Post by TFP on Nov 8, 2008 22:42:30 GMT -4
Bob Pocket and PJ Curtis step outside of their newly delivered limo that was sent from Texas. A new driver is in the front-seat, one that doesn't argue as much. Not for the simple reason that he is polite, but it's because he just doesn't speak English. He's Mexican. But Pocket and Curtis will be nice to the guy for he is part of the country that supplies them with the kind of food they love: tacos, nachos, burritos, quessidillas, etc. In their books, this guy is the shit.
The two start to walk to this talk building that says Johnsonville. This is their biggest excitement for the tour around America. Teh slaxorz in the hotdog factory where miracles are made. They step inside of the building, pulling out the two main double doors. They look around and see many scientist looking people wearing white coats, goggles and yellow hard-hats. Only in a hotdog factory would you find this. In the kitchen at McDonald's, chances are that the cooks are dressed in radiations suits. A man in a suit walks up to Bob and PJ, shaking their hands.
Man: "Good evening. You two must be PJ Curtis and Bob Pocket of the tag team teh slaxorz, wrestlers from the W2K promotion based in San Antonio, Texas. Since receiving the news that you two would be arriving here shortly, the whole staff got in a frenzy and made so much sausages and hot dogs that it has made our shipment done for the end of the year. But we are deciding that instead of shipping them, we could give some to you two."
An oompa-loompa guy strolls out from nowhere with a hot dog vender and places it before Bob and PJ. Their eyes light up and they flip open the plastic dome above the food. They reach in with their hands, grabbing a couple dozen hot dogs and they start to eat them. The man who greeted them didn't think that they would eat so much, so he kicks the vender to some portal where the oompa-loompa follows.
Man: "Well, I hope you had fun eating that. Let's take the two of you on a tour around the place, shall we?"
The man takes PJ Curtis and Bob Pocket to a hallway where they stand on a conveyer belt that leads to a series of pictures on the wall as well as rooms that have glass windows blocking them from guests interacting with the process of the creation of their food.
Man: "The Johnsonville hotdog factory is filled with many wonderous things. Every single day we get atleast a shipment of every kind of animal on a farm down in Florida and their gross weight alone of a kind of animal is one and a half tones."
Bob and PJ look to their right and see a couple of guys chase after a live and fat pig in circles around the room with huge battle-like axes. They look at each other with eyes wide open. What an awesome job, they are thinking. They continue down the conveyer-belt and they look in another room where a man is dry-humping a piece of meat that hangs from the ceiling. When seeing the guests, he stops and starts pushing the meat forwards.
Bob Pocket: "Wow, now I believe the people when they say hot dogs are made from almost everything."
PJ Curtis: "Hey... it's all the same in here."
PJ pats his stomach.
Man: "Here at Johnsonville, we do our finest work to make sure that the people at home are satisfied with our food that we make and process at this building here. Every single day we make atleast 5'000 hot dogs alone and they are shipped out to large cities, small towns and every village in this country. From New York, to New Orleans to even Razzletown itself."
PJ Curtis: "Razzletown?"
Man: "My point exactly. Johnsonville hot dogs distribute to everywhere we can."
PJ Curtis: "I have a question: do you pump your animals full of steroids?"
Man: "No. That's KFC. They pump their chickens full of steroids and later on down the road they butcher them. We don't do anything to the meat here except kill the animals that aren't dead, take them apart by limb, debone them and them throw them in a machine which grinds them into little pieces of meat."
PJ Curtis: "But hot dogs are a large single piece of meat. How do you make them stick together?"
Man: "We have a worker put a certain legal substance into the meat that makes the meat join together. It works well. It's like rice and soya sauce; without the soya sauce, the rice would be slipping out of your forks."
Bob Pocket: "I use chop-sticks to be a traditional Chinese food eater."
Man: "Well, that must be more complicated than using a fork, isn't it?"
Bob Pocket: "No."
The man looks like he has nothing more to say. The conveyer belt starts to come to the end of the hallway, but the hallway doesn't have an end. It just has a drop-off to a whole bunch of people moaning and groaning and screaming for help. The man runs ahead and jumps into a side hallway.
Man: "HAHAHA!!! Get ready to be a hot dog for the rest of your lives because ahead of you is a pit full of spikes and pain!!!"
Bob and PJ look at each other. They fall off the end of the conveyer belt below. There is a huge pile of people in this pit, but thanks to them, Bob and PJ fall off the conveyer belt about 9 inches and land on some people. They step up onto the conveyer belt that is going against them, but they just keep walking ahead and beat the slow speed of the belt. They continue to walk the way they came from and the man looks angry in the area he's at. He punches the wall as a sinister plan was just blown up in front of his face.
Bob Pocket: "You know, I never liked hot dogs in the first place."
PJ Curtis: "I was more of a nacho man."
The two step off of the conveyer belt near the entrance and walk to the double-doors, leaving the building. We hear a lot of screaming coming from the inside. Bob and PJ enter the limo that has now been oddly turned into a hot dog. Bob and PJ step inside of it and it drives off. The factory randomly blows up once the Tag Team leave the entry gates of the place. Hot dogs and pigs go flying in the air from the explosion. Bob sits in the car and pulls out a cell-phone.
Bob Pocket: "Yeah, Hamid? ... ... It's Bob, I think that we need another new limo... ... ... Yeah, yeah... ... no, no... PJ didn't do nothing this time, Hamid, it was the factory and their crazy antics. First they tried to process us into hot dogs and... ... ... YES! I'm telling the truth! ... ... ... really? ... ... ... REALLY? We have to ride around in a hot dog for the whole remainder of the tour? ... ... But we'll look like weiners! ... ... ... Oh, really funny, Hamid... ... all right, all right... talk to you later."
Bob hangs the phone up and puts it back in his pocket.
PJ Curtis: "So?"
Bob Pocket: "We have to keep this limo unless it breaks."
PJ Curtis: "Arggghhh... ... ..."
The two start to walk to this talk building that says Johnsonville. This is their biggest excitement for the tour around America. Teh slaxorz in the hotdog factory where miracles are made. They step inside of the building, pulling out the two main double doors. They look around and see many scientist looking people wearing white coats, goggles and yellow hard-hats. Only in a hotdog factory would you find this. In the kitchen at McDonald's, chances are that the cooks are dressed in radiations suits. A man in a suit walks up to Bob and PJ, shaking their hands.
Man: "Good evening. You two must be PJ Curtis and Bob Pocket of the tag team teh slaxorz, wrestlers from the W2K promotion based in San Antonio, Texas. Since receiving the news that you two would be arriving here shortly, the whole staff got in a frenzy and made so much sausages and hot dogs that it has made our shipment done for the end of the year. But we are deciding that instead of shipping them, we could give some to you two."
An oompa-loompa guy strolls out from nowhere with a hot dog vender and places it before Bob and PJ. Their eyes light up and they flip open the plastic dome above the food. They reach in with their hands, grabbing a couple dozen hot dogs and they start to eat them. The man who greeted them didn't think that they would eat so much, so he kicks the vender to some portal where the oompa-loompa follows.
Man: "Well, I hope you had fun eating that. Let's take the two of you on a tour around the place, shall we?"
The man takes PJ Curtis and Bob Pocket to a hallway where they stand on a conveyer belt that leads to a series of pictures on the wall as well as rooms that have glass windows blocking them from guests interacting with the process of the creation of their food.
Man: "The Johnsonville hotdog factory is filled with many wonderous things. Every single day we get atleast a shipment of every kind of animal on a farm down in Florida and their gross weight alone of a kind of animal is one and a half tones."
Bob and PJ look to their right and see a couple of guys chase after a live and fat pig in circles around the room with huge battle-like axes. They look at each other with eyes wide open. What an awesome job, they are thinking. They continue down the conveyer-belt and they look in another room where a man is dry-humping a piece of meat that hangs from the ceiling. When seeing the guests, he stops and starts pushing the meat forwards.
Bob Pocket: "Wow, now I believe the people when they say hot dogs are made from almost everything."
PJ Curtis: "Hey... it's all the same in here."
PJ pats his stomach.
Man: "Here at Johnsonville, we do our finest work to make sure that the people at home are satisfied with our food that we make and process at this building here. Every single day we make atleast 5'000 hot dogs alone and they are shipped out to large cities, small towns and every village in this country. From New York, to New Orleans to even Razzletown itself."
PJ Curtis: "Razzletown?"
Man: "My point exactly. Johnsonville hot dogs distribute to everywhere we can."
PJ Curtis: "I have a question: do you pump your animals full of steroids?"
Man: "No. That's KFC. They pump their chickens full of steroids and later on down the road they butcher them. We don't do anything to the meat here except kill the animals that aren't dead, take them apart by limb, debone them and them throw them in a machine which grinds them into little pieces of meat."
PJ Curtis: "But hot dogs are a large single piece of meat. How do you make them stick together?"
Man: "We have a worker put a certain legal substance into the meat that makes the meat join together. It works well. It's like rice and soya sauce; without the soya sauce, the rice would be slipping out of your forks."
Bob Pocket: "I use chop-sticks to be a traditional Chinese food eater."
Man: "Well, that must be more complicated than using a fork, isn't it?"
Bob Pocket: "No."
The man looks like he has nothing more to say. The conveyer belt starts to come to the end of the hallway, but the hallway doesn't have an end. It just has a drop-off to a whole bunch of people moaning and groaning and screaming for help. The man runs ahead and jumps into a side hallway.
Man: "HAHAHA!!! Get ready to be a hot dog for the rest of your lives because ahead of you is a pit full of spikes and pain!!!"
Bob and PJ look at each other. They fall off the end of the conveyer belt below. There is a huge pile of people in this pit, but thanks to them, Bob and PJ fall off the conveyer belt about 9 inches and land on some people. They step up onto the conveyer belt that is going against them, but they just keep walking ahead and beat the slow speed of the belt. They continue to walk the way they came from and the man looks angry in the area he's at. He punches the wall as a sinister plan was just blown up in front of his face.
Bob Pocket: "You know, I never liked hot dogs in the first place."
PJ Curtis: "I was more of a nacho man."
The two step off of the conveyer belt near the entrance and walk to the double-doors, leaving the building. We hear a lot of screaming coming from the inside. Bob and PJ enter the limo that has now been oddly turned into a hot dog. Bob and PJ step inside of it and it drives off. The factory randomly blows up once the Tag Team leave the entry gates of the place. Hot dogs and pigs go flying in the air from the explosion. Bob sits in the car and pulls out a cell-phone.
Bob Pocket: "Yeah, Hamid? ... ... It's Bob, I think that we need another new limo... ... ... Yeah, yeah... ... no, no... PJ didn't do nothing this time, Hamid, it was the factory and their crazy antics. First they tried to process us into hot dogs and... ... ... YES! I'm telling the truth! ... ... ... really? ... ... ... REALLY? We have to ride around in a hot dog for the whole remainder of the tour? ... ... But we'll look like weiners! ... ... ... Oh, really funny, Hamid... ... all right, all right... talk to you later."
Bob hangs the phone up and puts it back in his pocket.
PJ Curtis: "So?"
Bob Pocket: "We have to keep this limo unless it breaks."
PJ Curtis: "Arggghhh... ... ..."