WATP Fan-Fiction by PJ

"Sleep well every pony." Karl let out as he hit his favorite button on his soundboard. "Farting in the moshpit," played the audio clip from his now dangling ear buds, barely distinguishable from gibberish over the hypnotising hum from Karl's once-white, now pale-yellow mini-fridge filled with cheap beer and some old meat sticks. As Karl stood up from his faux-wood sports bar and went to close his Windows XP laptop, he heard a ping from his computer.

"Hmm, what's this?" Karl thought as he quickly flung his laptop back to a full 117 degree angle, the perfect angle for a laptop screen to be open to in Karl's expert opinion. "A Twitter DM from Glitch Fredberg?"

Karl opened the email from his trailer park foe and saw a familiar sight, it was a picture of the smoothest elbow he's ever seen, an elbow that he would know anywhere. He knows it so well because in Karl's estimation he's ejactulated close to 1,500 mls of sperm-free semen to that very elbow. But something was off with the elbow in this picture; it seemed under duress.

"Pull up, bro," the message popped up, bumping off-screen the top part of the elbow picture that Karl was having a Pavlovian-type response in his pants to. "Come see me. I got your girl, Vic. You know where to find me."

The tent pitched in Karl's pants slowly collapsed as Karl processed the message. "On my way." He typed back.

"Jen, dear, I'm off to a suprise work conference." He said in a rushed tone as he ran up his basement stairs and towards his front door.

"This better not be related to that whore from the voicemail segment," Jen said in an upset voice, "you told me you were done with her, but I saw your elbow-cum beaker is about 200 mls more full than it was the last time we talked."

Karl froze for a second, "Damn, I was hoping she would forget about that," but in his heart Karl knew the smell permeating from his jizz-filled glass beaker was so strong that it was impossible to forget. Karl burst out the front door without a word, with a determined demeanor and a soul filled with shame.

13 hours later

"Welcome to Indiana," Karl read aloud from the tattered road sign. He chuckled about how such a simple greeting seemed to have such a menacing aura around it given his elbow-hostage predicament, "I'm coming for you, my little Mikey Vic."

Karl loved that nickname that he had for her. "Mikey Vic." He felt his heart flutter as a flashback came across his mind as he remembered that time his voicemail mistress brutally beat that crippled dog they found outside the bar in Rochester one of those muggy summer nights after he got wasted and played shitty surf music.

"OH FUCK!" Karl yelled as he snapped back to reality and swerved out of his lane and onto the shoulder. He was so distracted by his memory of Vic murdering a dog that he didn't realize that his mp3 file of an old Opie and Anthony episode stopped playing. He made sure he was pulled all the way onto the shoulder on the interstate before he safely pressed play on his audio player.

Everything seemed to be going smoothly as he saw the sign he knew he had to see, but was still dreading to read.

"Gary, Indiana."

Luckily for Karl, he knew Todd was too afraid of Gary to actually go there, so he quickly averted his gaze away from the sign and continued on his journey to some random trailer park in some long-forgotten part of Indiana.

The night was growing old as Karl finally pulled into a rather rundown looking trailer park. It was almost silent, and Karl was now unsure of what to do. He knew this was Todd's trailer park, but he couldn't remember his actual address. Karl put his head into his hands and started sobbing.

Exactly 47 minutes later, Karl knew because Opie and Anthony had just finished doing his favorite bit where they rip on a retarded black guy, Karl let out his final cry. But something was off with his final cry; it was quieter than the previous wailing that he was doing. He picked his head up and looked around. More crying, and he couldn't be certain because tears were still flowing from his eyes, but he didn't think the cries were from himself.

Karl hopped out of his new-to-him '98 Ford Taurus and quietly snuck up to a window that he heard the screaming coming from, only now the crying was accompanied by singing. As Karl peaked through the window, he saw a couple very young children crying as the new version of Blue's Clues played on the television.

"Ugh, I don't like this fucking chink that they cast for the new Blue's Clues." Karl thought. It was true, Karl hated Asian people.

After a few more slurs about the Asian guy singing about his notebook raced through Karl's head, he noticed something; it was a lack of adult supervision.

"This must be it!" Karl thought as he smashed through the window with his fist clenched and his heart broken. Karl climbed through the broken window, getting his exposed skin filled with glass shards, and stormed past the screaming children, "they were crying when I got here," he thought aloud. He barrelled through the trailer towards a voice that sounded muffled by some hanging fleece blankets. Karl got outside of what looked like a closet door and stopped to listen.

"The runtime is 1 hour and 42 minutes. The actors were Shia Labou-" Karl could hear as he swung open the closet door and grabbed the red-haired man sitting inside.

"Where is she?" Karl growled, "and why did you take her?"

"She's at work." Sheamus responded with a devious look on his face, as he pointed across the hall towards another closet. "With Carly bringing in the dough and now your voicemail cunt editing my podcasts, I now have even more time to focus on neglecting my children."

Karl threw the red-haired maniac to the ground and ran across the room to the other closet.

"VIC!" Karl exclaimed as he opened the door and saw the love of his life scrubbing through audio files on Audacity. Vic looked up at Karl with a look of terror, temporarily blinded by the light now flooding in from the room into the almost black closet.

"Please, Todd, no more podcasts. I've already edited 92 today. I can't do anymore." Vic cried, eyes still not adjusted to the sudden change of brightness.

"Hey Mikey Vic, it's your Snugglepuss." Karl said choking on tears of relief as he embraced the only woman he's ever truly loved. "Let's get out of here."

"What about me?" Todd sobbed as Karl escorted Vic from the room, "How will I neglect my kids now?"

"I'm sure you'll figure it out," Karl said back with a smirk over the now increased screaming and crying of 2 children just wanting any type of attention, even a glance, from their dad.

As they got out of the trailer and into Karl's '98 Ford Taurus, Karl whipped out his now fully-erect for him, only semi-hard for most men, penis and rubbed it on Vic's completely smooth elbow, ejaculating immediately.

"Gather that up," Karl demanded with a type of gentleness that only a guitarist from a shitty rock band from the least interesting city in New York state could have, "I need to add that to my elbow cum-beaker back home."

Fin