cursed stories

Two Tired Uncles Streaming turbulent until it gets a billion streams

Awsten Knight was thinking about Geoff Wigington again. Geoff was a greasy taller, minion-loving boi with greasy right in the arm pits and grubby abs.

Awsten walked over to the window and reflected on his dim lights, 3 lights were lit but the 4th one's out surroundings. He had always loved sweaty, stinky Backstage at their last tour date for the FANDOM tour with its salty, smoked sweaty guys, otto chillin' in the corner, twizzlers and, of course, minions, because Geoff loves them. It was a place that encouraged his tendency to feel emo.

Then he saw something in the distance, or rather someone. It was the a greasy figure of Geoff Wigington.

Awsten gulped. He glanced at his own reflection. He was a warm, sweaty hands, moist, orange juice straight out the bottle drinker with moist right in the arm pits and wobbly abs. His friends saw him as a glamorous, grubby Green haired dude with an ego the size of the venue itself. Once, he had even helped a mushy Otto, their small, innocent, lowkey kinda stupid child, playing air drums recover from a flying accident.

But not even a warm, sweaty hands person who had once helped a mushy Otto, their small, innocent, lowkey kinda stupid child, playing air drums recover from a flying accident, was prepared for what Geoff had in store today.

The dark, foggy teased like talking snakes, making Awsten overactive. Awsten grabbed a minion-fied tiny bottles of shitty wine that had been strewn nearby; he massaged it with his fingers.

As Awsten stepped outside and Geoff came closer, he could see the roasted smile on his face.

"Look Awsten," growled Geoff, with a hansome glare that reminded Awsten of greasy Otto's goat lover. "It's not that I don't love you, but I want I just want firstly, an even cut of the profit you greedy bad boi. And I also want to visit OUR child, Otto. It'd also be nice if we... Reconnected.. You owe me 677 gold pie."

Awsten looked back, even more overactive and still fingering the minion-fied tiny bottles of shitty wine. "Geoff, I can't. Look, I need the money to flex on the fans, right? I also need money to raise Otto. We weren't working... Your hands were just too... Moist," he replied.

They looked at each other with sad feelings, like two tasteless, terrible Travis but goat curling up into a lil ball at a very hair stuck to forehead like super glue literally straight after a show. The fans are still in the concert venue freaking out and buying merch to give Awsten a paycheck, which had death metal, full volume, blasting music playing in the background and two tired uncles streaming turbulent until it gets a billion streams like the green haired boy asked to the beat.

Suddenly, Geoff lunged forward and tried to punch Awsten in the face. Quickly, Awsten grabbed the minion-fied tiny bottles of shitty wine and brought it down on Geoff's skull.

Geoff's greasy right in the arm pits trembled and his grubby abs wobbled. He looked swell, his wallet raw like an agreeable, afraid Awsten's big collection of special toothbats he brings everywhere.

Then he let out an agonising groan and collapsed onto the ground. Moments later Geoff Wigington was dead.

Awsten Knight went back inside and made himself a nice drink of orange juice straight out the bottle.

THE END