WARMACH1NE
Hates you all
- Joined
- Feb 4, 2004
- Posts
- 1,391
At the Britt trailer park, Assmeal is pounding away on his keyboard about how savage native Americans were unworthy of survival when LT shows up and challenges him to prove his assertions.
"I don't have to," Assmeal writes, "unlike you, I didn't go to some communist school to learn American history. I learned the truth from blue blooded Arya-er Americans in the backwoods."
LT responds, "You know, I played paintball with those dudes in the backwoods. Even hunted deer with 'em. They tell me you're a weakling and a pussy."
Assmeal bangs his head on the keyboard and starts rolling his forehead around in anger, "Fuck off, LT! You're the real weakling, you need the Government to take care of you. I'm completely self sufficient!"
Just then, Assmeal's mother calls from upstairs. It's dinner time.
Assmeal posts, "Shut up LT. Woof." And then shouts "Yes, mommy!" and runs upstairs to his bowl of Purina Chow.
Later, he returns to Lit to find that LT has posted his name and address online, as well as a link to look up his springbreak.com registry info where he got all that information.
Suddenly, Assmeal starts to tremble. Oh my God, he says to himself. What if my mother finds out? With shaky hands, he types out, "LT you've screwed yourself good! I'll pursue anyone who does this, I swear it!"
All he gets back from LT is a bunch of LOL's and ROTFLMAO's. Assmeal knows LT isn't buying his bluff.
It takes a dozen retries to spell it correctly but he finally types, "That isn't me. That's my lawyer friend. He's going to sue you into oblivion LT! We're going to get you!!!#!@!#!#@@#%$@!!!!"
LT verbally pisses on Assmeal and challenges him to bring it on.
Ishmael posts, "You've hung yourself d000d! You're doomed! I'm going to get you! I'm gonna sue and sue and sue, I say!!!"
LT rolls on like a tank made of solid neutronium. Day after day, LT taunts Assmeal endlessly about his lawsuit threats until one day Assmeal's mother looks online and sees her son's name.
Angered, she threatens to yank Assmeal's phone cord and terminate his AOL priviledges. Assmeal decides he has to stop this.
Assmeal's quivery, jittery finger dials the number for the local FBI office.
If he couldn't stop LT then perhaps the big bad Government Assmeal so despised, could?
"FBI, Agent Miller speaking." a woman's voice answers. "How many I help you?"
"Ma-m-m-ma'am," Assmeal says, "th-this guy named L-L-uh uh LT is, uh, he's stalking me! Help!"
The Agent replies, "LT? Is that his whole name?"
Assmeal whines, "No, uh, I... I don't know his real name, ma'am... he posted my name and address on a message board!"
Agent Miller pauses, snorts, and then says, "Sir, where exactly did he get your name and address?"
Assmeal's trembling voice peeps, "Uh I think he looked up my website's WHOIS info!"
"Well, that's not exactly stalking, sir. Has he threatened you?"
Assmeal looks at the headset incredulously. "Threatened me? He's a black guy, of course he's threatening me! He's gonna get me!"
Agent Miller responds, "Well, sorry, sir, but until he issues a terroristic threat there's absolutely nothing we can ever hope to do about him."
Astounded, Assmeal snarls righteously, "Huh?! Are you kidding me?!" he cries out. "I'm gonna lose my internet access because of this cyberstalker! Doggone it, the FBI ought to be privatized! They'd take him out then!"
Agent Miller chuckles. "Well, sir, that would only present other problems. I'm sorry we can't help you. Have a nice day."
Assmeal slams the headset on its mount and grumbles. His shaky fingers bang out a long c&p and accompanying rant about how women aren't fit to be FBI agents.
Meanwhile, LT hops a plane and flies to Assmeal's home town.
Dressed in a ninja suit, LT makes his way to the trailer park and silently waits for Assmeal to come out for his weekly trip to the outhouse shower stall.
Then, at last, a horrible smell heralds Assmeal's exit at the back door. The stench knocks LT's senses out of whack temporarily, but not long enough to stop him from making his move in the nick of time.
LT rushes up on Assmeal and whispers, "Guess who!"
Assmeal turns and even the pimples on his face jump off and run away. It's that black guy, LT, in the flesh.
"Oh my God," Assmeal gasps as his pimples clear the fence on their way to the street. "Mommy!!! Help!!! He's here!"
LT the Assassin makes his move instantly. "What's one plus one?" he barks.
Assmeal's eyes bulge as he suddenly seizes up, his jaw hanging wide open. "Uhhh... uhhhhh..." he stutters, as smoke starts to rise from his ears.
"Okay, fine. Which US President was in office for the majority of World War II?"
Assmeal suddenly snaps out of his funk and points his finger at LT. "Ah hah! I know! Dwight D Eisenhower, a Republican! Hah! You lose!"
LT whips out a copy of a 1945 newspaper. "Wrong! It was Franklin D Roosevelt! A New Deal Liberal Commie Democrat! See, it's right here!"
Assmeal's eyes focus on where LT's finger is pointing, and then freezes up again.
LT waits a whole minute for his response, before lowering the paper to look at Assmeal's face. Assmeal's transfixed look leaves him puzzled. "What the fuck?" he says, snapping his fingers at Assmeal.
Suddenly, Assmeal comes to awareness again. "Huh? What the hell? What did you just do to me!"
Perplexed, LT looks at the newspaper and his eyes fall upon an ad. "Grape juice. Concentrate." He sags. "Aw, fuck. Shoulda blotted that out."
Meanwhile, Assmeal's mother, hearing this exchange from the kitchen of her roach infested single wide, reaches for the phone book in a panic.
"Ok, here's the NSA," she says, dialing the number.
"Hello, NASCAR Sports Association, this is Jimbob speaking, how may I help you?"
"Help! My son is being killed by a cyberstalker! Please!"
"Huh?" the male voice replies. "Uh, sir or ma'am, I can't hear you, there's a dog barking by the phone, could you talk up?"
Assmeal's mother screams louder, "SIR PLEASE!! MY SON IS DYING!!!"
"Uhhh I can't hear anything over that dog."
"Can't you hear me?!" Assmeal's mother screeches. Jimbob finally gives up and hangs up.
Assmeal's mother calls again, again without success. Finally, she's left to fret about helplessly...
... until she sees the post-it note on her fridge: "Emergency call 911"...
Meanwhile:
"Name one first world country without welfare and social programs!" LT demans.
Smoke billows from Assmeal's ears, drowning out the stench of his unwashed body and shit stained undies with the pungent scent of burning cotton candy. "Uh, uh, uh..." Assmeal stammers.
"Tell me what Jesus Christ would have said of your remarks about Native Americans!"
Assmeal falls to his knees, grabbing his head and screaming in pain. "I... I... I aaaaaaaaaaaargh!!"
LT continues. "If Peter Piper picked a peck of pickled peppers, how many peppers did Peter Piper pick?"
Assmeal's skull begins to bubble as his hair starts falling out.
Suddenly, a dozen armed men jump the fence on either side, with the sexy Agent Miller leading the way.
"FBI! Freeze, LT! I mean it!" she yells.
LT finds himself cornered by two dozen heavily armed men and their leader. His eyes wide with horror, he raises his hands in the air slowly.
Then, his face twists into a sick minded grin.
"Assmeal," he says calmly.
"SILENCE, LT!" Agent Miller orders, drawing her gun.
LT says, "Why would an anti Government bad ass like you call the big communist Government to stop lil' ol' me?"
LT immediately drops to the ground, putting himself out of their gunsights for a critical second. Meanwhile, his question overloads Assmeal's brain, causing his head to catch fire and explode. The grisly scene causes everyone to duck for cover.
At least LT didn't get shot and killed; but thanks to Agent Miller's quick thinking and even quicker legs, he'll be spending a long, long time up in Club Fed....
"I don't have to," Assmeal writes, "unlike you, I didn't go to some communist school to learn American history. I learned the truth from blue blooded Arya-er Americans in the backwoods."
LT responds, "You know, I played paintball with those dudes in the backwoods. Even hunted deer with 'em. They tell me you're a weakling and a pussy."
Assmeal bangs his head on the keyboard and starts rolling his forehead around in anger, "Fuck off, LT! You're the real weakling, you need the Government to take care of you. I'm completely self sufficient!"
Just then, Assmeal's mother calls from upstairs. It's dinner time.
Assmeal posts, "Shut up LT. Woof." And then shouts "Yes, mommy!" and runs upstairs to his bowl of Purina Chow.
Later, he returns to Lit to find that LT has posted his name and address online, as well as a link to look up his springbreak.com registry info where he got all that information.
Suddenly, Assmeal starts to tremble. Oh my God, he says to himself. What if my mother finds out? With shaky hands, he types out, "LT you've screwed yourself good! I'll pursue anyone who does this, I swear it!"
All he gets back from LT is a bunch of LOL's and ROTFLMAO's. Assmeal knows LT isn't buying his bluff.
It takes a dozen retries to spell it correctly but he finally types, "That isn't me. That's my lawyer friend. He's going to sue you into oblivion LT! We're going to get you!!!#!@!#!#@@#%$@!!!!"
LT verbally pisses on Assmeal and challenges him to bring it on.
Ishmael posts, "You've hung yourself d000d! You're doomed! I'm going to get you! I'm gonna sue and sue and sue, I say!!!"
LT rolls on like a tank made of solid neutronium. Day after day, LT taunts Assmeal endlessly about his lawsuit threats until one day Assmeal's mother looks online and sees her son's name.
Angered, she threatens to yank Assmeal's phone cord and terminate his AOL priviledges. Assmeal decides he has to stop this.
Assmeal's quivery, jittery finger dials the number for the local FBI office.
If he couldn't stop LT then perhaps the big bad Government Assmeal so despised, could?
"FBI, Agent Miller speaking." a woman's voice answers. "How many I help you?"
"Ma-m-m-ma'am," Assmeal says, "th-this guy named L-L-uh uh LT is, uh, he's stalking me! Help!"
The Agent replies, "LT? Is that his whole name?"
Assmeal whines, "No, uh, I... I don't know his real name, ma'am... he posted my name and address on a message board!"
Agent Miller pauses, snorts, and then says, "Sir, where exactly did he get your name and address?"
Assmeal's trembling voice peeps, "Uh I think he looked up my website's WHOIS info!"
"Well, that's not exactly stalking, sir. Has he threatened you?"
Assmeal looks at the headset incredulously. "Threatened me? He's a black guy, of course he's threatening me! He's gonna get me!"
Agent Miller responds, "Well, sorry, sir, but until he issues a terroristic threat there's absolutely nothing we can ever hope to do about him."
Astounded, Assmeal snarls righteously, "Huh?! Are you kidding me?!" he cries out. "I'm gonna lose my internet access because of this cyberstalker! Doggone it, the FBI ought to be privatized! They'd take him out then!"
Agent Miller chuckles. "Well, sir, that would only present other problems. I'm sorry we can't help you. Have a nice day."
Assmeal slams the headset on its mount and grumbles. His shaky fingers bang out a long c&p and accompanying rant about how women aren't fit to be FBI agents.
Meanwhile, LT hops a plane and flies to Assmeal's home town.
Dressed in a ninja suit, LT makes his way to the trailer park and silently waits for Assmeal to come out for his weekly trip to the outhouse shower stall.
Then, at last, a horrible smell heralds Assmeal's exit at the back door. The stench knocks LT's senses out of whack temporarily, but not long enough to stop him from making his move in the nick of time.
LT rushes up on Assmeal and whispers, "Guess who!"
Assmeal turns and even the pimples on his face jump off and run away. It's that black guy, LT, in the flesh.
"Oh my God," Assmeal gasps as his pimples clear the fence on their way to the street. "Mommy!!! Help!!! He's here!"
LT the Assassin makes his move instantly. "What's one plus one?" he barks.
Assmeal's eyes bulge as he suddenly seizes up, his jaw hanging wide open. "Uhhh... uhhhhh..." he stutters, as smoke starts to rise from his ears.
"Okay, fine. Which US President was in office for the majority of World War II?"
Assmeal suddenly snaps out of his funk and points his finger at LT. "Ah hah! I know! Dwight D Eisenhower, a Republican! Hah! You lose!"
LT whips out a copy of a 1945 newspaper. "Wrong! It was Franklin D Roosevelt! A New Deal Liberal Commie Democrat! See, it's right here!"
Assmeal's eyes focus on where LT's finger is pointing, and then freezes up again.
LT waits a whole minute for his response, before lowering the paper to look at Assmeal's face. Assmeal's transfixed look leaves him puzzled. "What the fuck?" he says, snapping his fingers at Assmeal.
Suddenly, Assmeal comes to awareness again. "Huh? What the hell? What did you just do to me!"
Perplexed, LT looks at the newspaper and his eyes fall upon an ad. "Grape juice. Concentrate." He sags. "Aw, fuck. Shoulda blotted that out."
Meanwhile, Assmeal's mother, hearing this exchange from the kitchen of her roach infested single wide, reaches for the phone book in a panic.
"Ok, here's the NSA," she says, dialing the number.
"Hello, NASCAR Sports Association, this is Jimbob speaking, how may I help you?"
"Help! My son is being killed by a cyberstalker! Please!"
"Huh?" the male voice replies. "Uh, sir or ma'am, I can't hear you, there's a dog barking by the phone, could you talk up?"
Assmeal's mother screams louder, "SIR PLEASE!! MY SON IS DYING!!!"
"Uhhh I can't hear anything over that dog."
"Can't you hear me?!" Assmeal's mother screeches. Jimbob finally gives up and hangs up.
Assmeal's mother calls again, again without success. Finally, she's left to fret about helplessly...
... until she sees the post-it note on her fridge: "Emergency call 911"...
Meanwhile:
"Name one first world country without welfare and social programs!" LT demans.
Smoke billows from Assmeal's ears, drowning out the stench of his unwashed body and shit stained undies with the pungent scent of burning cotton candy. "Uh, uh, uh..." Assmeal stammers.
"Tell me what Jesus Christ would have said of your remarks about Native Americans!"
Assmeal falls to his knees, grabbing his head and screaming in pain. "I... I... I aaaaaaaaaaaargh!!"
LT continues. "If Peter Piper picked a peck of pickled peppers, how many peppers did Peter Piper pick?"
Assmeal's skull begins to bubble as his hair starts falling out.
Suddenly, a dozen armed men jump the fence on either side, with the sexy Agent Miller leading the way.
"FBI! Freeze, LT! I mean it!" she yells.
LT finds himself cornered by two dozen heavily armed men and their leader. His eyes wide with horror, he raises his hands in the air slowly.
Then, his face twists into a sick minded grin.
"Assmeal," he says calmly.
"SILENCE, LT!" Agent Miller orders, drawing her gun.
LT says, "Why would an anti Government bad ass like you call the big communist Government to stop lil' ol' me?"
LT immediately drops to the ground, putting himself out of their gunsights for a critical second. Meanwhile, his question overloads Assmeal's brain, causing his head to catch fire and explode. The grisly scene causes everyone to duck for cover.
At least LT didn't get shot and killed; but thanks to Agent Miller's quick thinking and even quicker legs, he'll be spending a long, long time up in Club Fed....
