“I am really tired of this sh*t,” sighed Jakko Jaggins to his trusted companion Spamwise. “I mean, I have carried this burden across numerous leagues.”
“I’ll carry for you, massster,” sneered his other horribly sicky-looking running buddy.
“For the final time, Glutton, shut it!” snapped Jakko. “Graindolf said we had to throw the One Twinkie into the fires of Mount Donut and that’s what we’re gonna do!”
“Desssssstroy it?” moaned Glutton pitifully.
“Yes, without the One Twinkie, the Dark Lord More-on won’t be able to lead Hostess out of bankruptcy and his dreams of causing worldwide obesity will be dashed.”
“There it is up ahead, Mister Jakko,” shouted Spamwise. “But the path is blocked.”
“I AM THE DARK LORD MORE-ON,” came a deep, commanding voice. “YOU SHALL NOT PASS INTO THE FIRES OF MOUNT DONUT.”
“Moron?” smiled Jakko. “Did you hear that, Spamwise? He called himself ‘moron’…”
“NO, DUMBASS,” sneered More-on. “I AM THE DARK LORD THAT FORCES YOU TO PUT MORE WEIGHT ON!”
“You’re the moron that does what?” asked Jakko, shaking his head while Spamwise caught a giggling fit.
“THAT IS SOOOOO FUNNY,” declared the dark lord. “IT’S ABOUT AS FUNNY AS AN ORC TRYING TO WORK A SMARTPHONE.”
“I’m sorry, moron.”
“YOU DID IT AGAIN!”
“Did what, moron?”
“STOP CALLING ME MORON,” he commanded, pulling himself up to his full commanding height. “AND GIVE ME THE ONE TWINKIE.”
Jakko looked at him defiantly.
“I will never give you the one Twinkee,” said Jakko. “I am going to take it and… hey, where’d it go?”
“Mmmmmmm,” smiled Glutton, licking his lips. “My precioussssssss.”
- THE END -