Whit Supermicky: The Drunken Hillbilly RPG

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Maynerd glances at Cletus.
"You boys best take him. Just throw him in the truck bed and take him with ya. If he ain't up by the time you get to Eagle, zip-tie him to the roll cage so he don't do nothing stupid. Seriously, do it. I don't want to be alone with him. Last time that happened I caught him wackin off in my bucket of leftover KFC. And then he pulled a gun on me..."
Maynerd shudders at the traumatic memories of Cletus's unshaved genitalia.
 
Buster looks at Cletus with disgust. Ugh, I'm glad I don't sleep in da same tent with him no more.

"He sure is a odd one, ain't he? Well, maybe we can get some more books n magazines on preppin' or guns or fishin' or somethin' when we're out. Cletus used one of my magazines to wipe his buttocks when we was out of TP."

*stress sigh*

"So, did anyone notice any problems with the truck the last time they took it out? She ain't like she usta be."

I noticed they sell crappy knives for 10 bucks and a slingshot with ammo costs 10 bucks as well, so I'll get one of them as a backup weapon. Baseball bats are $10-40 at Walmart, in case anyone wants one.
 
Bob doesn't give a shit. He grabs a bottle of whiskey, a harmonica and a broken beer bottle.
 
"It ain't the truck, it's the Racewar. Response Vehicle! I didn't notice anything wrong with it aside from the normal crap".
Maynerd points towards the truck.
It's a large, four door off-road vehicle, painted a rusting red color. The cab is exposed, and framed with a rollover cage. A canvas cover can be raised to protect the interior, like a Jeep. The back is filled with several metal cargo boxes, and other assorted crap. The radio is broken because Cletus covered it with... miscellaneous fluid. It's stuck on the all Polka station. And you can't change channels. Or turn it off. Or turn down the volume.
 
The radio is broken because Cletus covered it with... miscellaneous fluid. It's stuck on the all Polka station. And you can't change channels. Or turn it off. Or turn down the volume.
Click to expand...

:lol:

"Ah, right. Race war response Vee hickle. Gotcha, boss. Mabbee I can get some parts and repair the deadgum radio sometime."

Buster reaches down and grabs Cletus by the right arm.

"OK, who's got da udder side?"
 
Tommy tactically parkours the hood, only lightly scratching up the front of the car with his gear while getting to the driver's side. Opening the door, he tactically nods to the others and gestures to the unconscious Cletus.

"Okay so basically this is like how this is like happening okay, so like we're like a squad okay so I'm like the squad sergeant okay because I'm like Stryker and I got skills for that shit. So like since I can like combat drive I'm gonna like get, you know, like acquainted with like the tactical HUD of this thing while you guys like pack him up, okay, like just like pack Fat Faggot in back and like we can like get all tactical and shit okay, PRESS ONE OKAY, JUST LIKE SAY ONE OUT LOUD IF YOU GUYS ARE LIKE READY TO BE LIKE A TACTICAL SQUAD OKAY!"
 
Bob ties himself to the front bumper because Bob don't care.
 
Buster grabs the other arm and drags Cletus to the RWRV, then tosses him in the back, bruising his left shoulder. Dat's what you get fer wipin' ya buttocks with muh magazine, ya big ox! Buster then ties Cletus's arms to the roll cage and covers him with a random sheet in the back of the truck.

"All ready, let's get this show on da road!"
 
You peel down the dirt road, exit the compound fence, and turn onto the main road. Twenty five feet away is a broken down blue minivan with green flowers decals stuck to it's sides and a large paper sign in one of the windows that reads "Dashcon or bust!".
Four figures mill about it trying to figure out what to do.
A blond guy wearing a blue neck-scarf, a white shirt, and blue jean kicks the front bumper.
"Jeepers gang, looks like we're really in a pickle now."
A girl dressed up like an anime character sighs.
"I know Ned, this is like, ugh, sooo not kawaii!"
Nearby, a scrawny Asian guy wearing grey face paint and devil horns kicks at some dirt. "Jaime-kun, all your yelling is triggering me! And I'm getting bit by mosquitoes. Can't we call a tow truck or something?"
From the back of the truck steps a fat, lady...man... thing. He wears a bizarre outfit consisting of a Ché Guevara T-shirt, a black jacket, camo pant, pink high heels, and assorted communist imagery. His face is covered in poorly applied makeup, his hair is long, blonde, and greasy, and his nails are painted hot pink."Die cis scum" is tattooed across his arms.
"Lee, calling a fucking tow truck is submitting to the patriarchal racist imperialist, rape culture! As a proud Womyn, I should not to have to rely on any smelly rape-beast for aid! Why-"
His rant is cut off by Ned, who just noticed the hum of a motor and the soft sound of polka.
"Hey, AD, gang, look! There's some friendly locals coming to help us!"

And this is where we leave off. I'm going to sleep and I don't think Holden would want to miss this.
 
yay, SJW's and weeaboos!

So Grainz (Tavern Explorer) is driving, Bob (Surtur) is tied to the front bumper, Marella and I are in the cab and Cletus is in the back rattling around.

"hey, fellers, looks like some folks from outta town are havin' some trouble wid da vee hickle. Ya'll wanna help 'em out and maybe they'll give us sumtin for lendin' 'em a hand?"

Buster sees AD, Jaime and Lee. "Hey, look at da fat one! Haw haw! He don't know if he's a boy or girl! Wow, look at da udder ones! We got some kinda freak show on da side of the road. Let's have some fun wid 'em, what do ya'll think?"
 
Grainz fumbles around in his seat until his airsoft rifle is out of its holster. He aims out of the driver's window at the collection of faggots in front of them with the deadly steady hand of a true US Muhreen. "Like no way I'm helping like a bunch of faggot-ass faggots with like their faggot-ass car, dude. Like that's just not chill," he says to Buster.

Raising his voice, he adresses the Con Faggots. "Okay first of all like there's no way I'd help a bunch of FAGGOTS okay, look at your faggot-ass shit! You fucking weird-ass faggot-ass dumb-ass kids had better get the FUCK on the ground before I like get out of this car all badass and shit, and like give us like all your money and shit okay, like you faggots don't even look like you UUUSE MONEY, TAHAAAAAAA!"
 
"gonna stick my dick rite in yoo....gonna make you cry worse than when i raped your daddy....gonna sew you mouth to my sphincter and youse you as ma latrine....wait DID SOMEONE SAY RAPE-BEAST?!"
As Cletus awakes in the back of the cab, his dungerees filled with a fresh crop of feces and semen, he is confused as to why his hands are tied, but given how the cuntsppewing jibbernigger who bound him couldnt even tie his shoelaces, the bonds were not so difficult to wriggel out of. Lookin out at the people ahead his sick smirk widens to near joker levels
Pull the fuck over before I start shittin maself again....i wanna talk to these here travelers.
"gonna teach these shifty nigra race pimps what happens when you cross the path of cletus....gonna show yoo what folks like me do to purty lil girls like yoo"
 
Grainz tactically parkours the truck into a fully stopped position for better tactical fire accuracy and opens his door for extra fire cover support.

Noticing Fat Faggot has woken up, he gives him a quick Muhreen battle salute. "Oh hey like Fat Faggot's alive again, that's chill. He's like a like survivor of the battlefield and shit, like I respect that you know, and that's what I believe."

He yells at the Con Faggots some more. "Okay so we got a big motherfucker okay, like a BIG GUY, OKAY, he's like our like JUGGERNAUT OKAY, and he will like FUCKING FUCK YOU UP if you don't like give us your shit okay, OKAY, PRESS ONE IF THEY SHOULD STEP AWAY FROM THE WILDCAT GAMERS, PRESS ONE IF THEY SHOULD BE ON THE FUCKING GROUND RIGHT NOW!!"
 
Ned looks like he's about to speak, but is interrupted by AD.
"WHAT DID YOU SAY TO ME CISSCUM? I AM A PROUD AND OUT WOMYN, AND SHITLORDS LIKE YOU HAVE NO RIGHT TO QUESTION THAT! GO TURN YOUR INBRED ASSES AROUND AND EDUCATE YOURSELF!"
Jamie and Lee draw plastic katanas, and try to look menacing.
"Uh, gang, maybe we should, try to, uh reason or.... Oh Zoinks!"
Lend drops to the ground.
 
Cletus wrenches the wannabe marine fagget into the back of the pickup and covers his mouth with his hands
Shut. Up. If yoo make these purty lil babies run away, i will use yoo as my cuntslave instead. And the things i will do to you will make your steppappy look like jesus. Now, pull. the fuck. over.
"just do it.........make im taste your seepings....make him drink your dick boil pus..."
 
Cletus leers out at the purty ladies and forms his face into his least rapey smile
Hey thar sweet lil thangs....wanna ride? Forgive mah cuzzin for his outburst, he was just overcome by yer beauty and.....beauty
 
Grainz bats away Fat Faggot's hands, shocked. "Dude, like chill, like what the FUCK! We fucking STOPPED okay, like they're not running okay, like what the FUCK!
 
:blart:

Hey thar sweet lil thangs....wanna ride? Forgive mah cuzzin for his outburst, he was just overcome by yer beauty and.....beauty[/QUOTE]
 
Ur suppost to bluetext all out-of-game stuff fagget....now come to cletus :evil:[/QUOTE]

If I knew this, knew how to blue text stuff and was a more considerate person I may have done so
.
 
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