Dragon Ball Z Uncensored

[Let My Love Open The Door]

Vito, you're welcome to justify your choice. That was one of your options.

[Theldorrin]

Yeah. Just saying someone out of the blue does nothing to help the process.

[Let My Love Open The Door]

In his hottest wettest powerposting wet dreams, Theldorrin never conceived of anything like this game.

[Theldorrin]

This is intense!

And it's clear that Vito doesn't expect Triple Life to actually be lynched.

[Let My Love Open The Door]

I'll post, too.

[Theldorrin]

I have to go to bed. I've posted so much that my wrist hurts.

[Theldorrin]

Post your rationale. Accusations without explanation are worthless.

[Stupid Fucking Faggot]

*Theldorrin's emaciated frame slowly peels out of his computer chair as he approaches his bed in creepy, herky-jerky walk like Samara in The Ring*

[Theldorrin]

HAHAHAHAHAHAHA

[Theldorrin]

Did you not notice last game, Vito?

Townspeople guessed a terrorist the second round, and that's after voting for Mike was narrowly avoided and instead turned against Triple Life.

[Let My Love Open The Door]

Martial drums beat...

A bird screeches uglily somewhere out of view...

A black woman is vocalizing inarticulately...

The mayor stands at his podium gravely finishing a slice of delicious pizza. While austere, he also looks like he just fucked, and he winks somberly at his girlfriend.

"By order of the mayor, Vito Pizzarino is banished to Death Island. He won't die there but hopefully his screeching will be less shrill after passing over Dead Drowned Nigger Sound. I make this decree with a heavy heart because I guess our families know each other."

Mayor Matt Hall nods to Michael Payne, at his side. Michael climbs in the motorboat that Vito's cage is in the back of and starts it for Death Island.

This speech was delivered on Dead Drowned Nigger Beach.

"AROOOOOOO," Vito howls.

Mayor Matt Hall's eyes move slowly over the hushed crowd.

"With that matter taken care of, I now move onto even more pressing business. By order of the mayor...

Surf's up!"

Then there's a catered beach party.

[Let My Love Open The Door]

Vito is still welcome to participate normally, but I hope he understands the sentiment I'm trying to get across.

[Jason]

That was wonderful, but no further player-written italicized story segments can be allowed.

You are all welcome to speak and emote in character if it does not make you feel retarded!

[Let My Love Open The Door]

I understand I abused my power with my last post, but I'd like to hold a parade celebrating the 30th anniversary of Star Wars.

[Ryoko's Biatch]

I should change my vote to Rice just to be an asshole.

[SuperPsaturn]

I think we're all overlooking something important here. Who among us has knowledge that Seika was going to be in the library alone last night?? The person who's there constantly trying to quench his own endless ego of pseudointellectual bullshit! Theldorrin knew exactly where Seika was and arranged for his PARTNERS to be there in force knowing full well that there'd be noone to help him! Your charade won't destroy the town I grew up in, you goddamned terrorist faggot!

[Jason]

May 29, 2007. 7:36 PM.

The people of Pizza Paradise are weeping as the hastily made sculpture in Walter Reginald Seika's honor is unveiled.

"Now," the sculptor says in a thick artistic accent, "I deed not have much time, so, as you can see, the leetter of weemen around him are seemply gold-plated corpses of weemen."

And sure enough, Seika's statue likeness is surrounded by three beautiful women that are actually the dead bodies of beautiful women covered in gold. Finally, the nameplate is revealed:

WALTER REGINALD SEIKA
RELATIVELY BELOVED SON AND NERD

Vinny O'Neal can be faintly heard humming the Battle Hymn of the Republic to himself, his soulful, doe eyes tearing up. "...His truth is marching on..." he whispers.

"I thought I asked you to have him killing a wolf," Mayor Matt Hall angrily whispers to Frenchy, the sculptor.

"Sadly, I could no find any wolf corpses to cover een gold. Steel, I hope you plan on keeping your half of our arrangement."

"Yes, yes, Frenchy, you are hereby pardoned of all eleven counts of manslaughter of which you are currently convicted."

"Sank you, dear Mayor. I am off!" shouts Frenchy as he somehow finds a way to gallop off without a horse, back to his home in amidst the pine trees of Oregano Forest.

"It's beautiful," whimpers Seika's characteristically disgraced mother, Walinda Beatrice Seika.

"Thank you," responds the young Hall, "But I'm afraid now we must confer on pressing town issues. If you would, Mrs. Seika..." he says, placing a hand on her shoulder as she and the other unimportant people walk away, leaving our usual cast of characters.

"We must continue on our quest to apprehend the monsters who did this," states Muhammad Ali-Jazeera, looking at the Seika statue with honor. But then, from behind him, Michael Payne III suddenly grabs Ali-Jazeera's right arm.

"Indeed, we must," Michael III hisses.

Vinny O'Neal frying pan hand takes hold of Ali-Jazeera's left arm. "I'm sorry to do this to you, Muhammad."

"This must be a joke! I am good, honest citizen of Pizza Paradise!" Ali-Jazeera yells.

"Muhammad Ali-Jazeera, we've convened amongst ourselves and we've decided that we cannot remain blind to the obvious truth any longer," Hector Dorrin states as he methodically paces back and forth in front of the restrained Ali-Jazeera. "We know that we are dealing with black-hearted terrorists. Since the day you arrived in our town, you have been the sole proprietor and profiteer on an exploding black market in Pizza Paradise. You're an Arab. And your whereabouts for the past two days have been shady, at best. You've left us with no choice. I'm sorry, Mr. Ali-Ja -"

Dorrin is cut off by a brutal kick to the face from Ali-Jazeera, leaping up in the grasp of Michael and O'Neal. Recoiling, Dorrin sharply twists his neck back to look at his attacker. "You'll pay for that," he growls, and slaps Ali-Jazeera across the face with the back of his thin hand.

"Give me your gun, Lanners," Dorrin shouts to the Chief of Police "Shogun" Brian Lanners.

"Dorrin, this is racial profiling, my squad can't condone this," Lanners says sadly.

"Give me your gun or the Mayor's office will claim your badge by sun-up!"

"If you would like a gun," Ali-Jazeera, interrupts, "I'd be more than happy to be of service!" In a fluid motion, Ali-Jazeera kicks up both his legs, giving his weight entirely to the unwitting Michael and O'Neal. One foot connects sharply to Hector Dorrin's crotch, the other his chest, kicking off of it and giving Ali-Jazeera enough velocity that he is able to backflip and land on his feet behind his restrainers. In a blur, Ali-Jazeera strongly brings his arms together, taking Michael and O'Neal with them, cracking their foreheads against one another. Stunned, their grips go slack, and Ali-Jazeera pulls himself free. Crouching in pain, Dorrin gasps for air and shouts "Get him!" as Ali-Jazeera runs from the mob.

Followed by the crowd, Ali-Jazeera takes off through the back ways of Pizza Paradise. He jumps over traffic nimbly and loses more and more chasers every time he ducks into an alley. It doesn't matter, though, they know where he's going.

It's Andre Robinson who finally heads Ali-Jazeera off after one wrong turn. In a quick move, Ali-Jazeera spins forward, takes a throwing knife holstered to his left ankle and tosses it at Robinson, catching him in the shoulder. Robinson screams in pain and goes into shock as Ali-Jazeera grabs the knife back and runs on.

"PPPD, we have got a fleeing suspect heading down to Dead Nigger Gulch, requesting all the back-up we can spare, over."

Lanners looks over to Dorrin, standing at his shoulder.

"Hope you know what you're doing," he tells the adviser.

"Don't worry. This is simple justice."

Ali-Jazeera is glistening with sweat as he reaches the crossroads of Sauce and Crust Street. Down Crust is the residential area, and will lead him directly past the police station, whom he intuits has been alerted to his flee. Sauce will get him to Dead Nigger Gulch, but the route will be tough. He counts every second he takes to consider, before running head first down Sauce Street.

"Pick up the pace, you idiot!" Michael Payne III yells to his brother. Michael has stripped himself of his suit jacket, leaving the three thousand dollar piece of clothing laying on a street corner. His white button shirt has sweat stains at the neck and underarms as he forces himself to continue the chase for Ali-Jazeera. Derek Payne lags behind, panting and gasping for air, unable to keep up with his far more physically fit older brother.

"This is it," shouts Vinny, high on the thrill of the chase.

"What's it?" croaks Michael back at him.

"We're on the trail. We got a terrorist, I just know it. Pizza Paradise is finally fighting back."

Elsewhere, a police car is being driven by Brian Lanners. Hector sits in the passenger seat, while young Mayor Matt Hall and his girlfriend Meems are in the back.

"Why do you always insist on coming?" he whispers to her.

"Because I believe in you," she says, and holds his hand tightly.

"It's going to be dangerous. I don't want you there," he says to her, firmly.

"I'll be all right," she assures him, rubbing his cheek, "As long as I have my Mayor by my side, nothing can hurt me."

Ali-Jazeera has the same hunting knife that he cut open Magen Joshua David with in what seems like so long ago, out in his hand. He's chopping his way hastily through Oregano Forest, clearing every single branch in his path. He's moving inhumanly fast, he seems only a blur as he races past a squatting Frenchy the Sculptor, maniacally in the middle of going to the bathroom as he feasts upon the carcass of a wild pigeon he has recently killed. In one rapid step, Ali-Jazeera steps on a collection of pine needles, kicking them up the wind. "Sacrebleu," the batshit insane artist yells out, "my toilet paper!"

Suddenly, Ali-Jazeera has cleared the last branch and is stunned by the light of the setting sun directly facing him, gigantic in scope. Ali-Jazeera can barely stop his momentum before he accidentally runs off the cliff edge bordering Oregano Forest. He finally takes a moment to catch his breath and shields his eyes with his hand as he looks out at the fading, red sun, first in the sky, then reflected in the vast waters of Anchovy Lake. He squints, and sees it, across the entire three mile lake - Dead Nigger Gulch awaits him on the other side. Ali-Jazeera says a prayer to Allah as he hasn't done since he was a small boy, sheathes his knife back into his pocket and dives down, down, down, off of the cliff, into the waters of Anchovy Lake.

"Ain't you goin', boss?" asks Sal, the man at the register of Pizza Paradise (of Pizza Paradise). Vito the Guido Pizzarino sits at the same table he murdered "Piggy Petah" Jones in less than one day ago, chewing his toothpick so forcefully that he bites it in half. He spits out splinters and adds it to the already heavy pile of snapped toothpicks, and puts another in his mouth.

"No."

"Should be fun, boss. I'd go if I didn't have to work."

Vito looks over to Sal, a man hired by his father years ago. "You can go," he gnarls, "I'll work the register."

"Really, boss?"

"Yeah."

Sal heads into the back of the store to change out his working clothes as Vito sighs. When Sal's out of sight, Vito once again looks down at the piece of paper in his sweaty, greasy hand.

By order of the office of Mayor Matt Hall, you have been sentenced to an indefinite imprisonment at Death Island. A boat will come for you tomorrow at eight o'clock in the morning. Be there or you will be considered a fugitive by the Pizza Paradise Police Department and a manhunt will be sent after you. You are allowed one carry-on bag. We are sorry, Vito, but these are desperate times.

Your friend, always,
Mayor Matt Hall

Vito bites through another toothpick and adds it to the pile.

Ali-Jazeera is almost out of breath, he almost wants to give up. Float away in Anchovy Lake until he's carried out into the Atlantic Ocean, and never see anyone ever again. What's the point of fighting, he asks himself. Why not simply drift away with the current.

No, he steadies himself. Just a little further. Muhammad Ali-Jazeera will not go quietly into the night.

He gasps for air as he finally washes up onto shore. The sand of the beach sticks to his wet body as he does his best to continue on, but every muscle in his body aches and tenses, every step in the deep, slowing sand takes all of his strength. He can hear police sirens in the distance, but through the water-soaked haze of his eyes, he can see the blurry image of Dead Nigger Gulch's illustrious boardwalk, and there his shop still stands. There is his hope.

Dorrin's patters the dashboard with his fingertips. He looks back over his shoulder, to find Matt Hall and Meems passionately making out in the backseat. Dorrin clears his throat and Hall looks up, and hastily pushes Meems off of himself and straightens his hair.

"Matthew."

"Yes, Hector?"

"I've been thinking... have you considered the possibility that Ali-Jazeera is not one of them?"

"Of course. Every citizen of Pizza Paradise is innocent until thought guilty by the mob, and even then they're probably still innocent."

"Well, I only ask because of the situation. This whole ordeal is beginning to gain momentum, and every action we take now will have a fitting reaction, if you follow."

"What are you trying to tell me, Hector?"

"Only that from now on, as the government of Pizza Paradise, we might have to watch our step." Dorrin pauses, and wistfully looks out of the window of the cop car, speeding down Crust Street, all of Pizza Paradise a blur on the outside. "I sense a great force at work in this town, and I don't know how well we can maintain control when finally confronted by it."

"I don't understand."

"Of course not, young Mayor. I'm probably just being paranoid."

Ali-Jazeera, with all of his might, hoists himself onto the deck of the boardwalk, and finally makes it back to his feet. There.

Muhammad Ali-Jazeera's Crazy Weapon Shop
Est. 2002

His last stand.

He walks to the door and pulls out his keys. He's so weak, so tired, it's all he can do to find the right one on the ring. But before he can even place it in the lock, Michael Payne III's voice comes ringing out at him.

"I thought you terrorists weren't afraid to die."

"I am not a terrorist," Ali-Jazeera states as he turns to face his accuser. "But I too do not fear death."

Ali-Jazeera runs at Michael III and throws a quick punch. Michael knocks it away and throws one of his own, connecting with Ali-Jazeera's jaw. He stumbles backward, then growls angrily and lunges forward, throwing three quick jabs. His muscles weak and slow, he misses the fist two, but on the third grabs Michael by the collar and violently pulls him forward. They stand so close that their noses touch.

"There will come a day, Michael," he whispers, "when the privileged such as yourself do not run society as they do now. When men like me can finally earn their way in the world free of persecution."

"That'll be the day," Michael hisses back and thrusts a strong fist straight into Ali-Jazeera's stomach, causing him to topple over. Michael pulls back, ripping the collar of his expensive shirt. He groans as he takes it off, now wearing only his slacks and a white wifebeater. Just then, Vinny O'Neal arrives, slowed down by having to physically drag Derek Payne with him.

"Looks like you're doing well," O'Neal shouts to Michael.

"Bastard sand nigger ripped by shirt," Michael shouts back as he kicks Ali-Jazeera in the chest. Ali-Jazeera cries out in pain.

"Give 'em one for Seika," O'Neal calls out, and Michael responds by reeling back and kicking Ali-Jazeera directly in the temple. Ali-Jazeera sounds like an animal as he shouts in pain.

The cops arrive, the sirens, a circle of four cars, one of which contains Lanners, Dorrin, Hall and Meems, completely surrounding Ali-Jazeera's store.

"Stand up and put your hands behind your head," Dorrin screams into the radio of the squad car.

Ali-Jazeera doesn't respond. "You heard the man," Michael says, and goes to give him another kick. But this time Ali-Jazeera is ready for him and as Michael's foot comes near, Jazeera grabs it like a vice, rolls backward, and throws Michael's leg, along with the rest of his body, straight through the glass window of his store in slow motion. The glass shatters as Michael helplessly crumples into a bloody heap on the shop's floor. Invigorated, Ali-Jazeera crouches and leaps through the broken glass, lending ably beside Michael, crying in pain.

"I don't think you've ever come to my store before, Michael. Welcome. How may I be of service?" Ali-Jazeera asks as he brings his down on Michael's chest, breaking ribs. Suddenly, the first shots are fired and Jazeera ducks back down. He rolls behind the counter and unlocks his safety box. In it, one grenade, one semi-automatic, one box of ammo, and one page of the Qur'an. He grabs the grenade, pulls out the pin and tosses it through the window.

"GRENADE!" Brian Lanners screams as it lands amidst the three cop cars not holding any major characters and explodes terrifically, taking out everyone who isn't important.

"No!" Lanners shouts. He draws his gun and opens fire on the shop. Matt Hall sees this and forces Lanners' arms down. "You idiot, Michael's in there with him! We can't have him caught in the crossfire!"

"Hall, Ali-Jazeera just killed twelve men with not one full week until retirement among them, combined."

Hall tries to respond but is instead cut off by the sound of bullets whizzing past his head.

"Get down, Matthew!" Dorrin shouts, and Hall ducks behind the remaining police car, Meems shaking with fear at his side. "It's all right," he tells her, "It's going to be all right."

Ali-Jazeera reloads and tosses the empty box of ammo down on Michael, curled up in pain. Several shots that hit nothing later and he tosses the gun aside. He reaches up to his shelf and finds a rifle, ducks down behind his counter and takes aim through the scope.

Ali-Jazeera looks through the cross-hairs. The cop car, he could aim for the gas, make it explode, but it's a long shot. Brian Lanners shouting at the rest of them, taking various shots. A good target, but not yet. In the window of the car, he can see the very top of Matt Hall's head. The second you look up, Ali-Jazeera thinks... bang. But then, he notices the giant mass of muscle that is Vinny O'Neal hulking fearlessly towards the door of the shop.

"Ha!" Ali-Jazeera laughs. "I hope you've made peace with your god, friend." He aims the rifle at exactly eye level on the door and waits with his finger on the trigger. After a moment, the door comes flying off the hinges, directly towards him. O'Neal has kicked it in with the force of a truck. Jazeera fires two frantic shots. One disrupts the path of the door, keeping it from decapitating him, and the other flies straight into the face of O'Neal. Jazeera forces his eyes open, expecting to hear O'Neal drop to the floor. Instead, however, O'Neal simply smiles at him, and the bullet smokes between his teeth. Slowly, O'Neal's lips close and he begins to chew, spitting out a cold hunk of metal after one moment.

Ali-Jazeera takes aim again, but before he can fire, O'Neal roundhouse kicks the gun, break it in two. Ali-Jazeera stands up to face him in combat, but O'Neal surprises him by reaching down, taking hold of the edges of his store counter and RIPPING IT OUT OF THE GROUND. O'Neal swings it overhead, but Ali-Jazeera quickly ducks out of the way. O'Neal slams it down, but Ali-Jazeera again dodges it by rolling. Quickly, he grabs the knife on his left ankle and stabs O'Neal's leg. The desk comes crashing down as Ali-Jazeera stands, dragging the knife up through O'Neal's flesh as he does so, and grabs his far more intimidating hunter's knife and claws it directly into O'Neal's meaty back. O'Neal screams in pain, but has the wherewithal to reach behind him, grab Jazeera by the hair and throw him into a wall of guns, which all come crashing down. O'Neal digs the knives out of his body and hobbles over to Michael, lifting him into his arms and walking out of the store to lay him safely on the ground.

"Did you get him?" Lanners asks, as Derek runs to his brother's side.

"Not yet," O'Neal whispers.

"You're bleeding!"

"Not as bad as he's gonna be."

O'Neal limps back into the store, but before he makes it inside, Ali-Jazeera appears once more. Only this time, he carries his store's greatest product, a giant fucking ass flamethrower.

"I never sold this before, but I think it's about time for a fire sale!" he shouts and lets loose with a FURY of flames in all directions.

"Everybody down!" Lanners screams. O'Neal is hit on the arm as he ducks, singing his terse skin.

"Let these flames purify Pizza Paradise!" Ali-Jazeera screams madly, half-dead and even more insane. But before he can pull the trigger once more and just fucking kill everyone, he is stopped by the huge elephant body of Derek Payne, tackling him to the ground with his entire four hundred pounds.

"Don't! You! Ever! Hurt! My! Brother! You! Filthy! Fucking! Arab!" Derek shouts, punctuating each of his words by punching Ali-Jazeera's wildly in the face. This goes on for like ten minutes. Finally, Brian Lanners walks up to Derek and puts his arm on his shoulder, only to be met by a big fat tree trunk to the gut. "Oof!" Lanners cries as he gets hit for interrupting Derek's murdergasm. "Derek!" he shouts in pain. "Derek! Derek! He's dead, you killed him already!"

Derek finally tires himself out, and falls to the side, squinting his beady eyes to look at the maimed body of Muhammad Ali-Jazeera.

Everyone exhales, before Derek gets his second wind climbs back on top of Ali-Jazeera's corpse and continues fucking wailing on him.

"Derek!" Matt Hall shouts!

Derek grunts like an animal and shoves his ham fist into Jazeera's chest, ripping out his heart.

"He's got the heart!" Dorrin exclaims. "What is it!"

Derek can't even stand, so he breathes deeply and rolls it forward like a bowling ball. The heavy red heart stops at Hector Dorrin's feet.

"No."

The sun has finally set.

Muhammad Ali-Jazeera was a townsperson. Day Two is over, Night Two has begun. Mafia must contact me with a unanimous decision by Wednesday, May 30, at 5:00 PM EST.

[Jason]

This is MAFIA.

[Derek Payne]

I fucking knew it. God damn it. This is the second time I went with the flow when I should've gone with my instinct especially when Rice made alot more sense as a choice.

There's an irony in that I'm the one who beat him to death. Oh well...

[Sporkism]

Well, now we know who to get in the next round. Unless he's killed by the mafia in the night, but whatever.