Chapter 1: The Glistenizin’
Neil sprinted through the dense undergroath of the Nikeback Mountens, leaping over the condensified bush. The sun’s brutal rays beat down on Neil’s noodly arms as sweat rained down from his oily afro, creating a glorious rainbow. After his brief respite, Neil quickly accessed his pirpel fanny pack in order to retrieve his coveted ukulele and cello duet grindcore 8-track mix tape. After cramming the tape into his orinje Sony(TM) walkman, Neil continued the pursuit of his prey.
“u stole my daminals u idit i will krush you!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!” he roared with mighty lungs, rupturing a total of 4 capalarees in his asscrack, it was THAT powerful. Without any hesetazhun, Neil leapt onto the dirt, placing an ear to the ground. With his incredizle hearing, Neil was able to hear the faint boots pounding on the loose gravel. “ur goig eest. i will fidn u; i must have my daninals” and the chase went on, with Neil’s increbidle one liner unheard by any soul, besides a cattarpiler that happened to be positioned nearby. Except for the fact that the cattarpila died from the sheer fire Neil spat out of his mouth.
Chapter 2: DJ Jeezus Made Me Do It After exactly 22 minutes and 37 seconds, Neil finally had a visual conformashon of the danimal bandito. It was the one and only Fat Albert, complete with a bucket of mayonnaise and a goddamn pimp cane. Neil experienced a sudden surge of power, and leapt for the moarbiddly obese vixen, his leather short-shorts kuntrakting into his sphincter in a tantalizing manner. Neil was glad that he never skipped leg day, at that exact moment, as his ass hairs felt the raw, oiled tibetan buffacow’s hide massage his butthole. He was inches from his quarry, centometers, NANOMaTERS HOLY SHIT. Neil Leapt towards the legally handicapped jentilmen, throwing him onto the ground. A small tornado of dirt ripped the Barney and Friends T-shirt right off of Neil’s back revealing a severe case of roid-induced bacne. Neil assaulted the man like a Damon, Matt Damon, throwing fists and spittle at him faster than the eye could see. After being repulsed from the grotesque display of violence, albert releinkwished the six pack of Strikin’ Strawberry Kiwi Danimals from his grasp. As they slowly fell off of the cliff, Neil screamed “no” and leapt after his precious yogurt juice. He only had a precious few seconds to tear open the cardboard and penetrate the tin foil cap of one of the danimals. Neil desperately tried to grab the danimals and Chapter 4: Jeezus died with platform shoes and crack in his veins Successfully snatched it out of the air. After prying off the iron hard ABS plastic lid, Neil faced his toughest chalanje yet, puncturing the millamoiter thick aloominnum foil wrapped around the aperture of the delicious beverage. After 6 seconds of total free-fall, Neil successfully made a small hole, and thrust the bottle into his face, absorbing the contents much in the same way a humble sea sponge absorbs Bud Light. As Phat Albert glanced over the cliff, he saw Neil’s lederhosen and Barney T-shirt shred in half, bulging mussles replacing cheap polyester and dog leather straps. Neil was now the Danimal, his skin acquiring a pirpel hue, and his afro becoming electrizified with rad walkman batteries. He slowly tore off his left arm, and formed it into a grindcore flying V, with a 12 gauge instead of a neck. His leg slowly reatomized into a god damn TOW missile, and his lederhosen were repurposed into a leather whip. Albert, traomatizzed by this recent display of what the hell, gazed slack jawed at the Danimal as he slowly rose from the canyon wall. “Mabey DJ Jeezus is givun you a second chance, BUT I DIDENT.” With the speed of 30 Reliant Robins, he lashed albert like a pig in a bratwurst shop, the whip whistling through the air like a demonic tamborine. Blood flew through the air, painting the Danimal’s body in a crimson hue. Albert begged for mercy, dropping his tub of mashed russet potatoes onto the foliage. The danimal didn’t show mercy. He showed his 12 gauge flying V, blowing off both of fat albert’s kneecaps, shreds of bone screaming through the air, with Albert’s screams echoing for miles. The Danimal finally hurled the guitar into fat albert’s esophagus, decapitating the vile felon with a justice that rivalled George Zimmerman. “he dident want to play” The Danimal simply mumbled, and turned on his one leg and hopped away, dragging his 6 pack of Strikin’ strawberry kiwi danimals with him into the sunset.
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