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Six people that the five of them have never seen before thump into the nets and roll to the ground. Well, four of them haven't seen them. Reaibn, however, recognizes them instantly. Well, some of them, that is. Getting to his feet first is Steve the incontinent 98 year old man (who is now substantially older than 98, not that we're counting) from the long-dead "Horsepuckey" site, the cheap Horsehockey knock-off (it died the same week as Horsehockey, in fact, for reasons far more numerous, retarded and heinous than can be listed here). He growls something incoherent as he struggles with his vitals. Beside him, dressed in all in black and topped by a blask mask that somehow looks more cheesy than menacing, rises Darth Timmy, the somewhat less-than-competent Dark Lord of the Sith from certain universes where "Star Wars" is actually a historical drama. His attempts to look imposing fail miserably as he steps in a hole and twists his weak ankle, causing him to stumble and fall under the weight of his helmet. Steve snickers nastily. Angrily, Timmy gestures at him, and Steve's laughter stops as he floods his pants with fresh urine. Judging from the aroma, his pants have already been the recipient of many such accidents already. "Asshole," he mutters. "Count on it," snaps Timmy in reply. The third of the group to get up is a midget, wearing a viking helmet, speedos and not much else. Reaibn recognizes Helmut, the Germanic midget from Webster's Incomprehensible Gibberish-English translation dictionary, who becomes irate when disturbed. Muttering angrily, he crawls back into his huge book and closes the cover behind him."Where the hell are we? Are we in Cleveland?" says the fourth. Bill Murray carefully gets to his feet. "I think we hit a bird on the way in here. I've got bird-guts in my pants." The man beside him hands him a handkerchief and a bottle of hand-sanitizer. He bears a startling resemblance to Morgan Freeman, but everyone who's anyone can recognize that this is actually the Emperor Galveston, the ruler of the Sam's Club Lost. "Don't I know you from somewhere?" Murray asks. "I get that a lot," replies Galveston. The last guy runs screaming from the group and ruins head-first into a post, knocking himself out cold. Reaibn can't quite remember what his name is, but he's sure it'll come to him in time.
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10/9/2008 4:58:36 AM
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