Heralded as the savior, the ONE that would come to release the great POWER and soothe the world, TEEVUSS made his way to S’compton to meet with the town elders.
For 400 years the people of GRINKEN TOWN and S’COMPTON had been at war over the hooker choices and gold teeth piled high by the Jesuits. There were abattoirs scattered throughout the realm, working 24/7, to liberate old “billy boys” from their own cast away sin. TEEVUSS knew these were the scored ones, set aside by JOOB for sacrifice and fury.
In the realm there were cantor-apes looking for applejack and corn cider. They had the women from WOOKIE-VILLE on their side, and were armed with MAC-10 SMGs and shoulder fired pulse cannons. Kennedy skeebs were still milling about near Boston and the old hag was still in charge. TEEVUSS understood the risks, but he was the schism hero, and his juice would free the world.
The town elders were gathered near the SQUELL PITS on the edge of S’compton. Tarkey-miners were given the day off, and relentless squirrel herders brought the meat paste in for the day. They drank fermented scrub goo and consumed frell-sausage and yulu-scallops.
You sat down next to those old freaks, and you felt the power of the 10,000 year alliance that ended the 48th War of Retribution between the SKLAG-RULE and the DORGUS FREAKS. Each one of them had lived to be over 100 years old, and had liver sores and pastry eyes and scrinkle skin … they were carried about on beds, and their fluids were replaced daily.
TEEVUSS presented his case:
We gotta shut down the hooker palaces ... We gotta build factories so that our people can make shoes ... We need a laser grid to destroy the FROGLON-MEEGS of Grinken Town, and to provide for them an existentially holistic anal frag experience ... Sure, we could wait until the vampire knights of sector-CHARLIE return with fruit-canon and old mold wine. But now is NOT the time to think of festivals and weddings and indoor plumbing ... It would be nice to have a bathroom, where you could privately sit down and pop a squat and shoot out the brown dragon and unleash copper eyed joe. The times when you have a large, girthy, scrapy poop, easy its impacted way out of the anal scrunctous zone, equally poop baby status as it reaches full term. But I digress ... If the TRAG HORDE reaches Grinken Town and joins forces with the FROGLON turds then we're DONE ... we can forget about our busty women and our tacos and our craft beer. So let's get to those canon, m'kay ...
Teevuss finished his presentation, and awaited the elder’s response.
Teevuss went to the wench cabins off of Toops Street, and ate sidewalk oyster, and lived high on the hog from toothpaste whiskey and kelley’s squire sauce.
After 3 days of review, the elders returned a response:
Your presentation was adequate, as that you're 2nd Level Minctus Type, and likely your brain is inflamed with syphilis ... However ... We cannot authorize the building of laser canons right now, we can barely feed the old-breeders in grid-8 ... and there's already roving cannibal hordes in grid-12. We cannot authorize the forming of GRUG TEAMS, because the babies need medicine and the women need clothes ... It's all squalor and low rent sex problems and prostitution and so much more ... a sweaty, moist, creamy space for kline-spice dreamers, and nasty hoods with dirty hands. We cannot talk of pulse canons and figger-mines and shoulder fired neutron pipe bombs - all of these are great, but there's no money, no cash ... We raised the "debt ceiling", but it turns out hanging rich people from a greater height makes no difference with the change in their pockets ... So go forth TEEVUSS, and unleash your rod among the pleasure palaces and enjoy the wines of S'compton, but then go home ... You are no longer welcome.
Teevuss left the elders, and returned to Helga, the furst-maiden and oil gatherer. He insuckulated her boovula and squeezed her titties …
And he forgot the armies forming in Grinken Town …
He forgot the coming of a blood moon.
He forgot the skogg-witches that haunted him …
And he left.
THE END