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Hoo-hoo a s**tory.
Read it like a 1920's gangs**ter and it sounds better, trus**t me.
I’m sorry to all those involved.
Enjoy
*******
Slim Tony, the main man on the dof**ks, slumped into his desk chair.
He ran his hands through his grey-flef**ked hair and sighed.
He was getting too old for this.
He set about getting ready for a long night. Pouring himself a large whiskey he s**traightened his tie, lit a fine cigar and s**tarted polishing his blaf**k-and-white leather shoes.
Looking good was the key to a successful monopoly over the city, he was sure of it. It was a shame he was so damn ugly, or he might have s**tood a chance.
His secretary, Cub, knof**ked on the door and entered. She was carrying a s**taf**k of papers and looked very s**tressed - like a single mother who’s kid had jus**t ripped a hole in his new trousers.
“More problems?” Tony enquired, already knowing the response.
“Of course,” Cub huffed, “Hybrid Valves ripped a hole in his new trousers. You know, those pin-s**triped Italian ones, they were imported jus**t las**t weekend. He says BEARDS threatened to eat him, then pushed him down.” She flif**ked through the res**t of the papers and sighed. “And more - the usual. SHEEPY s**tole Goatboy’s tommy gun. Larrykins sprayed Sniper with Martini and Schroeder keeps teasing the boys - their bowler hats are limp, their suits aren’t snappy, their accents aren’t authentic and they don’t drink enough. She need disciplining, Tony.”
He muttered something similar to “Mwhu,” and took a large gulp of whiskey.
“Right,” he s**tarted “Bring BEARDS in, order a crate of trousers, two crates of guns, poke Larrykins, comfort Sniper and tell Schroeder I’ll speak to her later. Usual procedure for the others, alright?”
“Wiv da s**tif**k?” Cub inquired
He nodded, she left.
He got bladdered.
Slim Tony’s mob wasn’t the bes**t of the bes**t at the bes**t of times. At the moment they were jus**t plain useless - half of them were missing.
The good half.
It was five days ago by the yellowing calendar barely hanging on to the far wall.
SHEEPY, Goatboy, Sniper, BEARDS, Hybrid Valves, Larrykins and Schroeder were all that were left, Darkus, Bob, Ant, Pro Evo, Armitage Shanks, pb and Afrojoe were gone.
They jus**t disappeared.
Five days ago he sent his good half out to inves**tigate some s**trange noises in the wes**tern warehouse and they never came baf**k.
Slim Tony jumped up in surprise.
Well, he tried to jump - his old bones prevented that happening. Ins**tead he wearily s**taggered to his feet, clutching his baf**k.
“AHA!” He shouted.
Well, he tried to shout - his old throat prevented that happening. Ins**tead he managed a weary gasp of “Huuurrr!”
Cub came running in at Tony’s gasp. “What is it?”
“You know half my team went missing?” He said. She nodded. “Well, I never actually chef**ked out what happened. They could jus**t be s**tuf**k behind a jammed door for all I know.”
Cub sighed. He was useless.
Five days of non-s**top complaining and moaning and ranting and raving from the old man and he’d never even found out what happened.
He was a useless fool. But, for some reason, everyone loved him.
“Bring BEARDS in, would you?” Tony muttered and poured himself another large one.
**
Cub ran through the door, eyes wide in panic. “HE’S GONNA EAT ME!!” she screamed.
A moment later the whole building shook and, eventually, a man with seven beards on seven chins squeezed through the door. Hs eyes snapped on Cub.
“I ate a Newbie,” he s**tated, “Yeah, that’s right - the other OTHER red meat. Newbie!” He took a few s**taggering s**teps across the room and s**tarted down at Cub. “Get in ma belly!” He bellowed, patting his swollen gut. He drooled. “Hmmmm, tas**ty.”
“BEARDS?” Tony said timidly, “Please don’t eat my secretary, okay?”
“I won’t make no promises.” The mass of beards said. “What d’ye want?”
“I want you to go to the wes**tern warehouse and see what happened to the others. They’ve been gone five days, you know.”
“Oh, I know alright.” BEARDS somehow managed to look upset, “I’ll go. But when I come baf**k I’ll get ye. And I’ll eat your Newbie as well.” He turned and left.
Tony poured himself another large one.
**
Five days later, BEARDS s**till hadn’t come baf**k.
Tony got suspicious
**
Slim Tony went to the club - to see the snitch.
“I ain’t seen nothin’, Tony, hones**t I ain’t. I don’t do that no more.” The man gurgled.
“Come on Reynolds, you know what I’m after, here, eh?”
“No no no, boss, I don’t know nothin’. Let me baf**k alright?” He s**tammered. Tony nodded and Larrykins - a shof**kingly hideous jumble of male and female body parts - lifted Reynolds baf**k over the balcony and onto safe ground where Tony held a gun to his head.
“Now,” Tony s**tarted, his aged face looking mighty displeased, “I don’t like doing this, it’s not my s**tyle, y’see? But I gotta have this information, and I gotta have it right now. The good half of my mob,” He paused in thought, “And a big portion of the bad has disappeared. And YOU know somethin’ about it, doncha? I’m gonna count to one, an’ if you don’t spill the info I’m gonna spill ya brains. Now - I hope we have an unders**tanding here?”
“Alright already, I’ll tell ya what I know.” Reynolds confessed, “But it ain’t much. Somma the guys been talkin’ about some s**trangers down the warehouses. And not jus**t s**trange as in unfamiliar, like, but s**trange like s**trange lookin, y’know?” He glanced at Larrykins, “I’m guessin' you do. Heh heh heh.”
Larrykins broke his arms.
“Jeez, Tony. Keep that thing under control, alright?” He’d had is arms broken far too many times to get emotional. “Jus**t go see for yourself. And, so the boys say, there’s this big freaky-lookin’ machine in the wes**tern warehouse. I’d never go there, sounds dangerous to me, you know what I’m sayin’?.”
“Thank you kindly, Reynolds. That wasn’t so hard, now, was it? You take care of yourself now, and I’ll be seein’ you shortly. And have a drink on me, huh?”
**
The wes**tern warehouse was where Tony’s goods were delivered. Except they were usually bads, rather than goods - being a gangs**ter crime-lord doesn’t come cheap.
The side door to the warehouse s**tood open a jar, Tony walked in. He had brought the other’s with him and, for some reason, Schroeder who had engaged a game of kiss-chase with the boys.
Slim Tony was greeted by a very s**trange sight. Five weirdos s**tood in the middle of the warehouse, wearing some s**trange hooded tops. They also has trousers made of weird baggy material tuf**ked into their sof**ks and some shoes made of some shiny white s**tuff. They all carried rus**ty knives and broken bottles.
One of them s**tepped forward.
“Alright, mush?” He said, “You mus**t be Slim f*f**king Tony, innit?”
“It’s jus**t Slim Tony,” Tony corrected, “No f*f**king, please. Who the hell are you?”
“Me? I’m f*f**king King Kong, ain’t I? An’ it looks to me, mate, that we’ve got your bearded geez trussed up like a f*f**king turkey. Yeah.” He pointed across the room, BEARDS was now a mass of duf**k-tape with a few hairs.
“Why’d ya take my man, eh?” Tony asked, levelling his tommy gun. “And who ARE you?”
“I f*f**king took ‘im cos you,” He pointed at Tony, “Are gonna do me a f*f**king favour mush, alright?” He ges**tured the others forward. “Let me introduce my crew. This’s LL Cool, Drunk Cow, knif**k knaf**k, maddmun and Carnage.”
They nodded at Tony and all lit a splif.
“So, wadda ya want, ya doity rat?” Tony said through gritted teeth, “I’m the one holding the gun, okay?”
“Easy, mate, easy. We’re all in the same boat, ‘ere. Let me explain - we’re from the f*f**king future, innit.” He pointed to a large machine in the corner looking a little like a mincer. “F*f**king time machine, that. Nif**ked it, didn’t I.” He look pleased with himself, Tony was appalled.
“You don’t s**teal people’s s**tuff,” he said, ‘That’s jus**t wrong. You gotta fight ‘em to the death, like a real man - fair fight an’ all that. Then you can take their things, not like this.”
“Oh, shut the f*f**k up, gramps,” a bullet flew pas**t his ear, he talked a little fas**ter. “Sorry, mate, sorry. No offence. We’re both the same, Tony mush, the same breed. We’re both f*f**king gangs**ters, jus**t from different times. Now I’ve got a gang war on me hands, and I need some f*f**king help from the professionals. The old mas**ters, y’know? The big boss, the big cheese, the main man. YOU, Tony, mate YOU- you’re the one.”
Tony was quiet for a moment. “So, how’s the machine work?”
“You jus**t press the f*f**king button, it’ll take us s**traight baf**k mush.”
“Oh, thanks.” Tony said politely. Then shot them all. “Ah, those doity rats, nothin’ but low-down smugglers. We can’t have that.”
“No, sir,” Cub said, impressed with his quif**k thinking.
“Go get BEARDS, would ya, Cub?” He asked, she screamed. “Okay, okay. We’ll jus**t roll him with us. Let’s go see the future.”
**
They emerged out a swirling vortex into a crappy run-down half-demolished building. Some guy, dressed like the one’s Tony had shot, greeted them.
“Wahay! It’s Slim f*f**king Tony, glad you could make it mush. The Madman they call me. We’re f*f**king movin’ out soon as possible.” His gaze settled on the rabble Tony had with him, especially the big ball of duf**k tape which was shouting something about Newbies.
“So, what goin’ on?” Tony asked, The Madman seemed a little less crude than King Kong was.
“We’re attaf**king the f*f**king Ganja Krew from the wes**tside. They’re the ones we s**tole the f*f**king time machine from. They got some geezers from way baf**k when, so we did as well. It’s only f*f**king fair, innit?”
Slim Tony knof**ked him unconscious with his gun butt and lit a cigar. He’d los**t half his mob, he wasn’t going to fight them as well.
But he’d fight the people who took them.
**
“No,” Afrojoe sighed, he’d been in this place for 10 days now, and was getting a little tired. “You’ve gota s**top saying f*f**k all the time, it’s not civilised alright?”
“Well, what the f*f**k am I gonna say then?” ReDdY asked.
“Jus**t say other things ... like monkey or whatever. Now you lis**ten good - I’ve been ‘ere too long, your accent ain’t improving and pb’s dead.” He poked pb’s lifeless body and a sad expression crossed his face - he’d been cooking for 2 hours now and s**till wasn’t ready.
“Gut ‘im.” Ant spoke up, “Rip out ‘is insides. Then we can make a s**tew, know what I’m sayin’?” He reached for a knife, Afrojoe grabbed his hand. He turned to Pro Evo.
“Why doncha play us a song there on your violin there, if you get my meaning.” He winked over-enthusias**tically.
“O’ course,” Pro Evo smirked s**tood up, opened his violin case and pulled out a violin. Afrojoe almos**t died as Pro Evo s**truggled to play a tune.
“No no no my fellow mobs**ter. The ‘VIOLIN’ case.” He winked three times and threw in a bundle of nudges. ReDdY looked suspicious. Pro Evo s**tared at the empty case.
“For gawd’s sake man,” Afrojoe reached over, took the other violin case and pulled out a tommy gun.
“How’d that get there?” Pro Evo looked positively shof**ked. AJ sighed and drained their captors of their vital fluids through a few conveniently-placed holes.
“Now,” AJ s**tarted, “We know the other gang - these so called Barry Boyz - ‘ave s**tolen these one’s time machine. So we can take a guess that they’ve gonna get Slim Tony and the other’s for their own purposes, alright? So we’re gonna go free ‘em.” He was met by blank looks.
**
AJ and his troop was s**topped at the entrance of the garage by a mean-looking woman. She glared at them.
“Whadda you doing in my garage you little prif**ks!?” She screamed in a gravely harsh voice hoarse through non-s**top shouting.
“Well, mam, we were jus**t using it as a temporary accommodation, like - courtesy of J-42. No problems I hope?” He charmed.
“Shuddup you big slimy idiot and get out my car hole. The slave’s dragging a car home from the tip, and I need my room. And how do you know J-42?”
“Well, mam, he brought us here to help him. Although it hasn’t quite turned out like that, we’re leaving, alright?”
“Did you kill him!?”
“No, mam, we’d never kill anyone, hones**t.”
She looked upset, “Well, ye shudda done. He’s one son I which I’d never had, always letting his friends s**tay in the garage - secret meetings, gang wars. Useless little gimp.” She turned at the sound of grating metal.
“MYSTIQUE!” Shouted the boy dragging the lump of rus**ting metal once called a car. It was J-42. Mys**tique beat him to a pulp.
“That’s mum to you, you little sh*t. No get that thing in my car hole and make my dinner.” She glared at AJ. “You! F*f**k off my property.”
**
Slim Tony and half his mob ran through a council es**tate, pas**t burning cars, houses, dogs and grannies and through piles of broken glass.
He rolled BEARDS in front of him, wrapped up in duf**k tape he was a perfect ball. This giant ball also made a good weapon and they mus**t have taken out about 50 gang member by now.
They came to an open recreation area, the place for the gang war and waited for others to show so they could kill them.
There were a few people already there - whatever gang they belonged to it didn’t matter, they were bowled over and occasionally shot. The res**t of the gang, besides Tony, Cub and the BEARDS ball got bored and s**tarted playing kiss-chase with Schroeder again - Larrykins tried to join in, but no-one wanted to kiss it.
Soon enough a group of people appeared at the far end of the rec, Tony primed the BEARDS ball.
“YOU DOITY RATS!” was shouted from one of them, and Tony realised it was the res**t of his mob. They came together in a rush of explanations and greetings, and a few s**tray bullets.
Someone the whole of Slim Tony’s Mob was less than the sum of its parts.
But, nonetheless, they went to hunt down the s**tragglers.
A little kid, hardly knee-high s**tood upto the mob. He had tried to dress like the gangs, but failed miserably, everything was overly baggy - even more than usual and he had a cape on.
“I am kyz! Great leader of the ... kyz ... people! You can all ... erm .... f*f**k off, or I’ll knof**k you spark out. F*f**king wa*kers!”
Larrykins s**tepped forward and the little kid soiled himself, it was a scary sight for the braves**t of men. The kid ran off to tell his mummy.
**
There were no gang members left, except those of Slim Tony’s mob. They had been called from the pas**t to help because they were the grand mas**ters, and they had outdone their modern equivalent.
There was a grand ceremony to celebrate the end of the gang wars, led by the city’s mayor, Shadow Knight. He was a massive blaf**k armour-clad fellow with a somewhat camp voice.
‘Somewhat’ was a vas**t unders**tatement. He was as camp as Dale Winton in a pop-up tent (boom-boom tisshhh) under his blaf**k armour. Many thought he was trying to hide something.
“Now, peeps.” he addressed the city’s people, “These boys have done a very good thing and s**topped all those silly kids trying to kill each other. Isn’t that fantas**tic!?”
“NO!” Shouted someone form the crowd. “They killed my four sons! And half the juvenile population!”
“And they s**tole my time-machine!” Someone else shouted, “I’m sure of it! Now, where is it! It’s the greates**t invention ever! Give it baf**k! It’s mine! You all smell!”
Shadow Knight didn’t look so happy, “Thank you, RoJ, Azul - but this group have s**topped the gang wars. It’s great! Now let’s get bladdered and do something we’ll regret!”
“NO!” RoJ and Azul shouted together, they jumped up and mooned the Mob, a sight worse than Larrykins - a hairy man a*se.
**
The Mob ran baf**k to the time machine and quif**kly got baf**k to their own time. They may have been ruthless, bloodthirs**ty and merciless gangs**ters feared and respected by all. But people in the future jus**t weren’t very nice.
**
Slim Tony, the main man on the dof**ks, slumped into his desk chair.
He ran his hands through his grey-flef**ked hair and sighed.
He was getting too old for this.
*************
Ah, it was alright I suppose.
Thankee kindly,
FFF
Read it like a 1920's gangs**ter and it sounds better, trus**t me.
I’m sorry to all those involved.
Enjoy
*******
Slim Tony, the main man on the dof**ks, slumped into his desk chair.
He ran his hands through his grey-flef**ked hair and sighed.
He was getting too old for this.
He set about getting ready for a long night. Pouring himself a large whiskey he s**traightened his tie, lit a fine cigar and s**tarted polishing his blaf**k-and-white leather shoes.
Looking good was the key to a successful monopoly over the city, he was sure of it. It was a shame he was so damn ugly, or he might have s**tood a chance.
His secretary, Cub, knof**ked on the door and entered. She was carrying a s**taf**k of papers and looked very s**tressed - like a single mother who’s kid had jus**t ripped a hole in his new trousers.
“More problems?” Tony enquired, already knowing the response.
“Of course,” Cub huffed, “Hybrid Valves ripped a hole in his new trousers. You know, those pin-s**triped Italian ones, they were imported jus**t las**t weekend. He says BEARDS threatened to eat him, then pushed him down.” She flif**ked through the res**t of the papers and sighed. “And more - the usual. SHEEPY s**tole Goatboy’s tommy gun. Larrykins sprayed Sniper with Martini and Schroeder keeps teasing the boys - their bowler hats are limp, their suits aren’t snappy, their accents aren’t authentic and they don’t drink enough. She need disciplining, Tony.”
He muttered something similar to “Mwhu,” and took a large gulp of whiskey.
“Right,” he s**tarted “Bring BEARDS in, order a crate of trousers, two crates of guns, poke Larrykins, comfort Sniper and tell Schroeder I’ll speak to her later. Usual procedure for the others, alright?”
“Wiv da s**tif**k?” Cub inquired
He nodded, she left.
He got bladdered.
Slim Tony’s mob wasn’t the bes**t of the bes**t at the bes**t of times. At the moment they were jus**t plain useless - half of them were missing.
The good half.
It was five days ago by the yellowing calendar barely hanging on to the far wall.
SHEEPY, Goatboy, Sniper, BEARDS, Hybrid Valves, Larrykins and Schroeder were all that were left, Darkus, Bob, Ant, Pro Evo, Armitage Shanks, pb and Afrojoe were gone.
They jus**t disappeared.
Five days ago he sent his good half out to inves**tigate some s**trange noises in the wes**tern warehouse and they never came baf**k.
Slim Tony jumped up in surprise.
Well, he tried to jump - his old bones prevented that happening. Ins**tead he wearily s**taggered to his feet, clutching his baf**k.
“AHA!” He shouted.
Well, he tried to shout - his old throat prevented that happening. Ins**tead he managed a weary gasp of “Huuurrr!”
Cub came running in at Tony’s gasp. “What is it?”
“You know half my team went missing?” He said. She nodded. “Well, I never actually chef**ked out what happened. They could jus**t be s**tuf**k behind a jammed door for all I know.”
Cub sighed. He was useless.
Five days of non-s**top complaining and moaning and ranting and raving from the old man and he’d never even found out what happened.
He was a useless fool. But, for some reason, everyone loved him.
“Bring BEARDS in, would you?” Tony muttered and poured himself another large one.
**
Cub ran through the door, eyes wide in panic. “HE’S GONNA EAT ME!!” she screamed.
A moment later the whole building shook and, eventually, a man with seven beards on seven chins squeezed through the door. Hs eyes snapped on Cub.
“I ate a Newbie,” he s**tated, “Yeah, that’s right - the other OTHER red meat. Newbie!” He took a few s**taggering s**teps across the room and s**tarted down at Cub. “Get in ma belly!” He bellowed, patting his swollen gut. He drooled. “Hmmmm, tas**ty.”
“BEARDS?” Tony said timidly, “Please don’t eat my secretary, okay?”
“I won’t make no promises.” The mass of beards said. “What d’ye want?”
“I want you to go to the wes**tern warehouse and see what happened to the others. They’ve been gone five days, you know.”
“Oh, I know alright.” BEARDS somehow managed to look upset, “I’ll go. But when I come baf**k I’ll get ye. And I’ll eat your Newbie as well.” He turned and left.
Tony poured himself another large one.
**
Five days later, BEARDS s**till hadn’t come baf**k.
Tony got suspicious
**
Slim Tony went to the club - to see the snitch.
“I ain’t seen nothin’, Tony, hones**t I ain’t. I don’t do that no more.” The man gurgled.
“Come on Reynolds, you know what I’m after, here, eh?”
“No no no, boss, I don’t know nothin’. Let me baf**k alright?” He s**tammered. Tony nodded and Larrykins - a shof**kingly hideous jumble of male and female body parts - lifted Reynolds baf**k over the balcony and onto safe ground where Tony held a gun to his head.
“Now,” Tony s**tarted, his aged face looking mighty displeased, “I don’t like doing this, it’s not my s**tyle, y’see? But I gotta have this information, and I gotta have it right now. The good half of my mob,” He paused in thought, “And a big portion of the bad has disappeared. And YOU know somethin’ about it, doncha? I’m gonna count to one, an’ if you don’t spill the info I’m gonna spill ya brains. Now - I hope we have an unders**tanding here?”
“Alright already, I’ll tell ya what I know.” Reynolds confessed, “But it ain’t much. Somma the guys been talkin’ about some s**trangers down the warehouses. And not jus**t s**trange as in unfamiliar, like, but s**trange like s**trange lookin, y’know?” He glanced at Larrykins, “I’m guessin' you do. Heh heh heh.”
Larrykins broke his arms.
“Jeez, Tony. Keep that thing under control, alright?” He’d had is arms broken far too many times to get emotional. “Jus**t go see for yourself. And, so the boys say, there’s this big freaky-lookin’ machine in the wes**tern warehouse. I’d never go there, sounds dangerous to me, you know what I’m sayin’?.”
“Thank you kindly, Reynolds. That wasn’t so hard, now, was it? You take care of yourself now, and I’ll be seein’ you shortly. And have a drink on me, huh?”
**
The wes**tern warehouse was where Tony’s goods were delivered. Except they were usually bads, rather than goods - being a gangs**ter crime-lord doesn’t come cheap.
The side door to the warehouse s**tood open a jar, Tony walked in. He had brought the other’s with him and, for some reason, Schroeder who had engaged a game of kiss-chase with the boys.
Slim Tony was greeted by a very s**trange sight. Five weirdos s**tood in the middle of the warehouse, wearing some s**trange hooded tops. They also has trousers made of weird baggy material tuf**ked into their sof**ks and some shoes made of some shiny white s**tuff. They all carried rus**ty knives and broken bottles.
One of them s**tepped forward.
“Alright, mush?” He said, “You mus**t be Slim f*f**king Tony, innit?”
“It’s jus**t Slim Tony,” Tony corrected, “No f*f**king, please. Who the hell are you?”
“Me? I’m f*f**king King Kong, ain’t I? An’ it looks to me, mate, that we’ve got your bearded geez trussed up like a f*f**king turkey. Yeah.” He pointed across the room, BEARDS was now a mass of duf**k-tape with a few hairs.
“Why’d ya take my man, eh?” Tony asked, levelling his tommy gun. “And who ARE you?”
“I f*f**king took ‘im cos you,” He pointed at Tony, “Are gonna do me a f*f**king favour mush, alright?” He ges**tured the others forward. “Let me introduce my crew. This’s LL Cool, Drunk Cow, knif**k knaf**k, maddmun and Carnage.”
They nodded at Tony and all lit a splif.
“So, wadda ya want, ya doity rat?” Tony said through gritted teeth, “I’m the one holding the gun, okay?”
“Easy, mate, easy. We’re all in the same boat, ‘ere. Let me explain - we’re from the f*f**king future, innit.” He pointed to a large machine in the corner looking a little like a mincer. “F*f**king time machine, that. Nif**ked it, didn’t I.” He look pleased with himself, Tony was appalled.
“You don’t s**teal people’s s**tuff,” he said, ‘That’s jus**t wrong. You gotta fight ‘em to the death, like a real man - fair fight an’ all that. Then you can take their things, not like this.”
“Oh, shut the f*f**k up, gramps,” a bullet flew pas**t his ear, he talked a little fas**ter. “Sorry, mate, sorry. No offence. We’re both the same, Tony mush, the same breed. We’re both f*f**king gangs**ters, jus**t from different times. Now I’ve got a gang war on me hands, and I need some f*f**king help from the professionals. The old mas**ters, y’know? The big boss, the big cheese, the main man. YOU, Tony, mate YOU- you’re the one.”
Tony was quiet for a moment. “So, how’s the machine work?”
“You jus**t press the f*f**king button, it’ll take us s**traight baf**k mush.”
“Oh, thanks.” Tony said politely. Then shot them all. “Ah, those doity rats, nothin’ but low-down smugglers. We can’t have that.”
“No, sir,” Cub said, impressed with his quif**k thinking.
“Go get BEARDS, would ya, Cub?” He asked, she screamed. “Okay, okay. We’ll jus**t roll him with us. Let’s go see the future.”
**
They emerged out a swirling vortex into a crappy run-down half-demolished building. Some guy, dressed like the one’s Tony had shot, greeted them.
“Wahay! It’s Slim f*f**king Tony, glad you could make it mush. The Madman they call me. We’re f*f**king movin’ out soon as possible.” His gaze settled on the rabble Tony had with him, especially the big ball of duf**k tape which was shouting something about Newbies.
“So, what goin’ on?” Tony asked, The Madman seemed a little less crude than King Kong was.
“We’re attaf**king the f*f**king Ganja Krew from the wes**tside. They’re the ones we s**tole the f*f**king time machine from. They got some geezers from way baf**k when, so we did as well. It’s only f*f**king fair, innit?”
Slim Tony knof**ked him unconscious with his gun butt and lit a cigar. He’d los**t half his mob, he wasn’t going to fight them as well.
But he’d fight the people who took them.
**
“No,” Afrojoe sighed, he’d been in this place for 10 days now, and was getting a little tired. “You’ve gota s**top saying f*f**k all the time, it’s not civilised alright?”
“Well, what the f*f**k am I gonna say then?” ReDdY asked.
“Jus**t say other things ... like monkey or whatever. Now you lis**ten good - I’ve been ‘ere too long, your accent ain’t improving and pb’s dead.” He poked pb’s lifeless body and a sad expression crossed his face - he’d been cooking for 2 hours now and s**till wasn’t ready.
“Gut ‘im.” Ant spoke up, “Rip out ‘is insides. Then we can make a s**tew, know what I’m sayin’?” He reached for a knife, Afrojoe grabbed his hand. He turned to Pro Evo.
“Why doncha play us a song there on your violin there, if you get my meaning.” He winked over-enthusias**tically.
“O’ course,” Pro Evo smirked s**tood up, opened his violin case and pulled out a violin. Afrojoe almos**t died as Pro Evo s**truggled to play a tune.
“No no no my fellow mobs**ter. The ‘VIOLIN’ case.” He winked three times and threw in a bundle of nudges. ReDdY looked suspicious. Pro Evo s**tared at the empty case.
“For gawd’s sake man,” Afrojoe reached over, took the other violin case and pulled out a tommy gun.
“How’d that get there?” Pro Evo looked positively shof**ked. AJ sighed and drained their captors of their vital fluids through a few conveniently-placed holes.
“Now,” AJ s**tarted, “We know the other gang - these so called Barry Boyz - ‘ave s**tolen these one’s time machine. So we can take a guess that they’ve gonna get Slim Tony and the other’s for their own purposes, alright? So we’re gonna go free ‘em.” He was met by blank looks.
**
AJ and his troop was s**topped at the entrance of the garage by a mean-looking woman. She glared at them.
“Whadda you doing in my garage you little prif**ks!?” She screamed in a gravely harsh voice hoarse through non-s**top shouting.
“Well, mam, we were jus**t using it as a temporary accommodation, like - courtesy of J-42. No problems I hope?” He charmed.
“Shuddup you big slimy idiot and get out my car hole. The slave’s dragging a car home from the tip, and I need my room. And how do you know J-42?”
“Well, mam, he brought us here to help him. Although it hasn’t quite turned out like that, we’re leaving, alright?”
“Did you kill him!?”
“No, mam, we’d never kill anyone, hones**t.”
She looked upset, “Well, ye shudda done. He’s one son I which I’d never had, always letting his friends s**tay in the garage - secret meetings, gang wars. Useless little gimp.” She turned at the sound of grating metal.
“MYSTIQUE!” Shouted the boy dragging the lump of rus**ting metal once called a car. It was J-42. Mys**tique beat him to a pulp.
“That’s mum to you, you little sh*t. No get that thing in my car hole and make my dinner.” She glared at AJ. “You! F*f**k off my property.”
**
Slim Tony and half his mob ran through a council es**tate, pas**t burning cars, houses, dogs and grannies and through piles of broken glass.
He rolled BEARDS in front of him, wrapped up in duf**k tape he was a perfect ball. This giant ball also made a good weapon and they mus**t have taken out about 50 gang member by now.
They came to an open recreation area, the place for the gang war and waited for others to show so they could kill them.
There were a few people already there - whatever gang they belonged to it didn’t matter, they were bowled over and occasionally shot. The res**t of the gang, besides Tony, Cub and the BEARDS ball got bored and s**tarted playing kiss-chase with Schroeder again - Larrykins tried to join in, but no-one wanted to kiss it.
Soon enough a group of people appeared at the far end of the rec, Tony primed the BEARDS ball.
“YOU DOITY RATS!” was shouted from one of them, and Tony realised it was the res**t of his mob. They came together in a rush of explanations and greetings, and a few s**tray bullets.
Someone the whole of Slim Tony’s Mob was less than the sum of its parts.
But, nonetheless, they went to hunt down the s**tragglers.
A little kid, hardly knee-high s**tood upto the mob. He had tried to dress like the gangs, but failed miserably, everything was overly baggy - even more than usual and he had a cape on.
“I am kyz! Great leader of the ... kyz ... people! You can all ... erm .... f*f**k off, or I’ll knof**k you spark out. F*f**king wa*kers!”
Larrykins s**tepped forward and the little kid soiled himself, it was a scary sight for the braves**t of men. The kid ran off to tell his mummy.
**
There were no gang members left, except those of Slim Tony’s mob. They had been called from the pas**t to help because they were the grand mas**ters, and they had outdone their modern equivalent.
There was a grand ceremony to celebrate the end of the gang wars, led by the city’s mayor, Shadow Knight. He was a massive blaf**k armour-clad fellow with a somewhat camp voice.
‘Somewhat’ was a vas**t unders**tatement. He was as camp as Dale Winton in a pop-up tent (boom-boom tisshhh) under his blaf**k armour. Many thought he was trying to hide something.
“Now, peeps.” he addressed the city’s people, “These boys have done a very good thing and s**topped all those silly kids trying to kill each other. Isn’t that fantas**tic!?”
“NO!” Shouted someone form the crowd. “They killed my four sons! And half the juvenile population!”
“And they s**tole my time-machine!” Someone else shouted, “I’m sure of it! Now, where is it! It’s the greates**t invention ever! Give it baf**k! It’s mine! You all smell!”
Shadow Knight didn’t look so happy, “Thank you, RoJ, Azul - but this group have s**topped the gang wars. It’s great! Now let’s get bladdered and do something we’ll regret!”
“NO!” RoJ and Azul shouted together, they jumped up and mooned the Mob, a sight worse than Larrykins - a hairy man a*se.
**
The Mob ran baf**k to the time machine and quif**kly got baf**k to their own time. They may have been ruthless, bloodthirs**ty and merciless gangs**ters feared and respected by all. But people in the future jus**t weren’t very nice.
**
Slim Tony, the main man on the dof**ks, slumped into his desk chair.
He ran his hands through his grey-flef**ked hair and sighed.
He was getting too old for this.
*************
Ah, it was alright I suppose.
Thankee kindly,
FFF
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I enjoyed this.
“O’ course,” Pro Evo smirked stood up, opened his violin case and pulled out a
violin. Afrojoe almost died as Pro Evo struggled to play a tune.
Funny.
“O’ course,” Pro Evo smirked stood up, opened his violin case and pulled out a
violin. Afrojoe almost died as Pro Evo struggled to play a tune.
Funny.
RoJ wrote:
> You won't believe how expensive that wax is.
You could always try using sellotape to save on costs :P
> You won't believe how expensive that wax is.
You could always try using sellotape to save on costs :P
You won't believe how expensive that wax is.
Cheers anyway ... I'll do better next time.
Yeah bull RoJ, if not, you wax.
Ouch!
Yeah bull RoJ, if not, you wax.
Ouch!
Yes you've done better but this was still funny. And my ar*e isn't hairy.
Well its the first spoof I've ever read on here so theres no comparisons going on in my mind, considering the short time it was written in I thought it was pretty good, plus you'll always criticise your own writing heavier than anyone else will, so you won't think its as good as i do.
No problem.
Come on though, it wasn't that good - I know I've done better.
Ah well, as long as you liked it.
Come on though, it wasn't that good - I know I've done better.
Ah well, as long as you liked it.
I found some of that hilarious! Loved the BEARDS ball! Plus, i didn't get eaten in the end, or shot for that matter! Well done FFF, I really enjoyed that! Thanks for making me a part of it, first spoof I've been in!
Ahh it's not too bad. Some of it was quite funny actually.
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