Can we do dead cows too?
The lolcows are gathered, you can hear the sounds of doughy meat slapping into each other. A few have already fallen, whether due to diarrhea or exhaustion.
Suddenly a roaring sound encapsulates the whole arena. A sick ass customized toyota with radios everywhere rumbles through the front gate.
The armada of enemies stop and stare, momentarily stunned. Then, then the fear overtakes them as they see him climb through the passenger window, as the doors are all broken.
This was impossible. He was supposed to be dead. Every cow's gut turns to pure ice as they hear his battle cry.
"YOU FUGGIN BABY RAPEEEEEEERS."
Suddenly, all other squabbles cease. Fatrick attempts to crawl over to the man's size 11 Cowboy Boots.
"No child, you-" but he's cut off when The Man brings his boot down, splattering fat and pepperoni across the faces of everyone there.
Cyrax is picked up by a cocaine fueled Balldo and thrown full force at The Man, but his soft cephalopod-like head instantly pops like a waterballon upon impact. This causes the years of alcohol abuse and coke brain to finally shut down his central nervous system.
Chris chan and King Cobra exchange glances, their battle seemingly at a standstill.
They watch as this shape, more beast than man rampages through the arena, smears of gore and greasy hair appearing to be a blurry tableau streaking colors and grotesque noises, shouts of "I'LL PUT YOU ON THE INTERNET YOU CORRUPT FUCKERRRRRRS!" seeming to reverberate off of the very sky itself.
"This ermm.....mighty enemy has proven to be, hmm. Too powerful for even a goddess such as myself. Mayhaps your dark powers and my powers of.....sigh....Goddessness-ness can combine to defeat....hmm, him."
"Yeah, whatever dude. Fuck sickos, but we gotta defeat him. He said he's the biggest Ozzy fan and I hate him more than I love alcohol."
Cobra retrieves his wand and begins chanting in a low hum, making circles that gradually get bigger.
"Dubbledun, dubbledon, dubbledown."
Chris steps forward, hands gripping the Sonichu medallion tightly.
He places the face of his one, true son. The creation that has brought him all his strife, but all of his joys. He focuses his powerful autism into a final blast that will contain every single time the no good dirty trolls shattered his heart.
"CURSE. YE. HAAAAA. ME......"
Cobra screams from the back, "FINISH IT DOODT!"
The world goes silent for a moment.
..........
.........
"HAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!"
And the combined autism of every lolcow that fell to the no good, nasty evil Farms impacts The Man all at once.
They all stand wheezing and panting, the dust swirling around the arena.
They all gaze, mystified by the power they just saw.
Suddenly, a thick and powerful tattooed hand shoots out from the dust and crushes Chris's windpipe instantly.
"yoooooooouuuuu didn't feather it enooooooough........."
He locks eyes with Cobra, and the bloodshed begins anew.
.........
.............
But all of this is pointless.
When it's all over, Saint Herk is standing there, covered in blood surrounded by the broken bodies and piles of flesh that used to be the subjects of Farms threads, he begins to look off into the distance, a pained expression coming over his face. He uses his mighty fingers to pry a tooth knocked loose in the scrap out of his head.
He fought as hard as he could, but he knew in the end that his goal had been achieved and it was time for him to die. Time for him to rock out with the babes and Jesus on a bender in Heaven. He had been granted but scant few moments to do the work of Christ.
His ragged, beaten face scans the distance, and he locks eyes on a glowing shape only he can see.
"WHAT ARE YOU WAITING FOR?!?! DO IT!!!"
A hand outstretches toward him, He squeezes his eyes shut, the tears of relief finally flooding him.
He hears a voice, otherworldy, alien. But almost.....sad.
"You hit them with your car. That's what you do."
And Saint Herk is instantly vaporized.
