THE BEST STORY IN THE WORLD...EVER PART II
Steve woke up. It was 11:24 AM. Why had they knocked him out for a pedicure? Why did his feet smell of tobacco? And what manner of man was Alfonzo?
"Yo," said Alfonzo, entering the room.
"Hello, Steve," said Steve.
"I gave you your pedicure, and now it's time for tea and biscuits."
Steve sat up and rubbed his groin. He yawned and switched on the TV.
"Four people have died in a massive fire at Steve's house," read the newscaster.
Steve jumped from his armchair and ran down the hill back to Steve's house, Steveville, California. It was a long treck, so he borrowed a time machine.
"Lybians, let's see if you can do 90!" growled Steve, as he stepped on the gas and the whole thing went up in flames.
As he arrived back at Steve's house, he spotted Jeff outside disguised as a police officer directing traffic.
"Jeff!" screamed Steve. Jeff turned around and faced his foe. "It's just you and me, hot stuff, you...and me!"
"The correct grammar, you silly boy, is you and I," said Mr. Levinson, Steve's dad.
Jeff threw a thrower at Steve, and Steve was down. Jeff laughed heartily and stood over the decaying body of Steve.
"This'll teach you to mess with the Jeff."
"You mean..."
"Yes, I am THE Jeff. Ruler of Jeffs all over the world, and you...you little bastard; you fucked with the wrong Jeff this time. You could've had Jeff Daniels, or Jeff Goldblum, but, no, you chose THE Jeff."
"Why did you insist on being called Jeff and not The...?" asked Steve, perplexed and bamboozled.
Jeff finished Steve off with a blow from his blower.
"You think you can defeat me? THE Steve?" yelled Steve.
"You aren't THE Steve," growled The Jeff, "You are plain old Steve Levinson, ruler of fuck and all..."
"I am quite a master of the fuck side, bitch."
Then Crawford ran in and his trousers fell down. At seeing young Crawford's tiny man-weapon, Jeff became hot and flustered. Steve took this opportunity to wrench his fist right up Jeff's bum.
"Yummy!" screamed Jeff, as Steve mustered up all of the mustard he could and chucked Jeff through a window that was conveniently handy at the time.
Jeff died.
Then a ladder emerged from the heavens which Steve began to ascend. As he climbed, his chest became tight like a virgin otter and his legs heavy like a big fat hooker. Eventually, he reached the summit. A golden castle made of silver stood, standing like a stander in my pants. The gates were immense and locked. Beside them stood Bodgerboy, the guard. The ground was white and fluffy like a cocaine addict's pubic mound. Steve strolled towards the guard nervously and calmly, calm as a rock.
"Hi, I'm Steve," said Steve, "Do you think I could get into the castle?"
"Naw," said Bodgerboy, "Dinnae gimme that." Steve became angered and began pounding his chest with his fists.