So you remember my Sandlot series? Well, here's another crazy story. I'm not quite sure where the plot is going--I'm pretty much winging it. If it's not funny, oh well, but tell me so I won't write another part. I think you can figure out who the characters represent, but if not, just ask me. Without further ado...
There was once a land called Internetia. This land was a peculiar, magical world. It was full of silly inside jokes and blogs about everything under the sun. Oh, what am I talking about? Camden Chat, of course. When I was in high school, I perused Camden Chat regularly, until it was taken over by Motherfucking Yankee fans, a race of alien beings hellbent on destroyed baseball and internet. This is the story of how it was saved, by a team of superheros know as: The Most Birdland Superheros! But, I won't keep you waiting any longer. My name is Looney, and I'm your narrator.
Nerdman sat in Sabrfreak_G's musty basement. Zknow-it-all, resident elder, thought of saying something, but nothing came out. What could they say? Tracey sighed. Sick-and-twisted's eyes darted from left to right, and locked on EMC (Eat More Chikn). EMC stared back.
"Are we having a staring contest?" EMC asked. Sick-and-twisted breathed deeply, and rolled his eyes. "You blinked! You blinked!"
"So, we're just going to let the those The Motherfuckers take over our site? Are we just going to roll over?" O'sboy24576 said angrily. Zknow-it-all stood up, banging his fists on the table.
"No! We're not! Let's make like the Orioles and start our crusade strong and then implode rapidly until the Motherfucking Yankees obliterate us!" No one was amused, although they couldn't quite tell if he was kidding. Tracey slumped in her chair.
"It's hopeless, isn't it? It's not like we can apply sabrmetrics and school their asses with straight up knowledge. OR CAN WE?!?!?!" Nerdman proposed. Sabrfreak_G slapped Nerdman on the arm, silencing him. Nerdman took offense, and they started hitting each other.
"WILL YOU GUYS STOP? Aren't you guys best friends or something?" EMC cried, tears streaming down his face. They looked at each other, sighed, and hugged. "This is going nowhere. Can we please come up with a plan?" They said nothing.
The door swung open. They all jumped, and turned towards the sound. In unison, the team gasped.
Jimmy Fantabulosity stood there, hands on his hips, head in the sky. He scanned each of their faces, and his expression quickly turned to disappointment. He walked briskly into the room, and sat in the empty chair. Zknow-it-all glared at him.
"Where have you been?" he asked. Jimmy scoffed. They waited for the answer. It didn't come at first. Jimmy stroked his beard, crossing his legs, and leaned back in his chair. "Well...?"
"Hmm, well, unlike you, I'm preparing for life after Camden Chat. Don't you realize it's hopeless?" Jimmy answered. Everyone knew he was right, yet they said nothing. Zknow-it-all twiddled his thumbs, tapping his foot, and prolonging the endless silence. "Oh, come on guys, cheer up."
"We can't!" Sick-and-twisted exclaimed. He shook his head violently, then started banging his head on the dusty poker table. The team stared at him. "We're failures! "Most Birdland Superheros" MY ASS. We're not heroes. We're disgraces. If we don't come up with a plan then we will never save Camden Chat. We need a new leader, an inspiration. We can find that. It's possible. But who?" They all pondered this for a moment.
"What about Andrew Friedman (NARRATOR'S NOTE: He's Jewish. SO YES.)?" Sabrfreak_G proposed. Nerdman agreed. So did everyone else. "But... where do we find him?"
"Easy. He hangs out at StingRay Bay every Tuesday. We can find him there," Tracey told them. They all jumped up at the same time, and headed off to the Birdmobile.
We pick up in a disgusting sports bar, which has violated numerous health code violations but still manages to stay in business.
They burst into the bar, scanning the room for Mr. Friedman. They spotted him sitting alone at the bar, watching the TV and sipping a beer. They walked towards him, trying to look normal, despite the fact that they had forgotten to change out of their superhero outfits.
"Hey MBH, what can I do for you?" Mr. Friedman said, shifting slightly on his stool and extending his hand. They were speechless for a moment. Could they really ask this guy for his help? What could he do, after all? At the same time, they had nothing to lose.
"We need your help," Tracey said urgently. Mr. Friedman's eyes widened. He set his beer down and clapped his hands together once. He motioned for them to sit down. They did so.
"I know about your problem. And I can help. But it will cost you $2 million. Nothing more, nothing less. I can help you, and boy do you need it, but I don't work for nothing. If you can pay me that, I'm in. We need to take down the motherfuckers at all costs," he replied. Zknow-it-all sighed, knowing that if they paid him the money he requested they would be left with a measly $100. Was it worth the risk?
"We'll do it," Tracey replied.
To be continued...
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