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"Johnny Cash Goes To Hell"
As the last of the demon assassins slumped to the ground, their hellish blood spilled all over like so much Watermelon Cherry Kool-Aid, Johnny let out a sigh of relief and dropped his shotgun. "That's all over..." he muttered as he studied the crumpled remains of his enemies. "Far from it, mortal," came an unexpected response from a convenient patch of deep shadow behind Johnny. He spun quickly, trying to locate the source of the one who spoke, then dived face first into the dirt just in time to narrowly avoid a hot ass fireball aimed at him. His hand (the cybernetic one that goes *BZZZ* whenever he moves it) slid out from beneath him in an attempt to reach for his discarded shotgun, similar to the way a horny teenager reaches out to grab a drunken chick's boobies at a rave party; but his unknown assailant appeared before him and kicked the weapon aside before he could claim it. "I think not, Cash. I've studied your radical gunslinging moves, and I know better than to let you get your hands on THAT thing again." Johnny sighed yet again, this time in disappointment at the loss of his gun, then grunted like they do in DragonBall Z when his deadly foe kicked him with incredible force. He flew several feet through the air in slow motion, then crashed into a patch of demonic rose bushes. The evil warrior laughed darkly and growled, "How does that feel, Cash?" "Hurts... so... bad..." was all Johnny could manage to reply with, before he closed his good eye (but not his red Terminator robot eye; that one just kind of made a fizzle sound and dimmed a little bit) and finally passed out from pain and malnutrition. "Ha ha ha! I wonder what your little buddy Jesus Christ will say when he discovers that his greatest warrior, the only being in existence capable of stopping my minions from ruling the universe, was defeated by me, Satan! I bet he'll cry like a little sissy bitch!" the evil warlord gloated as he studied the prone form of Johnny Cash. After a few minutes of maniacal laughter, Satan turned around and made his cape swirl flamboyantly, the way Batman and attention-seeking Goths do, and he began to walk away. Oh wait! I forgot to mention that when Satan called Jesus a little sissy bitch, he pronounced the word "bitch" all crazy like. It was more like, "BEE-YITCH", like the way my old friends Josh and James used to say it. Those guys were funny. One time James threw his leftover milkshake from Wendy's on this kid's brand new car. It was messy as hell. That was funny. Unbeknownst to Satan however, was that Johnny Cash had already drank the "Elixir of Bitchin' Invincibility", and that he could not be killed by mere physical attacks. The country musician-turned-savior of the universe rose to his feet and dusted off his clothes, before clearing his throat and addressing Satan. "Dirty old egg sucking dog." Satan swirled back around, his cape going WHOOSH, as he heard the insult. "What the fuck is this?" he growled upon catching sight of the newly revived Johnny Cash. "No! This is impossible! I KILLED YOU ALREADY! WHY WON'T YOU JUST DIE?!?!" Johnny smirked and his robot eye glowed a bright shade of red (the same color of red that makes me want to have sex with women who wear it on their fingernails. I think it's called "bright red" or something). "Cry, cry, cry," he muttered. Now, if there's one thing Satan hates, it's Catholics. But if there's two things, it's Catholics, and invincible shotgun toting country singers who call him a crybaby. Satan's eyes bugged out as he went totally apeshit and charged at Johnny Cash. "I'LL RIP YOU LIMB FROM LIMB, YOU HICK!" Johnny rolled to the side quickly as Satan flew at him just like my Sunfire when I'm trying to run over little kids as I'm driving home from Blockbuster Video. With a fierce glimmer in his eye (the good one, not the Terminator one), country superstar Johnny Cash climbed back up to his feet and ran over to where his shotgun was chilling on the ground all gangster style. Quickly, too quick for the human eye to follow, he snatched it up and aimed it right at Satan's big ass head, then pulled the trigger. Unfortunately for Johnny, however, Satan had antisa... antici... ummm... Satan knew the attack was coming. He raised his clawed hand up and caught the blast of buckshot in it just like how Darth Vader caught Indiana Jones' laser beams in that one Star Wars movie. Then he laughed some more. "You'll have to do better than that, Cash." What Satan didn't realize though, was that the ammunition that Johnny had loaded his gun with prior to coming to Hell was dipped in holy water from God's bathtub, and funky ass oil from the old Fiero that Jesus had up on bricks out in his back yard. And everyone knows that oil and water don't mix. So before Satan even knew what was happening, his hand blew apart like a cat with dynamite shoved up it's ass. "ARRRRRGGGGGHHHHHHHHHHHHUNNNNGGGGHHHHH!" Satan roared at the top of his lungs, as the deadly mixture of religious liquids coursed through his veins, killing him rapidly. Seriously, it was nasty. Like Draino in your urethra, maybe. He was in all kinds of pain, and he glared angrily at Johnny. "Perhaps I've underestimated you, Cash... You... would... have made... a fine... general, in my army," Satan admitted as he slumped down to his knees, his body now covered in the holy fire sparked by the chemical reaction of water and oil. Johnny surveyed the effect his holy shotgun had on his enemy a moment longer, then slowly walked over to where Satan was kneeling. As the sound of footsteps caught his attention, Satan dug his claws into the ground and glanced up at the man, the musician, the warrior - Johnny Cash. With a look of sheer hatred on his face, Satan spit on Johnny's boots and growled, "I told u I was hardcore". Then he fell over and shuddered violently before dying. "That's enough," Johnny whispered all moody sounding as he watched Satan's body smoldering erratically like the end of a joint that some dipshit rolled wrong. He exhaled and his shoulders slumped down because he was tired from kicking so much ass. Johnny raised his shotgun up and studied it for a moment; it had become his best friend and most useful tool these last few days (he even thought about using it for a bong once, like that black dude in the movie Narc that blew his head off in the bathtub). But it's usefulness had come to an end. With Satan and his closest advisors dead, the universe was safe once again. There was no need for shotguns where Johnny was going: Celebrity Heaven. There's a bunch of famous people there, like Princess Di, Jeffery Dahmer, Abe Lincoln, and most recently, John Ritter. They have big celebrity orgies there, and it's fucking cool, because in Celebrity Heaven they don't have STDs or morals, so you can sex the hell out of total strangers, and not wake up the next day with a guilty conscience or a penis covered in sores. Anyway, Johnny nodded in approval of his victory, then tossed the shotgun on top of Satan's burning carcass. Then the shotgun made a "pop" sound and blew up just like the pickle I threw into a bonfire one time at summer camp. With that, Johnny smiled for the first time in days, and began walking off into the sunset, which I think I'm using as a crappy metaphor for "going up to Celebrity Heaven". As he walked away from the remains of his final battle, his cybernetic arm went *BZZZZ* and he knew that everything was going to be all right. Then a demon who had watched the entire battle ran up to Satan's corpse and thought it would be funny to pee on him, so he did. And life was good. Except for Satan.
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