Dragon Ball Z Uncensored

[Yogurtman]

I hope somebody bothered to save all of those at some point.

Because his geocities account finally gave up the ghost.

[Seru]

Somebody did.

And you're looking at him.

[Ryoko's Biatch]

That's going in the notebook.

[Let My Love Open The Door]

MackTheMoochie: On a different note, I had hot steamy jungle love with Morgan

MHH is black?

[Let My Love Open The Door]

Wasn't there a conversation just between Morgan and H4P upon which our jokes were based, or did we get all of that shit anecdotally?

[Jason]

Psaturn interviewed Hemp4President for his website and I'm sad that that's lost, since no one remembers it and it could have spawned great catch phrases.

My favorite line from it being Sean talking about how much weed he smokes but still manages to be a great student, elaborating by saying "I get 100s on all my tests."

[Magic Juan]

His sniping accuracy has also improved.

[Let My Love Open The Door]

Somebody post gay.txt!

(Factorial)

[My Head Hurts 90]

I saved some awesome plays like Nigger is an Offensive Term, but I don't think they're considered epic.

[Let My Love Open The Door]

Go for it!

[My Head Hurts 90]

I can't find them, but at least I saved Mike's FTUW promos.

Name: Fancy Lala

Hometown: Some place in California

Height:5'11

Weight:500 lbs.

Physical description: He's a fat repulsive fuck.

origin: Was taking a huge dump and eating dinner at the same time when he realized that the only way to achieve spiritual and GHOSTUAL self-actualization was to dominate the shittiest wrestling federation in existence.

Finishing move: Pink Sugar Heart Attack! Also, he can control dump trucks with his mind.

Description: Mounts his opponent's face and BUCKS UP AND DOWN UNCONTROLLABLY WHILE SHITTING HIS PANTS AND SWEATING PROFUSELY until his victim essentially ceases to exist.

StupidMike
Puck
Posts: 521
(11/28/05 12:15 pm)
Reply
Re: I guess I should make a wrestler!
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
FIRST, DARKNESS!

Then a light appears, and, in the center of this, Fancy Lala is standing on top of a ROTATING DISK. He's wearing a pair of black sweatpants and a tight, light blue t-shirt that says CRUSH in some sort of stylized font that I'm too lazy to identify at the moment. After grunting and flailing his arms about for a bit, he eventually hunches over, moves his right hand to his face, and places his middle and index fingers on the center of his forehead.

Fancy Lala then starts screaming and trembling violently.

After a few seconds of this, more lights turn on and it is revealed that FANCYLALA is in a state-of-the-art (unnnggghh) hangar.

SECONDS LATER, 4 dump trucks enter the hangar and encircle (they all stop in place) Fancy Lala. As THE BIG FL begins to scream louder and tremble more, the aforementioned VEHICLES rev up their engines and flames shoot from their HUGE TAILPIPES.

Suddenly, Fancy Lala throws his right arm forward and launches a huge PURPLE BEAM OF ENERGY from the TWO FINGERS THAT WERE MENTIONED IN THE FIRST PARAGRAPH OF THIS THINGY. As the DESTRUCTIVE ENERGY flies through the room, another section of the HANGAR is illuminated revealing a billboard that says FTUW. Within about a TENTH OF A SECOND, the DEATH BEAM makes contact with the billboard and absolutely destroys it.

The instant this happens, the dump trucks start driving a circle around Fancy Lala (they're popping wheelies and honking their horns).

OF COURSE, FANCY LALA ISN'T DONE.

Our hero continues to shake and jiggle. Fancy Lala then outstretches his arms and legs (LIKE LEONARDO'S VITRUVIAN MAN), his eyes roll into the back of his head, and his STUNNING CLOTHING blows off his body . Fortunately, he isn't naked (oh thank jesus), and once the smoke and 'MEGA ENERGY clears, Fancy Lala's wrestling ATTIRE IS FINALLY EXPOSED: it is a light-blue leotard with ONE SHOULDERSTRAP. A huge yellow lightning bolt or some gook writing about spiritual fulfillment or Buddha is on the stomach portion. I dunno.

Unfortunately, Fancy Lala cannot maintain THIS TYPE OF POWER for long and he, consequently, collapses. Two tiny Asian men (THEIR FRONT TEETH ARE HUGE) run up to the disk with a wheelbarrow, and a huge crane comes from the ceiling, lifts the MEGA KING up, and places him in the, uhhh, wheelbarrow. The ORIENTALS ching and chong at each other for a bit until Fancy Lala moans; they then jump into action and push him out of the hangar.

[My Head Hurts 90]

Fancy Lala is in his kitchen (I suppose this word could apply to nearly every room in his shitty apartment) making a sandwich. He puts his knife down and begins to caress the turkey that he was carving.

"The homeless man with the baseball bat couldn't stop me from digging you out of the dumpster, my turkey. Nothing could have. Soon, we will be one. I'll be on my majestic toilet blasting the contents of my bowels out into the bowl (this is my training) and eating you. It will be glorious AND CONVENIENT."

A pig wearing a cape and carrying a megaphone walks into the kitchen. He glances at the camera, then looks at Fancy Lala and says,"So, Mr. Lala, how do you feel about your first match."

Fancy Lala looks up at the pig, wipes his SWEATY SWEATY brow, and says, "Come, let's discuss this in my living room."

CUE AMAZING CAMERA CUT

The pig and Fancy Lala are sitting on a grimy dilapidated couch. There are bottles of urine everywhere, and the room reeks of death and cosmic anus.

After a few excruciating moments of silence, Fancy Lala takes his hands out of his pants and points at a massive pile of feces in the corner. "Do you know what that is?"

The pig scratches his chinny chin chin (oh my god) and says, "I'd like to leave now, Mr. Lala. This is probably the worst day of my life."

"It is convenience. Why blast it into a toilet when I can just launch it into that corner over there?"

"Oh."

"I'm not a slave to the customs and requirements of modernity. I never have been. Can you hear the sweet music of release and convenience? Can you?"

"Oh God, you're shitting your pants! Please! Stop!"

Fancy Lala starts to emit a preternatural moan and the entire apartment begins to shake. The shitty TV on the other side of the room turns on and grotesque images of sodomy flash on the screen. A HAM SANDWICH.

THEN THE SCREEN (the one that the VIEWERS ARE WATCHING) GETS STATICY UNTIL EVENTUALLY IT GOES BLACK.

[Big Fagot]

Mike is Griffith.

[Big Fagot]

Firstly, I'm fat. When I sit, my gut falls almost a finger length over the waist of my pants.
Wait, scratch that, wrist length. And I have to lift up my paunch and put deodorant under
it. My cock is small, but it still produces enough vile sweat to make me smell like shit.
Speaking of shit, I eat my own shit. I sit on my shoulders, legs in the air, mouth open,
and shit. Most of it lands on my face, but I cheat and use my hands to make it in there.
As a result of all this sloppy shitting, my ass smells terribly. As soon as I sit and my fat,
lumpy asscheeks spread, a vile odor fills the room (or it would, if I didn't already smell
so bad.) I asked a girl out, and she was so pissed that I even considered it that she shot
me in the heart. Luckily, I don't exercise, so my heart has withered away to almost
nothing, making it a difficult target to hit with the small 9mm bullet she used. Also, the
bullet never made it through my man-boob. The sheer friction of all my fat dissipated the
thousands of joules of kinetic energy it was carrying. What's more, I'm SO fat, I have so
much surface area that my nerves are about 3 or four inches apart, so I barely noticed. I
certainly couldn't hear it, with my head fat flapping down over the ear I have left after
being bitten by a stray dog when I tried to have sex with him and take his food, or at
least eat his cum.

In addition, I really am gay. I've pretended to be a heterosexual ... I've jerked off to
enough straight porn, lusted after enough women, but NO MORE. All I can tell you is that
David Duchovny is better than Billie Joe of Green Day. One time, I had sex with a man,
but I think he was already dead. He sure was after I flattened him, hohoho. The problem
with sex is that it tends to release my bowels, which are filled with any shit I didn't
already eat. I have a lot of shit, because I eat so much food and get so fat. My intestines
are 8 inches in diameter to accommodate all my shit. The football team once tried to
rape me to be funny, but they couldn't figure out which fold was my ass. Then I farted
through my gigantic ass and killed them all with the force. Of course, I didn't fall over,
because the force was not enough to overcome my tremendous mass. Then I tried to
jerk off, but I didn't have the strength to move my folds of fat and find my cock. Granted,
no man or machine can accomplish this, but it doesn't mean I'm not weak compared to
other men. I'm even weak compared to squirrels and shrews. Back when I only weighed
a quarter ton, I wouldn't be able to move if I was wearing a watch. And I wouldn't have
had the strength to jerk off anyways. Actually, I probably would have had a heart attack.
But I wouldn't have noticed, because my heart doesn't beat anymore. The motion of my
blood is now caused by all the little Asian girls I eat whole to
satisfy my horrific appetite clawing away at my insides. But if they start to bother me, I
just suck off a bunch of dead male hookers and drown them in cum. But then I have to
eat another Asian girl, because with all the cholesterol in my blood, I need to keep it
going all the time.

I don't always eat the whole Asian girl. Sometimes I just have my one friend, Sammy
the Faggot Retard, to cut her belly open and give me her intestines. Then I squeeze the
shit out of them and into my repellant pie-hole. Sometimes Sammy gets crazy with the
knife and accidentally cuts me, but no blood comes out. The contents of my arteries is
well under 1% actual blood. For the most part, it is arteriosclerotic deposits of
cholesterol so large they actually contain pieces of corn. So after I finish bleeding pure
fat, I patch the wound with the skin off my dick, which is too wizened and unused to
notice. Then I have no skin on my dick, but it doesn't matter because I'm never going to
get any action, not even from hot men with big penises. Not that any human penis could
ever satisfy my positively gaping anus. My only hope is that aliens will come to Earth
and have huge penises that I could actually feel in my ass, but if they saw me, they'd
just kill me. Given the quality of my life, this sounds desirable, but I'm afraid to die
because I'll go to Hell for being such a helpless fat fuck. And then the devil will put
washing machines and school buses in my ass, which would hurt if it weren't so huge,
but then reveal he's only teasing me and take them out, and that would truly be the
worst torture of all time. Not that my "life" isn't bad enough already, what with the
herpes that I got without ever having sex and the fucking nails stuck in my skull from
Christians who think I'm Satan even though I don't have any powers, including the
power to dress myself. Which is not to say I even bother to wear clothes anyway, since
I just live in a cave by myself, naked the whole day, and wait for food to be drawn in by
my gravitational force so I can eat it and get fatter and more disgusting.

[Derek Payne]

Fuck, that Fancy Lala promo is powerful.

[Let My Love Open The Door]

Everything in this thread has been wonderful and I don't understand what's keeping people from posting all the shit they have!

[Let My Love Open The Door]

FUCKING IMPORTANT

[Ryoko's Biatch]

I don't have anything else!

[Magic Juan]

I would need to look through my stuff at some point.

[Mike Dunn]

'Nigger' is an offensive term

(Overhead view of skyscrapers in the later afternoon.)

Narrator: These streets are the breeding grounds of nightmares. The stuff that claws at the back of yer eyes always reminding you of the horrors you've seen. Under these slabs a' concrete lie about 1000 miles of sewage...but the real turds can be found in the shadows of every alley, pit, and scum blot on the radar.

(still pictures of homeless people shooting up in dumpsters and corpses of hookers littering the streets. 4 frames of animation of some guys moving their arms slightly.)

leader of the guys: Yo bitch gimme dat' money!

Some ladies' voice: Neeyyaaaaaa!!

(single shot of a sketch of guys running away with red paint splattered everywhere. The picture shakes around with bullets being heard.)

Narrator: Humanity left these streets long ago. Now only the primal instincts of ancient martial arts control them. Gang wars rule this town. Not the police, not the military...noone can stand in their way.


(the inside of a men's clothing boutique. A frail old man is folding some shirts. The door smashes opened and some punks rock their way inside. Their leader is 9 feet tall and completely jacked. He's wearing spikes all over the place and carries a stop sign pole with guts hanging off the edge of the sign which has been hammered into the shape of an axe.)

Other gang members: Heh heh heh heh

Gang Leader: Well well, what've we got here? I needed some new THREADS and I guess I came to the right cock fuckin' place!

goons: heh heh Aw yeah. Gonna get me some major pussy with this shit. heh heh

old shopkeeper: Hey! You can't just barge in like this!

Gang Leader: (grabs the old guy by the face and lifts him up to the ceiling.) You got some big talk in ya fer an old fart! I'm just a simple customah lookin' fer some clothing. (throws the old man into a display case of antique mirrors.)

Goons: Heh heh fucked im' up good boss! heh heh

(The gang leader walks over to the quivering bloody mess of a man and jams his fingers up the guys nose holding him up in the air again.)

Gang Leader: You see this? (points to his crotch) Well, a man as "priviledged" as me needs a certain level of quality when it comes to containing the BEAST. My pants just aren't holding up like they should! Take a look!

(He grinds the old man's face against his pubes which are sticking up out of the front of his jeans. The man's face is sliced to ribbons.)

Gang Leader: So as ya can sees....I need one of them ah...whaddya call em....

goons: Uh...belt boss?

(He hurls the old man at the goon who spoke up decapitating the goon and severing the old man's vertebrae. The old man gurgles on blood trying to breathe.)


Gang Leader: Haw haw haw...but yeah...I need a BELT. Where the hell do you keep em?

(the old man just coughs and the gang leader runs over and grabs him and pierces his throat with two fingers lifting him up yet AGAIN.)

Gang Leader: What's dat? You'se gotta speak up ya old shit! Are ya sayin' you wants to beg forgiveness!?

Mysterious Stranger: He said...

(the gang turns around surprised to see a 7 foot guy wearing well over 300 belts around his waste, arms, legs, fingers, neck and earlobes as well as several areas that don't have conceivable uses for a belt being there but it looks insane and awesome anyway. He's also wearing a cowboy hat.)

Mysterious Stranger: ...They're Sold out....


(The gang leader squints his eyes at the mysterious stranger. With a flick of his wrist he sends the old man off his fingers and flying across the store into a stack of televisions displaying men's clothing.)

Goons: Heh heh will ya look at dis faygot! Ya think yer some kinda hot shit?

Gang Leader: It seems you've got somethin I want, pal. Hand ovah dem belts!

Goons: hah heh heh

Mysterious Stranger: ...

Gang Leader: I'M TALKIN TO YOU, ASSFUCK! GIVE UP THEM BELTS OR W-

Mysterious Stranger: I heard you the first time...

(The gang looks on puzzled.)

Mysterious Stranger: I just don't take orders from corpses.

(The gang leader's face is flushed and veins bulge out of his forehead to go with the involuntary twitching of his left eye.)

Gang Leader: NNNgg Teach that Cock Licker what happens when you talk like that! I want his fucking guts for lunch!

(The goons surround the stranger. They're punching their fists into their palms obviously excited over the opportunity to break some fresh bones. One of the goons steps forward.)

Goon: Heh heh. You fucked up big time, stranger! You better say yer prayers not that god is listenin for any whiney faggot like yous!

(The stranger's expression doesn't change from cold indifference.)

Goon: RRRrrrr!! THAT EXPRESSION IS PISSING ME OFF!!

(The goon throws a huge right fisted straight punch directly into the stranger's face. The goon laughs but soon realizes that under his fist he hasn't even managed to change the stranger's facial expression.)

Goon: Hmph!! Glutton fer punishment eh!? Well I'm through with the kiddy stuff!

(The Goon winds up and throws another thunderous right. However this time the second before the punch connects the stranger bounds forward into the punch headbutting the goon's fist. The force of the headbutt compacts the goons arm like an accordian into his shoulder and his shoulder blade and arm bone shoot out of the right side of his back. The goon can only stare in horror for a few seconds before the pain finally registers with his brain sending him tumbling to the floor screaming like an infant.)

Other goon: W-What the fuck's yer problem!?? (As the other goon looks up at the stranger he's greeted with a left hook that catches him on the cheek and proceeds to tear through his entire face removing his lower jaw. A geyser of blood gushes out of the huge gap between the goon's nose and throat as what one can only guess are screams bubble through his vocal cords.)

(Two remaining goons stutter with fear unable to move their legs. It doesn't matter as the stranger is instantly upon them grabbing one goon's forearm under his armpit the stranger effortlessly arches the punk's arm in an uncomfortable way and the forearm bone explodes splintered through his skin. The stranger has already grabbed the same goon's upper arm and the remaining goon by the back of the head. He thrusts the goon's head so that the splintered bone of his partner's forearm pierces his throat. The goon with the broken arm has only about 2 seconds to scream before the stranger grabs both of them by the skull and mashes them into one another, effectively ripping the head clean off of the goon he'd just pierced the throat of. It looks like a retarded chef smashing two eggs together as hard as he can the way the brain matter whips through the air in streams of gelified goo. The stranger whips both of the carcasses to the sides clearing himself a straight path to the leader.)

Gang Leader: Heh heh hehehehehehehhahahahhahHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHA WELL DONE!!! I HAVEN'T SEEN A SHOW THAT GOOD IN A LONG TIME!!

(The gang leader spins his stopsign axe with one hand and spikes it pipe first into the floor. He cracks his knuckles and rotates his neck as his blood rushes through him like molten lava.)

Gang LEader: I'm going to enjoy feastin on your entrails!

(The stranger only glares with that same soulless expression.)