GANG X ICONS

Khajeeda X Kim Jong Un

"Sraighten up, Khajeeda. You've got this babes," she mutters to herself, sweating profusely from her forehead's varicose veins and goosepimples. She buttons up her top hat and intricately positions her grunge choker necklace around her goozle, truly going for the classy bitch aesthetic. She gallops into the milkmaid's den and squats behind a tub of flex glue, knees cracking like a nice bag of Doritos.

 Suddenly the door creaks open, 3 South Korean midget prisoners held in shackles stumble in, alarming Khajdea. Holding the reigns, a 3ft hunk of pure communist yellow muscle, with the sexiest fade-bowlcut she'd ever layed her singular eye upon. 

"Ching chong choong chunk," whispered the rounded manchild, ample bosom flailing about as he ran amidst the midgets. Khaddeja whimpered in behind the flex glue, despite it being in the middle of the room no one spotted her. She began salivating and hyperventilating, unable to continue merely watching the arousing mating dance displayed by the thicc midget quartet. 

Suddenly, Khajda's phone's ring tone starts playing full blast, the Soviet Union's national anthem. She runs towards the door in panic, this beast, though smexy, would ravage her in the chains he now held her three South Korean uncles.

"TIP TAP TOP" the speedy speedy footsteps trailed closely behind, she could do nothing but glance behing her. It was him. His raisin eyes and protruding cheek flaps seemed more enticing than ever, sweat gleaming from between them. The man baby pounces on top of her, ripping off her choker in the process. 

"Chinc Chog Chungus," he groans in his deep Rambo voice, spittle scattered across Khajeeda's fogged glasses lense. 

"I'm sorry your chungus, i mean your highness."

Suddenly, the fat chink's eyes peer open, "an English speaker, are you pakistanian? What's thy name?"

"Khajdedda, and yours?" she reaches out to  grab his outstretched limb, alike the Michelin Man's, and she feels her knees give out. She tumbles to the floor, smothered in her uncles' saliva, but when expecting to meet a moist, slippery doom, lands on a cloud-like inflatable cushion. 

"King Jong Un," he muttered into her ear, winking into its cavern. He lifts a shook Khadeeja onto her legs and leans against the milkmaid's table, looking his dish up and down and side to side and 3d and shit.

In the most vulnerable state of her life, before the man of her dreams, Khadeejj took it upon herself to begin her sexy dance, slowly inching towards king jong un.

3 cartwheels, 69 burpees, and 420 fortnite dances later, she finds herself sweating and condensated in the arms of her lover. 

"Babesy, you seducted me so goodly. I tremble before you, my supreme leader," King john un slowly got to his knees before khadeeja, who now lent against the table playing the Soviet national anthem on her trombone. Jong Un whips up to his feet, chugs the salty water from Khadeeja's trombone and tossed it against the door... a fatal mistake. He ties a yoghurt stick around her ankes and body slams her repetitively into the hard wood table. Donald Trump's prosthetic 3rd limbs emerge from his breastpocket. 

Khadeja begins to become slightly concerned, and inches back against the window, tears streaming from her facial holes. "But bae im virginal like shazza#2, " Kim John Un struts forward with all the pompousness and glamour of Marilyn Monroe, and body rolls towards her. This technique of seduction was one he would observe in his annual sexy time documentary education sessions. He stops, and his eyes glaze over. Khadeeja begins to feel guilty but scared. 

"Im sorry hun bun rice dumpling, do as you please daddy," she whimpers as she awaits his sandpaper touch. 

"KABLAM" suddenly, bits of yellow flesh go spatter across the room, one landing on Khadje'as face. She swallows it up before getting up to see what caused the ruckus. King John UN was gone. In his place, Scrappy Doo in a metal contraption. Before Khadeeja could utter a word, Scrappy Doo unfolds to reveal Megan Han. 

"Im actually Megan Han," squeals Megan Han. 

"Megan Han, but, wheres daddy un?" 

"It was i all along, Megan Han." says Megan Han.

Khajda feels a sharp pain in her torso, heartache. Turns out it was an aneurysm. She collapses atop the midgets, and breathes her last. Megan Han worms over towards her corpse and lies face down on top of it, awaiting death's release.