Unicorn Jizz & Battenberg
Alternate Ending
Staring at his score with a disgruntled look upon his bearded face, the Writer stubbed his cigarette in the ashtray beside him and instantly set about rolling another.
He had no arguments with the judgements, nor the score itself. In fact he suspected both were probably justified. A SmackDown was a brutal affair and as the man at least partly responsible for the current incarnation of the concept, the Writer knew that better than most.
The Writer was, however, angry with himself, and as such he began to type furiously, fully intent on fucking shit up.
***
The bastards!
He dropped to his knees and retched, jamming his fingers down his throat and eventually, though it was somewhat painful, he managed to vomit and it was the kinda' vomit one might expect to see on Family Guy.
Suffice it to say, there was a lot of puke.
When he was done, he...
No, wait! There was more, and in stroke of what some might call genius he turned to the still-gathered crowd and sprayed them in their entirety with his rancid bile.
When he was done, and this time he actually was done, he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, retrieved his mini-drill from the floor and pressed a button on the side.
The button was red, as such things tend to be, and once pressed the mini-drill transformed into something else entirely - a Big Fucking Gun.
He smiled and proceeded to fire said BFG, spraying bullets all over the bloody shop until all in the room were dead.
With a maniacal grin and his big-blue eyes wide, he danced amongst those dead, bloody and most definitely vomit-coated bodies, singing, "Fuck the lotta' yous, fuckin' fucks," to the tune of the Human League's 'Don't You Want Me Baby?'
YOU ARE READING
SmackDown: MadMike's Revenge!
Science FictionLeft beaten, bloodied and bruised in a ditch somewhere, @MadMikeMarsbergen lost the Pot 1 Finals of SmackDown: The Second Coming to @torontojim (who later ended up winning the Grand Finals, too). Now he's back to get some revenge on all you competit...
