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Date Posted: 23:34:55 05/13/09 Wed
Author: Fabulous Ernie Penisdance author
Subject: WARRIORRRR!!!!!!!! (read and comment you lazy tools)

WARRIOR IN WONDERLAND
By Fabulous Ernie Penisdance

(Preview taken from Ernie's 3rd novel entitled Warrior in Wonderland, after Jobbers in Time which was finished in August 2008 and its psyeudo sequel Hangman in Mulletwood, working title, which is currently longer than Jobber in Time and only hald way finished.)

Chapter 1
DOWN THE MANHOLE

Ultimate Warrior was beginning to get very tired of being closely watched by some dirty old men who kept staring at him while he was doing reps in the park, you’d think people had never seen an oiled up guy in his panties bench pressing forty eight thousand pounds before. Between reps he peeped into the copy of Playboy (Warrior Women Edition) he was reading, but it had no pictures in it, he snorted then shouted aloud “when the powers in the sky and the ones in my warrior pants collide, I come to realise one monumentally important thing! What the hell use is a Playboy (Warrior Women Edition) without pictures? Warriorrrrrrr!” Warrior finished his reps and was considering in his own genius mind (as best as he could manage, for the hot day’s sun had made him feel very sleepy and lazy) whether the intense pleasure of making a daisy-chain would be worth the trouble of getting up and picking the daisies, when suddenly a crackhead in a Burberry cap came running by him.

There wasn’t anything very remarkable in that; nor did Warrior think it so very strange to hear the crackhead say to itself, “Oh bollocks! Oh bollocks! I’ll be damn late, wee man!” Afterwards, when Warrior thought it over, it occurred to him that he ought to have found this quite strange; for a crackhead not using the F word in a sentence was very rare indeed); but when the crackhead actually took a watch out of his Adidas three-stripe trackies, and looked at it, then hurried on, Warrior threw his dumbbells to the side, knocking out a gang of old age pensioners like bowling pins and jumped to his tassel-clad feet, for it flashed across his mind like a lightning bolt that he had never before seen a crackhead with either a pair of real Adidas three-stripe trackies, or a watch to take out of them, and burning with bi-curiosity, he ran across the park after the crackhead, and fortunately was just in time to see him leap down a large manhole underneath a nearby hedge.

Warrior took a deep breath and ran over to the manhole, then he ran round and round it with his fists wildly swinging in the air. Then he grabbed the hedge and shook it with all his might causing all the little birds and insects to fall out of it. In another moment down went Warrior into the manhole after the crackhead, never once considering how in the world he was going to get back out again. The manhole went straight on like a giant vein for some way, and then dipped suddenly down, so suddenly that Warrior had not a moment to think about stopping himself from running down it like a crazy man before he found himself falling down a very deep hole. Either the hole was very deep, or he fell very slowly, for he had plenty of time as he fell down to look about him and to wonder what was going to happen next. He had so much time in fact that he pulled out his mobile phone from his trunks and began recording a video of himself cutting a promo about how “queering don’t make the world work.” Afterwards, he realised he was still falling down this immense hole, he tried to look down and make out what he was going to land on, but it was too dark to see anything; then he looked at the sides of the well, and noticed that they were filled with hub caps and handguns; here and there he saw porno magazines and copies of the Daily Sport hung up on pegs. He took down a jar from one of the shelves as he passed; it was labelled ‘stash’, but to his great disappointment it was empty; he thought it might have contained some body-enhancing supplements (AKA the juice) he could use, but no. In anger he threw down the jar in the hope of killing someone. He also kicked a hole in one of the cupboards as he fell past it, ecstasy pills fell out.

“GRRRAAWRRRR” thought Warrior to himself, “after such an intense and spiritual fall as this, I shall think nothing of taking a fall of power off a turnbuckle again! How inpendulous and intentious the warriors out there will think I am when I get back to…parts unknown! Why, I am the Warrior and I would say my name is synonymous with everlasting pain, and even if I drop an elbow of intensity off a turnbuckle and land right on top of Andrew the Giant’s corpse I know my little warriors across the planet would cheer for me!” (This was very likely to happen, as he had fallen off the top of a turnbuckle on more than one occasion.) Down, down, down fell Warrior. Would this fall ever come to an end? “I wonder how many miles away from Parts Unknown I've fallen by this time in the universe so great and powerful?” he screamed aloud. “I must be getting somewhere near the centre of the Earth, where my little warriors live. Let me see; that would be four thousand miles down, I think…” (for, you see, Ultimate Warrior had learned several things of this sort in the articles from his Playboy (Warrior Women Edition) he had purchased with no pictures by mistake, and though this was not a very good opportunity for showing off his enviable knowledge, as there was no one to listen to him, it was still good practice to say it over.) “Yes, that's about the right distance, but then I wonder what latitude or longitude I've got to?” (Warrior had no idea what latitude was, or longitude either, but he had a habit of using words he didn’t know the meaning of and thought he sounded superior when he used them.)

Presently he began again thinking again. “I wonder if I shall fall right through the Earth! How intense and magnificent it would be? To come out in deep space and encircle the planet itself as its satellite and look down upon the warriors ssssaaaaa!!!” (He was rather glad there was no one listening this time, as he sounded like a moron talking to himself) “But I shall have to ask the stars what name they give to a stellar being such as myself…like I actually care what they say” (and he tried to curtsey as he spoke…fancy curtseying as you're falling through the air and being a man also, it looked a little gay. Do you think you could manage it? Jump down a manhole screaming “WARRIORRRRR!” and give it a try.

Down, down, down. There was nothing else to do, so Warrior began doing press ups in mid-air. Soon he had done 5 million and then began talking again, “The WWF wrestlers must miss me in the WWF these days. I hope they'll remember to cut good promos after the matches. WWF wrestlers! I wish you were down here instead of me! Then I could use your television rays as a medium to promote destructicity and the way of the Warrior!” And here Warrior began to get rather sleepy, and went on saying to himself, in a dreamy sort of way; “Is destructicity even a word? Do people eat, bleed, sleep and piss destructicity or is it just me?” For you see, as he couldn't answer this question, it didn't matter, because if the Ultimate Warrior doesn’t know something; it’s not worth knowing. He felt that he was beginning to lose some body mass so he did another 12 million press ups. Then he felt tired again, and had just begun to dream that he was walking hand in hand with Hulk Hogan, and saying to himself very earnestly; “Now Hal Kogan, tell me the truth: did you ever love me?” then suddenly, BANG! Down he came upon a heap of joints and bongs and dry cannabis leaves, and the epic fall of the Warrior was over.

Warrior was not a bit hurt because he’s a wrestler and he’s used to that sort of thing. He jumped up onto his feet in an instant, did 84 star jumps and then looked up, but it was all dark overhead; before him was another long passage, and the crackhead in the Burberry cap was still in sight, hurrying down it. There was not a moment to be lost; away went Warrior like the wind, and was just in time to hear the crackhead say, as it turned a corner, “Oh for God’s sake wee man, how late it's getting!” Warrior was close behind him when he turned the corner, but the crackhead was no longer to be seen; he found himself in a long, low hallway which looked like a WWF entrance way; it was lit up by a row of lightubes hanging from the roof, had a big titantron at the end of it and lots of little kids with foam fingers cheering the warrior on.

As Ultimate Warrior ran down the small hallway with his fists swinging wildly over his head, pyrotechnics went off all down it and the crowd went bezerk. There were doors all round the hall, but they were all locked; and when Warrior had been all the way down one side and up the other, trying every door, he walked sadly down the middle, wondering how he was ever to get out again.

Suddenly he came upon a wrestling-style table (the ones that break more easily than a More Store clock radio), the table was made of super weak plywood; there was nothing on it except for a replica Intercontinental title belt. Warriors’s first thought was that it might be his and he should take it back and try and sell it on eBay. Then he thought he could use it for destroying one of the doors in the hall; but, alas either the doors were too strong, or the Intercontinental belt wasn’t strong enough, but at any rate it was only the Intercontinental title and warrior spat on it for not being a World title like he deserves. However, after scanning the area a second time round, he came upon a low curtain he had not noticed before, and behind it was the gorilla position. Warrior climbed inside and clotheslined Gorilla Monsoon out of his life and watched his spirit float off to heaven. Behind where Monsoon had been previously sitting was a tiny little door about fifteen inches high; Warrior tried smacking the Intercontinental title belt off it, and to his great delight it smashed the door into a thousand pieces “WARRIORRRRR!!!” he screamed out with such intensity that even the hairs on the back of his own mullet stood on end.

Warrior kicked in the remaining few splinters left in the door frame and looked in and found that it led into a smaller passage, not much larger than a mortal’s house; he knelt down and looked along the passage into the most perfect wrestling arena for wrestling in he had ever seen in his entire life. Warrior thought that it was even better than the Toronto Skydome. How he longed to get out of that tiny hall, and wrestle about in that picture perfect arena. But he could not even get his head though the doorway because his ego was too big; “and even if my swollen melon would go through,” thought poor Warrior, “it would be of very little use in there without an opponent and a crowd. Oh, how I pray with the little warriors of the world and wish I could get into that promised land over there and slam my critics and defeat someone and win a world title! I think I could, if I only knew how to get in there and find a crowd and an opponent with a world title.” For you see, so many out-of-the-way things had happened lately, that Warrior had begun to think that very few things indeed were really impossible. It’s called Ultaimatology and Warriocity and it’s copyrighted.

There seemed to be no use in waiting by that little destroyed-by-destructicity door, so he went back to the plywood table, half hoping he might find another title belt it, or at any rate a book of black magic for shrinking people down so he could fit through the door into the perfect wrestling arena. This time he found a little bottle on the table which “certainly was not here before!” screamed Warrior. Around the neck of the bottle was a paper label, with the words “The Juice” beautifully printed on it in large letters.

It was all very well to say “The Juice,” but the wise Warrior was not going to just drink it and see what happened in a hurry. “No, I'll read the label first because I am an intelligent being,” he said, “and see whether it's marked ‘poison’ or not.” For he had read several articles in that rip-off Playboy (Warrior Women Edition) about bodybuilders who had taken the juice and ended up with shrivelled nuts, and couldn’t make love to their wives anymore on account of repulsing them, all because they would not remember the simple rules of the Juice. Much in the same way that a red-hot poker will burn you if you try and stick it up your bum, and that if you slice your finger off with a machete, it usually never grows back, and that if you put yourself in a microwave you will most likely explode. Most importantly Warrior had never forgotten that, if you drink too much from a bottle marked ‘poison’ it is almost certain to destroy you, sooner or later. However, this bottle was not marked ‘poison’ so Warrior ventured to taste it, and finding it very nice, (it had, in fact, a flavour of Iron Brew and hot buttered toast) he very soon finished it all off.

“GRRRARRLLL! I feel like I have just downed 5,000 bottles of kryptonite, what an epic yet nasty feeling” said Warrior; “I must be shrinking like that jobber Tom Thumb.” And indeed he had shrunk; he was now only ten inches high! Now he was super depressed, what chance did he have as a ten-inch Warrior of getting re-hired back to into the WWF now? But then his facepaint brightened up at the thought that he was now just the right size for going through the little destroyed door into that perfect wrestling arena. First, however, he waited for a few minutes to see if he was going to shrink any further: he felt a little nervous about this; “I might die…JESUS!” screamed Warrior to himself, “I might go out altogether like a candle. I wonder what will happen then?” He tried to think what the flame of a candle is like after the candle is blown out, but he could not remember ever having seen such a thing because he lived in a house with electricity and candles were beneath him. After a while, finding that nothing more happened (except his nuts shrinking), he decided on going into the arena at once; but, alas for poor Warrior! When he got to the door, he found he had forgotten the Intercontinental title belt, and when he went back to the table for it, he found he could not possibly reach it. He could see it slightly hanging over the edge of the plywood table, and he tried his best to climb up one of the legs of the table, but he was oiled up with too much baby oil and kept sliding down. When he final gave up trying, the poor little wrestler sat down and cried...like a warrior.

“What am I doing crying like a mortal?” said Warrior to himself rather sharply and stopped the waterworks in an instant. He generally gave himself (and other people) very good advice, (although the other people very seldom followed it), and sometimes he cut a promo on himself so severely as to bring tears into his eyes and make his facepaint run. Once he remembered trying to potato his own face for having cheated himself in a game of solitaire. This curious wrestler was very fond of pretending to have two personas. “But it’s no use now,” thought poor Warrior, “to pretend to be two persons! Why, there's hardly enough of me left to make one respectable superstar of the wrestling world!”

Soon his eye fell on a little box that was lying under the table. He tried to open it, but it was locked, then he noticed a very small microphone lying beside the box, which he picked up and used to launch into an intense promo, the promo was so powerful that it blew a hole in the box. Inside he found a Jaffa Cake with the words “BITE ME” beautifully scratched out of the chocolate covering. “Bite me? Warrior says TO HELL WITH YOU Jaffa Cake, I have never been insulted by a biscuit in all my incredible life until this moment, prepare to be sacrificed to the greater power of the WARRIORRRR!” and with that he gorilla press slammed the Jaffa Cake, gave it the reversed splash and then ate it. “If this makes me grow larger, I can reach the Intercontinental title, and if it makes me grow smaller then I’ll be dead and can go to the stars and converse with the Gods; so either way it’s perfect, and I don't give a sacrificed aeroplane full of lost souls which happens! WARRIORRRRR!!!” He waited a little bit, and said anxiously to himself, “Which way? Which way?” holding his hand on the top of his mullet to feel which way it was growing, and he was quite surprised to find that he remained the same size. To be sure, this generally happens when one eats Jaffa Cakes, but Warrior had got so much into the way of expecting nothing but mind melting things to happen, that it seemed quite dull and stupid for life to go on in the regular feeble way. So Warrior looked inside the destroyed little box and found the rest of the packet of Jaffa Cakes and proceeded to eat them all, and very soon he had finished off the entire packet.



Chapter 2
THE POOL OF TEARS

“What in the magnificent world of the Warrior is happening to me magnificently chiselled body of epic enviableness?” cried Warrior (he was so much surprised, that for the moment he quite forgot how to speak good English); “now I'm extending like the largest rocket ship ever constructed! Goodbye, feet!” (For when Ultimate Warrior looked down at his wrestling boots, they seemed to be almost out of sight, they were getting so far off). “Oh, my poor little warrior feet, I wonder who will put on your boots and tassels for you now, warrior feet? I'm sure I will not be able! I shall be a great deal too far off to trouble myself about you: you must manage the best way you can; but I must be kind to them,” thought Warrior, “or perhaps they won't run to the ring the way I want to! Let me see: I'll give them a new pair of wrestling boots every Christmas.”

Just then his head struck against the roof of the entrance way, in fact he was now more than nine feet tall, and he at once took up the Intercontinental title belt and hurried off to the little destroyed door. Poor Warrior! When he got there, he found that all he could do was lie down on one side and look through into the arena with one eye; but to get through was more hopeless than ever; he was now far too big to get in. He sat down and began to cry again uncontrollably. “You ought to be ashamed of yourself”' said Warrior to himself “a great wrestling legend such as yourself” (he might well say this, for it was completely true and a well known scientific fact) “to go on crying in this way like a little girl, a mere mortal girl at that! Stop this moment, I tell you!” But Warrior carried on all the same, shedding gallons of tears, until there was a large pool all round him, about four feet deep and reaching half way down the arena beyond the tiny doorway.

After a while, the Ultimate Warrior heard a little pattering of Reebok trainers in the distance, and he hastily dried his eyes and re-applied his facepaint with the aid of the little make-up bag he keeps stuffed down his trunks at all time in case of emergency. What was making that sound? What was coming towards him? It was the crackhead returning, haphazardly dressed in his Adidas tracksuit, with a half-full bottle of Buckfast in one hand and a pirated copy of Hogan Show 3 on DVD in the other. The crackhead came jogging along in a great hurry, muttering to himself as he approached “Oh! The Body, The Body! Oh, won't he be mad if I've kept him waiting!” Warrior heard this muttering from a distance because his ears are more powerful that deep space satellite probes, he replied to the crackhead “Why thank you crackhead, yes I know I have a hell of a body, something for all the mortals across the globe should be jealous of, thank you for noticing” he shouted with the standard Warrior intensity. The Ultimate Warrior felt so desperate about his situation (being stuck at 9 feet tall behind a tiny broken doorway) that he was ready to ask help of the crackhead even though it would go against his moral beliefs that crackheads are not real people anyway and should never be interacted with, but when the crackhead came near him, she began, in a low, grizzly and very scary voice, “Listen to me puny little man…” The crackhead started violently, dropped the bottle of half-finished Buckfast and the bootlegged DVD, and scurried away into the darkness as hard as his Reebok trainers could carry him.

Warrior took up the bottle of Buckfast and the pirated DVD and stuffed them down his trunks and began to talk to himself again “Oh dear oh dear, how electrostaticalistic everything is today, yesterday things went on in the Warrior’s universe just the same as usual but today not even I, the great and powerful Warrior can comprehend what is going on. I wonder if I had been changed in the night. Let me think; was I the same when I got up this morning? Did Hal Kogan creep into my boudoir last night and fill my Juice bottle with Um Bongo? I almost think I can remember feeling a little different, but if I'm not the same, the next question is what in the world had happened to…THE WARRIOR!? That is the great puzzle from parts unknown!' Warrior began thinking over all the wrestling super gods he knew of that were of the same age as himself, to see if he could have been transformed into any of them. I am sure I am not Hercules” he said “for his hair is pathetically curly and my Warrior hair is locked in the eternal embrace of the mullet style that only true Gods of the cosmic planes can pull off without looking like bad caricatures of the 1980’s sporting world. Macho Man’s is all puffy and weak and mine is strong for it is make of the strongest steel in all of the universe, and I am sure that I cannot be Hal Kogan for he is the keeper of the eternal handlebar moustache and the Gods did speak and say that only one man may hold the handlebars at any one time…what had happened to me? How galactically puzzling it all is! I shall try to see if I know all the things that I used to know; let me see: five plus five is twelve and four plus two is nine…yes I still remember basic maths. However, the Multiplication Table is insignificant to the Warrior; I shall try and see if I remember Geography. Vince McMahon is the capital of USA, and WARRIOR IS THE CAPITAL OF THE WORLD…yes, I remember that all too. Let me try one final warrior test; to see if I remember the lyrics to Real American;

When it comes crashing down like a plane of sacrificed lives
And it hurts inside like a supernova exploded into your inner consciousness
I’ve got to gorilla press a hotdog stand so you’d better all run and hide
You can’t hurt my friends, because they’ve all been sacrificed and died
I am more than a man; I’m a warrior with pride
I am a real Warrior, fight for the rights of myself only
I am a real Warrior, fight for your life
Because I will take it tonight


“Yes, I am sure those are the right words” said the Ultimate Warrior.

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