A Christmas Failure
Starring: The Failure Crew, Mr T, Batman, Jennifer Hale, Ebenezer Scrooge and Father Christmas
Written by: Dr Screwupalot
Matt looked out of his Window to see the road and pavement covered in snow. It was Christmas day at last. Children across the world would be waking up, excited to unwrap all of their toys and goodies. Parents would laugh with joy, seeing their children’s faces on this special morning. The world would be happy and for once, one day of the year, fighting would actually stop.
Matt’s heart sank. He had no gifts. Nobody cared about him any more. Those that did know him had failed to remember to buy him gifts. Rather fitting, considering whom his only friends were. For Matt was no ordinary unwanted reject. He was Unsuccessful Boy, the sidekick of Failman. He was a member of the Failure Crew. If they’d remembered to buy gifts for each other, then they’d have done that thing what is not failing. None of them could remember what it was, which might have been why they could never do it.
Hanging his head in despair at the day to come, Matt left his room. Downstairs, George was smashing Lee around the head with a chair leg – obviously because Lee forget to get him a gift – and Mike was lying passed out on the floor surrounded by seven or eight empty bottles of vodka. Lee was gashing blood from his destroyed nose, and it was leaking through the floorboards.
“At least the rats get a good Christmas dinner,” Matt thought to himself. Sulking halfway down the stairs, before tripping and falling down the remaining half, before picking himself up, he took the chair leg from George, and swung it hard into his testicles. He grabbed the bucket underneath the sink in the kitchen area, filled it with water, and poured it over Mike. He left Lee to bleed.
A knock on the door caught the attentions of George and Matt. George opened it, leaving bloody smears over the door handle. Pulling the door open, the crew saw what would only be the start of their bad day.
“Mr Scrooge!” exclaimed Mike, who had woken from his drunken sleep. “Merry Christ…”
“Put a can in it, you little fuckball.”
“Will do, my lord,” said Mike, before pretending to be asleep again.
“What can we do for you, oh mighty leader?” George asked.
“Where’s my fucking rent, shitheads?” Scrooge demanded.
“Ah, come on Mr Scrooge, its Christmas!” Matt happily declared, hoping it would put Herr Evil in a good mood for the first time in his miserable life.
“Bah, humbug. That’s what you said last time, dickweed,” Scrooge exclaimed.
“So we did. Err, well did we ever tell you we love you?”
“Yes, you told me that yesterday, when I asked for rent.”
“I said I wanted your babies.”
“Yes, you did,” sighed Scrooge, “and I stuck a fork in your testicles, and told you to go fuck Kuja from FF9.”
“But sir, Kuja’s a guy!” Matt gasped.
“Could have fooled me. Wimpy little pussy hole.”
“So, what was it you wanted, dark lord, to whom my eternal allegiance is pledged, until such time as I inevitably snuff it?” George asked.
“I, umm, well…” Scrooge stammered, before pausing. “You little cunts. You’re so slimy and stupid that I’ve lost all trail of thought! Bah, and a fucking big humbug!”
“Sorry sir. Please don’t kill us.”
“Not now I won’t. I have to go and take my sanity pills to keep me from going insane at your comments of dumbness.” Scrooge sighed, before stalking out of the room.
A knock on the door caught the crew’s attention. Mike, who was now awake, answered it. He crouched by the keyhole and spoke through.
“Who is it?” He asked.
“It’s me.” A voice answered.
“And what’s your name?”
“I asked you first.”
“No you didn’t you drunken half-wit.”
“How’d you know I was drunk?”
“Cos you’re Mike. You’re always drunk.”
“Why’d you ask my name if you already know it?”
“Cos I’m trying to confuse you.”
“So, who are you then?”
Suddenly, Matt and George smashed Mike’s vodka bottle over his head, and leaned in to the door.
“HAIL HALE!” They yelled, saluting - although she could not see it. They threw open the door, revealing the legendary Metal Gear Solid/Star Wars Voice actress, Jennifer Hale.
“How can we help you, miss Hale?” asked Lee, still nursing the wound on his bloodied head.
“Aren’t you guys coming outside?” she asked. “It’s all snowy and shit.”
“Sorry, Miss Hale,” Lee began, “but we’ve decided that we’re just going to stay in this Christ…”
“Come on Lee, why haven’t you got your coat on yet?” asked Matt.
“Fine, so be it. But YOU’RE carrying Mike.
Out on the cold streets, Matt, George and Lee (they had decided to dump Mike in a nearby skip with the local homosexual tramp) followed Jennifer into a nightclub with many near naked girls dancing on poles. As soon as the crew opened the door the girls got frostbite and died. Jennifer led them to a table.
“I’m going to get us some drinks,” she said. “What will you guys have?”
“I’ll have a coke, please, your Haleness,” decided Matt.
“I want kumjuice,” announced Lee, much to miss Hale’s disgust.
“I’ll just have a glass of urine, please, almighty goddess of voice acting,” said George.
“Urine?” Jennifer croaked, scarcely believing what these retards were asking her.
“Yeah, “George confirmed. “Cat urine, preferably, although dog will do.”
“Anything else?” she asked them.
“Yeah, I’ll have a McGay burger, please,” said Lee.
“But this isn’t McDonald’s,” Jennifer pointed out to the confused dimwit.
“I never said it was,” Lee smiled.
Jennifer, after some hesitation, merely nodded and walked away. She pushed open the main door, giving more strippers frostbitten boobies (hehehe, I typed boobies). She walked out, and went home.
When the crew finally realised that Miss Hale was not coming back, Lee went and got their drinks instead. He returned and gave the others their drinks, before taking a seat.
“Hey, Lee, where’s my pint of vodka?” asked Mike.
“Mike!” the crew exclaimed. “When did you get here?”
“I don’t know,” Mike confessed, hanging his head in his shame. However, being a member of the Failure Crew, he is always ashamed of himself and his friends, so nobody noticed.
“I brought him here, fools!”
“Oh, yeah, that’s right, Mr T brought me here, fools,” Mike repeated.
“Don’t you fools know what today is?” Mr T asked.
“Nope,” all of the crew said at once.
“It’s Christmas day, fools!”
“Oh, right! Happy Easter!” Lee yelled. Mr T firmly smashed George’s glass of urine over Lee’s head.
“Hey, I didn’t drink any of that!” George moaned.
“I’ll go get Mike’s vodka,” Matt said, getting up and going to the bar. He returned 2 minutes later, and sat on George’s lap.
“Woah, what’s that poking me in the arse?”
“Sorry,” George apologised, “I was just thinking of Jennifer Hale.
“Yeah, me too,” said Matt. “Haven’t you noticed the table has lifted up?”
“Yes,” George confirmed, “you spilt Lee’s kumjuice. Now please, take my penis out of your poo hole.” Matt sat up, jogging the table, and accidentally spilling Mike’s vodka.
“Nooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo!” screamed Mike, a tear forming in his eye. “You sick fuck!” He jumped to his feet and pounced across the table, tackling Matt to the floor.
5 minutes later, Mike got up and wiped the blood from his hands.
“That’ll teach you to spill good vodka,” he said, before unzipping his fly and beginning to urinate on Matt. However at that moment somebody opened the door from outside, and froze Mike’s urine in it’s path. Oh, and killing more strippers.
“ARRRRRRRRRRRRRRRGH! MY COCK!” Mike bellowed.
“Holy holidays, Batman!” gasped a familiar voice. “Failman’s piss froze!”
“I know that,” said Batman. “Now we have a perfect opportunity to kill him.”
Mike turned and saw Batman and his bum chum, err, I mean, faithful sidekick, Robin, with whom he has shared no anal sex, or at least very little anal sex. A bit of oral, too. Hands jobs a-plenty.
“What do you want, dark knight?” Failman gasped through gritted teeth, failing miserably to hide the fact he had a stream of piss frozen inside his penis.
“Your head on a stick?” Batman replied with a smirk. “Looks like Lee won’t be choking your chicken for a while.”
Lee sank to his knees.
“Nooooooooooooooooo!” the pitiful failure screamed. “Say it aint so!”
“Fuck off Batman, you fag,” George demanded. “Robin can stay though. He has a nice package.”
Robin’s face went pale and he slowly stepped back behind Batman, then out the door. He was gone. More strippers died in the process.
“Well, it’s 4 on 1, Batfag,” Mike chuckled. “Best run now while you still…” Mike’s speech was cut off as Batman pounced at him. The pair rolled about on the floor, Batman landing punches on Mike’s face, Mike failing to land a single blow. Also, Mike’s piss stream snapped off, causing him great pain. Probably because his penis snapped off with it. But at least he still had his nuts.
The pair did not roll around for long, before a foot landed on them, stopping them from moving. The foot was clad in huge black boots, and the person wore red trousers, and a red coat, and…
“Father Christmas!” the crew cheered. “Why are you here?”
“I own this club, children,” the fat fuck chuckled, before letting off his famous “ho ho ho!”
“Father Christmas owns one of the sleaziest clubs in Failville?” asked Matt. “Why’d you want to set such a bad example to children?”
“Cos I need the money for my Malaysian sweat shop slave children to make toys all year round.” “Don’t you mean elves?” asked George.
“Err, yeah, of course,” Santa replied.
“What am I getting for Christmas this year, Santa?” Batman asked.
“A smack round the face if you don’t stop asking that.”
“I didn’t stop the last 300 times you said that,” began the Bat, “I aint gonna stop now.”
“Mr Christmas?” Mike said, getting the jolly guy’s attention. “My dick – or lack of – if getting really painful now.”
“Oh, go on then,” sighed Saint Nick. With a wave of his hand Mike’s penis had grown back. Or had it?
“Why do I have a vagina?” Mike gasped.
“Cos you’re being a whiny little bitch. Shut the fuck up.”
The crew spent the day getting absolutely slaughtered in Santa’s “grotto”. And by “grotto” I mean crack den. There, I said it. Santa is a crack whore. Sorry to ruin your lives kiddies but this is an 18-certificate story. If you’re under 18 and reading this, it serves you right. If you’re over 18 and are heartbroken, why the fuck do you still believe in Father Christmas?
That night, the crew went back to the bar, leaving a very stoned Saint Nick and Batman. They said their goodbyes to Mr T, and left. When they got home, it seemed that Scrooge had remembered what he had tried to moan about, and had evicted them.
“Meh, it’s been a long time coming,” Matt confessed. “We can’t say we didn’t deserve it.”
“Looks like everyone got what they deserved this Christmas,” agreed Lee.
“Well, what do we do now, guys?” George asked. Mike looked at them funny.
“My pussy is wet.”
AND A HAPPY NEW YEAR