Limp Biskit is the Root of All Evil, kinda
Oct 21, 2018 20:16:55 GMT -5
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Post by The Very Big Śpainards on Oct 21, 2018 20:16:55 GMT -5
--21st October 2018--
--Middle of Nowhere--
--10:12am--
El Gran Grande was not as mysterious as the Spainard tried to make others think he was. He stayed of the internet to make people think he was like one of those badass old guy who was too cool for the internet but would still go on to virtually yell at someone randomly while giving away enough hints about his identity for even a rotting snail corpse to figure it out.
His attempts at portaying and honourable and culturally sensitive Spanish male were constantly foiled by his own stupidity and refusal to fix said stupidity. He didn't believe in the solar system. He thought continents could move if you pushed it hard enough. He had recently made a deal with a mental patient who was romantically linked to a box of Cereal to nuke the entire world and he was so far away from being what could even be considered half sober that any attempts at smartening him up would eventually get caught up in his Bullshit Monopoly of a brain and then be recycled out as some rage filled paragraph filled with enough vocabularic errors that would make a Venus Fly Trap green with envy.
However that was no secret. El Gran Grande was told this on a constant basis by practically everyone. He was a wrestler, getting insulted was kind of his job. And he'd spent minutes teaching himself the old defensive art of not listening to people unless they're complimenting him.
So what was the problem now?
Obviously El Gran Grande didn't need to listen to any darn midgets opinion. They're too small to have opinions that matter! El Gran Grande was small for like 5 months tops and during that time a bunch of bad shit happened, probably. Besides is it was so good how come he couldn't remember it! That's the problem with small things, spreading their disease of short memories and short other things and short pretty much everything else like a shrunk Bubonic Plague.
So how come it was affecting him now? El Gran Grande expected his etu- I mean- His debut on WCF to be simple, formulated with absolutely no surprise. It was a simple 5 step program: 1. Debut.
2. Defeat entire midget roster easily.
3. Win every match in history.
4. Win every championship in history.
5. Burn down David Sanchez's house.
6. Make "Combine Harvester" by The Wurzels the opening theme of Slam.
7. Nuke Earth.
8. Wait for Aliens.
9. Beat up Aliens.
Ok maybe more than 5 steps but still it should've been easy! But it wasn't!
This, like mostly everything else in the world, got El Gran Grande mad. Every decent win he'd managed to get his whatever-continent-Spain-is-in-an hands on was closely followed by an even more demoralling or simply mediocre loss!
NONE OF WHICH WAS HIS FAULT OF COURSE! NOTHING IS HIS FAULT! FUCK YOU!
El Aìnsley: What the fuck are you shouting on about?!
The sound of El Aìnsley's annoyed Hungarian voice dragged El Gran Grande out of his trance of arguments and back into reality, which at the present moment consisted of a small green van with El Aìnsley sitting in the drivers seat with a face consisting of a blended mix of concern and dissapointedness.
El Gran Grande looked around the car and slowly remembered why he was there. El Aìnsley had driven them both out to... well he wasn't sure where, but they were supposed to be meeting up with that Cereal guy El Gran Grande had never ever met before and hadn't met once and any assumption that he did would be responded to with a quick and vicious lawsuit. El Gran Grande must've gotten lost in thought as they drove over.
Once he did remember El Gran Grande scoffed at El Ainsley's question. Of course it was him that would snap him out of his verbal slaying of the voice in his head, El Ainsley had a cosmic allergy to anything even remotely regarding "victory".
El Gran Grande was a couple of insults away from beating himself in an argument and then El Aìnsley had to swoop his head in. Ever since his partner had beaten him in WAR El Gran Grande was quite simply disgusted by anything even to do with the dumbass hooligan.
It hadn't taken long for El Gran Grande to diagnose his partners overall suckiness as some kind of weird yet completely real negative energy that cursed everything around him with mediocrity, mostly because El Gran Grande didn't really think about his theory for more than 2 seconds.
But he didn't need to, of course! El Gran Grande was the opposite if his partner. He was the greatest human alive! So great that even with Ainsley's aura of suck he still managed to be absolutely the best thing in the history of carbon-based lifeforms.
But now he was kind of not the best thing in the history of carbon-based lifeforms. And it wasn't El Aìnsley bringing him down from his assumed omnipotence then what was?
El Gran Grande noticed a man standing outside the car window with a shirt with "logic" written in the middle. The man spoke:
Logic Man: Nothing is bringing you down. You simply use ego and stupidity to hide your own insecurities and now after such a long time this practice has become ineffective. Face it William, you kind of suck.
El Gran Grande: WHAT THE FUUUAAAACK?!
El Gran Grande quickly opened the car door ready to beat the ever-living shut out of the logic man but as he raised his totally awesome Very Big battle stance he soon he realised that the man was no longer there. He turned around but the only person he can see is El Aìnsley with an increasingly confused and increasingly annoyed face.
El Gran Grande: Er.. there was a uh.. guy. And he said like...
El Aìnsley: Are you sure there was a guy?
El Gran Grande: YES, WHY THE FUCK WOULDN'T I BE SURE IF THERE WAS A GUY?!
El Aìnsley: Calm down! Geez. It's just we're literally in the middle of a giant, lonely field. I'm pretty sure he wouldn't just disappear. If he did in fact exist.
El Gran Grande: HE EXISTED! ALRIGHT?! I SEE THINGS THAT EXIST OK?!
El Aìnsley: Do you though?
El Gran Grande now stopped searching for the Logic Man and stared directly at El Aìnsley. Obviously insulted by the ridiculous question.
El Gran Grande: Of course! Why wouldn't I?!
El Aìnsley: Well you spent the entire car journey muttering about Venus Fly Traps and shrunken Bubonic Plauges and then you screamed about how something wasn't your fault and then went to punch a guy that doesn't exist. All of this taking place a long way away from when you last took cocaine.
El Gran Grande: What are you implying your handsome bald idiot?
El Aìnsley: I'm implying that you're hallucinating thanks to withdrawal probably.
El Gran Grande: WHAT?! F-F-FRI- FUCKING WITHDRAWL?! ME?! HAHAHAHA!
El Aìnsley: Fake laugh.
El Gran Grande: NO! IT'S A REAL LAUGH! Cause that's funny. You think a fricking badass, Fortnite Gamer like myself would suffer fucking withdrawal symptoms. Pfffffffft! I- if anything Cocaine should be having withdrawal symptoms from ME!
El Aìnsley: Dude, really though? I mean I know you have your whole nihilistic, childish omnipotent complex going on but I mean this seems kinda more serious than ususal? Kinda?
El Gran Grande: No. I- me- No! Like- you just said it yourself I'm superman so I can't have any dang With- wu- I forgot the dang word, fuck you.
El Aìnsley: Wi- William name one omnipotent person that has shit themselves on life television.
El Gran Grande: Gary Lineker.
El Aìnsley: Ok now I definitely know you're not sane- or at least not as sane as you were before which honestly isn't saying much but-
El Gran Grande: OK! I get it! But I'm done speaking! And no I'm gonna go and have a perfectly S A N E conversation with The Cereal Man about the nuclear bunker we're building and then everyone's gonna think I'm sane!
El Aìnsley: William, do you even listen to what you fucking say?!
El Gran Grande: NO, BECAUSE I'M NOT A BITCH LIKE YOU! BYE!
With that El Gran Grande slammed the door shut and sprinted away from the van towards an area of the field which had a massive pile of dirt resting in the middle. Next to it being a giant hole eminating a lot of noise.
El Gran Grande took a moment to catch his breath as the run over had been a long one for him and he could barely breathe. Too tired to speak any words, El Gran Grande let out a painful cough and The Cereal Man's head rose out of the hole.
The Cereal Man: Hello, Be of Hemoths. What social entity is instructing your brain to travel to this humble area of this bodies belonging.
El Gran Grande: Uh... yeah... Well sorry I'm late, Ainsley being a bitch as usual.
El Aìnsley: I'M LIKE 10 FUCKING STEPS AWAY YOU LITTLE SHIT!
El Gran Grande: DON'T CALL ME LITTLE, YOU AUSTRIAN CUCK!
El Aìnsley: YOU DON'T WANNA BE CALLED LITTLE YOU DON'T WANNA BE CALLED FAT, WHAT DO YOU WANT TO BE CALLED?!
El Gran Grande: SHUT THE FUCK UP!
The Cereal Man jumped out of the hole and brought out a cereal box filled with dirt and took a bite out of it, to the displeasure of El Gran Grande who took a step back in fear of having to anything weirder.
El Gran Grande: Well that's uh... anyway I came to like discuss something with you homie.
The Cereal Man: Is it about the Cerealancutary that will negate the effects of the radioactive move of clouds that I will use to swallow the earth whole?
El Gran Grande: Uh... I- A- do you mean the nukes?
The Cereal Man: Yes.
El Gran Grande: Oh uh.. You could just- say that. The nukes. You can just not have other words in.
The Cereal Man: I enjoy the feeling fanciness it brings to the nerurones.
El Gran Grande: Ok, whatever the fuck. But no! I don't wanna know about the nuke plan or whatever. I wanna just- uh..- like- you're a terrorist right?
The Cereal Man: If you consider the removal of life from the universal sink of Cereal terrorism.
El Gran Grande: Well what do you consider it?
The Cereal Man: Common sense.
El Gran Grande: Ok, well, I don't enjoy speaking to you The Cereal Man so I'm going to make this very quick. I have a match up against this guy, Scott Slayer. Quite new to WCF. Has an alliterative name so he's probably bitch which is no big deal but-... Like, I'm kinda like worried about my shooting is all.
The Cereal Man: You want to shoot people?
El Gran Grande: You know what The Cereal Man? Jus- just speak when I'm asking a question and not inbetween.
Like I'm obviously the best human in this entire WCF thingy but recently I've been losing a bit. And I haven't had as much momentum. Which is obviously because of shitty fucking management cause everything is there fault obviously and nothing is my fault! BECAUSE I'M THE BEST!
But I thought maybe I'll do a bit of research into Scott Slayer. And you're kind of like him so I thought like get a little help.
El Aìnsley: YOU'RE GETTING HELP FROM THE FUCKING CEREAL MAN?!
El Gran Grande: SHUT UUUUUUPPP!
But yeah. So, need a little help.
The Cereal Man nods and motions for El Gran Grande to do down on the dirt hill next to them. The Cereal Man places the Cereal Box onto the floor before lying down on the pile of dirt.
The Cereal Man: El Gran Grande, Terroism is like a box of chocolates. When used correctly it can have a deep meaning and affect many people's lives but when used incorrectly it just seems kind of stupid and attention seeking.
El Gran Grande: Oh yeah, I get ya. So Scott Slayer is just kind of acting like a edgy teenage child?
The Cereal Man: I dunno I've never met this Slayer of Scott's, however when I was a young The Cereal Man I had quite the rebellious streak, let me tell you. I'd always be getting into trouble, messing with people, and the best part is the Tyrannosauras' arms were always too shirt to catch my slippery collection of meat and nerves. They did have legs though so they could just step on me which is what they did, I soon realised, the dinosaurs weren't sentient, and therefore weren't smart enough to appreciate the magnificent, incandescent Light of Cereal. So I threw a stone at them and they blew up. You always gotta have a purpose with these things or else- well, what's the point?
El Gran Grande: Oh... well... I get you, kinda but I'm not really a terrorist or an anarchist so I don't think I can use that advice.
The Cereal Man: That's right, you're a common senser!
El Gran Grande: No- uh.. like- no- not at all really- You knoe what? Thanks for the advice my brother, but I'm just gonna go now. Uh.. don't talk to me for a month. Goodbye.
The Cereal Man man waved off as El Gran Grande ran as fast as he could back into the van and slammed door shut as soon as he entered.
El Aìnsley: What the fuck was that about?
El Gran Grande: I-.. I- We uh... fucked up bad. Associating... with uh.. that. He is definitely not uh... ok.
El Aìnsley: He's your fucking brother.
El Gran Grande: Yeah well what if he's actually possessed by a Cereal Demon or something? Then he's technically not.
El Aìnsley: You fucking Cunningham's and your ability to deny reality, I will never know how you guys do it.
El Aìnsley started the car up and began to drive back the way they came as El Gran Grande pulled up his phone and began to record himself.
El Gran Grande: You know what Very Big Spanish fans? It's time. See, we Spanish have a history with rebelling against the rules: Spanish Inquisition, Spanish Civil War, Bay of Pigs incident, Cold War, Vietnam War, Australia War probably, Madagascar 3, some other wars I think, but we've always had a sense of pride whenever we go about our anachristic ways.
We have cool hats and we have tomatoes and sometimes we throw the tomatoes at the hats or at other people and it's- well it's just a certain level of respect. Tradition even.
See when we Spaniards rebel it's because we know we're the best and we seek to make sure that everyone's doing what we're doing so that they can be the best too. It's not just some careless, goalless chaotic mess like you proper, Scott Slayer.
You're overconfident and messy and even though you have a couple wins against a bunch of robbers and a drunk Jayson Price I'm still not really impressed because everytime I look at you I compare you to another 500 fricking wrestler guys that kind if say the same thing. And the things you all have in common is that you're all so meaningless.
No goals, no Morales, no Spanish accent, no cool ass flag. And when you loses all of these things and still think that you're a cool anarchist that is when you become Limp Bizkit.
See when the earth was created two things were close created. Good and Evil. Since the beginning of time Limp Biskit and there dumb 90's hair have been giving out shitty ass songs with bad beats and worse lyrics as they gleefully fill the world with more sin and giggle as humanity struggle to comprehend what terrible act they could've done to deserve such a horrible fate of having to listen to Limp Biskit.
Do you believe in sin?
Can you even comprehend such a thing?
Limp Biskit was sent into the world to fill everyone with cringy hairstyles and kinda awkward looking clothing. And you probably understand that being a minion of their evil.
But what you haven't understood yet it me. I am the vaccine sent to destroy Limp Biskit.
I am the coolest guy in the world and with my fist of righteousness I will erase Limp Biskit from the world and then erase you, Scott Slayer. For as as a person who doesn't like Limp Biskit that much, it is my destiny.
End video.
El Gran Grande ended the video and started to type into his phone unaware of his partners even more increasingly confused face.
El Aìnsley: Er.. what was that about?
El Gran Grande: Limp Biskit I guess, I lost my train of thought there but I uploaded the video so there's nothing left I can do.
El Aìnsley: Oh...
I like Limp Biskit.
El Gran Grande: You do?
El Aìnsley: Yeah they made the uh.. "rolling" song. Like uh... "rollin' rollin' I'm rollin'" like from The Undertaker.
El Gran Grande: Wait that was them?
El Aìnsley: Yeah. I'm pretty sure.
El Gran Grande: Dang, that song's a jam. Maybe Limp Biskit isn't the root of all evil after all.
A content silence filled the can for a couple of seconds before both men spoke up.
El Aìnsley: Nah, they totally are.
El Gran Grande: Yeah, yeah they are to be honest.
El Aìnsley: Definitely.
--Middle of Nowhere--
--10:12am--
El Gran Grande was not as mysterious as the Spainard tried to make others think he was. He stayed of the internet to make people think he was like one of those badass old guy who was too cool for the internet but would still go on to virtually yell at someone randomly while giving away enough hints about his identity for even a rotting snail corpse to figure it out.
His attempts at portaying and honourable and culturally sensitive Spanish male were constantly foiled by his own stupidity and refusal to fix said stupidity. He didn't believe in the solar system. He thought continents could move if you pushed it hard enough. He had recently made a deal with a mental patient who was romantically linked to a box of Cereal to nuke the entire world and he was so far away from being what could even be considered half sober that any attempts at smartening him up would eventually get caught up in his Bullshit Monopoly of a brain and then be recycled out as some rage filled paragraph filled with enough vocabularic errors that would make a Venus Fly Trap green with envy.
However that was no secret. El Gran Grande was told this on a constant basis by practically everyone. He was a wrestler, getting insulted was kind of his job. And he'd spent minutes teaching himself the old defensive art of not listening to people unless they're complimenting him.
So what was the problem now?
Obviously El Gran Grande didn't need to listen to any darn midgets opinion. They're too small to have opinions that matter! El Gran Grande was small for like 5 months tops and during that time a bunch of bad shit happened, probably. Besides is it was so good how come he couldn't remember it! That's the problem with small things, spreading their disease of short memories and short other things and short pretty much everything else like a shrunk Bubonic Plague.
So how come it was affecting him now? El Gran Grande expected his etu- I mean- His debut on WCF to be simple, formulated with absolutely no surprise. It was a simple 5 step program: 1. Debut.
2. Defeat entire midget roster easily.
3. Win every match in history.
4. Win every championship in history.
5. Burn down David Sanchez's house.
6. Make "Combine Harvester" by The Wurzels the opening theme of Slam.
7. Nuke Earth.
8. Wait for Aliens.
9. Beat up Aliens.
Ok maybe more than 5 steps but still it should've been easy! But it wasn't!
This, like mostly everything else in the world, got El Gran Grande mad. Every decent win he'd managed to get his whatever-continent-Spain-is-in-an hands on was closely followed by an even more demoralling or simply mediocre loss!
NONE OF WHICH WAS HIS FAULT OF COURSE! NOTHING IS HIS FAULT! FUCK YOU!
El Aìnsley: What the fuck are you shouting on about?!
The sound of El Aìnsley's annoyed Hungarian voice dragged El Gran Grande out of his trance of arguments and back into reality, which at the present moment consisted of a small green van with El Aìnsley sitting in the drivers seat with a face consisting of a blended mix of concern and dissapointedness.
El Gran Grande looked around the car and slowly remembered why he was there. El Aìnsley had driven them both out to... well he wasn't sure where, but they were supposed to be meeting up with that Cereal guy El Gran Grande had never ever met before and hadn't met once and any assumption that he did would be responded to with a quick and vicious lawsuit. El Gran Grande must've gotten lost in thought as they drove over.
Once he did remember El Gran Grande scoffed at El Ainsley's question. Of course it was him that would snap him out of his verbal slaying of the voice in his head, El Ainsley had a cosmic allergy to anything even remotely regarding "victory".
El Gran Grande was a couple of insults away from beating himself in an argument and then El Aìnsley had to swoop his head in. Ever since his partner had beaten him in WAR El Gran Grande was quite simply disgusted by anything even to do with the dumbass hooligan.
It hadn't taken long for El Gran Grande to diagnose his partners overall suckiness as some kind of weird yet completely real negative energy that cursed everything around him with mediocrity, mostly because El Gran Grande didn't really think about his theory for more than 2 seconds.
But he didn't need to, of course! El Gran Grande was the opposite if his partner. He was the greatest human alive! So great that even with Ainsley's aura of suck he still managed to be absolutely the best thing in the history of carbon-based lifeforms.
But now he was kind of not the best thing in the history of carbon-based lifeforms. And it wasn't El Aìnsley bringing him down from his assumed omnipotence then what was?
El Gran Grande noticed a man standing outside the car window with a shirt with "logic" written in the middle. The man spoke:
Logic Man: Nothing is bringing you down. You simply use ego and stupidity to hide your own insecurities and now after such a long time this practice has become ineffective. Face it William, you kind of suck.
El Gran Grande: WHAT THE FUUUAAAACK?!
El Gran Grande quickly opened the car door ready to beat the ever-living shut out of the logic man but as he raised his totally awesome Very Big battle stance he soon he realised that the man was no longer there. He turned around but the only person he can see is El Aìnsley with an increasingly confused and increasingly annoyed face.
El Gran Grande: Er.. there was a uh.. guy. And he said like...
El Aìnsley: Are you sure there was a guy?
El Gran Grande: YES, WHY THE FUCK WOULDN'T I BE SURE IF THERE WAS A GUY?!
El Aìnsley: Calm down! Geez. It's just we're literally in the middle of a giant, lonely field. I'm pretty sure he wouldn't just disappear. If he did in fact exist.
El Gran Grande: HE EXISTED! ALRIGHT?! I SEE THINGS THAT EXIST OK?!
El Aìnsley: Do you though?
El Gran Grande now stopped searching for the Logic Man and stared directly at El Aìnsley. Obviously insulted by the ridiculous question.
El Gran Grande: Of course! Why wouldn't I?!
El Aìnsley: Well you spent the entire car journey muttering about Venus Fly Traps and shrunken Bubonic Plauges and then you screamed about how something wasn't your fault and then went to punch a guy that doesn't exist. All of this taking place a long way away from when you last took cocaine.
El Gran Grande: What are you implying your handsome bald idiot?
El Aìnsley: I'm implying that you're hallucinating thanks to withdrawal probably.
El Gran Grande: WHAT?! F-F-FRI- FUCKING WITHDRAWL?! ME?! HAHAHAHA!
El Aìnsley: Fake laugh.
El Gran Grande: NO! IT'S A REAL LAUGH! Cause that's funny. You think a fricking badass, Fortnite Gamer like myself would suffer fucking withdrawal symptoms. Pfffffffft! I- if anything Cocaine should be having withdrawal symptoms from ME!
El Aìnsley: Dude, really though? I mean I know you have your whole nihilistic, childish omnipotent complex going on but I mean this seems kinda more serious than ususal? Kinda?
El Gran Grande: No. I- me- No! Like- you just said it yourself I'm superman so I can't have any dang With- wu- I forgot the dang word, fuck you.
El Aìnsley: Wi- William name one omnipotent person that has shit themselves on life television.
El Gran Grande: Gary Lineker.
El Aìnsley: Ok now I definitely know you're not sane- or at least not as sane as you were before which honestly isn't saying much but-
El Gran Grande: OK! I get it! But I'm done speaking! And no I'm gonna go and have a perfectly S A N E conversation with The Cereal Man about the nuclear bunker we're building and then everyone's gonna think I'm sane!
El Aìnsley: William, do you even listen to what you fucking say?!
El Gran Grande: NO, BECAUSE I'M NOT A BITCH LIKE YOU! BYE!
With that El Gran Grande slammed the door shut and sprinted away from the van towards an area of the field which had a massive pile of dirt resting in the middle. Next to it being a giant hole eminating a lot of noise.
El Gran Grande took a moment to catch his breath as the run over had been a long one for him and he could barely breathe. Too tired to speak any words, El Gran Grande let out a painful cough and The Cereal Man's head rose out of the hole.
The Cereal Man: Hello, Be of Hemoths. What social entity is instructing your brain to travel to this humble area of this bodies belonging.
El Gran Grande: Uh... yeah... Well sorry I'm late, Ainsley being a bitch as usual.
El Aìnsley: I'M LIKE 10 FUCKING STEPS AWAY YOU LITTLE SHIT!
El Gran Grande: DON'T CALL ME LITTLE, YOU AUSTRIAN CUCK!
El Aìnsley: YOU DON'T WANNA BE CALLED LITTLE YOU DON'T WANNA BE CALLED FAT, WHAT DO YOU WANT TO BE CALLED?!
El Gran Grande: SHUT THE FUCK UP!
The Cereal Man jumped out of the hole and brought out a cereal box filled with dirt and took a bite out of it, to the displeasure of El Gran Grande who took a step back in fear of having to anything weirder.
El Gran Grande: Well that's uh... anyway I came to like discuss something with you homie.
The Cereal Man: Is it about the Cerealancutary that will negate the effects of the radioactive move of clouds that I will use to swallow the earth whole?
El Gran Grande: Uh... I- A- do you mean the nukes?
The Cereal Man: Yes.
El Gran Grande: Oh uh.. You could just- say that. The nukes. You can just not have other words in.
The Cereal Man: I enjoy the feeling fanciness it brings to the nerurones.
El Gran Grande: Ok, whatever the fuck. But no! I don't wanna know about the nuke plan or whatever. I wanna just- uh..- like- you're a terrorist right?
The Cereal Man: If you consider the removal of life from the universal sink of Cereal terrorism.
El Gran Grande: Well what do you consider it?
The Cereal Man: Common sense.
El Gran Grande: Ok, well, I don't enjoy speaking to you The Cereal Man so I'm going to make this very quick. I have a match up against this guy, Scott Slayer. Quite new to WCF. Has an alliterative name so he's probably bitch which is no big deal but-... Like, I'm kinda like worried about my shooting is all.
The Cereal Man: You want to shoot people?
El Gran Grande: You know what The Cereal Man? Jus- just speak when I'm asking a question and not inbetween.
Like I'm obviously the best human in this entire WCF thingy but recently I've been losing a bit. And I haven't had as much momentum. Which is obviously because of shitty fucking management cause everything is there fault obviously and nothing is my fault! BECAUSE I'M THE BEST!
But I thought maybe I'll do a bit of research into Scott Slayer. And you're kind of like him so I thought like get a little help.
El Aìnsley: YOU'RE GETTING HELP FROM THE FUCKING CEREAL MAN?!
El Gran Grande: SHUT UUUUUUPPP!
But yeah. So, need a little help.
The Cereal Man nods and motions for El Gran Grande to do down on the dirt hill next to them. The Cereal Man places the Cereal Box onto the floor before lying down on the pile of dirt.
The Cereal Man: El Gran Grande, Terroism is like a box of chocolates. When used correctly it can have a deep meaning and affect many people's lives but when used incorrectly it just seems kind of stupid and attention seeking.
El Gran Grande: Oh yeah, I get ya. So Scott Slayer is just kind of acting like a edgy teenage child?
The Cereal Man: I dunno I've never met this Slayer of Scott's, however when I was a young The Cereal Man I had quite the rebellious streak, let me tell you. I'd always be getting into trouble, messing with people, and the best part is the Tyrannosauras' arms were always too shirt to catch my slippery collection of meat and nerves. They did have legs though so they could just step on me which is what they did, I soon realised, the dinosaurs weren't sentient, and therefore weren't smart enough to appreciate the magnificent, incandescent Light of Cereal. So I threw a stone at them and they blew up. You always gotta have a purpose with these things or else- well, what's the point?
El Gran Grande: Oh... well... I get you, kinda but I'm not really a terrorist or an anarchist so I don't think I can use that advice.
The Cereal Man: That's right, you're a common senser!
El Gran Grande: No- uh.. like- no- not at all really- You knoe what? Thanks for the advice my brother, but I'm just gonna go now. Uh.. don't talk to me for a month. Goodbye.
The Cereal Man man waved off as El Gran Grande ran as fast as he could back into the van and slammed door shut as soon as he entered.
El Aìnsley: What the fuck was that about?
El Gran Grande: I-.. I- We uh... fucked up bad. Associating... with uh.. that. He is definitely not uh... ok.
El Aìnsley: He's your fucking brother.
El Gran Grande: Yeah well what if he's actually possessed by a Cereal Demon or something? Then he's technically not.
El Aìnsley: You fucking Cunningham's and your ability to deny reality, I will never know how you guys do it.
El Aìnsley started the car up and began to drive back the way they came as El Gran Grande pulled up his phone and began to record himself.
El Gran Grande: You know what Very Big Spanish fans? It's time. See, we Spanish have a history with rebelling against the rules: Spanish Inquisition, Spanish Civil War, Bay of Pigs incident, Cold War, Vietnam War, Australia War probably, Madagascar 3, some other wars I think, but we've always had a sense of pride whenever we go about our anachristic ways.
We have cool hats and we have tomatoes and sometimes we throw the tomatoes at the hats or at other people and it's- well it's just a certain level of respect. Tradition even.
See when we Spaniards rebel it's because we know we're the best and we seek to make sure that everyone's doing what we're doing so that they can be the best too. It's not just some careless, goalless chaotic mess like you proper, Scott Slayer.
You're overconfident and messy and even though you have a couple wins against a bunch of robbers and a drunk Jayson Price I'm still not really impressed because everytime I look at you I compare you to another 500 fricking wrestler guys that kind if say the same thing. And the things you all have in common is that you're all so meaningless.
No goals, no Morales, no Spanish accent, no cool ass flag. And when you loses all of these things and still think that you're a cool anarchist that is when you become Limp Bizkit.
See when the earth was created two things were close created. Good and Evil. Since the beginning of time Limp Biskit and there dumb 90's hair have been giving out shitty ass songs with bad beats and worse lyrics as they gleefully fill the world with more sin and giggle as humanity struggle to comprehend what terrible act they could've done to deserve such a horrible fate of having to listen to Limp Biskit.
Do you believe in sin?
Can you even comprehend such a thing?
Limp Biskit was sent into the world to fill everyone with cringy hairstyles and kinda awkward looking clothing. And you probably understand that being a minion of their evil.
But what you haven't understood yet it me. I am the vaccine sent to destroy Limp Biskit.
I am the coolest guy in the world and with my fist of righteousness I will erase Limp Biskit from the world and then erase you, Scott Slayer. For as as a person who doesn't like Limp Biskit that much, it is my destiny.
End video.
El Gran Grande ended the video and started to type into his phone unaware of his partners even more increasingly confused face.
El Aìnsley: Er.. what was that about?
El Gran Grande: Limp Biskit I guess, I lost my train of thought there but I uploaded the video so there's nothing left I can do.
El Aìnsley: Oh...
I like Limp Biskit.
El Gran Grande: You do?
El Aìnsley: Yeah they made the uh.. "rolling" song. Like uh... "rollin' rollin' I'm rollin'" like from The Undertaker.
El Gran Grande: Wait that was them?
El Aìnsley: Yeah. I'm pretty sure.
El Gran Grande: Dang, that song's a jam. Maybe Limp Biskit isn't the root of all evil after all.
A content silence filled the can for a couple of seconds before both men spoke up.
El Aìnsley: Nah, they totally are.
El Gran Grande: Yeah, yeah they are to be honest.
El Aìnsley: Definitely.
