Poor Jhonka. Following the last performance he found that a video of him recorded
most likely by The Rotting Corpses had become quite popular on the interweb. It was
filmed at their last show during the last song, but sadly the band had little to do with the
video’s popularity. The video was called Bouncing Benter Bosoms: The Jolly Jig of
Jubilant Jiggly John Jugs. This was a terrible thing for John, but a wonderfully hilarious
thing for all other members in the band. Whenever John played fast his D Cup man
breasticles jiggled quite a bit. We’re talking DOA4 level of jiggling, which is quite
hypnotic if you play it in slow motion. And John’s manly boobs were so bountiful that
even heterosexual men were finding themselves mesmerized by his Polish boobish
goodness. Sadly, this video was passed around for free. If it was marketed correctly it
could easily outsell One Night in Paris or be made into a series called Frost Giants Gone
Wild: Jiggling in Jesusland.
Coy is the scrawniest creature in this part of Norway. He is an emaciated bag of bones
whose red, goblinoid hair probably weighs more than his body. He blames the troll for
stealing all his potatoes, which he wants back. But alas, he cannot steal the potatoes
back from the troll, so he did the next best thing (thank the fair maiden of no importance
whatsoever for the nonsensical Grand Theft Tuber segue). He asked the troll to break
into the Jamba headquarters and steal for him some protein powder and meat grass. The
troll flat out said this is the dumbest thing anyone has ever requested of him (little does the
troll know he will be asked to do something much dumber in the near future, which he
will comply with), and stealing protein powder and meat grass is the stupidest thing
anyone could ask him to steal from Jamba. He went off on a rant about how each
serving of that protein stuff is only 7 grams and he would have to consume copious
amounts of it to notice any growth, and the meat grass probably doesn’t even work.
And even if this was not the most asinine thing the troll had ever been requested, he wasn’
t smart enough to figure out a practical way he could make off with the goods and get
away with it. The troll stormed off, angered that anyone would even think of requesting
such an impossible task from him.
****
The troll was deep in the Jamba headquarters stumbling around blindfolded. He was
wearing one of those black masks cartoons burglars and raccoons wear except he forgot
to cut eyeholes in it. In retrospect, it looks like the task was not that difficult, it’s just the
troll isn’t smart enough to properly plan a minor heist. He was trying to get to the
powder without any of the other high-ranking people catching him, which could
jeopardize his standing in the Jamba order (the troll does not remember the chapter he
belongs to is the most corrupt branch of Jamba). It would be difficult since he hasn’t
thought far enough ahead on how to get a sack of powder out of the building without
anyone noticing it. The troll was filling the sack when he heard someone else come back
to the storage area. He flipped ninja style behind some boxes as silently as he could
(elephants stampede through china shops more silently the ninja trolls) to see an equally
ranking officer filling bags with lemons and oranges, most likely to mix with alcohol at her
house. The troll considers many others in the order as future SS clients. The troll leapt
out and caught her thieveries, but made an agreement that he wouldn’t turn her in if she
turned a blind eye to his sack of protein. The deal was made, and the Jamba was
looted. Coy got his protein goodness and became extra beefy, with both parties
completely forgetting about the meatgrass.
Brian is a feeble minded troglodyte. He decided that the troll was far too intelligent, and
quite likely he was the only person who has ever thought this. Out of insane jealously, he
devised to destroy the bassist’s trollish mind in the guise of hanging out together on a
Saturday afternoon. The troll ventured out to the Ronebard section of Norway on his
trusty longboat to Brian’s dwelling, which is a hovel too filthy even for a troll to inhabit.
Brian’s plan was working as the troll suspected nothing as they played video games.
Brian saw this was the opportunity, so he threw in the disc of digital crack and the troll
eagerly snorted the lines of Katamari. After some singing giraffes and an angry king with
the incredibulge yelling at the troll, Brian saw massive progress was made in his quest to
destroy the troll’s mind. But this would not be enough. They went out to lunch to feed
the troll’s beastly appetite, and then from there they went on a quest to find a film about
the life of some dude named Napoleon. The quest was long, with many visits to
numerous merchants peddling their wares of brain-rot, but eventually a copy was found
and purchased under the establishment’s Goon Harassment Layaway Plan. The film was
viewed, which was the most pointless piece of cinema ever made. It had no story, no
moral, no social commentary, and minimal entertainment value, yet had achieved a
glorious cult-as-@#$% classic status. Brian drank his imitation Belgium beer and
laughed as ooze that was once troll brains leaked out of his bass player’s ears as he
cowered in the corner shivering and vomiting, pointing in horror at a dead baby crawling
on the ceiling that was only seen through trollish eyes. Brian had succeeded in his quest.
But no one would ever know of this, as the troll didn’t really act any differently after his
brain melted.
***