought to myself, ‘I am certainly doomed.’
I beat him all three rounds easily, one round without even being hit. The gangsters oohed and aahhhed at some of my marvelous, pretty combinations, which took away half the opponent’s health. They looked upon me as a true master.
Meanwhile, I was trying to figure out the difference between the two kick buttons and how to block an enemy attack.
The next guy came up, new card in hand.
I beat him.
Then, I beat the next guy.
And the next guy.
Pretty soon, I had beaten all ten challengers. The original basketball dude stepped up to challenge me again.
Then, I observed a new face in the crowd. In some ways, it was welcome.
It wasn’t a gangster’s face. It wasn’t in the 18-22 age range. It was a woman’s face. The face looked extremely pissed off.
That face belonged to my mother. I was supposed to meet her twenty minutes ago outside.
Fortunately, she had a good idea where to find me.
"Sorry guys, have to go." as I left to drive home and receive the bitching I so richly deserved.
The gangsters seemed extremely relieved.
I too was relieved. I had survived the idiot onslaught.
There is no escape. No matter what you do, they will find and confront you. Their numbers grow daily.
And on that fateful day, I made a brave assault on their best-fortified stronghold. The cinema.
Did I make it out alive and normal, or was I tortured and eventually converted into one of them?
Would the idiots be too much for me?
I had been sick with the flu for the past two days. Despite this, I was scheduled to spend 4:00 pm to 9:00 pm on Saturday watching a movie and eating dinner at a restaurant.
My attendance there was mandatory.
Was this because I was determined to go out and have fun?
Was it because I really wanted to see the movie?
Was it because I had a hot date for the film?
Here’s the real reason; I would be kicked out of the National Honor Society if I didn’t go.
The event was community service for a school club.
After much cursing, I got into a car to generously help the less fortunate by watching a film with rich, obnoxious bastards and gorging myself at a diner.
Approaching the large, gaudy walls of the cinema, plastered with poster advertisements for films and products, I took a long, deep breath.
Then, in a daring act of bravery, I entered.
Feeling dehydrated and weak, I stood in line to buy some bottled water. Situated in front of me were an enormous American family, a couple and their son, whose cumulative weight was at least 900 pounds. Waiting for the giant hippos to order their seven mega popcorn bags, eight boxes of candy, and dozen super-size Coke drinks, I observed the Dance Dance Revolution battle going on at the nearby arcades.
There was a line of several dozen Asians from school just itching to play next, all against one sophomore girl who dismantled her competition with 200 perfects in a row while simultaneously carrying on a conversation with her girl-friends about Ben Affleck’s sexy ass and Lindsay Lohan’s perky tits.
Yes, I was definitely inside a lunatic asylum.
Once the All-American fatties left, I approached the food stand. Eyeing me was a small, pudgy, brown-skinned woman. She looked Cambodian and bore a mean, disgruntled expression on her face.
KI: "I would like some bottled water."
IllegalAlien: "Haaa naww…. wat yooo wont?"
She stared at me as if I were a retard.
KI: "Bottled water. I want bottled water."
IllegalAlien: "Dis?"
She pointed to a Coca-Cola can.
KI: "No. I want BOTTLED WATER."
I pointed to it.
Her blank, confused face confronted mine for a moment. Then, she finally grabbed the correct beverage and charged me the astronomical price, $4.60 . As I handed over the money, she gave me a haughty look a queen would give her subject. Clearly, her generosity, kindness, and intelligence in dealing with me were commendable.
A sane person, once inside a loony bin, is viewed as crazy by the inmates.
I glanced at my watch and noted that the film was already starting.
No rush.
We were going to watch "Hitch", a movie where Will Smith plays a hip, cool, pimping black guy who teaches fat, retarded, cockless, middle-aged white losers how to bang hot, sexy bitches who wouldn’t give those men the time of day in real life if their lives depended on it.
Films like this make "Santa Claus Conquers the Martians" http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0058548/ seem like a masterpiece.
Fifteen minutes later, I still stood in the lobby, the only one from my school left. ‘I’ve probably missed part of the film, but it’s no big deal’, I thought to myself.
I finally entered the screening of the film. How much of the film had I missed exactly?
None.
The previews were still playing.
Suddenly, a deafening roar came from the screen.
"HAW ME BOOTTY LOOKIN????!!"
"ITTTT BBIIIIGGG."
"GAOOOOODDD…"
Queen Latifah is bellowing and burping to the audience about her big ass, and how she likes it that way. Later, she multiplies; there are more and more fatass, disfigured black women screaming in Ebonics about how they need their hair cut and how bad, evil men mistreat them, all in the confines of a single barber shop.
Instead of haircuts, they should get their heads cut. Off.
Better yet, the US military should nuke that entire shop, just to be on the safe side.
More ass jokes and men-hating follows, with the retards of my school squealing with hilarious pleasure each time, like pigs in mud on a hot summer day, only less intelligent.
The omniscient narrator informs us that the producers and directors of both "Barber Shop" films and "Bringing Down the House" were responsible for this gem.
I never would have guessed.
At this point, I shook my head, impressed that the idiot stronghold was even more annoying and stupid than I had ever imagined.
I judged too soon.
Next, I was treated to a Fandango commercial. http://maddox.xmission.com/thx_moron.html
Unlike the commercial Maddox described, this one featured several hand puppets with facial features drawn by an autistic four-year old with two broken crayons. The creatures spoke to each other in incomprehensible babble, with some of them wearing wigs and coconuts.
After feeling a powerful physical sensation of pain, I thanked God for ending the commercial just as I was about to rip my eyes out of their sockets.
The movie finally started, and about twenty or thirty minutes later, I left.
Not only was the movie as awful as expected, but LO sat two seats to my right.
LO is Chinese and the most obvious, unequivocally homosexual person I have ever met. I have absolutely nothing against gays, but this guy is just annoying.
Imagine the most flamboyant, feminine, high-pitched screeching voiced gay you have ever seen, in real life or film, and then multiply that by twenty.
The result would be far more butch than LO.
I have yet to meet any girl, straight, lesbian, or bi, who is more feminine than him.
He made comments during the movie all the time, like this;
"Oh MMYYYYYY GOD…… That guy is SUUCHHHH a LOOZER!!"
"Awwww….. that is SOOOO cayute!!"
"WhaTTT Aaaaaaa NERD!"
I could even hear pants of desire when Will Smith appeared on camera.
More disturbing than this is his laugh. His laugh is an ultra high-pitched half scream that would make a fat opera singer envious. He laughed constantly, whether anything was funny or not. Several times, he had to be calmed down by those sitting around him. The mad cackles of "Aaaaaa HA HA HA!!!!" were as constant as the stupid jokes making fun of bumbling male morons.
However, LO wasn’t even the most annoying spectator in that screening. There was a seventy-year old woman a seat in front of me constantly shaking her body back and forth as if she was humping someone. Believe me, this becomes very disturbing when one sits a foot behind her and attempts to focus one’s vision on a screen. At first, I thought it was Parkinson’s disease, and felt deeply sorry for her. However, she would always stop shaking after a certain period of time. After a while, I noticed the shaking coincided with the music and sound effects of "Hitch".
Dear God, end it now.
Walking out of the screening of "Hitch" to watch a different film, I suddenly realized I’d seen practically everything featured in the theatre.
"Million Dollar Baby"? Yes
"Ong-Bak"? I bought the DVD two years ago. It opened yesterday in theatres.
"Assault on Precinct…."? Yes.
"Hide and Seek"? Unfortunately…. yes.
"Sideways"? Yes
"Phantom of the Opera"? Yes.
The only two films I hadn’t watched were "Meet the Fockers" and "Boogeyman". I’ll have my left ball cut off before I watch another Ben Stiller movie, let alone one about fuckers, so I decided to watch "Boogeyman".
I covertly entered a screening that had started thirty minutes ago.
I stayed for about twenty minutes, waiting for something frightening and bloody to happen. What did I get?
1. Boring flashbacks about the main character’s (we’ll call him Goldilocks) father telling him a scary ghost story.
2. Goldilocks looking around a giant house with wide, dilated pupils and flared nostrils. Piano music is playing in the background.
3. Pseudo-pedophilic discussions between Goldilocks and a girl about how cute and sexy they both were as children.
Just as I was about to leave, something scary was about to happen. Goldilocks got locked inside a closet and ominous music started to play. His body turned around and around like a merry-go-round, his eyes resembling those of a wild, caged, desperate animal.
Alas, after endlessly bumping his head into shit like Courtney Love on crack, the main character easily got out.
The door wasn’t even locked.
Goldy was simply suffering from PMS this whole time.
Horrifying.
At this disturbing development, a bunch of girls several seats behind of me screamed so loudly that my ears started to ooze blood. I was more frightened than I had been at anything in the movie.
Leaving that screening, I felt dejected and hopeless. Suddenly, I remembered something; there was a second screening of "Boogeyman" somewhere in the movie theatre, one that started long ago and was almost over.
Maybe something frightening happens near the end!
I found the screening, and belatedly entered.
For the first time since entering the theatre, I felt genuine anticipation and excitement, like an eight-year old boy opening his presents on Christmas Day.
After watching the last twenty minutes of the movie, I felt like a mugged man that had all his money stolen.
Imagine how bad I would have felt if I had paid for that film.
Walking out of the hall in a foul mood, I heard a high-pitched, whiny voice behind me. Oh God, did LO, the gay Asian, somehow follow me here???
I turned around, and witnessed a monstrosity that would cause the Boogeyman to wet his pants in horror.
I saw a 250 pound fifteen year old boy with flushed red cheeks, oily hair that had never touched shampoo, and a 49ers shirt that hadn’t been washed since the last time San Francisco won a championship. The shirt nicely framed his naked belly button, a navel with what looked like food inside of it.
But the worst part was his breasts.
I’ve seen fatasses with tits before, but never this large. His were a C-cup at LEAST; large, triangular sacks of lard plopping up and down, his tight T-shirt functioning like a bra. Suddenly, Fatass started talking,
"Oh MY GOOODDDD!!! Frank, that was the scariest movie EVER…..I give it TWO THUMBS UP!!!!"
The self-anointed critic demonstrated this with his hands, his tits jiggling like Jello in the process.
I also wanted to raise some fingers at him.
Not my thumbs.
Leaving the scene before I gave him something to truly be scared about, I decided to watch the last twenty minutes of "Hitch".
After doing so, I had a finer appreciation of the type of torture Vietnam veterans suffered at the hands of the VietCong.
Thinking about this for a second, I realized I was exaggerating too much.
The veterans were damn lucky "Hitch" wasn’t made back then, or else the Vietnam War Memorial in DC would be twice as long.
Once outside, I breathed a huge sigh of relief. Somehow, through all the pain, I made it.
The idiots hadn’t succeeded.
Then, I saw Mr. RD, one of our chaperones, waddling about as usual.
Maybe not.
RD has the largest ass I have ever seen in my life; I’m 6’ 4" and have a giant head, but my cranium is more than twice as small as a single RD butt-cheek. The material that was supposed to form his brain was accidentally used to build up his ass. I’m thinking of devoting an entire rant to this character, so that explanation will have to suffice for now.
All of a sudden, I saw an amazing sight; my Statistics teacher was walking with a friend to the box office. She was not among the chaperones for our trip, she was just there to have a good time. I exchanged pleasantries with her and asked her what film she was about to watch. She replied, "Phantom of the Opera", and I informed her that it is an excellent film. Nodding her head, she inquired what movie I watched.
"Hitch"
"Did you like it???"
"HilarrrRRRIOUSSSS!!!!"
Mr. RD has just waddled his ass over there, interrupted me, and spit all over himself while displaying his love of the film.
When he left, I answered my teacher;
"No….."Hitch" is the worse movie ever made. Avoid it like the plague!"
After taking my leave of her, I received welcome news; apparently, there were too many people who wanted to eat at the restaurant, so that part of the day’s activities have been canceled. Three hours of community service would be enough for the first semester.
Rescued POWs have been less ecstatic than I was then.
After calling my parents, I still had half an hour left to burn before my mother arrived.
I decided to go back into the movie theatre. I told the employee that I wished to play arcade games and that I have already seen a movie, producing my ticket stub.
He honestly didn’t care.
Once inside among the giant quarter-guzzling machines, I saw two twelve year olds, with hoods, gold chains, and sagging pants acting like thugs. This thug behaviour consisted of roaming around the arcades without playing anything, all while walking "gangsta’ style"; dipping their knees and butts really low to the ground every time they took a step, reminding me of a cripple trying to avoid shitting in his pants as he rushes to the bathroom.
They also talked like "thuggaz"; they kept on saying "fucker" and "shithead" to each other.
Finally, I found the arcade game I was looking for; Tekken 5.
Although I consider myself one of the world’s foremost experts in fighting games, Tekken is my weak spot.
Virtua Fighter? One quarter at the arcade buys me an hour of play.
Mortal Kombat? I can beat the game with any fighter easily.
Street Fighter? I can beat the game with any fighter from start to finish without losing a single
round.
Killer Instinct? I’m the greatest KI gamer to ever live.
Tekken? I once spent three quarters playing Tekken Tag Tournament for about ten minutes five whole years ago. I only won against the first fighter.
Now, the first thing to test with any fighting game is whether button mashing works, such as in "Marvel vs. Capcom". Button mashing consists of repeatedly slamming one’s hand into the controls over and over with as much force as possible. It doesn’t matter which buttons are hit, just as long as you hit most of them and do so quickly and painfully. As I started to do this, I created an incredible racket. The two thugs looked at me with open eyes, and the employee eyed me nervously, thinking I might be trying to break the machine.
Apparently, button mashing doesn’t work. I lost against the second fighter again. I also couldn’t bend the tips of my fingers anymore.
In my second go around, I chose a fighter whose special moves were listed down on the machine, and a few of which were easy to execute.
I won the first fight.
Then, unexpectedly, the second.
Then, the third.
And fourth.
At this point, I was on a roll; I started playing this game ten minutes ago, and I was already deeper than most players will ever be. By then, the two little gangsters had left, and I was alone.
Not for long.
Suddenly, I was surrounded by ten 18-22 year olds who had just finished shooting a rap video.
Eight of these guys were Korean or Vietnamese gangsters; large gold chains, gold earrings on several of them, orange-blond spiked hair, black jeans, large, white, baggy T-shirts. They confronted me with angry, blank stares.
The other two looked like members of the And1 MixTape tour; African-Americans over six feet tall, LeBron/TMac/Iverson sneakers, sagging basketball shorts, Fubu jerseys, Jumping Man headbands, diamond earrings, etc.
They’re all surrounding me. Basketball dude #1 took some objects out of his pocket. One of these was four quarters to play Tekken 5.
The other was a card.
First, he inserted the money.
Then, he inserted the card into a slot on the Tekken 5 arcade machine I hadn’t even noticed before.
Suddenly, I saw a strange character materialize on his side of the screen, one that you can’t normally choose.
As if that weren’t bad enough, the character had a special weapon and the following words written over him;
Wins: 75 Losses: 1
Points: 4592
Weapon: Super Sword
I asked him, "Do you have this game at home?"
"Yeah…"
Holy fucking shit….. I am lost. Not only did I have a mere ten minutes of experience to this guy’s months or years, but he also had some super-character.
We started fighting, and my only goal was not to embarrass myself. As the battle progressed, he repeatedly attacked me with special moves. As my character lay on the ground, I notice he didn’t get up, even after several seconds.
Surprised that I was killed even quicker than first imagined, I checked the health bars of both characters. My fighter still had some left, but he didn’t get up.
I then pressed several buttons.
Not only did my character rise, but he knocked my opponent down with a special move in the process, who was getting closer and closer to my character the whole time.
"It’s HIS STRATEGY!!!! HE DID THAT TO LURE YOU AND THEN ATTACK YOU!!!" one of the Korean gangsters screamed.
I just barely managed to not burst out laughing.
Somehow, I won the first round.
The second round, I suddenly forgot all the special moves of my character. I spent part of the round looking down near my controls, away from the screen, figuring them out. I couldn’t see what was going on.
I won the second round.
At this point, I was surprised as fuck. So too was my opponent. I needed only one more round to win!
He won the third round. I understood then. He was just getting warmed up. Now, I was in for it. RIP KIMaster.
Then, I won the fourth round.
Basketball dude #1 was razzed by all his companions, and went back into the gangsta’ crowd in disappointment. Next up was Asian gangster, who had another card ready.
Wins: 58 Losses: 0
Points: 5389
Another hidden character.
Now, up until now, I had been scoring 30% of my damage through throws and submissions. For some reason, I am always able to endlessly throw my opponent in any fighting game, and this was no exception. However, against the Asian gangster, I was unable to do so, as he used a certain sequence to push my character off.
‘Now’, I thought to myself, ‘I am certainly doomed.’
I beat him all three rounds easily, one round without even being hit. The gangsters oohed and aahhhed at some of my marvelous, pretty combinations, which took away half the opponent’s health. They looked upon me as a true master.
Meanwhile, I was trying to figure out the difference between the two kick buttons and how to block an enemy attack.
The next guy came up, new card in hand.
I beat him.
Then, I beat the next guy.
And the next guy.
Pretty soon, I had beaten all ten challengers. The original basketball dude stepped up to challenge me again.
Then, I observed a new face in the crowd. In some ways, it was welcome.
It wasn’t a gangster’s face. It wasn’t in the 18-22 age range. It was a woman’s face. The face looked extremely pissed off.
That face belonged to my mother. I was supposed to meet her twenty minutes ago outside.
Fortunately, she had a good idea where to find me.
"Sorry guys, have to go." as I left to drive home and receive the bitching I so richly deserved.
The gangsters seemed extremely relieved.
I too was relieved. I had survived the idiot onslaught.
posted by KIMaster at
1:44 PM
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