THE ULTIMATE ANTI-HERO
Battles between various TV commercial & infomercial spokespeople, spokesanimals, spokethings, and the products themselves.
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ROUND EIGHTY: THE HONEY NUT CHEERIOS® BEE vs. THE WALL*MART SMILEY.
This unholy battle for the ages takes place within the aisles of a large Wall*Mart. The store is equipped with the kinds of things that you'd expect to find within the aisles of a large Wall*Mart. The employee's can is equipped with Kohler K-4917-0 14-3/4" Vitreous wall-mounted porcelain uranators outfitted with Sloan spud valves, white Kohler Cimarron toliets, an unknown brand of toliet paper dispenser with Scott brand toliet paper in it, a very stinky soured mop in a dirty plastic pale with truly disgusting mop water still in it (in the men's room), a filthy roller towel (in the women's room), and a freestanding tampon vending machine (also in the women's room).
The contestants do not necessarily have to ***USE*** everything here, but they are at their disposal if needed -- or if desired.
The Wall*Mart Smiley gets out of the gates first because it has homefield advantage. It flies to the outdoors aisle, takes the lid off a bright red Wagner Char-King Imperiale grill {"Wagner" is pronounced as though it were spelled, "Vaugner"}, and tries to trap that stupid sodding Honey Nut Cheerios® bee with it, but because the lid is heavy and causes the Smiley to be somewhat slow with it, all of the Smiley's attempts end in miserable failure.
The Honey Nut Cheerios® Bee begins to circle the Wall*Mart Smiley from above fully intent on planting his venomous sting into the Smiley's toilet muscle...he makes a beeline for the Smiley, turns his ass toward the Smiley's bunghole and...***THUMP!!!*** The Bee bounces harmlessly off the Smiley and no sting & venom sac was deposited. It's no wonder you stupid-ass Bee! You're a drone (male) and drones do not posses a sting for Satan sakes!!!
That stupid sodding gay Wall*Mart Smiley goes to bat next...it bounces to the Sporting Goods aisle, grabs some Raid® House & Garden in an aerosol bomb, and chases that fucking faggoty stupid sodding Bee around the store. It finally corners it in the employee's john, and sprays the living tweedle out of it with the insecticide (or, "bugicide" if you prefer)!!!
The bee twitches, pisses & shits everywhere, and falls to the floor. When that fucking faggoty stupid sodding Smiley goes to kick the Bee in the nads, one of the Bee's death kicks hits the Smiley rather squarely in its swollen, distended piss-yellow head, nocking it into that fucking nasty-ass mop bucket, where it drowns.
THE WINNER ROUND EIGHTY: MUTUAL ANNIHILATION!!!
ROUND EIGHTY ONE: THAT GODDAMN QUEER MONEY TREE CATERPILLAR vs. THAT FUCKING QUEER HAMBURGER HELPER HAND
This battle shall take place in a pet-owning household. The kitchen is equipped with a double-bowl sink & garbage disposal, douchewasher, refrigerator, range, microwave, and numerous small TV infomercial appliances. Under the sink, there are several containers of Raid™ in aerosol bombs, 47 cans of Alpo® brand dog food, two bags of Purina® Cat Chow™ for the family cat -- which is probably piddling in its owner's T-shirt drawer...AGAIN!!!...(the owner wonders why his V-neck T-shirts always smell like cat urine, but has yet to put 2 and 2 together). The kitchen has a moderate infestation of Stag Beetle grubs (larvae), piss ants, cockroaches, and rats; and the home in general has a light infestation of crickets, carpet beetles, click beetles, termites, and silverfish. The front yard is home to a rather bizarre tree with paper money growing on it, and the driveway has a 2014 Kia Soul with a custom candy-apple red paint job parked in it.
The contestants do not necessarily have to ***USE*** everything here, but they are at their disposal.
That goddamn faggoty-ass four-fingered malformed talking Hamburger Helper Hand goes first because it's on home soil. It rips a sheet of Viva® brand paper towelling off of the roll, and chases down that goddamn queer Money Tree caterpillar (aka., "Itty Bitty Bob"). The Hand quickly catches up to Bob (as Bob is a caterpillar for Christ sakes, he's about as fast as molasses in February), and tries to smother the living tweedle out of it with the paper towel. But since that goddamn faggoty-ass Hand is so gosh darn-diddly-arn stupid, it winds the paper towel round and round Bob's head -- not realising that caterpillars breathe through spiracles (little holes along the sides of their bodies) rather than through their mouths. After several minutes of continuous failure, that goddamn faggoty-ass Hand says, "fuck this noise" under its breath, abandons this tactic, throws the wadded-up paper towel across the kitchen in disgust, skitters up the drawers to the counter, and hides behind the flour canister to think up another.
Itty Bitty Bob is a smart little fucker for a caterpillar, and after a several minute journey up the oven door,
preheats the oven to 625°F (329.4°C) and begins to think about he may lure the Hand into the death oven.
Bob begins a long, protracted search of the cabinets for some Hamburger Helper, but his search is interrupted by the Hand, who's already mixing up a bowl of that shit. Bob is mortified when he sees the front of the Hamburger Helper box -- the Hand took some Liquid Paper®, brushed it over the word, "Hamburger", then took a black Magic Marker and very neatly wrote the word, "CATERPILLAR" on it!!!
This just can't be very good for our plant-chowing larval friend here!!!
That goddamn queer Money Tree catterpod...er...uh...CATERPILLAR makes its way to the front door, goes to that strange tree with money growing on it, pulls some of the money "leaves" off, and eats those bitches!!! Bob undergoes a sudden growth spurt, turns into a cocoon, and metamorphoses (much faster than one would otherwise expect) into a big gigantic moth!!!
The moth flies back into the house through the still-open front door, flies into the kitchen, flips the oven door open, and kicks the Hand in!!!
Then, (not so, "itty bitty" now) Bob quickly flies to the counter, grabs that bowl of Caterpillar Helper, dumps it into the oven atop the already-burning Hand, flips the oven door shut, and then exclaims in an unusually nelly voice, "HAND HELPER...MAKES A GREAT MEAL!!!"
THE WINNER ROUND EIGHTY ONE: THAT GODDAMN QUEER MONEY TREE MOTH (FORMERLY "CATERPILLAR")!!!
ROUND EIGHTY TWO: THAT GODDAMN QUEER MONEY TREE CATERPILLAR vs. THAT FUCKING FAGGOTY NASONEX BEE
As with the Nasonex Bee vs. Honey Nut Cheerios® Bee battle, this fight shall take place in the bathroom of a woman with nasal allergies. The bathroom is equipped with the usual: a mirrored medicine cabinet stocked with common medications & remedies (including two bottles of Nasonex nasal spray), a vanity with sink, a hair dryer, a standard toliet with cistern and ordinary flush mechanism, a roll of Charmin with Butt Pillows mounted to the right of the toliet, a plunger, a broom & dustpan, and a bathtub. Near the bathroom is the kitchen, stocked with the usual food & kitchenware; and the home office has Geico insurance paperwork easily accessible in the top right desk drawer. The family cat is once again peeing in its owner's sock drawer...(the owner wonders why his argyle stockings always smell like cat urine, but has yet to put 2 and 2 together). The kitchen has a moderate infestation of Goliath Beetle grubs (larvae), piss ants, cockroaches, and rats; and the home in general (including the bathroom) has a light infestation of crickets, carpet beetles, fire ants, click beetles, termites, mosquito wrigglers (larvae) {in a large vase of Easter Lilies}, and silverfish. The front yard is home to a rather bizarre tree with paper money growing on it, and the driveway has a 1970 Ford Maverick missing its right rear quarterpanel and sporting a dull baby poop brown paint finish parked in it (you mean to tell me that the douchenoozle who lives here actually drives that piece of shit?!?)
The contestants do not necessarily have to ***USE*** everything here, but they are at their disposal.
The fucking faggoty Nasonex Bee has homefield advantage here, and strikes first (even though it is only 4" long and the Money Tree caterpillar is almost two feet long!)...it flies to the medicine chest and pulls out a bottle of Nasonex...it then flies toward that goddamn queer big-ass Money Tree caterpillar, directs (aims) the bottle of Nasonex at it, and gives the bottle a healthy squeeze as he exclaims in that phoney-bologna fake Mexican accent, "NASONEX...DAY OR NIGHT!!!". The Nasonex comes out of the bottle in a fine mist -- if the Nasonex Bee thought that this was going to neutralise a very large caterpillar, I guess he's got another thing coming!!!
The Money Tree caterpillar then makes the long, slow journey out to the yard where that tree with the paper money is. It pulls some of the money "leaves" off, and eats those bitches!!! But wait...nothing happens this time!!!
The caterpillar slinks back inside (a process that takes almost thirty minutes), crawls to the bathroom, and hides behind the toliet to think up another tactic.
Meanwhile, that fucking faggoty Nasonex Bee gets the bright idea to simply sting that sodding caterpillar and put it out of its misery...he flies around the 'throom for a short time, sees that damn thing cowering behind the shitbowl, and makes preparations to kill it! The Nasonex Bee circles that stupid gigantic larva from above fully intent on planting his venomous sting into its head...he makes a beeline for the caterpillar, turns his ass toward the damn larva's head and...***THUMP!!!*** The Bee bounces harmlessly off the Money Tree caterpillar and no sting & venom sac was deposited. It's no wonder you stupid-ass bee! You're a drone (male) and drones do not posses a sting for Satan sakes!!!
That goddamn queer Money Tree caterpillar slowly emerges from behind the shitbowl and sees the Nasonex Bee standing there, madder than a piss ant and holding up a pair of seriously menstruated woman's panties. Steve backs away in terror of the dirty underwear, and...O WAIT!!! WRONG BATTLE!!!
I meant to say that the Nasonex Bee flies to the medicine cabinet and grabs another bottle of Nasonex. He directs the bottle of Nasonex at the caterpillar once again, and gives the bottle a healthy squeeze as he exclaims in that phoney-bologna fake Mexican accent, "NASONEX...DAY OR NIGHT!!!". The Nasonex comes out of the bottle in a fine mist -- once again if the Nasonex Bee thought that this was going to neutralise a very large caterpillar, he must be about as bright as a burned out light bulb!!!
While that stupid sodding bee and that stupid sodding caterpillar face off in what's almost a lip lock (they are more gay than $8 bills ya know!), the family dog bites the caterpillar's head off and the family cat pounces on and eats that sodding bee!!! Doing so subsequently causes the Bee to soon become a fudge bunny (slang term for a cat fece)!!!
THE WINNER ROUND EIGHTY TWO: MUTUAL ANNIHILATION!!! (with a bit of assistance from our canine & feline friends here!!!)
ROUND EIGHTY THREE: THAT GODDAMN SHOUTING FAT FAG BILLY MAYS vs. THAT HYPED-UP SWEATING SPEED FREAK & BULEMIC (AND BULLDYKE) SUSAN POWDER FROM THE 'GIVE ME FIVE' INFOMERCIAL
This fight shall take place on the set of one of Billy Mays' infomercials. The set is equipped with the kind of things you might expect: boom microphones on long poles, large video cameras on wheeled dollies, portable carpeted walls on casters, thousands of watts of hot light bulbs, etc. Also present are two drinking fountains, a paper cup dispenser, six cases of Oxi-Clean, five cases of Orange Glo, a dozen of Susan's book & tape packages (from Susan's set next door), and a Kirby upright vacumm cleaner. In the restroom there is an American Standard toliet with cistern and standard flushing mechanism, a Kohler K-4917-0 14-3/4" Vitreous wall-mounted porcelain uranator with a Sloan spud valve, a Cormatic toliet paper dispenser with the phrase "DO NOT EXCEED 3,250RPM!" scratched into it with the tip of a knife blade, a soured, decomposing, quite stinky mop in a rusted metal pale, and a Dyson brand electric hand dryer.
The contestants do not necessarily have to ***USE*** everything here, but they are at their disposal if needed -- or if desired.
We've got ourselves a hot and fast one here tonight folks!!! Two infomercial pitchmen (well, a 'pitchman' and a 'pitchwoman'); this battle can't last long!!!
Billy Mays gets off to a rip-roaring start here because he's on his home turf. He gets a large transparent bowl full of water from somewhere offstage, carries it within range of one of the cameras, dumps some nasty looking dye in the water, and stuffs a couple of white T-shirts in it. He then dumps some Oxi-Clean into the water whilst shouting, "GET THE TOUGH STAINS OUT...WITH OXI-CLEAN!!!", which causes the water in the bowl to turn the color of badly diluted skim milk.
How this was suppose to phase that goddamn speed freak (and lezzy) Susan Powder is beyond me.
Susan Powder goes to her stage set, grabs one of her book & tape packages, and returns to Mays' set. She starts jumping up & down (and she's stooped over like she's going to spew {puke}) in the toliet), and begins to harp about her, "Give Me Five" program.
How this was suppose to phase that goddamn shouting fat fag Billy Mays is beyond me.
Billy then grabs a tub of Oxi-Clean, takes the lid off, and throws the contents of the tub toward Susan. Although most of the poufy white cloud misses that pitiful excuse for a used douche, some of the powder does get on her. Billy then reaches for the sprayer in the plumbed kitchen sink prop, and directs a shower of hot water at that goddamn speed freak Susan Powder. The Oxi-Clean on Susan's nose goes to work (it foams and fizzes slightly) -- this has the effect of totally neutralising Susan's ability to detect odours.
Billy and Susan then get to a full-on knock-down brawl!!! Susan kicks Billy in the nads, while Billy punches Susan hard in her knockers! As Billy appears largely unaffected, Susan produces a large stun gun from her purse (why the douchenoozle had her purse isn't known!), and zaps Billy in the nuts with it! *SNAP!* *SNAP!* *SNAP!* *SNAP!* *SNAP!* *SNAP!* *SNAP!* goes the stun gun, as what few sperm remaining in Billy's genitourinary system are neutralised.
Billy goes on offense now...he somehow procures a large meat cleaver, and uses it to slice Susan's boobs off!!!
She quickly bleeds out and rather rapidly becomes worm food!!!
But wait!!! The repeated zappings of that stun gun on Billy's nutsack caused an embolism which travels to (and becomes lodged in) Billy's lungs, and he also unexpectedly quickly becomes worm food!!!
THE WINNER ROUND EIGHTY THREE: MUTUAL ANNIHILATION!!!
ROUND EIGHTY FOUR: CALEB (THE GEICO "HUMP DAY" CAMEL) vs. THAT GODDAMN QUEER FOUR-FINGERED STUPID SODDING HAMBURGER HELPER HAND
This battle shall ONCE AGAIN take place in a pet-owning household. The kitchen is equipped with a double-bowl sink & garbage disposal, douchewasher, refrigerator, range, microwave, and numerous small TV infomercial appliances. Under the sink, there are several containers of Raid™ in aerosol bombs, 47 cans of Alpo® brand dog food, two bags of Purina® Cat Chow™ for the family cat -- which is probably piddling in its owner's pants drawer...AGAIN!!!...(the owner wonders why his Dockers always smell like cat urine, but has yet to put 2 and 2 together). The kitchen has a moderate infestation of Goliath Beetle grubs (larvae), piss ants, cockroaches, and rats; and the home in general has a light infestation of crickets, carpet beetles, fire ants, click beetle grubs (larvae), mice {the coat closet floor is just covered in mouse shit pellets!}, termites, and silverfish. The driveway has a 1976 AMC Gremlin missing its left rear quarterpanel and sporting a matte baby poop brown paint finish parked in it
The contestants do not necessarily have to ***USE*** everything here, but they are at their disposal.
That sodding queer Hamburger Helper hand gets out of the gates first because it is on home soil. It starts off right away by mixing up several boxes of Hamburger Helper in the largest bowl it could find; Caleb is oblivious to the fact that the fucking pussywhipped piece of shit Hand also took the time to modify the labels of all four boxes: the Hand crossed out the word, "Hamburger" and neatly wrote, "CAMEL" above it with a black Magic Marker. Caleb is oblivious because he's standing in the doorway saying, "What day is it? WHAT DAY IS IT?!?" (it's Saturday, October 12, 2013 you pathetic cringing little milksop!!!)
As Hand finishes mixing up his big-ass bowl of Camel Helper, Caleb sneaks under the sink and finds a whole shitload of Victor® mousetraps and half a dozen sticky rat traps. The camel cocks most of the mousetraps and removes the protective paper covers off the sticky rat traps, and surprisingly quickly and stealthily deploys them around the edges of the kitchen floor. Caleb then preheats the oven to 625°F (329.4°C) and begins to think about he may lure the Hand to its death.
Meanwhile, the sodding queer Hamburger Helper hand, being totally frigging clueless as to what that fucking faggoty Geico camel is doing, douches the spoon off (the one he used to mix up the Camel Helper) under the faucet, and quietly places it in the spoonrest to dry. At least the little fucker is clean when he's being a chef...you know what they say, "A good cook always cleans up after themselves!"
Caleb sneaks up behind the Hand, and yells, "What day is it? WHAT DAY IS IT?!?" This causes that sodding queer Hamburger Helper hand to jump in surprise! He lands right in one of those sticky rat traps and becomes hopelessly stuck!!!
Instead of simply flipping the oven door open and kicking the Hand in, the Geico Camel grabs a large empty bowl, drops that sodding queer Hamburger Helper hand (still stuck to the sticky rat trap) into it, and directs a powerful stream of concentrated, steaming micturition (piddle) into the bowl until it is almost overflowing!!! This causes the Hand to drown in the hot, corrosive camel urine and unexpectedly quickly perish!!!
THE WINNER ROUND EIGHTY FOUR: CALEB (THE GEICO "HUMP DAY" CAMEL)!!!
(You really didn't think that I was going to kill an animal, did you?)
ROUND EIGHTY FIVE: THOSE GODDAMN QUEER KEEBLER'S ELVES vs. THAT GODDAMN QUEER FOUR-FINGERED STUPID SODDING HAMBURGER HELPER HAND
This battle shall take place inside a hollow, rotted-out tree. The surprisingly generous space is outfitted with conveyor belts of various sizes and speeds, two rather potent gas-fired ovens, vats of *HOT* (~350°F {~176.67°C}) melted candy compounds, a box forming machine, several Class ABC fire extinguishers, and one Class D fire extinguisher (for extinguishing flammable metals like sodium and magnesium).
Behind the tree is a queerly-placed outbuilding with two pit-type latrines and 3¾ rolls of unknown-type bungwipe on the ground nearest the left-hand pit.
The contestants do not necessarily have to ***USE*** everything here, but they are at their disposal if needed -- or if desired.
Those goddamn queer Keebler's Elves have the homefield advantage, and fully intend to take full advantage of it by attacking first (that, and that sodding queer Hamburger Helper hand doesn't have a fucking clue here as this isn't a residential kitchen or a shopping mall parking lot). The Elves first try to lure that sodding faggoty Hamburger Helper hand onto one of those motorised, Hand-destroying satanic conveyor belts of doom. The Hand sniffs & snuffles at the moving belt, but because there is no odour of Hamburger Harmer on it, avoids the belt like the plague.
That sodding faggoty Hamburger Helper hand goes on the offensive next...it grabs a Class ABC fire extinguisher and discharges it toward those goddamn queer Keebler's Elves -- hoping that the toxic fog produced by the extinguisher will permanently neutralise the annoyance. Well, you sodding faggoty Hamburger Helper hand, it doesn't!!! The elves skitter away from the poisonous cloud, and get a few lungfuls of fresh air before they return the (attack) favour.
Those goddamn queer Keebler's Elves grab the Class D fire extinguisher (uses for dousing flammable metals like sodium, magnesium, zirconium, phosphorous, etc.) and chase that sodding faggoty Hamburger Helper hand around the tree. The Hand soon finds the little door and escapes. But since there is nowhere to hide out here (it's completely desolate like the surface of Mars!), the Hand dashes into the outbuilding behind the tree. Those goddamn queer Keebler's Elves follow it in, and the Hand soon falls into the right-hand pit of the dual-pit latrine! It drowns in the fucking yucky pool of piss, diahrrea, and toliet paper -- and soon becomes worm food!!
THE WINNER ROUND EIGHTY FIVE: THOSE GODDAMN QUEER KEEBLER'S ELVES!!!
ROUND EIGHTY SIX: THAT GODDAMN CANNIBALISTIC CINNAMON TOAST CRUNCH SQUARE vs. THAT GODDAMN QUEER FOUR-FINGERED STUPID SODDING HAMBURGER HELPER HAND
This battle royale shall take place on a suburban street located between the Hamburger Helper factory and the Cinnamon Toast Crunch factory.
The street is equipped with what you'd expect to find on a street in the 'burbs: Six light standards with 400-watt HPS (high pressure sodium) light bulbs in them, a number of oak and elm trees, a tar machine (because city workers are repairing a street), and a number of small- and medium-size cars parked along both sides of the street (including a 1976 Pontiac Grand Prix missing its left front fender and sporting a matte baby poop brown paint finish).
The contestants do not necessarily have to ***USE*** everything here, but they are at their disposal if needed -- or if desired.
Neither one of our fighters has the homefield advantage here, so the first one on the scene attacks first...and that would be that goddamn cannibalistic Cinnamon Toast Crunch square (a class A-1 prick if you ask me -- sol I might as well just call that total asshaberdasher the "Cinnamon Toast Crunch Prick" from this point forward!)
That sodding Cinnamon Toast Crunch Prick spies that goddamn faggoty-ass four-fingered malformed talking Hamburger Helper Hand,
chases it behind that Grand Prix, and tries to eat it. But it's far too small, and the only damage of any significance that occurs is that the Hand has partial amputations of two of its four fingers.
That goddamn faggoty-ass four-fingered malformed slightly injured talking Hamburger Helper Hand goes right after the Cinnamon Toast Crunch Prick; chasing it all the way into the Hamburger Harmer factory. The Hand does the only thing that seems logical to him, and searches the joint for a jug of milk and a bowl. After 12 minutes of fruitless searching (the stupid sodding Hand doesn't realise that this isn't a cereal factory for Christ sakes!), the Hand says, "Fuck this shit!" under its (peter)breath and goes to a maintenance locker to get a shovel in hopes of flattening that sodding Cinnamon Toast Crunch Prick.
With shovel in hand, the Hand goes around smashing the shovel into the factory floor, but that sodding Cinnamon Toast Crunch Prick deftly avoids the smacks of the death shovel. The Hand soon grows exhausted, tosses the shovel aside, and goes to the office to take a
little snooze on the boss' chair.
That sodding Cinnamon Toast Crunch Prick follows the Hand in, and also exhausted from avoiding all of the shovel strikes, lays down on top of the Hand -- hoping that it will wake up first and strangulate the Hand with a typewriter cord or something.
The boss of the Hamburger Helper though, rather quickly puts the kibosh on its plans. After a three-drink lunch, he plops his big lardass onto the chair, smashing them both!!!
THE WINNER ROUND EIGHTY SIX: MUTUAL ANNIHILATION!!!!!!
(with a bit of assistance from upper management!)
ROUND EIGHTY SEVEN: "AUNTIE" AUDREY WATSON vs. THAT GODDAMN QUEER FOUR-FINGERED STUPID SODDING HAMBURGER HELPER HAND
This not-so-pugilistic death match shall take place on the set shared by The Original Iron Quick System™, Ingenio Fat-Free™ cookware, and Tilia Foodsaver Plus® vacume sealer infomercials. Auntie Audrey is the main "star" of The Original Iron-Quick System™ infomercial.
The shared set is equipped with what you'd expect to see on the set of a TV infomercial: boom microphones on long poles, large video cameras on wheeled dollies, portable carpeted walls on casters, thousands of watts of hot light bulbs, and hundreds of folding chairs. Also present are two pay telephones, a can of Raid® House & Garden "bugicide", a number of ironing boards, and a number of irons
(some equipped with Iron Quick™ soleplates; some not).The employee's cans are equipped with Kohler K-4917-0 14-3/4" Vitreous wall-mounted porcelain uranators outfitted with Sloan spud valves (in the men's room) , white Kohler Cimarron toliets, an unknown brand of toliet paper dispenser with Scott brand toliet paper in it, a very stinky soured mop in a dirty plastic pale with truly disgusting mop water still in it (in the men's room), a filthy roller towel (in the women's room), and a freestanding tampon vending machine that's broken in such a way that the Tampax and Kotex tampons the machine's stocked with can be dispensed at no cost (also in the women's room).
Even though that goddamn faggoty-ass four-fingered malformed talking Hamburger Helper Hand isn't on home soil, it rushes in to battle first! It charges toward Auntie Audrey (nocking over several ironing boards in the process and causing Auntie Audrey to exclaim, "When you stand up the iron like THIS...The CHILDREN come by, they KNOCK the board Hand (***CRASH!!!***) and look! The iron FALLS to the floor, it SMASHES to pieces; FIFTY DOLLARS HAND, for a new iron!!!"), grabs one of the fallen irons (without the Iron Quick soleplate cover) and plants it firmly into dear old Audrey's boobs! The iron hisses, a really fucking nasty odour fills the air, and Audrey dashes to the bathroom to douche her knockers off in cold water!!!
Auntie Audrey is super pissed now, so she grabs another one of the fallen irons, and starts chasing that goddamn queer four-fingered malformed talking Hamburger Helper Hand around the set. The chase ends up in the women's room. The Hand ends up on the top of the tampon machine; having never seen a tampon before, he starts taking the tampons out of the machine and hucking the fuckers at Audrey.
How something as small and lightweight as a tampon could phase a woman carrying a hot iron for Satan sakes may never be known.
Auntie Audrey then wraps the cord of the iron around that goddamn queer four-fingered malformed talking Hamburger Helper Hand, and carries it to the toliet. She drops the whole mess into the water (Hand plus iron), then plugs the iron into a conveniently-placed extension cord. ZZZZZZZZTTTTTT!!!! goes the iron in the toliet water -- and as most of us know, electricity and water seldom play well together. The Hand passes micturition (piss) and defecation (shit) as it dies (thankfully, it pees & poops in the correct location, hahaha!!!) and is soon thereafter converted into worm food!!!
Audrey goes back onto the stage set and picks up all of the fallen irons and iroing boards, and nonchalantly irons the wrinkles out of a shirt; I guess the cunt is pretty anal about things!!!
THE WINNER ROUND EIGHTY SEVEN: "AUNTIE" AUDREY WATSON!!!
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