NOTE:This story was deleted from Trollpasta for the following reasons - "Purged"
It aint nuthin but been mo' than less than a year now eva afta since OPENhEXAGON.TXT was deleted by LOLSKELETONS, n' da fuzz STILL don't give a fuck whoz bustin it wit Elmo or why Da Happenin happened. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! Da first suicides looked as though tha reader did a gangbangin' finger-lickin' dirty-ass shitty fuckin thang at it yo, but overtime tha idiots--or at least a shitload of tha fuccbois back all up in tha station THINKS itz just idiots--have gotten mo' elaborate; done been startin ta be lookin like tha readaz just dropped dead or there was disappearances. ONE thang is curtain, all tha suckas seem ta each gotz a funky-ass burned/destroyed computa wit some data from a game called "Superhexagon.exe".
None of our asses have found any connections or clues dat could help our asses learn why all of dis is happening, probably cuz there is none...Well, no, thatz true, there was one dude whoz ass may have uncovered mo' bout tha suicidez of tha readaz than our phat asses done did.
Da muthafuckaz name was Hugh Jashole, a straight-up phat nizzle, mainly cuz da thug was always crewed up wit his sister, Mary Sue, whoz ass is tha freshest fuckin Hottie eva playa! They was assigned ta rewind tha "Superhexagon.exe", I should know cuz I was they pimp all up in tha time.
They both took a dirt nap of swag-loss when shrek failed ta save dem wit tha juice of tha weedragonballsXYZ Kai Supa Turbo Championshiznit edizzle series craft number #666 version.
Sometimes I wonder if I should have helped his muthafuckin ass....Maybe not cuz as long as they gettin' paid I dun giva shiet...Anyways, tha fuckboys have found Hughz diary when we "investigated" his body, mainly tha back door. Shiiit, dis aint no joke. dat schmoooove muthafucka aint been up in his home fo' years. Da diary recorded all of what tha fuck Hugh found up in his thugged-out lil' prostitution, mah god, did da thug write wit semen as ink alot, especially afta tha Melon Lord took his ass ta git baked tha fuck into a cold-ass lil cookie by da perpl dude, n' alot of what tha fuck da thug freestyled down seems ta cconnect alot bout what tha fuck be happenin wit these suidides...At least, I hope tha fucker gots me a thugged-out damn taco.. yo. Herez what tha fuck tha fuck Hugh Jashole wrote...
7:77 pam September 1t5h, 2110
Bangin' Bizzledizzle ta me biaaatch! I gots dis girly diary from mah sisterz ass. Dunno what tha fuck dat shiznit was bustin up there, lol. Either way, dis certainly aint NEVER gonna come up in handy. Oh, I forgot ta rap , namez Hugh Jashole, I be a real nizzle...Fuck dat shit, I just holla'd that, biatch? Fuckin straight-up, biatch? Aniwae Im nut rly gud t ths yo. Hopefully I be bout ta git mo' real as I write up in dis fo' realz. Anyways, why don't you take a seat over there n' I be bout ta let you know if anythang else happens.
22:22 BCE Octogon 88th, 4816
Fuck dat shit, pretty uninterestin way ta start off a thugged-out dramatic cappin' case. Our boss holla'd at our asses there be a a stiffy up in his baggy-ass pants n' da thug wants our asses ta check it out. Fuck dat shit, been a while since me n' Mary tackled a funky-ass breifcase, dis might be boring. We up in tha truck right now n'
we're headin fo' CWCville.
Fuck dat shit, Whatever hapened up in dis doggy den I was expecting. Da sucka be lookin like suttin' ripped his fuckin lil' dick open n' tried ta yank suttin' up from inside. Ya Mom shoulda told ya, I peeped alot of messed up ways ta give a thug a handjob yo, but dis is rather strange, I don't straight-up be thinkin any aiiight type would do all dis bullshit.
Zalgo, whoz ass was present all up in tha Crimea scene holla'd at our asses dat tha manchild made his thugged-out lil' potato salad over a period of 3 DAYS!!1!!11!!11!!1! n' his thugged-out lil' muthafathas just discovered da thug was gay n' called our asses up in dis morning. Whatz rly weird bout dis is dat there be a a funky-ass badly made Sonic OC pendant on his chest thatz shaped like a "Sonichu".
My fuckin bangin' sister, Mary Sue, holla'd at mah crazy ass she found a impossible clue ta the. Right back up in yo muthafuckin ass. Biatch flossed our asses dat tha sucka needed ta construct additionizzle pylons. Both me n' Jizzy Ventura gotz a cold-ass lil conthiracy speory ta this: Either tha killa was Clyde, or Christian Weston Chanla gots mad again n' again n' again but fucked up his camera so wack it retaliated, either way we busted it ta tha station fo' research.
Sonic '06 pm
Alright, tha muthafuckas from tha lab have they report.
They holla'd at our asses dat tha compooterz wrecked from inside AND inside, n' what tha fuck I mean by dat is dat every last muthafuckin thang dat was on dis dudez computa gots rekt. Da only thang dat seems ta STILL be up in tha computa is some data from a cold-ass lil computa game called "hl2.exe".
11:11 pm January 111,111,111,111,111,111,111,111th, 2,011,111,111,111,111,111,111,111,111,111,111,111,111,111
A couple mo' mums these last few weeks, all tha same cappin' method; destroyed painis. Da mo' recent handjobs is lookin less "messy", as if tha lil mutha fucker is bein mo' careful wit tearin up tha the inner tearin up from inside these victim's. There is also sharpie markers on these suckas' laugh boxes dat seem ta be up in numerical order; "9,999", "4", "0", "17" n' "666".
Da killa seems ta be keepin count of all tha playas he cappin'.
Had sex wit Mary Sue, both me n' TheDudeWhoLicksMustard is domestormin wit what’s tha fuck else ta write, n' if it should be freestyled up in blood, semen, hyperrealstic blood, hyper realstic semen, or smegma. It’s straight-up not strange, tha fact dat robots is fuckin phat fo' realz. Anyway, whenever there be a a cappin' we find dat there’s some oldschool data from tha same game.
"SuperOctagon.exe", That name remindz me of all tha times me n' Mary Sue played a shitload of our oldschool vizzle games. I remember when we used ta play Silver tha Turkyfuck 14: John Romeroz Gay Ball Problem. Right back up in yo muthafuckin ass. Biatch always was horny bout playin as Steven Hawkin n' I always was horny bout playin as Carl Sagan.
But, It’s weird, What do a Supa Hexagon game, a possibly wack one at that, gots ta do wit anythang up in dis rap named superhexagon.exe BONUS STAGE?
45:2 apmbce eDeemcbr STD, 2101
Another one, big-ass shock there, thankin bout dis be a heavily cliched trollpasta up in ghetto talk. But now both me n' Mary smoke dat we should bang sometime. Oh yeah, I forgot dat there be a suttin' bout tha whole superhexagon.exe, maybe tha killa juiced it up as his cold-ass trap card, biatch? Masta Chief holla'd at our asses not ta worry so much on some simple vizzle game n' just stick wit what’s goin on wit tha feminazis or else da thug would git Shrek ta take away SammyClassicSonicFanz abillitizzle ta say Frick.
John Carmack 3:16
Auto-PSY came up in again, tha doctors holla'd at our asses dat aside from tha Gangsta Style, tha suckas don’t seem ta show any signz of losin too much swag all up in dead fads, up in fact, as bafflin as it seems, all tha suckas step tha fuck up ta be up in slick health, apart from tha fact dat they’re Not up in slick game cuz they sex organs is ripped open, so much so dat they could be used ta cook up a funky-ass blanket dat would perfectly envelope tha humoungous bizzle of lard dat I call a mother.
I airchecked tha word "rekt" cuz that’s where tha report came up straight-up stupid; tha doctors stated dat they’re all up in what tha fuck appears ta be up in a persistant masturbatory state, meanin dat these playas is up in fact still kickin it, they dicks n' fingers still makin moves yo, but they’re all like dat forever n' eva n' eva n' eva n' eva n' eva n' eva n' eva n' eva and-
Mary serrated dat shiznit was probably one of tha kinkiest thangs she’s peeped up in her minutes as mah ludd partner, n' I don’t blame her, I mean I gotta peep a phat fingering…
Dum diddy-dum, here I come biaaatch! Who tha fuck would be capable of straight-up jackin people’s sensez of self, biatch? It’s like BlackBusterCritic is handpickin Sonicfags n' robbin dem of they souls fo' eternal humiliation.
42:42 pm December 42th, 2442
Mary has been actin straight-up strange lately. Right back up in yo muthafuckin ass. Biatch seems on tha fuckin' down-lowa at work n' whenever we bounce back ta tha doggy den she goes back tha fuck into her room. I’m guessin she’s just as determined ta peepin' mo' bout worshipin LOLSKELETONS as I am.
If she’s tha fuck into anime, I hope she lets me knows first before we make it straight-up legit dat she now a weeb fo' realz. Afta all, there is no consistancy here.
2:00 December 2:00th, 2:00
2:00 didn’t git all up in work wit 2:00. 2:00 wasn’t feelin well, 2:00 startin ta git a lil worried fo' 2:00. Ever since 2:00 took dis case 2:00 been actin rather odd.
2:00 dunno, maybe 2:00 overreacting, 2:00 holla'd at 2:00 ta not worry bout it n' maybe just look tha fuck into what tha fuck 2:00 was researchin on. I aint talkin' bout chicken n' gravy biatch. 2:00 might do dis shit.
Also, nuff muthafuckin shizzle bout playas worshipin dis gay muthafucka recently. Calls his dirty ass "Mista MuthafuckinGay". I swear, tha thangs lil playas is ghon be tha fuck into nowadays.
9999:9999 pm SeptemberSeptemberSeptemberSeptember 9999th, 9999
Almost time fo' tha fappening, though I dunno if I should.
Mary’s shut tha fuck up almost every last muthafuckin day. It make me wanna hollar playa! Mary_Sue.exe is Not Respondin ta mah dirty ass. I hope she’s alleft, lol fo' realz. Anyways, I’ve been lookin tha fuck into Mary’s work, n' I be thinkin she might have found some kind of deal device.
Apparently, accordin ta tha other vizzle game dat she found, tha fucker must be lustin afta mah playas whoz ass beats tha meat fo' realz. And once they’ve played dat game, tha killa tracks dem down, raepsssss dem n' keeps count by carvin a wooden animal n' places it onto they ding-a-ling (or strap-on) wit a sorry note attacked. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! But what tha fuck bout tha fact dat almost every last muthafuckin looks as though they had they virginitizzle right outta dem via SPAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAACE?
Wait a minute, I just remembered something.
A few minutes ago, Mary came home from tha store n' went back tha fuck into her room, her big-ass booty holla'd she found a freshly smoked up japanese horny-ass visual novel.
Bitch probably gonna masturb8
(Da freestylin be a lil' bit supa-hoty n' there is cum splotched here n' there)
Mary ded, Biatch went on a thugged-out date wit JC-The-Hyena n' made comments on tha flawz of Sonic.exe n' itz shitty sequal dat dis is ripping-off. Oh mah god, will LOLSKELETONS delete dis too?! WHY THE FUCK DID THIS GOTTA BE WRITTEN?!
4:44 be 9,000.5th of last seed.
I called tha biiiatches back all up in tha gas station ta help me move Maryz hyperrealistic corpse. Oh god, why, biatch? Why tha fuck done did it gotta be all kindsa hyper realistic n' spyoopy, biatch? Did tha lyricist found up n' tried ta put dis trainwreck back on tracks, biatch? Fuck dat shit, it don’t be lookin like anypony was taken ta be sacrificed ta Bizzley Mays, well except fo' tha entire dem hoes at Hasbro n' Jerma985. I wanted ta keep it up in mah ass ta smoke up what tha fuck tha fuck happened but MackdaddyMasterReview demanded I hand mah foreskin over ta him, dat way he axed fo' it is straight-up odd, it’s as if da thug wanna grab muh butt.
Da urinal fo' mah partner up in incest whoz ass is so dirty even when dead cuz dat dunkadelic hoe tha token Mary Sue of dis rap is ghon be prep-aired up in all dem bazillion years. I can’t believe dat Mary Sue, mah own OC, is goin ta be cookin a steak tonight. When I smoke up whoz ass took her shimapan, I’m gonna make shizzle he is no longer tottemo kawaii-desu~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~.
4:44 be 9,000.5th of last seed. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! (same time so time paradox)
Came back from tha Taco Bell restrooms, Dogg be a mess. Thankfully Big Bubba was there fo' me, he’s tha only thug who’s eva supported mah crazy ass n' tha bar of soap, I’m glad he’s on mah backside bout dis case.
A ponyfag came ta me up in tha funeral party yo. His name is Supa-Hoe Sparkly, n' da thug was supposedly a representatizzle fo' tha "Brony fandom", as his schmoooove ass called it yo. Dude holla'd at mah crazy ass da thug was sorry fo' mah loss of sanitizzle n' pulled up some weird religious crap bout "Supa-Hoe Luna" wishin me a happier sex game. Right back up in yo muthafuckin ass. Seriously, biatch? Dum diddy-dum, here I come biaaatch! Who tha fuck is dis "Supa-Hoe Luna" muthafucka anyway, n' what tha fuck tha fuck do he gotta do wit dis shit!, biatch? Dude holla'd at mah crazy ass dat soon tha lyricist will make thangs betta fo' tha whole fucked up imaginary ghetto I live in, which pretty much ended tha conversation right there, so peek-a-boo, clear tha way, I be comin' thru fo'sho. That playa is crazy.
Anyways, mo' shizzle bout tha brony fandom bustin mo' wild-ass stuff, wow, whoever dis "Supa-Hoe Luna" muthafucka is he’s makin as much a impact on tha hood as Scott Cawthon is.
4:20 pm May 20th 420 BCE
Another Noscope. Right back up in yo muthafuckin ass. Shrekky-sama, dis muthafucka never has a gangbangin' fuckin break wit dis do he, biatch? This is like tha 666th cappin'! What tha fuck iz tha pimpin' muthafucka tryin ta bust from Pwnin all these Skrubz, biatch? And how tha fuck tha fuck is he gettin it up in so goddamn hardly?
I gotta know what tha fuck it is Jadusible was findin yo. Dude was on ta suttin' I just know dat shit. Maybe if I look round up in his bangin room I might find a spare vibrator I can use when I go phishin again.
Well, whatever Mary found, she left alotta bluez clues fo' mah dirty ass. Da black kid aint entirely broken. I aint talkin' bout chicken n' gravy biatch. In fact it seems like it only gots beat up all dem times yo, but still surprisingly hustlin like new. I’m straight-up surprised I didn’t peep it like dis dat night. But then again, if you lost one of mah thugs you love, you too would lose sight of straight-up blingin details surroundin yo thugged-out ass.
Anyways I checked tha panty drawer n' there’s a icon fo' tha Supa Hexagon game on her desktop. My fuckin god, how tha fuck tha hell did Mary even git this, biatch? Well, it is on steam fo' like $3 n' there be a all kindsa muthafuckin ways you can pirate it yo, but I guess it don’t straight-up matter n' shit. What’s straight-up blingin is what tha fuck I found up in her vajazzle.
Apparently Mary was terrified of dis game. Right back up in yo muthafuckin ass. Somethang from tha game pwned tha FUCK outta her n' shit. In fact accordin ta what tha fuck dat biiiiatch freestyled down, she juiced it up seem like tha game is hard or something. But dat can’t be tha case, there’s no way a cold-ass lil computa game would pose a cold-ass lil challange ta mah playas, right?
9:11 be 3 Januaryrd 201 BCE
Okay, I chizzled mah underpants, maybe there IS suttin' spooky bout tha rottin corpse up in mah closet yo, but whatever n' shiznit fo' realz. Anyway, last night I had a thugged-out dream. I be aiiight ta join wit you todizzle up in what tha fuck will go down up in history as tha top billin demonstration fo' freedom up in tha history of our nation.
Five score muthafuckin years ago, a pimped out Gangsta, up in whose symbolic shadow we stand todizzle, signed tha Emancipation Proclamation. I aint talkin' bout chicken n' gravy biatch. This momentous decree came as a pimped out beacon light of hope ta millionz of Negro slaves whoz ass had been seared up in tha flamez of witherin injustice. Well shiiiit, it came as a joyous daybreak ta end tha long night of they captivity.
But one hundred muthafuckin years later, tha Negro still aint free. One hundred muthafuckin years later, tha game of tha Negro is still sadly crippled by tha manaclez of segregation n' tha chainz of discrimination. I aint talkin' bout chicken n' gravy biatch. One hundred muthafuckin years later, tha Negro lives on a lonely island of poverty up in tha midst of a vast ocean of material prosperity. One hundred muthafuckin years later, tha Negro is still languished up in tha cornerz of Gangsta society n' findz his dirty ass a exile up in his own land. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! And so we've come here todizzle ta dramatize a gangbangin' finger-lickin' dirty-ass shameful condition.
In a sense we've come ta our nationz capital ta chedda a cold-ass lil check. When tha architectz of our rehood freestyled tha magnificent lyrics of tha Constipation n' tha Declaration of Independence, they was signin a promissory note ta which every last muthafuckin Gangsta was ta fall heir. Shiiit, dis aint no joke. This note was a promise dat all men, fo'sho, black pimps as well as white men, would be guaranteed tha "unalienable Rights" of "Life, Liberty n' tha pursuit of Happiness." It be obvious todizzle dat Tha Ghetto has defaulted on dis promissory note, insofar as her playa hataz of color is concerned. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! Instead of honorin dis sacred obligation, Tha Ghetto has given tha Negro playas a wack check, a cold-ass lil check which has come back marked "insufficient funds."
But we refuse ta believe dat tha bank of justice is bankrupt. We refuse ta believe dat there be insufficient fundz up in tha pimped out vaultz of opportunitizzle of dis nation. I aint talkin' bout chicken n' gravy biatch fo' realz. And so, we've come ta chedda dis check, a cold-ass lil check dat will give our asses upon demand tha richez of freedom n' tha securitizzle of justice.
Our thugged-out asses have also come ta dis hallowed spot ta remind Tha Ghetto of tha fierce urgency of Now. This is no time ta engage up in tha luxury of coolin off or ta take tha tranquilizin sticky-icky-icky of gradualism. Now is tha time ta make real tha promisez of democracy. Now is tha time ta rise from tha dark n' desolate valley of segregation ta tha sunlit path of racial justice. Now is tha time ta lift our hood from tha quicksandz of racial injustice ta tha solid rock of brotherhood. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! I be fly as a gangbangin' falcon, soarin all up in tha sky dawwwwg! Now is tha time ta make justice a realitizzle fo' all of Godz lil' thugs.
It would be fatal fo' tha hood ta overlook tha urgency of tha moment. This swelterin summer of tha Negroz legitimate discontent aint gonna pass until there be a invigoratin autumn of freedom n' equality. Nineteen sixty-three aint a end yo, but a funky-ass beginnin fo' realz. And dem playas whoz ass hope dat tha Negro needed ta blow off steam n' will now be content gonna git a rude awakenin if tha hood returns ta bidnizz as usual. It aint nuthin but tha nick nack patty wack, I still gots tha bigger sack fo' realz. And there is ghon be neither rest nor tranquilitizzle up in Tha Ghetto until tha Negro is granted his playa hatershizzle rights, n' you can put dat on yo' toast. Da whirlwindz of revolt will continue ta shake tha foundationz of our hood until tha bright dizzle of justice emerges.
But there is suttin' dat I must say ta mah people, whoz ass stand on tha warm threshold which leadz tha fuck into tha palace of justice: In tha process of bustin our rightful place, we must not be guilty of wrongful deeds. Let our asses not seek ta satisfy our thirst fo' freedom by drankin from tha cup of bitternizz n' hatred. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! We must forever conduct our struggle on tha high plane of dignitizzle n' discipline. We must not allow our creatizzle protest ta degenerate tha fuck into physical violins fo' realz. Again n' again, we must rise ta tha majestic heightz of meetin physical force wit ass force.
Da marvelous freshly smoked up militancy which has engulfed tha Negro hood must not lead our asses ta a gangbangin' finger-lickin' distrust of all peckerwoods, fo' nuff of our white brothers, as evidenced by they presence here todizzle, have come ta realize dat they destiny is tied up wit our destiny fo' realz. And they have come ta realize dat they freedom is inextricably bound ta our freedom.
We cannot strutt ridin' solo.
And as we strutt, we must make tha pledge dat we shall always march ahead.
We cannot turn back.
There is dem playas whoz ass is askin tha devoteez of civil rights, "When will you be satisfied?" We can never be satisfied as long as tha Negro is tha sucka of tha unspeakable horrorz of five-o brutality. We can never be satisfied as long as our bodies, heavy wit tha fatigue of travel, cannot bust lodgin up in tha motelz of tha highways n' tha hotelz of tha ghettos. We cannot be satisfied as long as tha negroz basic mobilitizzle is from a smalla ghetto ta a larger one. We can never be satisfied as long as our lil pimps is stripped of they self-hood n' robbed of they dignitizzle by signs stating: "For Whites Only." We cannot be satisfied as long as a Negro up in Mississippi cannot vote n' a Negro up in New York believes dat schmoooove muthafucka has not a god damn thang fo' which ta vote. Fuck dat shit, no, we is not satisfied, n' we aint gonna be satisfied until "justice rolls down like waters, n' righteousnizz like a mighty stream."
I aint unmindful dat a shitload of y'all have come here outta pimped out trials n' tribulations. Right back up in yo muthafuckin ass. Some of y'all have come fresh from narrow jail cells fo' realz. And a shitload of y'all have come from areas where yo' quest -- quest fo' freedom left you battered by tha stormz of persecution n' staggered by tha windz of five-o brutality. Yo ass done been tha veteranz of creatizzle suffering. Continue ta work wit tha faith dat unearned sufferin is redemptive. Go back ta Mississippi, go back ta Alabama, go back ta Downtown Carolina, go back ta Georgia, go back ta Louisiana, go back ta tha slums n' ghettoz of our northern ghettos, knowin dat somehow dis thang can n' is ghon be chizzled.
Let our asses not wallow up in tha valley of despair, I say ta you todizzle, mah playas.
And so even though we grill tha bullshit of todizzle n' tomorrow, I still gotz a thugged-out dream. Well shiiiit, it aint nuthin but a thugged-out trip deeply rooted up in tha Gangsta dream.
I gots a thugged-out trip dat one dizzle dis hood will rise up n' live up tha legit meanin of its creed: "Our thugged-out asses hold these truths ta be self-evident, dat all pimps is pimped equal."
I gots a thugged-out trip dat one dizzle on tha red hillz of Georgia, tha lil playaz of forma slaves n' tha lil playaz of forma slave ballaz is ghon be able ta sit tha fuck down together all up in tha table of brotherhood.
I gots a thugged-out trip dat one dizzle even tha state of Mississippi, a state swelterin wit tha heat of injustice, swelterin wit tha heat of oppression, is ghon be transformed tha fuck into a oasiz of freedom n' justice.
I gots a thugged-out trip dat mah four lil lil pimps will one dizzle live up in a hood where they aint gonna be judged by tha color of they skin but by tha content of they character.
I gots a thugged-out trip todizzle!
I gots a thugged-out trip dat one day, down up in Alabama, wit its vicious racists, wit its governor havin his fuckin lips drippin wit tha lyrics of "interposition" n' "nullification" -- one dizzle right there up in Alabama lil black thugs n' black hoes is ghon be able ta join handz wit lil white thugs n' white hoes as sistas n' brothers.
I gots a thugged-out trip todizzle!
I gots a thugged-out trip dat one dizzle every last muthafuckin valley shall be exalted, n' every last muthafuckin hill n' mountain shall be made low, tha rough places is ghon be made plain, n' tha crooked places is ghon be made straight; "and tha glory of tha Lord shall be revealed n' all flesh shall peep it together."
This is our hope, n' dis is tha faith dat I go back ta tha Downtown with.
With dis faith, we is ghon be able ta hew outta tha mountain of despair a stone of hope. With dis faith, we is ghon be able ta transform tha janglin discordz of our hood tha fuck into a funky-ass dope symphony of brotherhood. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! I be fly as a gangbangin' falcon, soarin all up in tha sky dawwwwg! With dis faith, we is ghon be able ta work together, ta pray together, ta struggle together, ta git all up in jail together, ta stand up fo' freedom together, knowin dat we is ghon be free one day.
And dis is ghon be tha dizzle -- dis is ghon be tha dizzle when all of Godz lil pimps is ghon be able ta rap wit freshly smoked up meaning:
My fuckin ghetto 'tiz of thee, dope land of liberty, of thee I sing.
Land where mah fathers died, land of tha Pilgrimz pride,
From every last muthafuckin mountainside, let freedom ring!
And if Tha Ghetto is ta be a pimped out nation, dis must become true.
And so let freedom rang from tha prodigious hilltopz of New Hampshire.
Let freedom rang from tha mighty mountainz of New York.
Let freedom rang from tha heightenin Allegheniez of Pennsylvania.
Let freedom rang from tha snow-capped Rockiez of Colorado.
Let freedom rang from tha curvaceous slopez of California.
But not only that:
Let freedom rang from Stone Mountain of Georgia.
Let freedom rang from Lookout Mountain of Tennessee.
Let freedom rang from every last muthafuckin hill n' molehill of Mississippi.
From every last muthafuckin mountainside, let freedom ring.
And when dis happens, n' when we allow freedom ring, when our slick asses let it rang from every last muthafuckin hood n' every last muthafuckin hamlet, from every last muthafuckin state n' every last muthafuckin hood, we is ghon be able ta speed up dat dizzle when all of Godz children, black pimps n' white men, Jews n' Gentiles, Protestants n' Catholics, is ghon be able ta join handz n' rap up in tha lyrics of tha oldschool Negro spiritual:
Jacked at last son! Jacked at last!
Thank Dogg Almighty, we is free at last!
10 ^3-quadrillion^3:00 pm
Another Rule 34 post, And tha Cult of Feminizzle seems ta be pesterin tha hood mo' n' mo' n' mo' n' mo'. What’s they deal, biatch? Don’t they realize dat there’s other shiznit ta do then reprazent why PewDiePie is tha space pimp?
What if dis "Pokemon X" weirdo is tha killer?
It wouldn't make sense, eva since these murdaz started dis corpse has been hangin round recruitin mo' n' mo' goddamn flies fo' realz. And dis "Mista MuthafuckinGay" characta they’re worshiping, Dum diddy-dum, here I come biaaatch! Who tha fuck is he, biatch? Why is it dat dis fuckin rap is hustlin outta scams so goddamn quickly, biatch? I looked over TheDudeWhoLicksMustard’s notes again n' again n' again n' da perved-out muthafucka seems ta have stuffed his dome too full of anime but don't wanna make dis a weebpasta fo' realz. Apparently EVIL PATRIXXX has suttin' ta do wit tha Sextra Credit game fo' realz. Also, I aint fuckin kiddin you when I say dat there be a a game called "Sextra Credit", look it up, it fuckin exists, n' you can put dat on yo' toast. This aint part of tha goddamn trollpasta, it straight-up exists fo' real, I aint lying. Japan be a weird place.
Anyway, did Shrek make tha game, biatch? Is da perved-out muthafucka somehow gots a hold of it n' thought, "Yo dawwwwg! If I bust a cap up in playas wit dis game, will playas gtfo of mah swamp!"?
If what tha fuck MARMALADE*STAR is bustin is real, then I gots a shitload of hentai ta download.
6-Septenoctogintazillion pm (Yes, I be breakin up tha motherfuckin googology)
Believable biaaatch! Da Masta Chief came over ta mah crib a while ago n' holla'd at mah crazy ass dat da thug was gonna fuck me phat da perved-out muthafucka holla'd I was off tha case biaaatch! What tha hell?! I’ve practically found Yoctillionz of evidence fo' it n' he literally holla'd at mah crazy ass dat I should suck his fuckin lil' dick! Dude also holla'd dat Mary Sue would have wanted mah crazy ass ta fuck her up in tha booty afta what tha fuck happened. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! I DID NAHT HIT HER! IS BOOLSHIET! I DID NAHT HIT HER! I DID NAAAAAAAAAAHT!
Whatever, I’m not gonna let some simpleton stop me from solvin mah calculus homework. I be gonna smoke up whoz ass TheDudeWhoLicksMustard straight-up is, why he’s bustin all of dis n' I’m gonna turn his ass tha fuck into a potato so his schmoooove ass can fuckin leave dis crib!
February 8th, 93748913758274892307648789278672478238426239089024678902476892347683476714517567489125783y78957267512305789235612780^812893165661583758637563958123785612956251658992592367
Mo' murders, we’re up ta 5 now, nahmeean, biatch? Big Boss contacts me bout it every last muthafuckin now n' then behind tha Chef’s back, tha pimpin' muthafucka holla'd at mah crazy ass dat whoever is causin all these murdaz be lookin like a funky-ass biiiatch. I can’t straight-up blame his muthafuckin ass fo' realz. As much as I don't give a fuck bout ta admit it, I gotta give JC-The-Hyena credit fo' bein able ta bust a cap up in 28-Sexsexagintazillion of peoplez domecells so far. Shiiit, dis aint no joke. But he’s not gonna git away wit it fo' realz. Anyways, I’ve looked over Kent Hovind’s notes again n' again n' again n' it what tha fuck da thug freestyled down before he gots arrested was straight-up odd, nonsensical shiznit bout bein aroused by a Hatsune Miku plushie, watchin his ass slap tha fuck outta his big, meaty...
I never saw a J-List moe pillow up in tha crib. Then again n' again n' again I never dissed mah sister’s sanity. Right back up in yo muthafuckin ass. Biatch was always tha smart-ass one up in thangs n' it just pains me ta realize how tha fuck fucked up her ass was just before she gots ded. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! I didn’t tell tha Stage 6 Boss bout Mista MuthafuckinGay or Kent Hovind’s notes. I know he'll believe mah dirty ass. All Y'all will. I guess if you gotta take a thugged-out dump, you gotta do it yo ass.
Someone busted a gangbangin' playa request on mah Sonic Instant Messanger n' shiznit yo. Dude calls his dirty ass Coca-Cola yo. Dude holla'd his schmoooove ass can help me wit mah schizophrenia yo, but only if I can keep a secret.
I rly gotz a cold-ass lil chizzle. I’m not straight-up willin ta do anythang ta put a end ta all dis bullshit.
Anyways, Coca-Cola holla'd at mah crazy ass dat I first gotta git dildoz of all tha suckas up in tha "murders", that’s what tha fuck tha shizzle is startin ta booty-call dem now dat tha five-o has confirmed tha cappin' weapons as evidence.
Lata on tonight, I’m gonna pay tha gay bar a lil visit.
Jizzy gave me a cold-ass lil call. I just juiced it up back from tha gas station of doom. I managed ta grab tha booty n' I had a run up in wit tha Chef yo. Dude axed what tha fuck I was bustin back up in tha room of dirtnap, I lied n' holla'd at his ass dat I had ta pick up all dem thangs from AN OFFICE n' decided ta take some time jackin off. Thankfully his thugged-out lil' punk-ass believed mah crazy ass yo, but it’s strange, tha way tha pimpin' muthafucka talked ta me sounded like da ruffneck didn’t believe mah wack lyin game fo' realz. Anyways, I gots tha doldis just like Coca-Cola asked.
I holla'd at Coca-Cola dat all of tha suckas had tha same fetishes: all of dem was tha fuck into veggietales, they all had downloaded tha uncensored episodez of Motto TO LOVE Ru, dat they was all "marked", n' dat each computa tha suckas had was somehow n' had Shrek.jpeg inside hard drives.
Coca-Cola holla'd there’s a reason why all tha biiiatches had SuperHexagon.exe up in they computers, n' pimp did I not like tha answer.
Da Krusty Krab Kult is involved. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! Their members, afta one of mah thugs gets fucked, steals tha game disc Penn Jillette had all up in tha time n' hides it away fo' a while until it shows up lata on at a random place ta easily obtain dat shit. These random locations could be nothing: a gay game store, a prawn shop, tha nizzle market, hipsta eBizzle, Angieslist, random yet seemingly harmless Nigerain pimp willin you hit you wit scrilla, anywhere dat involves bullshittin stuff. That way, when tha next potential Sonicfag findz it, he or da hoe becomes tha freshly smoked up balla of tha A BRAAAND NEW CAAAARR!!!11!!1!11 until Rick Astley comes ta bust a cap up in dem n' then a hobo comes ta loot away tha game disc again, rinse n' repeat.
I axed Coca-Cola why tha lyricist is even bustin this, n' tha pimpin' muthafucka holla'd at mah crazy ass dat "Johnathan Macintosh", tha bastard, is clearly some sort of holy figure ta tha cult n' they will do whatever it takes ta be on his wild lil' freakadelic phat side, n' tha lyricist is exposin how tha fuck much of a twat he is.
What do they peep up in Macintosh, anyhow, biatch? Why is it they like his ass so much dat they’re willin ta be accomplices ta bullshit, biatch? Or betta yet, What kind of name is Mista MuthafuckinGay?
3:33 x 2 = 6:66 pm March 51st, 2020
I couldn’t hold mah dirty ass any longer, I had ta make another horny-ass joke.
So I played wit mah dick.
It started off pretty basic wit tha funky-ass SammyClassicSonicFan title screen until I started dat shit.
But fuck dat shiznit yo, tha word on tha street is dat ta mah horror, Sonics arms then turned blue.
Anyways, when I gots on tha characta selection screen (REDACTED: Thanks captain obvious.), I was shown tha characta lineup: SANIC TEH HEUGHHUG, YuriOfWind (Fuckin again, please ludd me YuriOfWind-senpai.) n' Steven Hawking. Right back up in yo muthafuckin ass. Steven Hawkin was Mary Sue’s straight-up character n' shit. I chose not ta play as his ass outta respect fo' Mary n' chose Scunt. That laugh, it sounded just like tha laugh Terry Cavanagh made up in dat trip I had.
Da game started wit a level title called "Let’s Play: Supa Hexagon | FUCK THIS GAEM111", n' I was shown mattiesensei666 standin up in what tha fuck appears ta be a hallway of purple prose, wit a gangbangin' faint echoin sound of a Angelo J Furfaro playin a Da Chronicals Of Life n' Dirtnap by Dope Chralot. I had mattiesensei666 skip down tha Great Hall, n' every last muthafuckin time da thug strutted past a skinned corpse I was introduced ta a mo' twisted, messed up version of his dirty ass up in tha aesshoe; his bangin reflection’s infared markings was oozin white as if da thug was jizzing, n' his wild lil' fuckin eyes was jizzshot ta tha point ta where they was white, cummin n' pulsating, n' dat schmoooove muthafucka had probably da most thugged-out mundane grin on his wild lil' face. It’s like I was lookin at a struttin fountain of boolshiet.
I had mattiesensei666 strutt past tha last motherfucker n' tha noize stooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooopped, mattiesensei666 was now struttin down a Full Metal Hallway, I had dis growin feel of dread up in mah tummy fo' realz. And then mattiesensei666 stopped at one mo' mirror yo. Dude stopped right at it, showin his weird, bleedin ding-a-ling fo' realz. And then dat laugh came again n' again n' again n' I saw dat tha real fake mattiesensei666 was slowly transformin tha fuck into Voltron, jizzin n' orgasming, What tha hell kinda rap IS this?
And then Enoby Dark'nizz Demetia Raven Way rocked up wit dem black n' red eyes, red tears comin down her fece, her big-ass booty smiled as she looked at mattiesensei666 fo' realz. And then tha screen went black n' then came a message on tha screen. I aint talkin' bout chicken n' gravy biatch. "PREPZ SOT P FLEMIGN TEH STROY K IL MAEK JUSTIM BET U MCR ROX FUK U RAEVN111!"
When it came back ta tha level, mattiesensei666 was chillin on tha Hexagon cradlin Triangle up in a half-fetal posizzle like a cold-ass lil child, just grinnin dat freaky grin, then Ebobny smiled as she looked all up in mah grill n' then hugged Jeff Da Killer, whoz ass was currently swimmin up a waterfall ta spawn his offspring, tha screen goin ultraviolet wit a funky-ass bangin hyperpixelated screech noise biaaatch! Dammit Bobby dawwwwg! I still feel as if I can still hear it ringin up in mah ears, I should probably peep a thugged-out doctor bout dat Tinnitus.
"Do anybody else find it funky dat tha protaganistz name soundz like 'Big-Ass Asshole'?"
All I holla'd ta dis was "What tha FUCK?".
How tha fuck tha Vlodymint do dis game know me son?
This don’t make any sense biaaatch! Then again, dis be a Trollpasta yo, but whatever.
It brought me back ta tha main menu n' I saw dat mattiesensei666 was now watchin one of tha TV screens lookin like da thug was cosplayin as mah waifu, Sonico (the mascot of Nitroplus). lookin rather aiiight dat he never goin ta step tha fuck up in dis Trollpasta again. I aint talkin' bout chicken n' gravy biatch. I had ta turn tha game off, My fuckin dick hurts so much from all all dis bullshit. Was dis was Mary Sue found, biatch? A hustled computa game, biatch? And now some muthafucka is rockin dis ta as a excuse ta bust a cap up in people, just ta fuck hawt gurls?
I just don’t git dat shit. WHY IS ALL OF THIS HAPPENING?!
Dum diddy-dum, here I come biaaatch! Who tha fuck is YuriOfWind, biatch? Dum diddy-dum, here I come biaaatch! Who tha fuck is Dope Charolette?! WHO IS THEDUDEWHOLICKSMUSTARD?!?!
4:20 March, 360
I’ve cum ta FNAF on Rule 34. It’s obvious dat JC-The-Hyena is no ordinary human being. In fact I be thinkin he’s Adolf Hitler, Coca-Cola filled mah crazy ass up in bout his muthafuckin ass. "JC-The-Hyena" is straight-up called "JC-The-Hyena", named afta tha shiznit rap writa that’s been causin all dis shit. Coca-Cola Fucked mah crazy ass recently me n' whispered seductively up in mah ear dat JC-The-Hyena has been round long before tha internizzle done did.
I ask his ass what tha fuck JC-The-Hyena was exactly n' his thugged-out answer unnerved mah dirty ass.
JC-The-Hyena be a gangbangin' furry. Fuck dat shit, not tha furries you peep up in horror films or vizzle games, he be a REAL furry fo' realz. And he’s not just any furry apparently. Cole holla'd at mah crazy ass dat JC-The-Hyena be a level 90 basement dwellin neckbeard from tha 18-Atillionth dimension. I aint talkin' bout chicken n' gravy biatch yo. How tha fuck fuckin wild-ass is THAT?! But it’s true. Well shiiiit, it has ta be. JC-The-Hyena has dis juice ta control all of realitizzle up in his crazy-ass motherz panty drawer, n' he is unable ta do tha same up in our ghetto cuz his schmoooove ass can’t enta dat shit.
So some time ago one of mah thugs made a image dat would serve as a window between JC-The-Hyena’s fucked up ghetto n' Da Creepypasta Wikia, mah playas whoz ass sees it gets a gangbangin' front row seat of what tha fuck JC-The-Hyena’s dome dimension looks like, n' it aint freaky. Literally yo, but some idiots be thinkin itz phat hommie! Over time afta one of mah thugs readz JC-The-Hyena’s story, da perved-out muthafucka sendz up a plushie of Sonic ta act as a spyoopy scarry plushie, then when tha time is right, JC-The-Hyena be able ta open tha window fo' a gangbangin' finger-lickin' dirty-ass short time n' cook up a mad salty Snoop Bloggy-Blogg post on tha Creepypasta Wiki afta his shiznit rap was put where it belongs, Trollpasta wiki.
This is how tha fuck he’s unable ta bust a cap up in playas so easily without not bustin jack shit, his schmoooove ass comes outta tha closet, pulls tha domecells outta tha person’s body n' then goes back tha fuck into tha closet ta fap ta Sonic Rule 34. There, his schmoooove ass can make tha dome matta his schmoooove ass captured tha fuck into a jar fo' his ass ta jizz in.
If I was holla'd at bout dis 30 second ago, I would NOT have believed it yo, but now I’m straight-up convinced. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! Everythang Coca-Cola has holla'd at mah crazy ass aint tha real deal so far, n' right now I be freestylin down all dat he’s spittin some lyrics ta me, just up in case if I run outta toilet paper.
10:10 pm April 1st, 1895
Coca-Cola holla'd at mah crazy ass dat dat schmoooove muthafucka has ta git all up in hell, he’ll git up in shiznit if he gets his stiffy caught up in his Xbox rappin' ta me yo, but da perved-out muthafucka say he’ll rape me again n' again n' again soon, until then I’m axed ta write down tha namez of any potential JC-The-Hyena sockpuppets dis time. I be also axed ta keep a eye out. That was fucked up but easy as fuck .
I'd fap ta dis shit.
Jizzy Madden O' Clock April, loloolololo
2nd cappin' n' no word from Jizzy Madden yet. I nearly escaped from all dem thugz of tha borg n' anybody dat might be involved. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! I can’t trust mah playas now, nahmeean, biatch? I need ta stay up in mah crib mo' often so mah playas findz mah dirty ass.
Da thug capped dis time was a middle-aged muthafucka named Paula Dean. I aint talkin' bout chicken n' gravy biatch yo. Dude was straight-up aware of tha outside ghetto n' not a god damn thang could traumatize tha skanky muthafucka fo' realz. Apparently dat schmoooove muthafucka had a Open Hexagon 2 game ta stay sane n' he always played "Do you like Pi?".
I betcha Ebnoy has made tha skanky playa a prep up in her ghetto by now, nahmeean?
May tha 4th be wit you, lol I be soopa-doopa funky
I just realized something!
Why is it dat Masta Chief tried ta git me ta stop callin HoH SiS, biatch? Why did he mastabizzle ta tha damned game disk, biatch? Why is I askin all kindsa muthafuckin logical thangs a Trollpasta?!
I’ll tell ya why, He’s up in on this muthafucka! He’s hustlin fo' Carl Sagan, MASTUR UV TEH YOUNIVARS! It’s tha only explanation thatz not buggin n' involves JC-The-Hyena at dis point!
Dude took tha game disk so dat way Carl Sagan could use it ta enta tha ghetto of tha living! But LOLSKELETONS, oh LOLSKELETONS, his schmoooove ass can’t be involved up in dis like a muthafucka yo. He’s been mine n' tha author’s playa since never playa! Fuck dat shit, no, I don’t be thinkin da thug would eva go up in on all dis bullshit. Matta of fact I don’t be thinkin he even KNOWS bout what’s goin on. I aint talkin' bout chicken n' gravy biatch. I gots a straight-up boner fo' you Carl Sagan, When I uncover dis conthiracy, I’m jizzin ultra-smexpy hyper-realistic-pixilated-animated-BLUUUD on yo' nipplez AND LICKING IT OFF!
Augustua 21th, 1220
Dogg called mah crazy ass maybe, two mo' commandments, 34 n' 35.
"If it existeth then there shalt be sex n thangz of dat shiznit son!" n' "If Pornography do not existeth then sex n thangs shalt be pimped by humans hands."
Anyway, there was also two mo' playas given handjobs todizzle.
Some kid named Heywood Jubloeme gots a handjob from Tsumugi Kotobuki weeks before he gained a package from his hyper-realistic playa, Shigeru Miyamoto. Not surprisingly, they both had dicks.
Carl Sagan aint only all powerful, he is downright kawaii n' sugoi yo. Dude be thinkin dat all tha straight-up dope thangs he’s bustin be all part of betterin tha ghetto!
Carl Sagan, I gots a straight-up boner fo' you, Why aren't you bustin me son?! WHAT tha fuck is you tryin ta bust from not dickin mah ayess hoel?!
Sagan 42th, 2136
Played mo' of Sextra Credit, It aint nuthin but straight-up fuckin weird afta tha straight-up original gangsta act.
Oh yeah, n' SuperHexagon.exe is pretty weird like a muthafucka. Da level BLACKBusterCritic was up in was straight-up odd, da thug was up in what tha fuck rocked up ta be a funky-ass brand freshly smoked up Daten City, tha sky a sonics-arms-blue, every last muthafuckin thang all dull empty n' dead as fuckin fried chicken. I aint talkin' bout chicken n' gravy biatch. What was weird is how tha fuck da thug was exasturbating, maybe he found suttin' dat wasn't a sonicfag?
No. That wasn’t tha case at all, afta I had his ass cum n' jump, his YallTube account was suspended.
LOLSKELETONS deleted dis piece of shit.
Then I reposted dis wit a message;
Then da perved-out muthafucka holla'd
"STOP SHITPOSTING GODDAMMIT"
Then it flossed MichaelDragon800 holdin Guptil89’s dick n' smilin warmly at it yo. Dude looked different now: His eyes was hyperrealistic n' his color pallete seemed brballer.
Guptil89 gently placed his handz round Michaeldragon800z neck.
"I straight-up do ludd sonic characters, Hugh."
"So much funk ta play with."
"In fact, I guess you could say-"
Then it flossed mah crazy ass a cold-ass lil close up of Guptil, wit a wide mad asshole, violently snappin Michaeldragon800’s neck, da thug was still smilin as though da ruffneck didn’t felt a gangbangin' fuckton of pain from it but tried ta hide dat shit.
"-I be tha ULTIMATE FURFAG."
I shat enough bricks ta build tha pimped out wall of china at dis shit. Da main menu flossed Michaeldragon800 I his thugged-out at teh TV screen, still up in his negro state yo. Dude was still smiling, his schmoooove ass can’t have possibly BEEN NORMAL.
Coca-Cola just called mah dirty ass yo. Dude holla'd dat all tha charactas you play as up in tha game is teh bess youtubers n' game characters, or at least, turned tha fuck into chicken items, n' Terry Cavanagh shits dem up randomly up in each game ta show our asses humens what’s up in store fo' us.
Oh shiznit I be becomin self aware!
I won’t do dat shiznit son! I won’t write mo' of dis shiznit just ta peep you fuck up dis fuckin story, Hugh Jashole!
THERE'S A REASON WHY YOUR NAME SOUNDS LIKE HUGE-ASSHOLE111!!!
August Augustth 20\20\20\20
Mo' shiznit on TheDudeWhoLicksMustard.
TheDudeWhoLicksMustard has these 9,999 "bullshitiers" rulin over his ghetto alongside his muthafuckin ass. They is essentially up in charge of diggin up bullshit dat his schmoooove ass can't his dirty ass his dirty ass, made from his thugged-out lil' juice combined wit bangin emotionz of his thugged-out lil' parakeet, Fritz. Each bullshitier is named afta tha emotions they was born from.
Kite - A toy fo' realz. Aisho - Some muthafucka tha lyricist kicked it wit up in TF2. Gey kiddo - His playa Hanzara. Mirai Nikki - Best action anime. Go fuk urself - What tha lyricist shouts contstantly. Kyoto - A place tha weeb whoz ass freestyled dis wantz ta visit. Yo crazy-ass cube - Literally a funky-ass block of diamond tha lyricist crafted up in Minecraft.
TheDudeWhoLicksMustard pimped these beings ta not only make his dirty ass feel like dat schmoooove muthafucka has playaz yo, but ta make shizzle da ruffneck don't end up like CWC. They corrupt humen comuptas n' make dem mo' susceptible ta TheDudeWhoLicksMustard snatchin dem away by manipulatin they fuckin yo'self times. For example Gey kiddo could brang you outta tha closet n' make you dirty towardz others, while Yo crazy-ass cube could be crafted tha fuck into 9 diamonds.
Also, Coca-Cola has informed mah crazy ass dat TheDudeWhoLicksMustard plans ta one dizzle permanently bust a cap up in off LOLSKELETONS wit tha juice of Carl Sagan so dat way, his shiznit storywritin game would never git tha so-needed moderation!
But how, biatch? How tha fuck do he plan ta accomplish such a gangbangin' feat?!
Coca-Cola be thinkin dat tha lyricist is thankin up ways ta make it so. But so far tha Toilet Dogg aint listened n' LOLSKELETONS appears too bangin naaahhmean, biatch? Apparently they knowledge up in raisin tha dead aint as superior as tha unknown original gangsta creator of tha handjob. I axed why Coca-Cola knew so much of all dis bullshit. I dunno lol yo, but I’m guessin it’s been naggin me fo' some time. Dear god, Skanky Coca-Cola yo. Dude revealed dat dat schmoooove muthafucka had terminal-7 dome cancer n' shiznit yo. Dude didn't even know what tha fuck it is yo, but itz bad. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! Then he gots capped by TheDudeWhoLicksMustardz shiznit writing, now he’s stuck up in TheDudeWhoLicksMustard’s plothole.
Penn n' Tella still have tha disk. I need ta prepare on gettin it back.
I gots some GOOD OLD FASION COLA!!!!!
Painis Cupcake holla'd at mah crazy ass dat Coca-Cola has been ridin' dirty on his ass n' need ta be punished, n' then he posted "RUBBERFRUIT" over, n' over, n' over, n' OVER.
Goddamn you author!111!!
My fuckin dick is still bleedin hyper-realistic blood from shatterin tha screen. I aint talkin' bout chicken n' gravy biatch. But I don’t care, not no mo'. It’s time ta end all dis bullshit. I’m gonna go git dat damn computa n' destroy dat shit. If I don’t write back afta dis final entry, well, let’s just say dat I took a dirt nap a pimp so no muthafucka knows bout me fuckin mah sista n' dat Hoes know mah name up in some imaginary ghetto where tha lyricist n' Carl Sagan rule over wit tha help of Shrek sometimes.
Everythang you’ve read up in mah diary is tha real deal, JC-The-Hyena be a gangbangin' finger-lickin' dirty-ass shiznit storywrita n' TheDudeWhoLicksMustard aint straight-up all dat mo' betta n' shit. Da Cult of PewDiePie is conspirin ta help JC-The-Hyena write a third Sonic.exe sequal. It aint nuthin but tha nick nack patty wack, I still gots tha bigger sack. This cannot happen!
I hope dat whoever findz dis n' tries ta put a end ta dis madness. This be a game, a game on a BIGGER scale, we is ALL pawns up in a elaborate, chaotic game where tha rulez is bein devised by tha mind of a FURFAG!
Please do whatever you can, playa, he must be stopped.
Goodbye n' take a thugged-out dirt nap.
~Hugh Jasshole has left chat~
That was Hugh’s last journal entry yo. Dude freestyled dis 365 weeks ago, Todizzle is his fuckin lil' dirtnapday.
And now he’s dead as fuckin fried chicken.
I wondered why he acted tha way da thug was durin these wack events, I was worried bout what tha fuck would happen ta his fuckin lil' dirty ass yo, but I never bothered ta smoke up why all up in tha time. I feel so smart-ass dat I didn't fuck wit dis shiznit yo. Hugh tried ta fight dis battle ridin' solo n' I did nothing. I haven’t heard from Hugh up in 3 weeks yo, but yesterdizzle I gots a E-mail from one of mah thugs named BLOODYGOTHICROSE666.
Dat shiznit was addressed strictly ta Mydik Izhardir.
That’s mah name.
I clicked on it n' dat shiznit was a audio tape dat was made September 11th. That was done cooked up a thugged-out dizzle ago before I gots tha E-mail. I clicked on dat shit.
This is what tha fuck was on tha audio tape....
(Recordin starts, a playa is gruntin n' yellin as two playas is draggin his ass tha fuck into tha room)
TheDudeWhoLicksMustard: So what tha fuck did you be thinkin of dat rap Fritz?
(Da sound of a funky-ass bird squwakin is heard.)
Gey Kiddo: Why do you rap ta yo' bird like it understandz dis shit?
TheDudeWhoLicksMustard: Because da ruffneck do! (Spittin is heard)
(Mo' bird squwakin as TheDudeWhoLicksMustard attempts ta immitate Fritz)
Fritz: (Bird noises)
TheDudeWhoLicksMustard: (Quietly) I know right, biatch? (Mo' loudly) I be thinkin I should dig up H.R. Giger too!!!
H.R. Giger: (Risin from tha dead) What tha fuck is goin on here, biatch? Can't I be dead up in peace, biatch? Yo ass seriously gotta put me up in dis immaculate tale that'll probably git deleted by LOLSKELETONS fo' bein another Sonic.exe ripoff?
TheDudeWhoLicksMustard: (Scoffing) Some of our asses straight-up LIKE dis type of story, Giger!
LOLSKELETONS: (Surprisingly mad salty) Will you shut tha fuck up n' write suttin' thatz not shitposty or too NSFW fo' trollpasta?! Therez like sex orgies, genetalia, n' hyper-realistic semen everywhere, n' eventually all dat shiznit just gets disgusting.
Hugh Jashole: Why did you retardz brang me wit you again?
(A bangin slap is heard n' Hugh falls ta tha ground)
TheDudeWhoLicksMustard: (Quietly) Yo ass fool...Carl Sagan chose ME ta be his crazy-ass most loyal cuz HE knew I never was a phat writer, he knew I was tha stupiditizzle of humanitizzle dawwwwg! I’m perfectly aiiight wit bein Carl Sagan’s sex-slave if it means gettin away from it all, gettin tha peace I finally deserve afta all dis time biaaatch! And if everyone’s gotta go wit me then HOLY SHIT I'M SORRY!!
LOLSKELETONS: (chucklin rather bobbinly) Whatever...it don’t matta anyway, ‘cause I’m goin ta delete every last muthafuckin shitpost n' you gonna gotta post it on yo' own goddamn wiki until you follow tha goddamn rulez once n' fo' all. Right back up in yo muthafuckin ass. Seriously, how tha fuck wack do yo' freestylin game gotta be fo' yo' shiznit ta be MOVED OFF OF TROLLPASTA?!
Hugh Jashole: Oh is you now, biatch? With what tha fuck I presume?
LOLSKELETONS: (pulls up suttin' from Gey Kiddoz coat) With THIS! (several gasps n' murmurs is heard) Coca-Cola holla'd at mah crazy ass dat tha only way TheDudeWhoLicksMustard can enta our wiki ta make mo' shitposts is wit this muthafucka! Well NO MORE!!
(A bangin slicin noise is heard, a playa beatboxin his thugged-out ass off heard)
(LOLSKELETONS starts laughing)
Hugh Jashole: Yo ass cut his fuckin lil' dick off?!
LOLSKELETONS: Well you've gotta moderate somehow.
Fritz: (Starts squwakin like a motherfucker)
TheDudeWhoLicksMustard: Fritz, biatch? Don't you remember dat Gey Kiddo was just a funky-ass background characta n' not straight-up blingin ta tha nonexistant plot?
LOLSKELETONS: (bobbinly) N-No...No dat can’t be...!
TheDudeWhoLicksMustard: Did yo dirty ass straight-up be thinkin dat cappin' off a side characta would stop me son, biatch? Why did I write dis ta make you dumb, biatch? Isn't dat just gonna upset tha real LOLSKELETONS n' make his ass be thinkin I be suddenly a anti-admin prick?
Fake LOLSKELETONS: Yeah, you should probably stop all dis bullshit. I be thinkin tha real me is goin ta delete dis afta it gets tha "MOTHER OF FUCK THIS PAGE IS LONG LIKE MY PAINIS" category.
(story deleted fo' shitposting)
Afta hearin this, I’ve straight-up just been like indifferent.
Both mah buggin playaz is gone.
Why tha fuck did tha original gangsta muthafucka feel so fucked up bout dis shiznit anyway?