Go, Go, Power Rangers!
Written by Ken Kaze featuring Geo Vacton & Back Alley Brawler
“Gee-golly-willikers, George,” came the voice of Jolt Wrestling’s resident moron, KEN KAZE. “We’re here!”
The man who refers to himself as the Kazernator Extremeth paced through the backstage corridors of the Cajundome in New Orleans, Louisiana. Dragging along behind him was his sidekick, the COURAGEOUS ASSKICKER OF DEATH-SLASH-DOOM~! and the one who LAYETHS THE MOTHERFLUCKING SMACKETH DOWNETH ON YOUR MOMS, PAL . . . George the F’N trashcan! Or, just George.
“Hopefully we can find that f*ckhat Back Alley Brawler. I have a couple of messages I’d like to relay to him. And I also wouldn’t mind bustin’ out my newly-bought-from-Wal-Mart Mighty Morphin Power Rangers coin of the Green Ranger, and sticking the Dragon flute right up his poop chute!”
Ken Kaze stopped for a moment, placing George by his side. He flashed his McDonald’s Happy Meal plastic toy morpher, accompanied with a cheesy smile, as if he were advertising for some cheaply-made homo, not 2%, commercial. The new Green Ranger coin glistened from the reflections of fluorescent lights that decorated the ceilings of the corridors. He also pointed to his hip, where he donned the Green Ranger’s illustrious Dragon flute.
“And, for those of you who don’t know, this isn’t any regular, ol’, p*ssy, replica Dragon flute. This is THE Dragon flute. The one Tommy used to shove up Rita and Lord Zedd’s behinds himself!”
The smile widened. The sickening, yellow glow from his teeth was bright enough to blind the sun. It was almost as if his smile was a giant billboard broadcasting the message, “Hey. If YOU brush your teeth, then YOU must be a homo!”
“Now, what f*ckball wants to f*ck with me?” Arrogance was obviously never was his thing.
He slid the morpher into his right, front, pants pocket. As he grasped George, Kaze continued his stride around a corner of the corridor. However, his little journey had come to a halt . . . as he met the cement floor face first! A loud THUD! was heard as Kaze made an effort to use George to break his fall. However, usually when one attempts to break their fall, they place the selected object in between them and the place they are falling to, right-o? Not for Kaze. He chose to toss George up into the air hoping he would use his Godlike power to levitate Kaze just before he became one with the ground. However, facial reconstruction was now apparently on his schedule to be done ASAP.
George rolled ahead as Kaze groaned and began to crawl on the rough, cement floor, trying to reinstate his sense of equilibrium. Out of nowhere . . .
“Whoa! You okay, dude?!” The source of the voice bent over slightly, offering a helping hand. The source himself? It was none other than Mr. TNT himself, GEO VACTON.
“Zubbub-haba-burrrrrr . . .” Yup, that was the alien language Kaze had managed to emit. I reckon it meant, “No, you flucking moron! Didn’t you see me fall and break my d*ck?!” But, with the moron Ken Kaze, you never know what’s going on through his miniscule brain. Nor should you care, for that matter.
“Uhhhhhh . . . you be careful, man,” Vacton replied as he hauled Kaze up from his feet. As Kaze stood there brushing himself off, Geo strolled right past him continuing on his way. Of course, he couldn’t help but look back in disbelief at this dysfunctional, wannabe Power Ranger who was apparently cursing at the cord of which he tripped over. Vacton’s facial expression was that of a, “What in the f*ckity, f*ck, f*ck, f*ck,” rather than a, “What in the truckity, truck, truck, truck.”
“George!” Kaze yelled, now shaking his fist in pain. He had decided to fist drop the cord in an attempt to ‘teach it a lesson.’ “George, you okay, bud?” He approached George now, and lifted the trashcan into the air for immediate inspection. “Well, if you’re okay . . . WHY IN THE FLYING FRENCHIE F*CK DID YOU NOT SAVE ME, YOU BASTID?!” He shook George around a bit before he seemingly calmed down. “Right, right. Excuses, excuses. I’m not a f*cktart, George. I fell and almost broke my frickin’ penis off, and you didn’t—”
Ken immediately jerked his head to the right as he entered an intersection of hallways. Something had evidently caught his eye. It was the John Deere hat that had rested on another man’s head. It was the Dickies work suit, accompanied by fingerless gloves, that had been worn on another man’s body. It was the broken in Chuck Taylors on another man’s feet.
It was the BACK ALLEY BRAWLER in the flesh.
“HEY, F*CKSTAR!” Ken yelled down the hallway as he began to run at a slight jog. “YOU – YOU WALKING, BROKEN DOWN, MOBILE HOME PIECE OF SH*T!”
The Back Alley Brawler was facing a young female, who was unrecognizable due to the angle of the camera, who had handed him a couple of green slips of paper. As she walked away, he still failed to acknowledge Kaze’s heeding.
“DON’T WALK AWAY FROM ME YOU FUC—”
Ken had been cut off as the Brawler turned around and clamped a hand over the moron’s mouth.
“Shush, foo’! Before I have to whip dat ass again.” The Brawler released his airtight grip on Kaze’s mouth, and once again turned his back on Kaze before sauntering away.
“Hey, don’t turn your back on me! I’m not into that gay porno shite, you hear?! I’m not a damn Yankee!”
That must’ve got the Brawler’s attention as it put a halt in his step. However, thinking it through, he most likely decided it wasn’t worth it.
“You ain’t worth it, kid.” Well, whaddya know? Am I a genius or am I genius? “I guess one ass kicking wasn’t good ’nough for ya. But I can guhrantee you’ll get another right quick. Not by me though, you ain’t even got my attenchun.”
SLAM!
The Back Alley Brawler entered an unknown room before slamming the door locked.
“That sonuva . . . I ain’t even got his attenchun? No wonder,” Kaze now escalated his voice to a yell, “IT’S BECAUSE I’M NOT BONECRUSHER, BEEEEOTCH!”
After realizing he wasn’t going to receive any reply, he set George by his side and reached into his right, front, pants pocket. Out came the morpher and, “IT’S MORPHIN TIME!! GO, STEGOSAURUS!!” Whaaaat? A herbivore dinosaur? What in the world would that do? Spit grass blades at him-to-death!
“Despite my Green Ranger coin, secretly the power of the Turquoise Ranger lies within it. And I am that Turquoise Ranger! HIIII-YAAAAAA!” Ken had stepped back before leaping forward with a flying headbutt!
KUR-PLUNK!
He instantly collapsed to the floor in a heap of wooden splinters everywhere. Lying in the door was a humungous crater which was the poor remnants of Ken’s idiotic maneuver.
And with that, the camera faded to the limp body of Jolt Wrestling’s now established resident moron, Ken Kaze.
