All the internet you've ever seen...
Nothing has ever been so mind-blowingly intense...
So...mind-numbingly DRAMATIC...
Until the most intense, dramatic, bloggy, internetful post...yet to come...
UNTIL NOW!
Just like how ER advertises every episode is the most intense episode yet, I figured I'd give you a dose on what bad advertising is like, even plugging TV shows.
Wait, I do that all the time? Well why the hell didn't you tell me before? I figured this was for all my private feelings and secret crushes and flowery dreams.
Well, thanks for the notice now, asshole.
Anyway, one week later, here's the continuation and conclusion of The Battle of the Creepy!
This week, we will start with The King, who fell behind on his last attempt. Let's see if he can up the ante.
Unh-tss-unh-tss-unh-tss-unh-tss.
Have I properly shifted the mood to sexy? Yeah, I did.
So you're in a British strip club, sitting there and expecting some woman with Caesarean scars and enough cellulite that you believe they had to have bathed in cottage cheese before gettin' on the pole, BUT WAIT!
It's The King to the rescue*!
*Horror. To the horror, yes.
So instead of expecting to see some hot 'n sexy meat, you get hot 'n sexy meat. But this one you can touch! Plus, it'll give you good taste AND a heart attack instead of an erection you can't satisfy.
Well, okay, maybe you can have the erection still, your call.
So, is it creepy? A bit. Shocking, definitely. A bit disturbing, of course. But still, you have The King giving you a show with a single tassel (you know where it stems from, you sicko). But what do you get beforehand? A triple bacon burger. Best strip club visit ever?
Yes. Oh, God, yes.
But just creepy enough to overtake Fuckwad. I know I had a different name for him before, but I don't remember what it was and Fuckwad fits so much better, don't you think? Yep, you do.
Can even the scrappy newcomer take top creeper from a well-established peeping Tom?
If you don't say "Yes, that's the creepiest fucking pile of money I've ever seen," then you have to introduce me to your stack of Benjamins some other time.
Sure, we last saw Fuckwad at a restaurant eyeballing your woman/you, but this time, he found out where you work. And no, he didn't decide to just see what floor your office was on and visit, telling your secretary that you were related (you have the same eyes). Nope, he got on a scaffold and found your meeting room 20 stories up.
How the hell did he know where you worked, and how the fuck did he know you were having a meeting, or did he just expect a chance encounter? Whatever it was, it worked. And you can't exactly go to the cops and ask for a restraining order against money, can you? That'd put you in the poor house!
Get it?
But it's that combination of Fuckwad's piercing gaze and that techno music you know he'd play once he tied you up and put on his leather money clip because he's got that kind of fetish. He would get his ink all over you and make you check out his watermark. That sick son-of-a-dollar.
So, yes, he's creepy as shit, but The King's got a backup plan! Video games!
Yes, The King made a trio of video games that BK gave out for a small amount of money a while back. Nothing better* than advertising through gaming.
*worse
No, I never bought them because A) I didn't have an Xbox at the time and B) Seriously, I would never buy a game based off a fast food franchise. Now, cola company? Sure, I played that 7up game and it was AWESOME, but fast food's just too low on the...food...chain? Heeeee!
But...wait, what's that?!
Oh, fuck, no!! It's a poor Photoshop attempt!! FUCK! AHH!!! RUN!!!!!
Or, rather, it's Fuckwad on your tail, King! FUCK! AHH!!! RUN!!!!!
Yeah, imagine getting that for your birthday. Then ask your parents if they can look you in the eye and say they love you. Nightmare-inducing games may be popular, but do you really want one that'll keep you up for days, maybe weeks? Those eyes...melting your brain. I shudder at the thought.
So, the contest is over because I've done my fair share of bitching for the day.
The winner, you say?
No one won here. It was truly a bloodbath of not-so-epic proportions. But who's creepier?
Fuckwad. He is a fuckwad creepier and...a fuckwad of money. What do you want from me?
Seriously, leave me be, or I will glue googly-eyes to a stack of fives and leave it on your windowsill. You may say "Awesome, free money!" But then you will see those eyes.
And that's all you will know from then on.
Peace, jerks!
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