Chapter One: Mexicans, Weed and Mr. Freeze
Chapter One: Mexicans, Weed and Mr. Freeze
The camera focused on a elevator which was obviously owned by someone of extreme wealth, with jewels attached to the doors and door frame accompanied by golden swirls painted retreating from the doors itself, a voice over of Stephen Fry was heard announcing the next participant of British Cribs.
"Now introducing the "Kings of Bling", Simon Pegg and Nick Frost!"The elevator opened slowly, smoke escaping from the bottom of the lift, inside were two men, one taller of a slim frame, the other much larger but not quite as tall, both were covered head to toe in jewels. Simon (The taller one of slim frame) was the first to speak.
"Sup bitches," The camera zoomed out to reveal two female dogs laying on the floor.
The duo exited the lift and proceeded further into the mansion and down a flight of stairs into a basement occupied by a large amount of Mexicans, each wearing a monocle and a top hat.
"So this is our weed lab that is operated by PURE BRITISH men and women."
Just after this a young Mexican (clearly hurt) wanders towards the gang and tugs on Nick Frost's shirt.
"Mister Nick? I have been working so hard that my fingers seem to have broken." He then shows Nick his fingers which looked worse than Marshal Mathers trying to get a date with a nun. Nick then proceeded to remove both hands with a machete he conveniently keeps in his back pocket, and proceeds to feast upon them whilst walking to the stairs to head up to the next floor.
"Looks like bad day for Paco" said the young hand less Mexican.
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Twilight was in her studies (As per usual), reading a brand new book that her beloved teacher and ruler had shipped from a far off exotic place...why she would want to know of the various shades of grey she does not know but Applejack says it's a good read.
Just before she could indulge herself in what she thought was a book about painting, a HYPER AS FUCK Pinkie Pie, (No I'm not trying to be subtle on this one, she really is HYPER AS FUCK.) entered knocking over one or two carefully positioned books by swinging the door harder than Jimmy Saville's erection after he enters a playschool.
"Twilight!" she yelled galloping to her, Twilight could tell it was serious because of the erratic way her tail was spasming.
"Pinkie? are you OK?" Twilight saw Pinkie had worry in her eyes and even a hint of...horror.
Pinkie was never a "stable" pony, but she was a friend of Twilight's and that what mattered, even if she may have tried to turn the gang into baked goods once or twice.
"No Twilight I'm not, I got home from cutting ope- I mean... getting ingredients from Trixie, when this thing started going crazy!" she motioned to her tail with her hoof.
Spike eagerly ran downstairs after hearing Pinkies voice, they had had some great times together, cooking, helping others and now and again the occasional secret that may not be uttered to anypony ever.
"Hey Pinkie whats shaking?" Proclaimed Spike in his usual quirky voice. He then took note of the Pinkie's tail that was freaking out more than Mel Gibson on crack.
"Oh...thats whats shaking."
"So Pinkie," started Twilight. "Maybe you can tell us why this is happening?" Pinkie was obviously scared from the current affair.
"Well Twilight, it involves a strange race, that in our realm is undiscovered, but in their home world, THEY ARE SO VICIOUS AND EVIL THAT NOT EVEN MURDERERS UTTER THEIR NAMES! They are know as...the British.
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Nick and Simon were sat at a table that was also occupied by President Obama, Mr. Freeze and Billy Elliot.
"So this is where me and Simon come to unwind after a stressful days work of making weed and being in movies, how's it hanging Mister Freeze?" asked Nick. Mister Freeze responded, "I guess you could say that everything is going quite...cool"
In response to the witty ice pun, Billy Elliot proceeded to pull out a 12 gauge shotgun and shoot Mr. Freeze directly in the face. Nobody was really moved by his death, and in fact provided entertainment as Obama let out a light chuckle.
Just then the director of British Cribs got a call, he turned his back on the scene and proceeded to answer the call.
"Yes what is it..... NO ROMAN I DON'T WANT TO GO FUCKING BOWLING!!!...Oh...and it's really that hard? OK I'll be over in a moment,"He abruptly ended the call as he turned back to Simon, Nick and the crew.
"OK guys lets call it a rap, good job everybody,"
"Um...not to rush anything but when can we expect payment," Asked Nick. The directors eyes turned blood red and he yelled at them both. "WHAT PAYMENT BITCH!" Him and the whole filming crew disappeared in smoke, even the voice of Stephen Fry made a "poof" sound. Simon was in disarray
"Fuck, Nick what are we gunna do now? We're only earning 10 mill a week!"
As if an angel had appeared before them, Nick's phone rang, as he answered it, he noticed it said Stephen Spielberg (spotlight wanka) "Hello" Said Nick answering the call that will inevitably change his and Simon's life, A voice replied
"So i was just watching you through your window and noticed your problem." Both Simon and Nick's jaws dropped simultaneously as President Obama and Billy Elliot clunked cups, "Splendid!" said the young ballet dancer. "Indeed," Responded the President of the United States of America.
Author's Note
Ok so first of all I would like to credit my good friend Heracross748 who is right now beside me choking on a bottle...no really he just almost died choking on a friggen plastic bottle (bloody crazy bastard) anyway I’d like to say a big thank you for checking my story for any grammar on every word so I don’t sound like an Irish man who is having a dentist appointment.
And badboybrad1232 (no really, that’s his name) who also helped out on grammar but had the brains not to choke on a bottle...but did stab himself in the head with a pen. But all in all they are two guys I could not have made this story without. Now comes the boring legal shizz that I expect most of you to not actually read, I do not own anything that will be included in this story apart from the story itself, apart from that everything else belongs to their respective owners (and though the idea of Simon Pegg and Nick Frost as my slaves does sound appealing to me, slavery is illegal in this country) And now we can start with the fun stuff ;).
