In the morning, the man and Steven awoke. Both were surprised to find that they had had wet dreams in the middle of the night. They had an extremely awkward moment for about 5 minutes, then quickly got back on task. They walked for several miles, reaching the top of a high sloping ridge. At that point, Steven looked to the sky and whistled. For a few moments, nothing happened. Then suddenly, two giant Eagles flew down beside them. Both were the size of a large truck, and had penises the size of two football fields. As you can imagine, these Eagles were very unproportional. The two men climb a top their Eagles, which were the only way to get to the Bear Empire. They flew over the town of Juno, destroying it with Eagle feces. After 10 years of flying (most of it was just in circles) the two men landed in front of a huge fortress. Inside, the Land of Bears. The men climber off their Eagles, which began to mate with one another. They walked forward, causing the huge doors of the fortress to open. Inside, a magical wonderful land existed, where no man had ever been before. The final leg of their journey awaited, and soon the man would know the truth of his son, his destiny, Steven, and the Bears.

In the fierce lands of North Manhattan, there lives a mythical beast. This beast has only been claimed to be seen by the human eye, and has never been caught. I could only be speaking of the fabled Angela (Ann-Gell-Ahh). This beast has the head of an Elephant, except the trunk is much thinner and it has an extremely long tongue. Also the beast has the the limbs of a Frog, and stands on its hind legs and wards off predators by doing spirit fingers with its webbed hands. It also has the body of a Cheetah, making it run faster than anything alive. This is one of the main reasons why it can't be caught, besides the fact that it's armed with a katana and a rapid fire sniper. This beast is responsible for 9-11, the JFK assassination, the crashing of DJ AM and Travis Barker's plane, Communism, gay people, and getting high off feces. This creature obviously must be stopped, and I'm gonna need your help to do it. Will you join me? The answer, fuck no. I'm glad. This is a suicide mission, and I swear to God, you better come. You got that? Good. Operation Dead Banana in Subway complete!

Imagine a world without sin. No murder. No drugs. No hate and everything's perfect. Can you imagine it? How does it make you feel? Come on, be honest. I'll tell you how it makes me feel. Like a fucking faggot. Seriously, who the fuck would want that? If the world was like that, I wouldn't be able to go to raves on Saturdays, where I generally do excruciating amounts of Extasy, PCP, Meth, and LSD. After that, I'll usually go to a strip club, have a little fun, then accidentally kill a stripper by cutting here in half with a government laser I bought off the black market. I couldn't even imagine that. My life would suck. So would yours, and you know it. The only person who would be happy in a world like that is Tom Cruise, and he's crazy. Oh yes, little Tommy. Guess what he's doing? He's trying to make the world exactly like I just described it. How you may ask? By using the evilest of all weapons, Scientology. You see, Scientology is just a way to distract people, making them think their followers are crazy, when in fact, all Scientologists are out to make the world ever so 'wonderful'. There's only one way to combat with the Scientologist onslaught. Buy timeshares in Siberia. Yes, you heard correct! Now, at Bill's Timesharium that Cariums, we are offering you these timeshares for the cost of a small third world country. By buying these timeshares, you'll have access to land with lots of trees and snow, perfect for your vacations. Also, it offers magnificent wildlife, such as the Siberian Tiger, deadliest cat in the world. Hurry before your chance is over! This is a once in a lifetime offer folks, so get your hands on one as quick as you can. You can find our offices in downtown Chicago, in a warehouse that appears to be abandoned and surrounded by homeless. Oh, and for legal matters, remember to bring your kidneys.

So one day, I'm just walking down the road, mindin' my own business, not causing no harm to no one. I'm just skipping along, when all of a sudden I hear a gunshot, followed by, "BOO YEAH! Take that you stupid fuck! YOU JUST GOT FUCKED UP!" As you can imagine, I'm freaked out by this, not to mention I had just been in an area known to have Meth radiating in the Earth. Next thing I know, a large man carrying a .300 cal. rifle and a machete walks out of the woods. His face was covered in a long scraggly beard and he had a pony tail. He walked by me and smiled, just before getting in his truck to leave. I stood there, completely dumbfounded. I thought to call the police, then I thought to myself, "Why the fuck would I EVER call the police?" After that, I decided to venture into the woods and see what had happened. I walked for about five minutes when I came across an Elk with it's head clear blown off. This was definitely a gruesome sight, but a lot better than what I had expected. Then, I let out a sigh of relief, and began to turn around. Next thing I knew, I was being hit in the face repeatedly with a 2x4 until unconsciousness. Much later, I awoke in what appeared to be a warehouse, completely tied up. I tried to squirm out of the ropes, only to fine them not to be ropes, but several strung together intestines. The intestines were extremely tough, just like human intestines. HUMAN INTESTINES. Moments later, a large warehouse door opened at the end of the building. Guess what walked in? Three Elk. I know, it sounds crazy, but you have to believe me. While I was with them, they explained that they were part of a hunter rebellion, fighting back against the hunters of America. They also had a huge drug trafficking deal with the Mexicans, which sparked my interest. I told them of my skills in the trade of drugs, and we made a proposition. They let me go, after agreeing to help them sell their vast array of drugs and do things no man should ever do. Bad things. Things that give me nightmares. Now, I get worse flashbacks than the ones I got from Nam. Fuck. Elk.

Far, far away, there stood two men and a bear. You know the beginning of this tale, or at least you think you do. I will begin to tell you the end, which will lead you to the beginning. There will be many twists and turns, and you might get sick, but in the end, you will be thankful for the information I have told you. The story begins as the man, Bartholomew, and Steven are walking through the gates of the Bear Empire. There, they are once again met by Elbert. For a year Steven and Elbert taught young Bartholomew the ways of the bears, while Bartholomew's father joined as Steven's adviser. When the year ended, Elbert took the journey to Rape Cliff, where he would make peace with the Bear Gods and say goodbye to the world. Since Steven had been Elbert's Royal Apprentice, he no longer had a part in the monarchy of bears. He had finished his mission, which was to have Bartholomew found and brought to Grizzly Mountain, capitol of the Bear Empire. He had only one goal left, and this was very important. On the chosen day, he called his loyal adviser to meet him. The man came, wondering what the rush was. Steven showed him an ancient book, which depicted both the man, which I will now have you know as Ryan, and Steven, standing on a large cliff. Ryan was very confused at this, and Steven motioned him to read. Ryan soon saw even more pictures, showing him something he could hardly grasp. He slowly glanced at Steven, who nodded. For the first time in the meeting, Steven spoke, "Yes. It is true. You and I, we are one in the same. You see, on this day, it was I standing in your shoes. I was told by the one called Steven that I needed to go back in time, and make sure that Bartholomew was able to be born and make it to the throne. You, must do the same. Today we shall march to Rape Cliff, where I will use my powers to send you back in time, back to your birth, where you will make sure that you end up having that child. I will die during the procedure, but it is for a greater cause than my life." Ryan was strangely calm about this. He knew Steven wasn't lying, for he had smoked a very large amount of Meth moments earlier. Now, he would venture to Rape Cliff and do what he was truly meant to do all along.

The future United States. The recession has increased at an incredible rate, and has pushed the country into a depression. As the United States government tries to restore order, several clans of radical Mole People invade, killing masses. Soon, the government fails and the country is pushed into total anarchy, leaving the people with nothing. The only place they have to go, is obviously Canada, because no matter how bad the U.S. is, it will never be as bad as Mexico. The entire country tries to migrate to the northern place of safety, but the Canadian government simply will not allow it. Soon, a giant laser wall is built all along Canada's border, with only one entrance way. This was a long corridor, called The Hallway. At the end of The Hallway was a group of trained snipers, the best in the world. Fearful Americans tried and tried again to make it to the end of The Hallway, but the snipers were ruthless. Men, Women, Children, and Mexicans all died trying to get through. Eventually, someone defied the odds. His name was Dumpy the Dumpster. Dumpy had many followers, for he promised to bring the United States back to its former glory. Being a dumpster, Dumpy was not affected by bullets. He began to form a dumpster army just outside the entrance to The Hallway, which grew quicker than any could imagine. On the day of July 4th, 2026, a new United States government was formed. The dumpster army quickly destroyed the the arrogant snipers and had the once feared Hallway and wall torn down. Soon, they whiped out all of the Mole People in the United States and conquered all of Canada and Greenland. Dumpy declared to his people that a new dawn had risen, the Era of Dumpunism. From his grand fortress in Greenland, Dumpy ruled with an iron fist. All dumpsters were held in the highest regard, and everyone else was considered dirt. All who opposed Dumpy were dragged to the ocean by the mighty Gryphons of Greenland. There, they would be fed to the Kraken. Few humans survived, and dumpsters began to expand their empire. The world would soon fall to the hands of Dumpy. The Era of Dumpunism is upon us, prepare. Prepare.

It's Tuesday morning. 8:36AM. The bank just opened. I came in to pull money out of my account, and said hi to Lois, the kind lady behind the desk with a slightly hairy chin. We conversed for a few moments, when the door burst open. In walked a man that looked ready to kill. His grey hair was slicked back, and he had a cigar in his mouth. He was wearing an old camo army uniform. A Nam vet. He turned and looked at a young woman and her child, and quickly snatched up the baby boy. Before anyone could stop him, he armed the baby with explosives, ready to explode with napalm at the slightest threat. The man walked up to the counter, looking every bystander he passed in eyes. As he reached his destination, he did something unexpected. Instead of trying to rob the place, he turned to me. He spoke in a harsh, brutal voice, and said, "I want the Trix." I just looked at him, and shook my head. I had no idea what the crazy bastard was talking about. "I said, I want the Trix. Don't think I'm fuckin' jokin' with ya. You betta gimme the Trix now, or were gonna have a few problems here," he said, causing me to now recognise his Brooklyn accent. I continued to stare dumbfounded. At this, he grabbed me by the neck, rested the Bomb Baby on the counter, and put a machete to my throat. "You fuckin' cocksucka'. You fellas from Nam (which he pronounced like it rhymed with ham) think yous can just take watcha want. You stole my motha's lovely Trix, you dirty cocksucka', and I won't stan' for this. Not in my country." By this point, I started to believe I might just be really high. There's no way this could be happening. No way. Trix? Seriously? What the fuck? After seeing my confused look, the man went crazy. He suddenly decapitated Lois, and flung the baby at the bystanders. Then, he pulled out an M16, which he began to unload on the civilians outside. Soon, his skin appeared to be peeling off. But how could this be? Eventually, all of it did peel off. What came out from underneath, was the most shocking thing I'd ever seen. It was the Trix Rabbit. It all made sense now. You see, I had been one of those kids that had told him, "Silly Rabbit, Trix are for kids." But that was all a lie. A government conspiracy. We had stolen those Trix. It was rightfully his, and now he wanted revenge. Soon, other food characters appeared. Captain Crunch, Count Chocula, The Kool-Aid Man, The Pringles Guy, and even the Keebler Elves. Total mayhem ensued. Bodies were piling up by the thousands, and all those beloved characters were unleashing havoc. No one knew what to do, except me. Quickly, I dialed the number of my beloved friend into my phone. Moments later, I heard our saviors call, "NEVER FEAR, UNDERDOG IS HERE!" At that moment, we all might have been saved, if it wouldn't have been for a low flying plane. That's right. That hoe got fucked up.

North Bend. The only safe place between Snoquampton and the Snoquampton Pass. Or so we thought. You see ladies and gentlemen, your children are in danger. All of them. This must sound completely terrible for you, but don't worry. It's all true. North Bend has a predator now. I'm not talking about those badass guys that fight Arnold Schwarzenegger, but I am talking about a rapist. A REAL rapist. I know. It's scary. As of now, all men and women are to be on the lookout for this sick, vile bastard. How do you spot this despicable person you may ask? Well, it's simple. He's a goose. It's very true. I promise, I'm totally serial right now. We, the Department of Paranormal Rape Phenomena, have been tracking this case for a long time. We were just about to give up when we got a call from an unlikely person. Her name was Taylor Danielson, and she claimed to have been raped by the goose. Fourty-six times to be exact. Her vagina now looks like Jay Leno, proof enough that her story is true. She was also able to tell us the name of this goose. His name is Tim, and he likes bikes. That's right. The sick fuck likes bikes. When we heard this, we knew we had to catch him, but how? There was only one place we would be able to find him. That place is Walmart.

Ryan, who is now Steven, stood there, holding the baby version of himself. He knew that the baby's father wouldn't be the one to raise him, for this man was the postman. Steven walked out the hospital doors, with the baby, and sat on a bench. He needed this boy to get in the hands of a brilliant man, a strong man, a man with red hair and a beard. He needed Chuck Norris. Steven began to think of places where he would be able to find the savage Professional Ass Beater, when he heard random slurs from across the street. There, stood Russel Crowe, who was arguing with a homeless man. Surprisingly, Crowe was drunker than the hobo. All Steven could make out was, "Fug ya, ya deray bassar'. Ah pay ma taxes an ah fug pebble up! Ah ell call up Shawk Norss! Weh ell fug eww up!" Steven was able to disect something about Chuck Norris. He then shouted at Crowe, who was beating the hobo in the face with a lamp fixture. Soon, Crowe stood up, shaking his cell phone at Steven. He began to cross the street shouting, "Wahhsa fug do eww ont?" Almost immediately after, the Scottish icon was crushed by a passing tourist bus. The blood, oh sweet baby Jesus, the blood. Everywhere. Steven was shocked for several long moments. Then, he realized what he needed to do. He walked forward into the street and picked up the phone. He scrolled down the contacts and sure enough, found Chuck Norris. He began the call, and set the small baby on the bench. No one answered, so Steven left a message, describing what he needed Chuck to do. Then, very unexpectedly, Steven was shot in the chest by a crazed gunman, killing him instantly. Moments later, his spirit flowed through Purgatory and ended up on the wrong end of the road. Hell. 

Deep into space, there exists a planet unknown to man. It is covered in a creature so powerful, so deadly, so insane that no other lifeform can survive there. The planet is called Fruzzafull, and it is abound with bunny rabbits. Masses and masses of them. You can't even imagine. You see, this is the homeworld of the bunnies, and they are much more comfortable here. This causes them to mate even more than they would on Earth. Also, the bunnies are quite intelligent, but also very brutal. It is said that they follow their Bunny King, Lord Timothy. He is the most powerful bunny of all, and is known as the greatest warrior in all the land. It is told that he was the one who vanquished the dreaded Penisaurus Rex, which had plagued the entire planet for hundreds of years. It is also said that he is a trained Jedi, and that he trained with a black man, making him thug. Also, he's openly against the support of Penguins. The bunnies follow him to no end, and they are supporting him in his universal conquest. A few thousand years ago, Lord Timothy declared that he would conquer the young planet called Earth, which since then he has been sending masses of his bunny citizens to. He had been very unsuccessful, however, because the humans do not fear his bunny people. He was about to give up on this conquest, when he was approached by a fellow Jedi. This Jedi went by the name of Barack Obama. Together, they have made a pact, which allows the bunnies to send a full assault as soon as Obama takes office. Lord Timothy will take over soon. Just you wait.You are the infidels, and I am Rambo.

Literally five minutes ago, 78 children were beaten, a homeless man was lit on fire, and a puppy was transformed into a Cerberus. Who could have done this you may ask? The one, the only, Andrea Volken! She is the world's fiercest Jackelope trainer, magician, acrobat, thief, drug lord, store clerk, professional porcelain doll maker, and chef. As has been passed down from generation to generation, the story of this cunning she devil has been told. It is said, that no matter how grand, muscular, or intelligent the man, it is impossible to conquer here. This is because she is millions of years old, and hangs out with Willie Nelson. Also, she smoked marijauna with Cheech AND Chong. Seriously. How thug is that? The answer: very. As I was saying, the city is in complete chaos, and it's all because of this agile killer of mens' souls. She is actually running throught the streets carrying an RPG, blowing up orphaneges and retirement homes. She is also stabbing any one with red hair with a screwdriver. She has truly lost her mind. Thank the heavens though, because it has been said that the Midget Armed Forces are on their way and are armed with shovels, crafted by the Mole People. Until then, I wait. Dead squirrel in hand. The taste of goat's blood in my mouth. I might fight her myself. Yes. I shall do that. Goodbye world. Tonight, I fight the plague of this Earth, and I probably won't survive. Who cares? FOR NARNIA!!!!!!!! 

Fire. It sucks. It's fun on Earth, but otherwise, it's just super hot and burns you. Plus, there's the nakedness. You see, when you go to Hell you don't bring your clothes, you just end up going naked. Steven had no idea why he had ended up in Hell in the first place. Most likely the Meth abuse and occasional prostitutes he would lure into his van, and sometimes accidentally cause them to OD. That would probably get a guy sent to Hell. Or it could be that he never paid taxes. Not once. Either way, he was stuck here for now, and he would have to make do with what was here. The first thing he noticed was that everyone was dickless. Obviously, because this is Hell. Also, everyone was playing poker. This made Steven very happy, for he had been an avid poker player all his life and hosted games every wednesday. He sat down at the closest table to him. There sat Al Capone, Hitler, the Thundercats, and Skrappy Doo. Steven knew of all these people had past drug problems, and he related quite well. Eventually, he had won all of the chips each player owned, and they left the table. Soon after, a tall handsome man walked up. Steven noticed something strange about this man. He had a penis! He must be someone of high power here, obviously Satan. Oh, and he also had red skin, a tail, and horns. Satan sat down at the table, and spoke to Steven in a beastly tone, saying, "Steven, Steven, Steven. I've been waiting for you to end up here. It was only a matter of time, but you surely would. You are the best poker player to have ever walked the Earth, and you are the only one who could be of any competition to me. You see, I've never been beaten. I wish to see if you truly are as good as they say, and what better way than a casual poker match." Steven knew this was a bunch of horseshit, so he cautiously asked, "What's the catch?" "The catch?," Satan responded, causing Steven to nod, and Satan continued, "Hmmm. Well, if you beat me, then you may be free from this place. You may also take my cock. It has the ability to give the holder eternal life. A fine prize if I do say so myself. And if you lose, well, that's not so generous. I will have you give me head every morn', and you shall wipe the ass of Chris Farley whenever he pleases. This shall be a most treacherous game. Do you accept young Steven?" Of course, he accepted. The game began, and it lasted for what seemed like days, but there's no time in Hell. The Devil was winning, and began to get cocky. He put all of his chips down on one hand, but was not as lucky as he hoped. Steven placed down a royal flush, while Satan only had a three of a kind with sixes. Lucifer had been beaten. The cock was now Steven's. He had done it! Soon, he would return to Earth. Ever so soon.

The Nile River. Longest river in the world. It's big, long, and in Africa. Sound like anything else from Africa? You know what I'm talking about. We'll call them Wooleygabbers for censorship. The thing that puzzles most men, is why African men have such big Wooleygabbers. You see, other men do this because they are sensitive about the size of their own Wooleygabber, and don't want to be made fun of. But, no matter how strange it may seem, the large black Wooleygabbers have a purpose besides sexual intercourse. Obviously, Africans need to run from Lions and kill Water Buffalo. How? No. They do not kill the Water Buffalo with spears. That's racist. Besides, whose gonna sell obvious drug abusers spears? No one. The only way to kill a Water Buffalo you see, is to blow them away with the spit from a big black Wooleygabber. It blows their heads clean off. Now, that's settled, but how do they run away from Lions? It's simple. They point their Wooleygabbers behind them and make them spit, launching them with massive propulsion. Because all big black Wooleygabbers are aerodynamic, they will cause the African men to fly great distances. Sometimes, entirely around the world. This is what most Americans mistake to be UFO's. Nope. Just people with really, really, big Wooleygabbers. Massive. Oh so massive. So, ladies, gentleman, please watch out for African's wielding Wooleygabbers flying through the air. They'll fuck you up.

Far North, there lives the mighty barbarians of Norway. They ride on the backs of Rams, and pillage the small villages and farmlands. The villagers and farmhands have no chance for survival, because the barbarians have AK-47s and they are supported by the thunder god, Thor. You see, basically Thor goes down there, rapes the fuck out of the place with his hammer, Mjolnir, and then the barbarians shoot a few surviving children. People who are against genocide, where the hell are you? Don't you care about Norwegians? Come on. They're people too. Strange people, with funny accents, but people all the same. Who cares if we have to go fight Thor. We fought Saddam. We fought Hitler. Hell, we even got rid of Barney, that communist prick. So why not Thor? We can do it. We're America. The best of the best. We have Jesus on our side, possibly. Maybe. Probably not, but who cares? We have nukes. A lot of them. Seriously. We have so many. Why the hell do we have so many? We've used two. And we have like 8 billion. 8 billion nukes would definitely fuck somebodies shit up, god or not. So lets do it, because we can. Yes we can. That's what Barack's been trying to say all this time, and he's right. So, if you feel we should, call this number: 1-800-FUK-THOR. An Indian guy will probably pick up, and you won't be able to understand what he's saying, so send in your letters to this address: P.O. Box 6969. You know what, it might be easier if you just transfer some money to our bank account. It would help us out a lot more. Really. Just take it to the warehouse down on 5th and Olive in Seattle. We'll have our operation set up there. Hopefully, we'll see you there. NUKE 'EM!

So the story continues. Our hero climbed through Hell, eventually ripping the the Earth's crust and ending up back on land. Back in Seattle. Right where he had died. He wondered what the odds of him ending up in that spot were, but dismissed it. He quickly ran to the side of the street, to avoid the cars. He sat on a bench, noticing a newspaper. The date read November 12th, 2026. He'd been in Hell for 32 years! Ryan would be a fully grown adult now, and it would be only months before he would have little Bartholomew. Steven needed to go speak with the homeless, tell them his story. They would accept him, for they were allies of the bears, they were the hidden soldiers. Steven trekked through the vast lands of Seattle, eventually reaching a camp that the homeless had set up in an abandoned warehouse. When he got there he met with their leader, a Vietnam veteran named Ol' Smokey. He told Ol' Smokey his story, and how the the Bear Empire depended on this mission. The homeless believed him, and offered sanctuary, along with their utmost support. So Steven stayed. He trained with them for years, learning all types of fighting styles. He also learned how to make his own Meth, which helped his addiction. He also learned about an attack the Russians wanted to do on the bears. They were planning on invading with their Narwhal forces, and were to be led by the Narwhal Lord, Connor Kraft. Steven knew that his destiny was to fight by the side of the homeless, defending the bears, but he also knew he needed to first direct Ryan on the right path. The day would come soon. Possibly, too soon.

• Giraffes don't exist
• Cats are prairie dogs in disguise
• Homosexuals are space aliens
• The water found on Mars is from a former water park called Prairie Pool. It's slogan was "Get Wet for Cecil!"
• Using Splenda is the worst of all sins
• Barack Obama is Cecil's trained Jedi
• Fat People are cyborgs created by the cult Angry Supreme Sun Haters of Ordinary Loser Existences Somewhere (A.S.S.H.O.L.E.S.)
• The Sun is Cecil's crib
• Acknowledging Cecil as Fuhrer of the Universe is not blasphemous, because he pays his rent to Jesus
• Chuck Norris was created by Cecil, but Cecil considers him an equal
• Orange juice is a magical substance, holier than Holy Water
• Beating up Hobos and Emos gets you 500 points
• Points have no purpose
• Unicorns control all Communist countries
• South Africa was created to freak out black people
• Getting hit by a bus while jay walking results in an instant sentence to Hell
• Ouija Boards don't scream when you burn them; This is actually Russel Crowe screaming, because everytime you burn a Ouija Board he gets a ticket
• During Superbowl halftimes you cannot do Meth or staple paper; Don't try. 

They came in the night. No one saw it coming. First, they took the sick and elderly. Then, it was the children. Soon, they started taking away everyone. Now, its only us left. Us, and them. This is our story. The story of the giant crab invasion. We were just a small town in Washington. Close to the border, nature folks. We were having normally lives, not doin' no harm. Then, the crabs came. They had invaded Canada, starting in Alaska. No one knew. No one. They came in, killing all they saw. Ripping them apart with their claws. They castrated people. It was horrible. There was so much blood, but we got away. We're hiding in the woods now, hoping someone will get this message. They sacrifice children every night, trying to summon some crab god they call Klaw. We have no where to go. We're surrounded, unarmed. Please help us. Please. We beg of you. Be human. Have a heart, because these bastards don't.

Finally, the day came. Steven's time of planning was up, for Ryan had come. He asked the questions that Steven had remembered asking when he was in that very position. It was strange, and Steven had a lot of deja vu. He also started having extreme panic attacks. He was going fucking insane. He realized what he must of done. He had OD'd, and only had a very limited amount of time to live. He quickly fed Ryan the details he needed, and rushed off with his homeless army. He had no time to waste, and called upon his Gryphons, which he could only summon when he was extremely high. They were able to travel to Alaska faster than imaginable, crushing passing planes. They landed, just in time to meet up with the bears, preparing an all out assault. In the distance, Narwhals, Unicorns, and Communists came from the Russian Peninsula, lead by Connor Kraft. The whole journey had led up to this one epic battle, and the two previous friends would have this final showdown, deciding both their fates. Steven rushed to the front of the bears and homeless, staring down his nemesis. They stared at each other for several long minutes, obviously having a staring contest. The winner was not determined however, because a rogue Narwhal flew out of the water impaling a drunk hobo. The war began. Members of both sides fell, and the fight could have gone either way. Steven was avoiding Connor, not wanting to fight his old friend. Steven continued this small truce, until Connor leaped upon the homeless leader, Ol' Smokey. Connor then ripped apart the man's face with what appeared to be Wolverine claws. Smokey had acted like a father to Steven. A drunk, stinky father, but still a father. To see someone that close to him be killed so mercilessly, well, it made Steven go into a complete rage. He literally ripped Unicorns in half and blew apart Narwhals with an RPG, as he charged his next victim. Connor never saw it coming. He leaped on Connor, beating his face in. It was an extremely bloody mess, and Steven's rage flew. Suddenly, the sky glowed with a sudden godliness. From a radiant beam of light, floated down a fellow friend of Steven's, Jesus Mark II, otherwise known as Jack Polito. He boomed, "Stop my friends! For I am the Lord and I call peace upon these lands. You shall not lay anoth...Oh my god! Ryan? Is that you? Oh shit, that's right. It's Steven now, huh? Connor too? Damn. What a reunion. This is good. You guys still being dicks? Hopefully. I had to cut it down, you know, with the whole I'm the son of God thing. Ya, it's no big deal. But ya. It was really good to see you guys. Seriously. Call me up sometime, we should get together again. Actually, I'll call you." With that, Jack left. Everyone looked very confused, except Steven and Connor. They both were now suddenly getting along. Also, Connor's injuries were only to his face, and he was gonna live. Steven also realized that he couldn't die from the overdose, because he had the Dick of Everlasting Life. Once again, there was peace in Alaska. The two groups truced and went their separate ways. Steven to go help Ryan out in Canada, and Connor to go on and become a famous author of children's books. All was well again, and Connor was still living with his mother. So the story of Ryan/Steven had ended, and now you know of his life.

Little Timmy was the essence of kindness. He was the sweetest eight year old boy you could ever imagine, and he was looking forward to his favorite day of the year. Christmas. He only had to 3 more days now, and then he'd be able to open all those gifts he'd get from Santa. All those wonderful gifts. You see though, Timmy never got gifts on Christmas. This is because he killed his parents with a saudering iron and a pair of hedge trimmers. He then painted the walls of his home with their blood. Sweet sweet Timmy. That was 4 years ago, but Timmy thought this year was different. He thought that he hadn't been getting presents, because he had done a bad deed. Since then, he hadn't done a thing wrong, except maybe look at some Men's Fitness magazines and imagine lying in a bed with those men. But that wasn't so bad, was it? No. Santa was sure to bring Timmy gifts this year. He had too. Poor Timmy lived in an abandoned house, with no food and very little friends. The ones he did have were homeless junkies, who had abandoned the real world and would go to the house and hallucinate. This left Timmy with strange thoughts, because the junkies would masturbate during their hallucinations. Poor Timmy. He would make sure he got gifts this year, he definitely would. Or Santa would pay. That fucking dildo squeezing ass muncher. He would pay in blood.

Timmy could hardly wait for Christmas. Only two more days. He thought he might go visit the shelter on Christmas Eve, but wasn't sure. Right now, he had one thing he needed to do. Of course, that was to go visit Roger, the local barber. Roger was a classy fellow, always dressing in a suit. He had slicked back greasy black hair and a very well kept mustache. The mustache was long and curled at the tips. It was Roger's pride and joy, and he would kill for it. Timmy arrived into the shop early in the morning, around seven. Of course, there was no one getting their hair cut, which was very routine for the little shop. Roger liked it that way. He hated people. Well, except for little Timmy of course. He was the kindest little boy ever, and he and Roger had shared interests. You see, Roger wasn't the average barber. He kind of liked it when he would accidentaly cut a customer. If he was lucky, he would hit an artery while cutting hair. Otherwise, he'd just slit their throats while he washed their hair in the sink. That's what Roger enjoyed. And little Timmy loved to watch. They were the perfect pair, and both had a small grudge against Saint Nick. An all too unhealthy grudge, which would lead to events that would change the lives of everyone.

Christmas Eve. Only one more day left, and tonight, Santa would leave gifts. Or else. Roger and Timmy decided it would be best to stay at Timmy's place, because it was the only place that was actually considered a house where they were welcome. But sleeping was for a later time. For now they would go to the homeless shelter, to visit some old friends. When they arrived the building was packed with homeless, measly homeless. Far in the corner though, their sat three men. Well, men in the sense that they were male, but not so much human. The pair approached the table, which was host to a large rabbit-man, a ghoulish figure, and a man that radiated with wonderfulness. They were the Easter Bunny, the Boogy Man, and Jesus Christ. All of these figures had a grudge against Saint Nick, and they were sure to help make sure that Roger and Timmy got gifts. You see, the Easter Bunny was the other mythical gift giver to children, and he frankly didn't like competition. The Boogy Man literally had no business during Christmas time because children refused to sleep. Jesus, well, he thought people were forgetting about how CHRISTmas was about him. It was his birthday for Christ's sake! No jolly fat man was gonna take that from him. This group was very ready to help Timmy and Roger. Santa was in for a reckoning.

No presents. No mother fucking presents. That stupid fuck. How dare he? Who does he think he is? Really, no fucking presents! Timmy was at his wit's end, and the others were just as pissed. Revenge would be granted, and that bastard would feel pain. They traveled from house to house, looking for that treacherous elf shitstain. They searched and searched, nothing came up for several hours. Finally, they caught sight of his sleigh on top of a roof. Unlucky for the reindeer, the group thought them to be just as bad as Santa. Pieces of antler and fur were spread across the yard, along with a large amount of blood. They all waited patiently. Eventually, the old rosy cheeked Saint appeared out of the top of the chimney. He was in complete shock. He saw all of the blood, then noticed the group standing before him. "No.... Please, I'm begging you," he pleaded. The group took no notice. They went at him with knives, bottles, maces, mace, molotovs, shurikens, katanas, AK's, 9mm's, and chunks of deer bone. The once pleasant Saint screamed in agony, getting wounds from every angle. The night was filled with laughter and screams. A once jolly gift giver had fallen, and a new group would take over the North Pole. It was their calling, but that would be another story. For the time being, Timmy and Roger took all the gifts left in the sack and returned home, happy as could be. 

Gentle as can be. That was Rick. Not that monster people that people described him as. No, he was a very nice abominable snowman.He didn't kill innocent people for no reason. He killed anyone driving gas powered vehicles. I know, that may seem terrible, but there was a purpose. They were killing the Earth, destroying it's O-Zone. In turn, this was allowing unnecessary sun rays to enter through, slowly melting Rick's home. Soon, more than his home will melt. It'll end up melting Rick too. The only problem is not enough people drive near his home in the Alps. He needs your help. Help Rick. Help the Earth. Otherwise, that crazy ass mutha fucka will fuck yo face sideways. Trust me. That'd be painful. So for your own sake, destroy gas-powered things. I mean everything! Blow it up. Stop killing the fucking planet you cocksuckers. Please. For Rick. Also, by helping Rick you could help decrease the population of illegal immigrants in your town! He'll run for president! Then, he'll become almighty Lord of the Earth, making sure that it's taken care of. Marijuana will be legalized. That, I can guarantee.

In the Spanish Ghetto of Fall City, there lurks a menace. Someone so evil, so strange, that they have the UN scared shitless. This thing is José, and he's a midget. Not only is he a midget, but he dresses up in a blue monkey costume so that no one knows his true appearance. Six years ago, he was convicted of 382 counts of rape and got a life sentance. Unlucky for us, he raped the judge, killing him instantly. Now, José's back, and he's raping more than ever. He refuses to be caught, evading the police with his monkey like tactics. He's also known to beat people with his Chiuaua, Pendejo. If your wondering, yes, it does kill. If you can, find out where José goes to church, because we might be able to catch his appearance on Easter. Yes, the stereotype that all Mexicans dress up nice for Easter is true, deal with it. He also is known to drive a cheap Cadillac knock-off and tends to think he's a gangster. You might catch him at the El Caporal, but he'll be armed. We should advise you, the public, not to take matters into your own hands, but frankly, this guy has the police extremely frightened. So go catch him. Go clean up your streets.

King Bartholomew was facing an epic crisis, for his kingdom was in turmoil. It had been fifteen years since they had defeated the Narwhals and Bartholomew had taken his throne. Everything had gone well since then, and the time of Bartholomew's rule was being called the Era of Righteousness. This was because the bears had discovered Marijuana and began listening to Grateful Dead albums. This was fine at first, because it was thought to just be a phase. It turned out to be something much worse. The people began disliking the government, and started listening to a speaker by the name of Zacchaeus. He spoke of how the bears were superior to all other creatures and how it was their right to conquer the world. He was also against Bartholomew's decision to make peace with the Prairie Dogs and allow them to live in the Bear Kingdom. Some of the bears agreed with Zacchaeus, following him as if he were a god. Because of this, he was able to start a rebellion against Bartholomew. The followers called themselves Zacchinites and started mugging Prairie Dogs and putting up propaganda against the King. The lives of the Zacchinities would soon be turned upside down. Bartholomew just needed time.

Bill lived a peaceful life, a split life, a happy life. You see, Bill Hennesy was a killer. He wasn't insane, he wasn't out for vengeance, he just killed because he could. During the day, Bill doubled as a Psychologist, giving the average man advice on how to deal with their problems. On the weekends, during his free time, he'd find the occasional mugger and purposefully walk into his range. Then, he'd take out the the criminal with either his switchblade or .357 revolver, depending on the distance. Yes, Bill was quite the catch. He was happily married and had two children. He had the appearance of an ordinary man, but was much more than that. He was doing things no other man could do. He was living his dream. Taking life the way he wanted, the way he needed it. Bill was addicted. He'd been living this lifestyle for 8 years, and he wasn't about to give it up. The rush was all that kept him going. Bill had no friends. No real friends that is. Just those few men that thought themselves close to the man. He'd become a hermit on the inside, speaking with no one of his problems, taking it out on those unlucky enough to stray upon him. Soon, the killing wasn't enough. He began drinking, making all the pain away. Eventually, this lead to more drinking, and even more. The killings weren't just muggers anymore, but they were anyone Bill caught alone at night. He'd began feeding his addiction at an uncontrollable rate. He was a monster. A disastrous monster waiting to press his heel against the world. Bill was infuriated by all that surrounded him. Soon, he began thinking his family was planning to murder him. He couldn't stay. He stole away into the night on a cool autumn's evening, and headed for the mountains. There he built a small shelter. Bill had unleashed his alter-ego. He was now the hermit that was his personality. He'd changed. He was no longer the same man he had been, but something far stranger. He put aside all that the world had taught him, no longer wearing clothes or using the language he was taught as a child. He started from scratch. He was one with the wild. He was a true hermit.

RAWR. Why the hell do people spell roar like that? Really. Are they retarded? Or are they just at at age where they don't really know how to spell things. You know what age I'm talking about. Five. Fucking five year olds. It's true. They're the ones plaguing the internet with stupid misspellings and random forwards. Yes. Those stupid dick heads invented forwards. No one likes forwards. Not even the people that send forwards like forwards. They just do it cause they don't want to have their mother to be raped by a crazy murderer's ghost. Not gonna happen. Fuck five year olds! They really do have no purpose what so ever. They are obviously the seeds of Satan and just want to fuck stuff up. Dicks. And the Whale Gods are even more pissed then before. You know how many letters they've sent? 6,000,000. Six million letters. And I read every single one. Ya. They're mad. They're threatening to kill Shamu, their beloved whale brethren. They know how much we love Shamu. He's beautiful. Beautiful little Shamu. He's gonna die, unless we do something about it. That something, is misplace those five year olds. You know, accidently put them on a rocket to the Sun. No biggie. Let's do it. Let's end the menace of these creatures once and for all. Do it. Do it for Shamu.

Bartholomew met with Cecil in his office. Together, they had to make a plan. The Zacchinites were growing more and more powerful, now arming themselves with lightsabers. Cecil himself was practically a God, but he was not sure he could take on all the Zacchinites. The two men needed to build themselves an army. The SBAF (Super Bear Attack Force) would normally work for matters of this sort, but their Rainbow-Death guns had been stolen by Zacchaeus. Cecil and Bartholomew were in quite the predicament. Who would help them? Who would be so powerful, so magical, so mighty that they could crush an entire army? Well, they went for the highest of all powers. They hit up God. Lucky for them, Cecil was very good friends with God and Bartholomew's father had been friends with Jesus, kind of. Not Jesus Mark I, but Jesus Mark II, also known as Jack Polito. They group discussed a plan for hours upon hours, trying to discover something that would help the bears. Then JMII got an idea. Why not call upon some old friends? Mystical friends. The mighty Unicorns. So it was done. The Unicorns agreed, traveling all the way from their nests in the communist countries. Soon, a battle would ensue. Lives would be lost. People would did, and a lot of PCP would be found in the systems of all participants.

 <- November 2008 or January 2009 ->