4 Days Ago
Shopping For Babies
By Ken Kaze ft. John Kross
Strolling through the parking lot of a local Home Depot in downtown Atlanta, Georgia, two of NOW’s superstars that competed against each other just a few days ago can be seen… together, ironically. They are identified as the Problem Solver himself, John Kross, as well as the Resident Moron and newly crowned King of Kage champion, Ken Kaze along with George. Both men’s wounds from their Kage match are evident as they wear bandages across their faces and walk with a limp. Strapped ridiculously around George is Kaze’s very own King of Kage championship belt.
“So how’d ya like my paintings Kross?!” the resident moron asks abruptly.
“Huh? What in the hell are you talking about?”
As they enter the department store’s doors, he replies, “You know, my paintings! The paintings of George, the sun, and Slimer!! To be honest, I think I’m better than the one famous deaf painter, Beethoven!!!”
“Kaze, I still don’t know what you’re talking about,” the almost seven foot behemoth replies perplexed with a hint of frustration.
“On your back, you homobaggins! You don’t remember in our match… how I drew on your back with that magical crayon? The one that doesn’t show color. It only makes that gooey red stuff appear. You know, that stuff Waldo calls crazypaste!”
Now comprehending what Kaze is talking about, Kross decides to leave it alone and not to answer to avoid any type of conflict ensuing. He squeezes the tension ball in his right hand. This ball is now a constant companion for Kross to deal with his stress levels and recent “shock treatments.”
“So George, are you excited about being a new daddy?!”
Kross and Kaze venture through the kitchen appliances aisle looking up and down, head to toe for something intently.
“Ah-ha!” Kross is heard. He points at a group of trashcans assorted in all types of colors, sizes, and material. An almost evil mischievous grin passes over his face. “So… um… just what does George Jr. look like?” He looks over at Kaze who is marveling at the trashcans.
“Oh my greatness, George. These babies are soooo beautiful. I want one for myself! But, we have to adhere to the strict rules of the Trashcan Baby Convention. It says in Section Three, Paragraph A, Bullet One: umm… something about I can’t produce babies! I don’t know, it’s something like that.” He continues to scan the collection of trashcans. “Hmm… I just thought about that, George. Produce? I wonder what they mean by that?”
“Hey Kaze!” Kross yells to gain the attention of the crazed idiot. “Which one of these fuckin’ trashcans is it already?” Obviously, Kross is becoming more aggravated by the second.
“Hey—HEY! Bad words are a no no you homo-sanders! These are greatly intelligent trashcan babies, here! And they’re pretty darn cute, too!” Kaze glances back over at the assortment of trashcans. “Aaaw, look at the green haired one, George. He is so cuuuuteee!”
Kross paces over to where Kaze is standing and points at the small, green trashcan the moron had just pointed out. “So is this George Jr.?”
“NO!” Kaze yells piercingly. “Are you a MORON or something?! He doesn’t have George’s eyes, you foosball!”
Kross’ eyes loom with anger. It seems as if he is almost ready to snap. He continues to squeeze the stress ball as it looks like it’s about to pop.
“HOLY GEE-WILLIKERS, GEORGE! THERE HE IS!” Kaze shouts while jumping up and down rather merrily, pointing at a miniature, plastic trashcan decorated with flowers. Wait… who would decorate a trashcan with flowers? … Let alone, who would waste their time on God’s green earth to decorate a trashcan in the first place?
“So, THIS is George Jr., huh?” Kross asks, pointing to the same flower-decorated trashcan Kaze is pointing at.
“NO!!!! ARE YOU EFFIN’ STUPID KROSS?! I SWEAR, YOU’RE ALWAYS USING YOUR HEAD, NOT YOUR BRAIN!” Kaze this time follows up with a soft George-shot to the head of Kross as a gentle gesture. However, it isn’t too soft nor a gentle gesture to Kross as a protruding nail catches his forehead penetrating the skin, causing him to bleed. “THAT – IS GEORGE JR.!” He points at a blue, plastic Martha Stewart trashcan with the swivel top.
Now fuming with rage, Kross grabs “George Jr.” down from the shelf, which is out of reach for Kaze. He begins to raise it in the air.
“Aaaaww, he is so cute with his baby blue eyes. George thanks you Kross for getting down his baby girl.”
As Kaze was making the aforementioned comment, Kross had begun to cock back the trashcan, obviously having other plans for George Jr. However, Kaze’s idiocy befuddles Kross, leaving him to inquire Kaze’s absurdity. “Did you say, ‘HE is so cute…’ and say that was George’s God damn baby GIRL?!”
Kaze looks at him absent-mindedly. “Yeah.” He looks down at George and pats him on the top, which would be George’s “hat.”
“What—” Kross decides to leave this alone and slams George Jr. over the head of Kaze, sending him down to the concrete floor like a ton of bricks. “You shouldn’t have fucked with me, Kazey boy. I have enough problems with that masked donkey fucker running around, playing mind games. I don’t have time for an idiot like you to meddle with my business. Next time we’re in a match together, I advise you to stay the fuck out of my way.” He slams George Jr. over the head of Kaze once more, who was trying to climb up to his feet. “And don’t you EVER leave a fucking mark on my body…” George Jr. once more meets the head of Kaze. “…Again!”
Kross throws George Jr. aside and lifts Kaze up to his feet. He picks him up into the air with a chokelift, and slams him down atop of George with a powerbomb, courtesy of the Kross Shot. He spits in the face of Kaze before walking away from the scene, trying to avoid security that may have witnessed the assault on cameras.
Kaze grabs a hold of a shelf beside him and is able to pull himself up to one knee. “GEORGE!!! WHY DIDN’T YOU EFFIN’ HELP ME?! YOU ALWAYS WATCH AND LAUGH WHEN I GET BEAT UP!!”
Silence.
“OH MY GREATNESS, GEORGE JR. IS DEAD!!!!!”
