THE ULTIMATE ANTI-HERO
Battles between various TV commercial & infomercial spokespeople, spokesanimals, spokethings, and the products themselves.
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ROUND FORTY: THAT GODDAMN QUEER HONEY NUT CHEERIOS® BEE vs. THAT GODDAMN QUEER GEICO GECKO
This battle shall take place at a factory that makes Cheerios®. The factory floor is equipped with what you'd expect to see in an industrial complex: there are numerous conveyor belts of various sizes and speeds, two rather potent gas-fired ovens, vats of *HOT* (~350°F {~176.67°C}) melted honey and nut mixture, a box forming machine, several Class ABC fire extinguishers, and one Class D fire extinguisher (for extinguishing flammable metals like sodium and magnesium). Also present is a utility closet with a Kirby upright vaccume cleaner, safety vests, hard hats, two sawhorses, and two broom/dustpan combos. The employee's bathroom is outfitted with a Kohler K-4917-0 14-3/4" vitreous wall-mounted porcelain uranator with a Sloan spud valve, a white Kohler Cimarron toliet, a Cormatic brand toliet paper dispenser with Scott brand toliet paper in it (the dispenser has "DO NOT EXCEED 3,250RPM" written on it with black marker), a soured mop in a dirty plastic pale, a filthy roller towel, and a freestanding tampon vending machine with a jammed coin mechanism that allows the Tampax brand tampons to be dispensed at no cost.

That goddamn queer Honey Nut Cheerios® Bee has homefield advantage here, and takes advantage of the advantage by striking first: he circles his prey from above, figures out rather quickly that this tactic ain't doing him no good, so he flies off to get one of the Class ABC fire extinguishers. He returns a moment later with the extinguisher, and discharges the entire thing at that goddamn queer Geico Gecko. But the Gecko, being a fucking small lizard for Christ sakes, rather rapidly skitters away from the toxic fog produced by the fire extinguisher.

The goddamn queer Geico Gecko lures that goddamn queer Honey Nut Cheerios® Bee onto one of the moving, motorised bee-destroying satanic conveyor belts of doom, and...wait for it... ***SUCCESS!!!***
But the Gecko's trials are far from over, because the Bee sniffs and snuffles at the belt, and finding no Honey Nut Cheerios® (or even any residue from it), begins flapping his wings and lifts off before he encounters any danger.

The Bee then devises another plan...he lures the Gecko into the employee's restroom, quickly wraps the Gecko in TP, throws him into the uranator, and tries to flush him away...WRONG SOONG!!! WRONG SOONG!!!...I mean, WRONG PLUMBING FIXTURE!!! The Gecko rather handily chews through the Scott single-ply toliet paper, climbs out of the uranator, and starts chasing the Bee first out of the restroom and then down the hall. The Gecko then pulls a "U'ie", runs back into the restroom, grabs a bunch of tampons, and then starts chasing after the Bee again.

The Gecko corners the Bee in the utility closet, and starts throwing those tampons at it.
Finding this to be a total waste of bungwipe...er...uh...I mean COTTON, the Gecko abandons this tactic, spies the vintage Kirby vacuum cleaner, fires that baby up, and...PTHUUMPPP!!! Up goes that stupid bee inside the belly of the hungry, hungry vacuum cleaner!!! That goddamn queer Geico Gecko leaves the motor of that goddamn old Kirby running for a few minutes, causing that goddamn queer Honey Nut Cheerios® Bee to become desiccated (dried out) and convert to worm food!!!

THE WINNER ROUND FORTY: THAT GODDAMN QUEER GEICO GECKO



ROUND FORTY ONE: J. ROBBINS & C. JOHNSON vs. A CASE OF LIGHT BULBS
This battle shall take place at the Juneau Receiving Home somewhere in the year 1980. The facility is equipped with what most residential households are: a fairly standard kitchen with a walk-in pantry, upright refrigerator (or "reefer" as those things are sometimes known as), 4-burner electric stove, and a double-bowl sink. The living room is equipped with two couches, a 26" color "boob tube"-type TV, and a large console stereo system tuned to the FM band where the MTV audio simulcast takes place. The bedrooms are equipped with bunk beds, dressers, reach-in closets, and a wall-mounted fixture with a pair of E-26 female screw base receptacles (mounted in an opposing direction with one another) designed to hold standard household light bulbs.

This battle begins with J. Robbins and C. Johnson in northern California. They stumble across an ancient time machine, and set it for July 07, 1980. The machine begins to vibrate loudly, and a shimmering light is emitted. The next thing they know, they materialise directly behind the bus stop at the intersection of Old Glacier Highway and Hurlock Ave. in Juneau AK. USA; almost directly across the street from the Juneau Receiving Home. The Receiving Home is where the State of Alaska sends children to await foster care; the children in this facility are not deemed violent enough to warrant placement at the Turning Point Boy's Ranch in central Alaska or other similar juvenile delinquent facilities.

They both also notice that the time machine not only brought them back to 1980, but converted them both to their early teens!!!

Robbins and Johnson then nonchalantly enter the home, go to their bedroom at the time, and immediately start looking up at the light fixture on the wall. Johnson turns the switch on, and the unit blazes to life, while Robbins carefully unscrews & removes the glass cover protecting those vulnerable light bulbs which had just come out of the case. Robbins then flicks one of the bulbs with his forefinger, causing the bulb to brighten dramatically, then extinguish with a brilliant whitish-blue flash and a faint "tink!" sound.
One down, forty seven to go.

Robbins then flicks the other bulb in the same manner, causing the bulb to blow out the same way the first bulb ate it.

Once the light bulbs are replaced, Robbins does the exact same thing; only he says (using a quasi-"sing-song" voice), "Breaking LIIIIGGGHHT BUUUUULLLLBS while they're burning! The light bulbs rather quickly become worm food.

Former Juneau Receiving Home counselor Walter Krauss hears the commotion, comes to the bedroom door, flicks the light switch on, flicks it off, and flicks it on again but the room remains unlit. He then asks Johnson & Robbins, "What happened to the light bulbs?"

Neither one of our protagonists tonight furnish Walter with a good answer, so Walter goes to the front of the hallway, looks to the side of the refrigerator (mere inches from the Princess wall telephone), and writes "Limited Local" by both of their names on that little "restriction levels" sheet taped up there.

Johnson signs out and goes across the street, but just after reaching the bus stop, he douches out on the ice (it's late-January so it's pretty friggin cold in Juneau). The time machine was supposed to land them in early-July, but landed them in late-January instead, so I guess there was a minor malfunction there. Johnson continues on, crossing Old Glacier Highway, then the Egan Expressway, makes his way past Super Bear, then finally to P.J.'s Restaraunt & Game Room where he plays Tempest, Robot Bowl, and Defender Stargate before crossing back to the little mall where Super Bear is and checking the hours of operation for Skateland before trudging back to the Receiving Home.

Robbins then gets the brilliant (pun not intended!!!) idea to wrap some of those tender bulbs in a nice toasty blanket to keep them warm on this cold January evening...but a short time later, he smells smoke, so he unwraps the bulbs and immediately douches them off with icy cold water. POW!!! POW!!! TING!!! POW!!! go the bulbs.

Robbins then thinks about the pissblankets (thin plastic mattress protectors -- in case somebody has enuresis {if they piss the bed at night}, they would prevent the mattress from becoming ruined after being soaked with uranation -- but most of us at the Receiving Home just called those things "pissblankets") on every bed in the joint, so he rips the pissblanket off of one of the beds, goes around and unscrews all of the light bulbs he can get to, pours the generous helping of light bulbs into the pissblanket (approx. 24 bulbs), gathers up the edges, and whirls the bulging pissblanket over his head -- striking the wall with it a number of times until he is absolutely, positively, 100% certain that all of the bulbs inside are busted. He then crams the pissblanket and its cargo of broken bulbs into a nearby wastepaperbasket.

Johnson heads out to the back porch for a smoke, and notices a solitary 100W soft white bulb burning in a metal can-type fixture fairly high up near one corner of the porch. So he dashes back in, runs to the bathroom & fills a Dixie cup approx. 65% full with cold water, runs back out to the porch, stands back a bit, and throws the water at the bulb!!! A slight "pop" sound can be heard, a puff of smoke/steam mixture comes out, and a shower of busted glass rains down onto the porch from the broken light bulb.

Robbins then goes on the rampage...he finds what's left of that case of poor, defenseless, helpless light bulbs, carries it to the bathroom, and viciously throws each remaining bulb into the toliet -- being certain that each one impacts the bowl above the waterline to assure bulb breakage and simultaneously rather loudly shouting, "BREAKING LIGHT BELBS!!!" as each lamp implodes against the inside of the water closet with that loud "POP" and the distintive tinkling of broken glass. After every sixth bulb, Robbins pulls down on that chrome plated lever at the top left front corner of the cistern, causing the busted bulbs in there to whirl down the shitbowl! Once the case is empty, he carries it out to the dipsty dumpster at the back of the Receiving Home, lifts the lid, and nonchalantly tosses it in.

Johnson thinks about building "The TVA Light Bulb Destructor" (something he drew up in the 7th or 8th grade, where a hydraulic piston affair slowly comes down onto light bulbs burning base-down at the bottom of the machine), but realises two fairly significant issues with building the asinine thing right away. So that idea rather quickly goes to pot.

Several light bulbs went unnoticed by Robbins in the living room, so Johnson unscrews them, places them near the center of the heavily-carpeted floor, goes to the utility closet for the vacuum cleaner, and -- what else -- sucks them up. The bulbs all become broken as they are impacted against the inside of the vacuum's head by the rotating agitator (or "beater bar" or "brush roll" as those things are frequently called); the bits of busted glass and metal light bulb bases are soon sucked into the vacuum bag, never to be seen by human eyes again.

That's the end of a full case (48 units) of our little glass and metal nemeses.

Robbins finds Johnson, they both go behind that bus stop and find that time machine, set the onboard computer for March 2011, and rather quickly vanish in the shimmering light.

THE WINNER ROUND FORTY ONE: J. ROBBINS & C. JOHNSON
(Cummon now!!! Did you honestly expect the light bulbs to be victorious?!? They're LIGHT BULBS for Christ sakes!!!)

Please note that this "battle" is not between TV commercial & infomercial spokespeople, spokesanimals, spokethings, or the products themselves, but between roomates/brothers at the Juneau Receiving Home from the late-1970s through the early-1980s and incandescent household light bulbs -- LOTS of fragile light bulbs. Some (but not all) of these bulb breakage methods, events, and places are real, rather than being entirely fictitous. The names have not been changed in a feeble effort to protect the guilty.





ROUND FORTY TWO: ONE OF THE KIA "RAPPING" RATS vs THE HONEY NUT CHEERIOS BEE
This battle shall take place on an urban street. The street has what you'd expect to see on a city street: there are light standards equipped with 400W high-pressure sodium (HPS) bulbs, overhead trolley wires electrified to a potential of 750 volts DC, there are two metal mesh wastepaperbaskets, one large blue "outgoing-only" mail receptacle, one newspaper vending machine stocked with 47 copies of today's Juneau Empire newspaper (which is somewhat odd because this isn't Juneau!!!), and one end of the street has train tracks very heavily used by freight trains powered by EMD (ElectroMotive Diesel) locomotives. Parked on the street (and with the keys already in the ignition) is a 2010 Kia Spectra with a custom candy-apple red paint job.

As is usual, the contestants do not necessarily have to *USE* everything here, but all listed items are at their disposal.

Since the Kia Rapping Rat has homefield advantage, he goes first. He tries to disable the Cheerios® Bee with that goddamn rap music: a heavy drum track (somewhat reminescent of the Arrid Extra Dry aerosol armpit deodouriser commercials from several decades ago) somehow magically issues from the Kia's stereo speakers, while the Kia Rapping Rat raps, "You can go with this, or you can go with that. You can go with this, or you can go with that. You can go with this, or you can go with that."
The bee is generally unphased by the aural assault -- he's a bee for Christ sakes, and bees don't have ears you dumbfuck stupid-ass rat!!!

The bee makes the next move: he flies right up to the Kia Rapping Rat and tries to deposit his stinger & venom sac directly into the rat's throat. Damn, nothing's happening! Of course nothing's happening, you dumbfuck stupid-ass bee!!! You're a drone (male) bee, and drones do not possess a sting!!!

The Kia Rapping Rat then climbs into the Kia Spectra, and checks the glovebox for a can of Raid® or Black Flag® insecticide (or "bugicide" if you prefer) in an aerosol bomb. He abandons this tactic rather quickly as he finds no insect killer available in that Kia. He then goes into a hardware store and shoplifts a flyswatter. He uses the flyswatter in a vain attempt to swat that pesky bee out of the air, but his swings fail to connect with the insect every time.

The bee then says (in that faggoty voice), "Honey Nut Cheerios®. Be happy, be healthy!" as if it were going to phase our little furry friend. WRONG SOONG, WRONG SOONG!!!...I mean wrong again asswipe!!!

The Kia Rapping Rat then climbs back into the Kia, turns the ignition key and starts the motor, and floors it!!! He chases down the Honey Nut Cheerios® Bee, and ***SPLUT!!!*** goes the bee against the radiator of the Kia...But OOOOOHHH NOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!! The Kia Rapping Rat fails to see the train coming, tries to stop the car by stomping on the brake, but he has insufficient weight to press the brake pedal down too far (he's a rat for Christ sakes!), crosses the train tracks, and that little pussywhipped piece of shit Kia is just flattened by the oncoming train!!!

The bee and the rat both become worm food.

THE WINNER ROUND FORTY TWO: MUTUAL ANNHILATION



ROUND FORTY THREE: ONE OF THE KIA "RAPPING" RATS vs THE ALPO® DOG
This battle shall take place in the kitchen of a pet-owning household. The kitchen is equipped with a double-bowl sink & garbage disposal, refrigerator, range, and numerous small TV infomercial appliances. Under the sink, there are 47 cans of Alpo® brand dog food and two bags of Purina® Cat Chow™ for the family cat -- which is probably peeing in its owner's sock drawer...AGAIN!!!...(the owner wonders why his socks always smell like piss, but has yet to put 2 and 2 together). The kitchen has a moderate infestation of ants, cockroaches, and rats; and the home in general a light infestation of carpet beetles, termites, and silverfish.

The Alpo® Dog takes the first offensive here, and chases the Kia Rapping Rat around the kitchen like he was his favourite chew toy. The Kia Rapping Rat skitters behind the Rocket Chef, and (as hard as he can anyway) kicks it at the Dog -- getting him right in the nozzle!!! The Dog lets out a little yelping whine, shakes his head back & forth, and goes on the prowl for the Kia Rapping Rat once more.

The Alpo® Dog corners the Kia Rapping Rat -- or so he thinks, The Kia Rapping Rat starts spouting off that goddamn rap music, saying, "You can go with this, or you can go with that. You can go with this, or you can go with that. You can go with this, or you can go with that." as if this was going to phase our Alpo®-chowing canine friend. It doesn't. The Alpo® Dog goes on the warpath!!! He gets the Kia Rapping Rat by one of its ears and shakes his head rather violently, which causes the Kia Rapping Rat's left ear to rip off -- hurling the rat across the kitchen! The Kia Rapping Rat lands near the knife drawer and...o o!!! He fishes out a fair sized carving knife, and lunges at the Dog. The Dog almost sidesteps the gleaming steel blade, but the knife does nick the Dog's weiner, causing the Dog to whine and yelp again, and causing him to uranate all over the kitchen floor!!!

Looks like the Kia Rapping Rat has the upper hand here...BUT WAIT!!! The Alpo® Dog chases after the rat once more, and gets him by his midsection this time. The Dog shakes the living tweedle out of the Kia Rapping Rat until he becomes worm food (or in this case, dog food!).

THE WINNER ROUND FORTY THREE: THE ALPO® DOG



ROUND FORTY FOUR: MR. CLEAN vs SCRUBBING BUBBLES TOLIET CLEANER
This battle shall take place in the downstairs bathroom of a suburban upper-middle class household. The bathroom is equipped with the kinds of things you might expect to find in a residential bathroom: A rather standard lavatory & vanity, a mirrored medicine cabinet, a rather filthy American Standard Neorest 500 Elongated One Piece Tankless Toliet with Integrated Washlet (a "Washlet" is a type of bidet), a roll of Northern Ultra-Soft bath tissue in a holder mounted onto the side of the vanity to the right of the water closet, and an unknown-type bathtub with a Moen shower head.

Neither one of our embattled contestants really has homefield advantage here, so the starter will be the first one on the scene...this turns out to be the Scrubbing Bubbles bubbles. They start off by jumping out of the shitbowl, and magically flying across the room. They encounter Mr. Clean entering the bathroom, and they try to smother the living tweedle out of him by crowding over his nose and mouth. But Mr. Clean rather handily brushes them away (they're BUBBLES for Christ sakes!!!)

Mr. Clean then grabs a bottle of lemon-scented Mr. Clean cleaner from the little cupboard under the lavatory (bathroom sink), unscrews the top, and dumps it into that filthy gross toliet. The cleaner fizzes and foams, and is flushed away a few seconds later -- revealing that the interior of the bowl of the water closet is in fact a very light powder blue.

The Scrubbing Bubbles bubbles are just fucking white hot with rage now, because that Mr. Clean prick did something in a few seconds that the Scrubbing Bubbles bubbles have yet to accomplish -- that is, cleaning that yucky, disgusting shitbowl!!!

The Scrubbing Bubbles bubbles go after Mr. Clean, and rip that gold hoop earring out of his right ear (according to the "earring code" of the 1970s, an earring in that location means you're a faggot!). Mr. Clean, now bleeding much more profusely than a torn earlobe would normally bleed, goes for a towel to stem the tide of bright red blood squirting from the torn earlobe. O FUCK!!! Those warfarin teepz he's been taking to thin his blood are apparently working *TOO* well!!! Shortly after realising this, Mr. Clean collapses onto the bathroom floor in a heap of flesh & fucking yucky bloody towel, and surprisingly quickly becomes worm food!!!

The Scrubbing Bubbles bubbles jump back into the commode where they *REALLY* belong.

THE WINNER ROUND FORTY FOUR: SCRUBBING BUBBLES SHITBOWL CLEANER
(Betchya you didn't see THAT one coming!!!)



ROUND FORTY FIVE: PROGRESSIVE INSURANCE FLO "HO" vs THE AFLAC DUCK
This fight shall take place on the set of the Progressive insurance commercial. 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, a utility closet with numerous cans of white paint, and assorted & sundry stage props appropriate for a Progressive Insurance ad. Also present is that roller skating disco prick with the ghetto blaster on his shoulder.
The employee's bathroom is outfitted with a Kohler K-4917-0 14-3/4" vitreous wall-mounted porcelain uranator with a Sloan spud valve, a black Kohler Rialto one-piece toliet, a Cormatic brand toliet paper dispenser with Scott brand toliet paper in it (the dispenser has "DO NOT EXCEED 3,250RPM" written on it with black marker), a soured mop in a dirty plastic pale, and a metal swing-top wastepaperbasket.

The contestants do not necessarily have to ***USE*** everything here, but they are at their disposal if needed -- or if desired.

Since the Flo "biotch" is so slow, the Aflac Duck makes the first move here. He comes up to Flo, and loudly quacks, "AFLAC!!! AFLAC!!! AFLAC!!!" as if that were going to phase that Progressive douchebag. Failing miserably here, the Aflac Duck slinks into the employee's bathroom to think up another tactic.

Flo goes behind the "counter" prop and grabs a box marked "GOOD DRIVER DISCOUNT". She carries it down the hall and waits by the restroom door...and waits...and waits some more...and wai--THERE'S THE DUCK!!! She tries to capture it in that box, but the bottom of the box wasn't sealed properly and the Duck just falls out of it and onto the floor. He starts with the stupid quacking again, "AFLAC!!! AFLAC!!! AFLAC!!!" and again, "AFLAC!!! AFLAC!!! AFLAC!!!"

Flo's ears start to bleed a bit from all the damn quacking, so she slips into the bathroom and gets some Q-tips that she found stashed behind the bottom of the uranator. She cleans the blood out of her ears and throws the bloody Q-tips in the toliet.

Flo then runs back onto the set of her commercial, grabs a camera on its wheeled dolly, and starts pushing it & chasing the Aflac duck down with it. But just when she's about to run over the asinine bird, she runs out of cord -- bringing the dolly to a rather abrupt halt and causing it to tip; subsequently causing a $188,333.47 video camera to smash to the floor and explode into hundreds of little bits.

The Aflac Duck gets rather seriously uranated (pissed off) about all of the commotion, so he runs at Flo while quacking even more loudly, "AFLAC!!! AFLAC!!! AFLAC!!!". It echoes off the door at the end of the hall, causing Flo to become momentarily distracted as she looks for the source of the loud, somewhat discordant quacking sound. This gives the Aflac Duck the chance he's been waiting for all battle: he plunges part of a boom mic's "boom" right up the Progressive Flo "Ho"'s pussy (not "cat"!!!), ripping into her uterine wall and causing the "biotch" to bleed out and rather rapidly become worm food.

THE WINNER ROUND FORTY FIVE: THE AFLAC DUCK



ROUND FORTY SIX: CAPTAIN KIRK vs MR. SPOCK
This fight shall take place on the USS Enterprise, registry number NCC-1701 (no bloody "A", "B", "C", or "D"). The Enterprise is equipped with the kinds of things you'd expect to see on a Constitution-class Federation starship: there are quarters (sleeping rooms) for almost 430 crew members, a bridge where most ship operations take place, a mess hall outfitted with food replicators, an engine room with dilithium crystals (because some prick forgot to switch them with Folger's Crystals when the shoot was over!), a number of weapons lockers outfitted with dozens of Type 1 and Type 2 phasers in each one, and a sick bay outfitted with seven biobeds, two medical tricorders, and a number of hyposprays with dangerous drugs in them.

Both of our embattled contestents are on the bridge of the Enterprise at this moment (no surprise there). Since Kirk is the captain, of course he goes first. He calls Spock over to his big cushy swivel chair near the center of the bridge, and tells him that the Ponn Farr messed up his hair and that he'd better go to his quarters and comb it. Spock dutifully walks off the bridge and enters the turbolift; Kirk then calls Transporter Room 3 and has them do a "site to site" transport of him to just outside Spock's quarters. He waits...and waits...and waits a bit more...then surprise-ambushes Spock just as he's coming around the circular hallway to his quarters. He tells Spock, "Your shoe's untied, how sloppy!", and while Spock bends down to check, Kirk gives Spock the 'ol "karate chop" to the back of the neck, very temporarily immobilising our green-blooded Vulcan friend.

But Spock, being a Vulcan for Christ sakes, unexpectedly quickly recovers, and begins chasing Kirk. Down the hall, and down a couple of Jefferies tubes...the chase finally wraps up in sick bay. Spock, using his o-so-logical mind, does what any green-blooded Vulcan would do: he grabs a hypospray, cocks it, and goes on the prowl for Kirk. He finds Kirk a short time later, but wouldn't you know it, he has a hypospray too -- and its contents are a tranquiliser strong enough to take out a Tarkasian Razor Beast. Spock looks at his hypospray...he grabbed something akin to amphetamines (speed) by mistake -- had he used it, Kirk would have certainly had the upper hand!!! So Spock runs away, crying like a little girl.

Kirk gives chase, and this chase culminates in Main Engineering. Kirk goes right for the warp reactor, and takes one of the dilithium crystals directly out of the articulation frame! He runs after Spock with the glowing crystal, but Spock stops Kirk by pushing a chair in his path; subsequently causing Kirk to trip over it, and fall end over teakettle on the floor. The dilithium crystal rolls away and ends up going out of sight under a piece of equipment with a bunch of colored blinking lights on it.

Spock once again plays the role of agressor...HUSOOS CRISTO!!! He runs into Kirk in the corridor between Main Engineering and Transporter Room 9. Kirk is madder than a piss ant, and pointing a Type 2 phaser at Spock. Kirk says, "You're a real freakasaurus, Spock -- did anybody ever tell you that, you pointy-eared subhuman sludgeworm?" and then squeezes the trigger on the phaser, causing a bright blue beam to emerge from its business-end and waste Mr. Spock.

THE WINNER ROUND FORTY SIX: CAPTAIN KIRK
 (I know...it's so...so...ILLOGICAL!!!}



ROUND FORTY SEVEN: CAPTAIN KIRK vs MR. SPOCK (yes, an encore presentation!)
This fight shall take place on the USS Enterprise, registry number NCC-1701 (no bloody "A", "B", "C", or "D"). The Enterprise is equipped with the kinds of things you'd expect to see on a Constitution-class Federation starship: there are quarters (sleeping rooms) for almost 430 crew members, a bridge where most ship operations take place, a mess hall outfitted with food replicators, an engine room with dilithium crystals (because some prick forgot to switch them with Folger's Crystals when the shoot was over!), a number of weapons lockers outfitted with dozens of Type 1 and Type 2 phasers in each one, and a sick bay outfitted with seven biobeds, two medical tricorders, and a number of hyposprays with dangerous drugs in them.

Both of our embattled contestents are on the bridge of the Enterprise at this moment (no surprise there). Since Kirk is the captain, of course he goes first. He calls Spock over to his big cushy swivel chair near the center of the bridge, and Kirk plants a big wet sloppy kiss right on Spock's cheek.

Spock counters by quickly dashing off the bridge, swinging by the hydroponics bay, and returning a short time later with the loveliest bouquet of flowers you've ever laid eyes upon!!! This bouquet includes a species of Vulcan orchid that's exceptionally rare. He gives the flowers to Kirk, gives him brief shoulder massage, and gives him a kissy-poo before returning to his post.

Kirk then "retaliates" by telling the helmsman, "Helm! Set a course for Janus IV!! Engage at warp 9.93 when ready!!!
The Enterprise quickly shoots out of Sector 001 (the Terran system) and arrives at Janus IV a surprisingly short time later. It establishes geosynchronous orbit, and secretly begins scanning for the Janus equivalent of a Motel 6.

Kirk then goes to Transporter Room 7, and calls Spock on the com system, who shows up there a short time later. They step on the transporter pads together, and vanish in a shimmering gold light a few seconds after saying, "Beam us down, ensign McKnight!".

They are soon joined on the planet's surface by Admiral Hansen to officiate the wedding ceremony; who then subsequently beams back up upon completion of the ceremony so that Kirk and Spock can shack up together and make passionate whoopie (oddly enough, Kirk is the "top") for their wedding night.

They return to the still-orbiting Enterprise the next morning, rip up the page in the Starfleet Rules handbook that forbids relationships among the senior staff, and live happily ever after!

THE WINNER ROUND FORTY SEVEN: NEITHER ONE -- THEY MARRIED!!!
 (I know...it's so...so...LOGICAL!!! This *IS* the 21st century after all, and fags ought to be able to marry.}



ROUND FORTY EIGHT: THE TRAVELOCITY ROAMING GNOME vs. ABBY FROM THE EXPEDIA.COM AD
 This fight shall take place in a hotel room that was booked on a website other than Expedia.com or Travelocity.com (in the interest of fairness, ya know!). The room is equipped with what you'd expect: a double bed, four pillows, a two-drawer night table with a Gideon bible in the upper drawer and a gun in the lower drawer that the previous guest had accidentally left, a 19" color TV set with cable service and free HBO, a small refrigerator, a small rectangular table with two wooden chairs, a medium-sized glass vase with daffodils in it (positioned near the center of the table), and a cubby with three metal rods crossing transversely (to allow the hotel guest to hang their clothes) equipped with twelve clothes hangers. The bathroom is equipped with a rather ordinary American Standard toliet with cistern, a roll of Charmin with Butt Pillows in a holder to the right of the water closet, a freestanding lavatory, and a bathtub with integrated shower. A number of small soaps and small bottles of shampiddle are also present.

Abby takes first blood here...she first takes a few rather sizeable slugs out of a large red & white lidded paper cup (the cup probably has a highly-caffeinated beverage such as "Caff-Pow" in it) and somewhat forcefully slams it down onto the table. Then she goes right for the cubby, relieves it of a couple of hangers, and goes after the Travelocity Roaming Gnome. She corners the Gnome near the back edge of the front door, and starts to methodically beat the living tweedle out of it with the hangers. But the hangers soon become broken, and the Gnome becomes rather uranated (pissed) and charges back at Abby!

The Gnome goes under the table and rips the Wi-Fi connection out of the wall so that Abby's laptop can no longer connect to the internet (or to NCIS headquarters). This means that Abby cannot go on the web to find the best way to dispatch our little plaster friend!! This just infuriates Abbs, and she goes on the rag...er...uh...I mean GOES ON THE RAMPAGE, and starts chasing down our little faggoty friend with the toliet brush!!! She swats at the Gnome over and over, but the Gnome is surprisingly quick on his feet, and he deftly evades the toliet brush of death.

The Gnome then sneaks off into the bathroom, grabs a couple of those bottles of shampiss, and hides behind the shitbowl...Abby soon comes in, and the Gnome springs out and squirts the toxic, smelly shampee right at her eyes!!! SPLAT!!! GOT HER!!! Abby douches out her stinging eyes in the lavatory, and has had it up to *HERE* {holds hand horizontally well over head} with that pussywhipped piece of shit Roaming Gnome!

She yells out, "¡PARA CRISTO LOS MOTIVOS VIENEN AQUÍ USTED GATITO AZOTADO PEDAZO DE GNOMO DE MIERDA DE LA MADRE DEL YESO DE LA MIERDA!" ("For Christ sakes come here you pussywhipped piece of shit plaster motherfucking gnome!"), but the Gnome has travelled abroad rather extensively and knows Spanish, so he once again hides behind the commode. Abby finds him quite rapidly though, and proceeds to pump it full of lead with that gun she found in the night table. She shoots right through the toliet, causing water to cascade out and rather rapidly flood the room. This results in breakage of all of the tender light bulbs in lower areas like lamps and chair rail luminaires. She escapes the rapidly flooding room before the door becomes too difficult to open, she hops in her little red Corvette, and zooms away before hotel staff know that the room is being destroyed.

As a result of the shooting, the Roaming Gnome crumbles after being filled with hot lead and rather quickly becomes worm food (assuming of course, that worms are dumb enough to eat plaster!)

THE WINNER ROUND FORTY EIGHT: ABBY FROM THE EXPEDIA.COM AD




 ROUND FORTY NINE: PHIL, THE "VAMPIRE" IN THE SONIC RESTARAUNT ADS vs. THAT GODDAMN QUEER HONEY NUT CHEERIOS BEE
 This battle shall take place in the parking lot of the Foodland grocery store in Juneau AK. USA. The nearest Sonic is many hundreds of miles away, and Juneau is landlocked so you cannot just hop into your car and drive to one -- you have to take a ferry to Vancouver BC. Canada and then drive quite a ways south past Seattle WA. USA to get to one. However, the Foodland parking lot is equipped with what you'd expect to find in front of a supermarket: lots of cars & trucks, numerous metal wheeled shopping carts, several newspaper vending machines, and a coin-operated pony ride intended for use by children. In the same structure as Foodland is a Rexall Drug store, stocked with the types of products that you'd expect to find in a store that sells...DRUGS for Christ sakes!!!

Phil goes on the rag f...er..uh...Phil goes on the ATTACK first...he spies that goddamn queer Honey Nut Cheerios® Bee buzzing around just inside the doors of the Foodland. Phil dashes into Rexall and quickly locates & purchases a flyswatter (vampires might be gross and all, but they ain't no thieves!!!) He runs into the Foodland and starts madly swatting the air, but each swing of the brand spanken new flyswatter misses, and the Bee lights on the ceiling in preparation for his attack.

That goddamn queer Honey Nut Cheerios® Bee buzzes off the ceiling and right toward Phil's ear! He turns his ass toward Phil at the last possible second and plants his sting firmly in Phil's ear...but wait!!! Nothing happened!!! Of course nothing happened you stupid piece of caca whipped-ass bee! You're a drone (male), and drones posses no stinger!!!

Phil decides to fight food-loving insects with food...he runs out to his car, grabs a Sonic cheezeburger, and sets it just outside Rexall so he can go in and purchase a Victor® brand mousetrap. He emerges a few moments later with a spiffy new mousetrap in hand, and bates it with that Sonic burger. He then carefully sets it just inside the doorway of the Foodland...but that damn bee ain't taking the bate!!! (Maybe Phil should have bated the mousetrap with Honey Nut Cheerios®!)

That goddamn queer Honey Nut Cheerios® Bee can't really think of another tactic (since he has no sting), but Phil decides that he wants a little blood...he whips out that flyswatter again, and this time, catches the Bee off-guard and nails that sucker rather squarely!!!

Phil (knowing that the bee is a drone and can't sting) holds the Bee rather firmly, sinks his fangs into him, and causes the Bee to somewhat quickly become worm food -- even though no blood was to come out.

THE WINNER ROUND FORTY NINE: PHIL, THE "VAMPIRE" IN THE SONIC RESTARAUNT ADS







For more about these pussywhipped pieces of shit motherfucking things called "ads", please visit Commercials I Hate.