User:CheddarBBQ/Mahm00shA
SSSSKKKKKKKRRRRRRIICCHCCKSSSHCCCCCCHHHH
"AAAAAAAAAHHHHH!!!"
And the Italian walked away, with blood-spattered hair, sole-less eyes, a joyful smirk, and a terrible hunger.
[ 4 days earlier, around midday ]
Mahm00sh was walking up the street, when he noticed the house of his Italian friend, which was strange, seeing as Mahm00sh lived in Egypt, and had no reason to be walking up a street in Italy. Mahm00sh was young, like 17 or 18 or 9000 or something, but the age isn't really important to this story, so let's just say he was young, though a little bit older than the Italian. He was a regular punky-metal guy, most likely a poser, who was at the time very high. Anyway, he walked up to the house, knocked on the door, and without waiting for a response, walked in.
"Mahm00sh, what's up?" the Italian man said, patting his friend on the back. The Italian was the adoptive father of Mahm00sh (who was for some reason older than him). He had a name, but people could never remember it, as they really didn't care, and neither did he.
"Ah, nothin' much," Mahm00sh said happily in his Egyptian accent that any non-Egyptian would have trouble recreating. "I'm fucking hungry though. You got anything to eat?"
Annoyed, but not at all surprised by the mam00ching, the Italian began to think. "Umm, I think I got some leftover lasagna in the fridge. Want some of that?"
"Nah," Mahm00sh said Egyptianly. "I'm not a big fan of lasagna."
The Italian cringed at the insult of his national past-time. "How about we order a pizza?"
"Pizza? With all that grease and shit? That's worse than lasagna." Mahm00sh laughed at the idea as the Italian winced in obvious pain.
"W-W-Well... we could just grab some... uh... Doritos and Mountain Dew. Like to snack on."
"Are you kidding? Doritos are shit and Mountain Dew tastes like piss, Mahm00sh claimed, unamused.
The Italian's eye began to twitch as a drop of blood fell from his left nostril. "D-D-Dor-r-rit-tos?"
"Um, dude, are you okay? You look kinda, uh, fucked up and stuff. You need me to call 9-11 or something?" Mahm00sh asked obliviously. The Italian twitched. "No? Well, okay then. I'll see ya." The Italian began convulsing as Mahm00sh walked out the door.
[ That Night, or at least sometime later ]
The Italian knelt down by his shrine and prayed, as he did every night, to the all knowing bag of Smokin' Cheddar BBQ Doritos. "What should I do?" he asked the bag, in tears. "He's my friend, but what he did, it's unforgivable." The bag was silent. "No, not that. Please, there has to be another way!" The bag was silent. The Italian hated the silence, because, as all true Doritians knew, silence means murder.
[ Two Days Later, at night I think, or maybe evening or something. It was dark-ish, probably around dinnertime. ]
"You know why I've brought you here." The Italian said to the others. It was dark, and each was dressed in black, but not completely black; it had a hint of some red, but a darkish red, like some sort of maroon-type color.
"No, we don't," the first Doritian said obnoxiously.
"Oh Great S.C.B.! This one dares interrupt my introduction. How shall he be dealt with?" the Italian yelled towards the ceiling. The Great S.C.B. was silent, and the obnoxious Doritian was burned. After the screams had diminished and the blood had evaporated, the Italian began again. "I have brought you here because a foolish Egyptian bastard has insulted the Great S.C.B."
Gasps, moans, and screams muffled out of the group. A single Doritian, one of the most loyal followers to the Great S.C.B. and the Italian, spoke up. "What is the Egyptians name?"
The lights instantaneously dimmed in a dramatic fashion, and the quiet and unnoticed music in the background was silenced. "His name is Mahm00sh."
[ Two Days Later, so basically the same day as the original few sentences, but not at the same time yet, still a little bit earlier, though somewhat close to that time. And in the evening or night or whatever. ]
Mahm00sh decided to check upon the Italian, seeing as he had not visited him in four days, and in fact, had been doing absolutely nothing of any importance for those four days. He walked up to the house, and without knocking this time, walked in. He instantly noticed that all the lights were out, and decided that the basement of the house would for some reason have more light. As he walked down the steps, he heard strange, harmonic chants, in some language he didn't know, like some sort of Latin, or maybe Spanish. The basement was lit by a single torch in the middle of the room, and smelled of burnt flesh. Assuming that the cooked smell meant food, Mahm00sh called out "Hey, Italian guy, is there food?"
The chanting grew louder, and a face came out of the darkness. The face belonged to the Italian, but he didn't have the annoying, arrogant look that Mahm00sh had become accustomed to. Many more faces came out of the darkness. However, they didn't look very Italian. They looked more German, or Britsh, or maybe Jewish; Mahm00sh didn't know much about international ethnicity. He did, however, notice that they were holding knives. And machetes. And maces. And chainsaws. And one of them was holding his left arm. Wait...