It's Our House Now


Don't you hate it when you are at the Wooden Center and the twenty biggest white guys there start chanting about how they are going to kill Chris Quinn. That's exactly what happened to me today, and like always I felt as though I needed to do something about it. I worked my way into this crowd of muscle and began to quiet the big boys down. "Hey sissies, this Chris Quinn guy happens to be my boy and I have swore to protect him with my life!" I yelled. They all looked at each other and then at me, and that was when I realised what was about to happen. "Everybody panics, I don't care who you are, but you need to keep your cool and act like a fuckin' professional. What you don't do is start a shooting spree and turn the fuckin' place into Big Gay Al's Slaughter House."

Without listening to Mr. Pink, I lost my cool. My guns started bustin' out, and with them came the guns of the angry white men. Bullets flew everywhere, and right off I took one to the left shoulder. I was able to tag a few of Big Gay Al's henchmen, but I was overwelmed while trying to reload. With a gun to my head I was afraid that my days of serving Killa Quinn were coming to an abrupt halt; when through the window dives a ninja in all black. After throwing shards of glass at the enemy the ninja showed his face, it was none other than Shawn Westrick. The two of us stood back to back beating down onslaughts of body building madmen, when after a while I noticed that we were no longer standing on the ground, that we were at the top of a pile of flesh playing king of the hill with three-hundred pound men. The battle was all over and Shawn and I looked at each other and then our hill. I had no idea what to do with all the bodies, but I began to catch Shawn's lead. We rearranged the bodies to spell "Chris Quinn's house." I think we are starting to get the message across.

-Fat Louie

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