S4

Our irreverant tale begins with two of our UA members enjoying a game of mini golf. Space Toaster and Foom Man had recently traveled to Hawaii in an effort to find a sock that belonged to Space Toaster, which he had lost there in a battle against a massive chicken (visit the movie section of the site or Dark Space Toaster's Evil Site for details). They soon began to play minigolf and abandoned the task at hand. After they used their powers to sneak by security to the green, without paying I might add, they were begining to play when two familiar faces dropped in, Dark Space Toaster and Boom Dude.
"What the hell happened to you?" Foom Man asked as he looked at Dark Space Toaster. Dark Space Toaster was beaten to shit, and was looking like he was in massive pain

"Nothing of importance to you," replied DST in an aggrivated tone. "What are you two trying to do, conquer the mini golf course to get chicks?"
   "Of course not you genetic failures," Space Toaster replied, "That only works on full moons and Mardi Gras. If you want to insult us some more, why not challenge us to a game of mini gof?"
   "If your powers are equally good as your talent," Foom Man said brashly, "This should be a slaughter."
   "Well you smell Foom Man," Boom Dude said in a sly tone. The four then grasped their clubs tightly, clenched their teeth, and began.
   Well four hours and two holes later, the four had gone a short distance, and had let ten groups of people play through them. DST was in the lead with a 34 while Space Toaster trailed only "six points behind" him. As they neared the third hole, Foom Man's cell phone went off. He then took his 1989 Motarolla eight pound cell phone out and answered it.

    "Hello?" Foom Man said into the 133mhz phone.
    "Hey, its Mono. Put Space Toaster on asswipe," replied Mono The Psycic Guerilla on the other end. Foom Man then motioned for Space Toaster, who took the phone.
    "Space Toaster, I've got arms and legs and other stuff," Space Toaster spoke into the phone.
    "We've got a problem..." Mono began.
    "Is this a six pack or a twelve pack problem?" Space Toaster asked.
    "Definetly twelve pack," Mono answered. "You see, we pissed off this retarded version of Superman.
    "You mean Foom Man?" Space Toaster said in a serious tone.
    "I heard that," Foom Man butted in.
    "No, much more moronic," Mono replied, "We're down at the Crackton Mall, you know, the one that only sells sneakers and baby clothes? We need help, now. The guy also has this weird ass cown guy." Space Toaster jerked to attention.
    "Clown?" Space Toaster said, showing his less than obvious fear for clowns.
    "Ya, clown, now get your asses down here," Mono said. A click was heard, signifying the call had ended. Space toaster motioned for Foom Man to jump into the jet, that they were going to leave.
    "Come on man, what about Hawaian Punch, which I love so much?" Foom Man groaned.
    "You can buy that crap anywhere,even in Crackton," Space Toaster replied.
    "Yes, but here its fresh," Foom Man replied with pride. Space Toaster smacked him upside the head and they jumped into the jet.
    "Leaving so soon?" Boom Dude said to the two menacing morons.
    "Ya, we'll be back soon," Foom Man said as the jet started, "But the jet lag will make the trip shorter." The group stared at him.
    "Remind me to hit you later," Space Toaster said.
    "Noted," Foom Man replied.