I'm going to upstage THE by writing some massive EPIC, hopefully

Chapter 1: If I finish this I am a LoveGod

"Hey Testes, chuck us a beer" said Jondom, to the aformentioned Testes, as was stated. Yes.

Sipping on his bear that he'd been thrown instead Jondom began to think, well, when I say 'began to think' I actually mean he was mawled horribly. But a long trip to the hospital, a close call with the organ donation system and a lengthly 8 week recovery period later Jon indeed began to think. His faithful servent and room-mate Testes meanwhile, was masturbating, furiously. Someone should really call the RSPCA (Refuge for Seedy Paedoes Carrying AIDS) Jon thought to himself, the tremors coming from his room-mate's wrist were getting a little too violent for his liking.

Jon thought twice about grabbing the phone. Sure his friend's hip tendons were important, but he didn't like the idea of having to go through the nerve racking process of getting to know the helpline guy on the other end, charming them with his witty repertúe and beer belly mouth impersonations just so Testes wouldn't occasionally need his arm reattaching. The belly face was a work of art; the eyes, amongst other intricate facial features, including a detailed tatoo of the belly itself, had been etched in previously with a particularly sharp belly, namely Jon's. He'd even entered it as his GCSE art work, which to the annoyance of his classmates had earned him a C, irritated that he'd spent the last two years sitting blankly at his table flicking bogeys at their open mouthes.

He had been in luck with the coursework as well, killing the teacher had meant he coulduse her corpse for sex to fill up his otherwise empty folder. 72 pages of blood, organs, and a toe ring complete with unconditioned toe jam suited Jon nicely. If he hadn't fallen at the final hurdle, (the steeplechase is an integral part of any good art exam), he'd have been on course for an A. Jon looked up. The microwave had exploded, killing the RSPCA call centre attendant. His hair was frazzled and his eyes stared blankly with permanent terror. Jon flicked a bogey at his mouth. Kicking the body towards his sex cupboard he yawned round to face his friend.

"Hey noob, you finished upstaging THE yet?"

"Well," replied his roommate, trying to fan away the smoke that was coming from his wrist. "I've been masturbating for 5 straight hours now, and I've only really had one idea. It could work." Jon leaned in interested, much to his cost as his friend's hand shot off its wrist and into Jon's ear. " So yeah Jon, I was reading this story by some guy, not THE, about this dude who like falls in love with an ironing board or something."

"Holy shit, that's brilliant. Find out who I have to kill before we can plagiarise it."

"uhh... well we could do that. But that would take time and effort, let's just go straight to the copyright fraud."

"Testes."

"Now, now before you say anything I can't stress enough how much it isn't by THE"

"It's by THE isn't it?"

"Well I guess there is that too."

"You know what to do."

Duncan put down the keyboard, grabbed a big novelty rubber from the draw and wiped the ready grin off his face.

Chapter 2: If I finish this I am a Family World Atlas

Duncan turned to face Jon, fingers glued to the keyboard by sweat, and a manic grin on his face; a look only seen when he had trapped his underage cousin victims and was moving in for the kill.

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