THE BEST STORY IN THE WORLD...EVER PART III
One day, Steve was in Hamburg, near Moscow, Italy, when he received a phone call from Frederick Eibelhousen in Majorca, Florida.
Then Steve woke up.
It was obvious the guard, Bodgerboy, had knocked him unconscious with his fist of iron, and polluted his dreams.
"Now hear this," announced Steve, "The mall will be closing, Bodgerboy, and I want into this castle."
"First we must decide what should be done with you," exclaimed Bodgerboy, playing with his penis.
"Me?" asked Steve, surprised.
"Don't you fucking look at me!" shouted Bodgerboy, smashing a bottle across Steve's reddened buttocks.
Steve jumped in surprise, and pulled out his gun. He lifted it and pointed it at Bodgerboy.
"Don't make me shoot you like demolishing and brick wall," groaned Steve.
Bodgerboy stepped aside and Steve pushed the gates open, looking at the castle ahead of him. He approached it nervously, then woke up.
It was 20 A.M. and Steve went into the living room.
"Hey, you're up early," said Jeff, who hadn't actually died.
"Or what, fuckface?!" screamed Steve.
"Do you want some toast?" asked Jeff, revealing a hammer from behind his back.
"Look, I've had just about enough of this," said Steve, beginning to get down to the funky grooves. "Every time I wake up, some flunkel-picker tries to can my ass."
"Without violence, this would never be the best story in the world, Steve," said Jeff.
"Fuck that!" screamed Steve, "Someone's just stolen your Ford."
Jeff rushed to the window and peered out, like a pier.
They rushed downstairs and the stealer's accomplice stood waiting for them.
"I'm Gerry Rafferty," said the stealer's wheel, "Prepare to die!"
Steve threw off his eye-patch and lunged at Gerry. A fight. was. going on. Awww....
Jeff stood, eating barbells. He hadn't been so useless since that time at camp when Rodriguez Williams went to the toilet and he'd taken all the cheese from San Diego. Ho ho.
Steve pounded at Gerry with his fists. He'd learned how to box (cardboard variety) professionally from his uncle Buck. Buck had been the world champion at skiing, and there was this one time he got really drunk, choked on his own vomit, and bought Monopoly for his PC. Oh, how they laughed in those days. Steve thought back (as he fought) about his ex-wife Cassandroid. She'd been the perfect woman. Big eyes, big brain, big jobbies running down her leg, and big skiddies in her pants. Plus, she was ninety-five, which meant Steve could break her if she tried to put Marmite on his feet. She was the perfect woman. Unfortunately, she died in a nasty accident involving two insane dogs with rabies and a severe case of murder. Steve started to cry.