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For the Archive: Lord of the Ringpiece (originally at BH)

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    For the Archive: Lord of the Ringpiece (originally at BH)

    LORD OF THE RINGPIECE – another story about Yoyo

    Chapter 1
    by Evil Blood

    It was a fine sunny day in the Elven Kingdoms. The birds twittered merrily in the trees, lambs gambolled happily in the fields and a sense of peace and tranquillity filled the land. All was fine with the world.

    Sadly for him, Yoyo wasn't IN the Elven Kingdoms...he was stuck in a poor neighbourhood filled with niggers in Oklahoma City...and it was raining. It wasn't the rain that was bringing Yoyo down...nor was it the niggers, each of whom had sent him death threats since reading the flyers put through their mailboxes containing Yoyo's rather explicit views on black people. It wasn't the fact that he was a talentless nobody, a Netdead piece of detritus fit only for the electronic oblivion of the Recycle Bin. What was pissing Yoyo off was the simple fact that, once again, he was getting a kicking at everybody else's hands on the forums. Yoyo's life was a series of one unmitigated disaster after another and, just lately, it had been going downhill as if rocket powered. What was he to do? Apart from bitch at everybody, complain about his lot in life and post everybody's personal details, which made him feel less insignificant that it had any right to do; he could do precisely nothing about it.

    After several minutes worth of crying at the fate of his latest Gimpfighters style forum fiasco he decided to spend another fruitless hour writing letters of complaint to Homeland Security which, due to advanced handwriting recognition software, always got forwarded to a Ms. Muriel Worsnip, a 53 year old hairdresser from Gary, Indiana who used to be a welder named Mr. Roger Matthews before he decided that his 6' 5", 297lb body looked cute in a dress. The Roger half of the personality was under the impression that Yoyo was dangerously unhinged and in need of electro-shock therapy whilst the Muriel half was convinced that Yoyo had the hots for her and would like nothing more than to ram her dainty 10" cock down his throat and choke him to death on a tidal wave of cum – Muriel had some serious personality disorders and had never managed to come to terms with the fact that her ass looked big in a skirt.

    Anyway...we digress. Yoyo decided to take his welfare check and go shopping. He was running low on "Joy Boy Anal Lube" and had a hot date set up for that night at Club Liquid...he still remembered the friction burns on his ass from his last unlubed adventure and was determined not to let it happen again. It had been a week before he could sit down properly. No, Yoyo was certain that he would never again suffer the indignity caused by 'ring of fire'. Off he minced to the drug store with a spring in his step (he'd forgotten to remove his vibrator) but, before even half way there, reality, as so often happens in these shitty stories, decided to give a little twist and our little Yomosexual fairy found his life turned upside down.

    One minute he was walking down the street getting soaked by the rain and blaming everybody else for his own shortcomings when, all of a sudden, there was a stomach-wrenching rip in the fabric of time and space and Yoyo found himself transported to a strange place whilst the contents of his bowels found themselves transported into his underwear – due to the fact that he was full of shit at the best of times, he didn't notice this. He looked around but couldn't recognise his surroundings...the rain had mercifully stopped trying to pound his head down into his shoes but he was also aware of a rather nasty smell, the location of which always seemed to be behind him, no matter which way he turned. Yoyo shrugged it all off and decided to make the best of it...let's face it, when you're as big a loser as Yoyo, ANY change has to be good.

    Yoyo walked towards a small knot of trees in the distance, it looked as good a place as any to walk to and, if the truth be told, he had rather fond memories of trees...the feel of the rough bark scraping the skin from his face as his attacker rammed his full length into Yoyo's anus...the guy hadn't bothered to call or write even once after Yoyo had been released from the hospital.

    No matter how far or how quickly he walked, that smell still followed Yoyo and it was starting to worry him: a faint miasma of corruption overlaid with the unmistakable aroma of Crisco...what could it be? Yoyo began to know fear - if the unknown thing that gave off the stench were to catch him in the open, it would be likely to rip open his gizzard and eat his entrails for breakfast...or possibly brunch, depending on the time of day. His entire life flashed before his eyes...fortunately, this had happened to him so many times that he was able to sleep through the boring bits (which was most of it). He began to run. The smell kept pace. It was behind him...whenever he turned his head and looked back, the stench got worse. He ran Yoyo, run. Sadly, he wasn't looking where he was going and fell into a deep hole.

    When he regained consciousness, he found that he wasn't alone: a small man with hairy feet knelt beside him shaking his head.

    "Hey, mister" said the man, "you've shit your pants".

    The light of understanding filled Yoyo's eyes (hey, there's a first time for everything!)...of course...that would explain the smell of crisco.

    "Hi" said Yoyo "my name's Yoyo...who are you?"

    "My name is Bimbo Bunghole and I'm a Nobbit."

    "A Nobbit? Don't you mean Hobbit?"

    "Look, you dumb fuck, I think I should know what species I am. I'm a Nobbit...okay. We're related to Hobbits only we differ in one important way."

    "Oh" said Yoyo, intrigued by this strange creature. "And what is so different about a Nobbit?"

    "Take down your trousers, clean your ass and you'll find out, bitch." Said Bunghole with a nasty gleam in his eye.

    Yoyo couldn't help seemed as though things were looking up after all.

    Chapter 2
    by Vitriol

    As Yoyo started to unbutton his soiled trousers, smiling coyly at Bimbo the Nobbit, he felt the sudden impression that the universe had just did a backflip. There was also new warmth on his buttocks, announcing the arrival in his shorts of additional fertilizer, and an accompanying rise in intensity of the stench permeating the air. Forgetting to refasten his pants, Yoyo looks around.

    "Bimbo? Mr. Bunghole? Nobbit person?!"

    The Nobbit was nowhere to be seen.

    "Awww, just when things were getting good. Story of my life, I reckon."

    Reluctantly admitting to himself that a little fun with a Nobbit was out of the question, the miasma pouring from Yoyo's ass saw its opportunity and redoubled its efforts to gain his attention.

    "Gack! I really, really stink now. I wonder if there's any place I can wash up?"

    For the first time since experiencing the quantum acrobatics, Yoyo took close note of his surroundings. He was no longer in a hole, just in the bottom of a bowl-shaped depression in the countryside. From Yoyo's current vantage, all he could see was grass, and a few trees rising above the bowl's rim. He rebuttoned his fetid pants, and trotted up the grassy incline toward the nearest tree.


    Below him, stretching from one end of the horizon the other, is a vast city. Turning, Yoyo sees that the city actually surrounds the half-dozen or so acres of grass and trees of which the depression marks the approximate center.

    "I've never seen so many buildings in one place! I'll bet there's billions of people here, and lots of bars, with drunken men... *millions* of drunken men!... just waiting for me!"

    With a renewed sense of purpose, Yoyo sets off as fast as his bandy little legs will carry him.

    As he approaches the edge of the grassy area, he sees that there's a wall surrounding the park. Off to his right he can see an open gate, and heads toward it.

    At the gate are two women talking. When Yoyo is five yards from the women, one of them sees him. Her eyes open wide, and her mouth gapes. The other woman, with a curious tilt to her eyebrows, turns and then mimics her friend's expression.

    Yoyo now stands before them, and in his most genteel and suave manner asks: "Hey, bitches. Where are all the cute guys in this dump?"

    One of the women turns and runs away. The other, pulling her shirt up to cover her mouth and nose, is braver.

    "What are you, and what *is* that foul stench?" she asks.

    "I'm Yoyo, and I shat my pants. Twice now, in fact. Can I get directions to the nearest cock farm, or what?"

    The woman is obviously bewildered, and doesn't answer. Exasperated, Yoyo passes through the gate into the city.

    "Fucking sow. Guess I'll just have to find a bar on my own."

    The woman is still frozen to her place, and appears to be fighting dry heaves. Yoyo dismisses her from his thoughts, as he's determined to search for drunken men, and can only process one cognitive act at any given time.

    Making his way deeper into the city, passing people going in and out of buildings as well as making their own way along the sidewalks, Yoyo begins to feel there's something odd about the whole place, although he can't spare the brainpower to pin down whatever is making him increasingly uneasy.

    "Now if I were a hot stud looking for action, where would I go?" he thinks to himself.

    Yoyo wanders around for another fifteen or twenty minutes, ignoring the looks of disgust and bewilderment that meet him everywhere he goes. Finally, tired and frustrated, he decides to rest on what appears to be a bus stop bench. He plops himself down upon it, and is mildly aroused by the squishing sensation caused by his butt hitting the bench seat.

    Having broken the crust which had formed in his shorts, the smell of several pounds of fecal matter again wafts around Yoyo like an evil cloud.

    Yoyo turns to the bench's only other occupant, an elderly lady who has just turned an alarming shade of green, and notes: "Whew! That's pretty rotten, isn't it?"

    The poor lady vomits copiously into the street, and begins to stagger off. Realizing she is still downwind of Yoyo, she turns and staggers even faster in the other direction.

    Yoyo shrugs, and sits back to relax for a minute.

    As has already been stated, Yoyo can only think about one thing at a time. As he allowed his mind to momentarily release its grip on the manhunt, the something's-not-right feeling rose to the top of his counciousness like a methane bubble in a particularly rancid swamp.

    Looking around, Yoyo knows he should be alarmed... but is still unsure why that should be. On the surface, this was simply a city like any other; women walking along alone or in small groups, women arriving at or departing stores and offices, women driving up and down the streets, women...

    "HOLY FUCK!" shouts Yoyo, jumping up from the bench. So shocked is Yoyo, he doesn't even notice that his pants were slightly glued to the bench seat, and came loose with a damp "shhhrrick!" when he stood.

    Staring aghast up and down the boulevard, Yoyo breaks out in a cold sweat.

    "Wh-wh-where... where are all the FUCKING MEN?"

    Indeed- every single person Yoyo has seen since entering the city, he now recollects with horror, has been female.

    Wild-eyed and more than somewhat unglued, Yoyo races to the nearest woman; a twenty-something girl who immediately puts both her hands over her lower face and mumbles: "Eeeewww!"

    "Where? WHERE?!?" demands Yoyo.

    "Where what, and do you even *know* how much you stink?" replies the lass, from behind her fingers.

    Yoyo, making an enormous effort, calms himself somewhat and asks as nicely as he knows how: "Where are all the men, bitch?"

    "I don't understand. What's a 'men'?" answers the girl, beginning to back away.

    Yoyo loses it again: "Men, men, MEN dammit! You gotta have men! Like meeee!"

    Yoyo starts to follow the retreating girl, reaching out as if he would shake the answers he wants off of her.

    The young lady, who has been taking ju-jitsu lessons since she was nine years old, reacts instinctively. Her first punch breaks Yoyo's nose. That's followed by a kick to his solar plexus, and another punch that lands clean on his weak jaw.

    Yoyo has just enough time to wonder why it got dark so suddenly, before he plummets into unconsciousness.

    The sound of laughter and jeers slowly worm their way into his hearing. Before he opens his eyes, he notes that he seems to be lying on cold concrete with something, perhaps straw, scattered over it. An odor assails his nostrils, and he concludes that whatever else has happened since that little bitch knocked him out, he hasn't been hosed down or given clean clothes.

    Tentatively he opens one eyelid.

    "Look mommy! It's awake!"

    Yoyo sees a young girl, on the other side of a stout set of metal bars, pointing at him and tugging on the skirt of a woman standing beside her.

    "Huuh? Wazzut... argh?" is the entire query Yoyo can dredge up from what was always a limited vocabulary in the best of circumstances.

    The girl's mother wrinkles her nose, and says to the youngster: "It called itself a 'men', according to the news story. It even said it was looking for other 'men', although how anyone could've made sense of those grunts and whistles I'll never know. It must be very lost, or very confused. There are no 'men' on our world. Someone surely would have noticed the awful reek if there were others."

    Yoyo heard, and was stunned. "No men?" he thought to himself. "None at all?"

    The women gathered in front of Yoyo's display cage all took a surprised step backward when the thing they were studying lifted its head to howl long and loudly. Although most of the women just thought it sounded beastial and mindless, a few considered that the noise had an almost lonely undertone.

    One of the latter spoke her thoughts aloud: "Poor creature. It must really miss the other 'men', wherever and whatever they are."

    As Yoyo continued to blubber and moan, even the sympathetic women became annoyed at the din, and wandered away to explore the rest of the zoo.

    Yoyo; broken, forelorn, and extremely foul-smelling; banged his head on the bars of his cage, and wept.

    Chapter 3
    by Evil Blood

    The constant banging on the bars reminded Yoyo that it had been a little while since there had been any banging at his back door. Ahhh, a rather sticky situation...or, rather...lack of stickiness. Suddenly, there was the familiar gut-wrenching sensation as every atom in his body was pulled apart and transported to another dimension. Yoyo, once again, noisily voided the contents of his bowels – if this carried on, he'd exhaust the cum reserves stored in his lower intestinal tract and would be forced to take drastic steps to recharge it. This had only happened to Yoyo once before – he'd lost his job at the Sperm Bank as a result for drinking on the job - whilst THEY'D lost 3 years worth of deposits.

    Yoyo looked around. What the fuck? He seemed to be on the bridge of some futuristic ship. A very strange looking man stood at the controls wearing a headscarf and a very nasty dirty sanchez which, on closer examination, proved to be a threadbare goatee - the buttocks were cut out of his trousers.

    "You look familiar". Said Yoyo. The man looked up... "Welcome on board the Starship GenderBenderprise, fag. I am Captain Cock." The man moved to another set of controls..."and I'm Mr. Sperm"...yet another move..."Ensign Jerkoff"...and another "Lt. Screwlu"...

    "Wait a minute" said Yoyo..."you're all the same person."

    "Shit," said Captain Cock, "it worked okay for my ancestor when he ran gay4pay.cum...fag."

    "Ahh," said Yoyo, "that's why you look so familiar – you're related to Jeremy 'Dicklips' Daspin."

    "Yup", said Cock, "he was my great, great, great, great-grandmother, fag. He married Redeye in a ceremony in L.A. and they lived happily ever after until the riots in 2004 when he was DJ'ing in a nightclub, farted and drowned half of Oakland in a sea of cum. They never did find all of his body parts but there was enough shit left on the end of Redeye's dick to clone Jeremy and so, here I am, fag – 5 generations on and just as gay and crap as herself."

    "Wanna buttfuck me?" asked Yoyo.

    "Can't," said Captain Cock, "I can only get it on if I'm the bitch, fag."

    "Shit, I have exactly the same problem." Whined Yoyo, "what shall we do?"

    "We could always call the Doc up here and see if he's interested, fag." Cock moved to the intercom..."Dr. GayBoy to the bridge."

    Seconds later a nasal Australian voice crackled into life..."Dammit, Jeremy, I'm a doctor, not a gigolo. Anyway...Dr. GayBoy is my brother, not me and, even if it was me, I don't live in sick bay because I moved. HAHAHAHAFUCKINGHAHAHA, you're owned so fucking leave me alone and I'm not having a meltdown, jewboy fag...I'm just waiting for my money to clear so I can buy another domain name but it doesn't mean that I'm penniless because I lost my own one and I owned you and I'm repeating everything you've ever said to me back at you but I'll deny it and claim to have posted proof so fuck off, PKB owned bitch and this isn't really me because I committed suicide..."

    Cock switched off the intercom shaking his head in frustration. "Sorry about that, fag...Dr GayBoy suffers from terrible psychotic episodes and this, sadly is one of them. In fact, fag, it's the same episode that he's had non-stop for the last 50 years."

    "Hmmmm," said Yoyo, "he reminds me of somebody I once had cyber-sex with...he was crap and suicidal too."

    "Would that be Adam Tyrelle of Emu Heights NSW, fag?"

    "How the fuck did you know that?" asked Yoyo, amazed.

    "Easy...he locked himself in his freezer in 2003 trying to commit suicide but forgot to switch it off first. Nobody missed him and it wasn't until they sent somebody round to repossess all his shit in 2343 for not paying his electric bill that he was found. That's him down in sick bay...he's a lousy doctor, an even lousier fuck but he works for free because nobody else wants him and this is the first job he's ever had, fag."

    "Okay, but that doesn't solve the problem of my cock hungry ass". Whined Yoyo, starting to feel sorry for himself again.

    "Well," said Captain Cock, "we could always go to Starbase Deep Throat 9 and look up a couple of my old friends...Captain Crisco and Queerk, the bartender."

    "What about Captain Jean Luc Dickhard, Ensign Wesley Felcher and Geordi LaFag?" said Yoyo, really getting into the swing of things. "By the way, you didn't say "fag" just now."

    "What the fuck are you talking about, bitch? There's no such people, now shut up and bring me a beer you faggy fag of a faggot."

    Yoyo went and got the beer, he'd always liked being treated rough – perhaps that's why his ass was designated as an official truck stop.

    The ASS GenderBenderprise minced its way to Deep Throat 9 but it was taking too long...Yoyo's cum reserves were dangerously low and, if he didn't get a hot beef injection soon, he was going to go crazy and felch everything in sight. As the only things in sight were the clone of a gay L.A. DJ and a suicidal Australian Gimp with manic depression and enough dick cheese to bring the French fromage industry to its knees – he didn't much relish his options.

    "Shit," thought Yoyo..."there has to be a dimension where I can get my sphincter sundered by a guy who's hung like an elephant. Why does this crap happen to me all the time? Everyone fucks me over but nobody wants to fuck my ass."

    "USE THE FORCE, YOUNG SHETLEY." Called out a disembodied voice.

    "Arrrgggghhhh," said Yoyo..."I'm suffering cock withdrawal and now I'm hearing voices!"


    "Fuck off, leave me alone...I've told the FBI and Homeland Security about you. It's illegal to hack into my head and implant'll go to jail – I've taken a screendump of my alpha waves and that proves that you're just trying to scare me".



    Chapter 4
    by Uterus on Toast

    ....the stirring sounds of a 1000 kazoo orchestra were heard, and opening credits began to roll....

    Part IV - A New Grope

    Long ago in a galaxy far away, Yoyo was dreaming wet and sticky dreams. Hordes of Klingons had infested his arse hairs and were using his shrivelled testicles for target practice, while no less than three Borg spheres were involved in a vain attempt to ass-immolate the Yomosexual's infected rectum. Yoyo giggled in his sleep as the conquerors rolled about in his glory hole like a trio of galactic beng-wah balls and was nearing a shuddering climax when a particularly ugly Klingon sank his teeth into Yoyo's scrotum. A sickening feeling feeling in his gut jerked Yoyo back to reality to discover space and time had folded yet again and he had crapped the equivalent of a planet-sized swamp out of his shitter. He was once more, quite alone.

    "Aww, shit", sniffed Yoyo.

    Shit indeed. As the yomosexual surveyed his foetid surroundings, he realised he was standing in a crappy quagmire of his own making. He suspected as much for not only had he suddenly lost a lot of weight, but he could see condoms and empty crisco bottles everywhere. In the distance, families of hamsters and gerbils he recognised from long ago were eyeing him warily lest he try a little anal insertion, while nearby a chipmunk he had used in a felching session on his last trip to Disneyland was amusing itself by scooping up turd patties and hurling them at him with unerring aim.

    Yoyo also realised he was coated from head to toe in sloppy green shit.

    "Worse it gets", he trilled in his delirium of madness, forgetting every grammatical rule ever fucked into him at grade school. "A man I want, Man I need, yes?"

    "Splut". A particularly smelly hunk of Yomodung hit poor Yoyo square between the eyes. The chipmunk chattered and ran off. Suddenly, a fierce roar was heard from above. Yoyo, being as he was for the first time in his life completely void of shit, wet himself instead. What if that was the evil beast who had stalked him unseen though all his adventures making this dreadful noise? What would poor Yoyo do? What he always did in such situations of course. He cowered in abject fear while the roar increased in volume.

    A large pink Bow-Tie fighter rocketed through the mists and crashed into the swamp, deluging Yoyo in more green shit and knocking him forcibly back into a pile of well used condoms. The roar stopped, bringing a sullen silence to the world, broken only by the sounds of sewerage gently lapping at Yoyo's feet. Suddenly, the half submerged fighter beeped out the chorus to "In The Navy" and a hatch on its side sprang open. Out pranced the most delectable sight Yomo had seen all day, clad in a sequined leather g-string and wielding an inflatable cocksaber festooned with twinkling christmas lights. Yoyo's breath was quite taken away (yes, he'd forgotten to breathe again). In imminent danger of asphyxiation, some warning signal deep in Yoyo's mind brought his attention back to basic survival skills. His choking and spluttering alerted the interloper to his presence.

    "Hi", it said. "My name is Shittalker. What's yours you sexy beast?"

    Yoyo couldn't believe his good fortune, or the size of Shittalker's cocksaber either for that matter. He coughed up a hunk of shit from off his cleft palette and spoke.

    "Jedi master am I, yes. Make you strong and powerful I will, hmmm?"

    "Sounds good", said Shittalker. "Will there be nookie?"

    "Silly young Shittalker" giggled Yoyo, "What think you I mean? Nookie you want, Nookie you have, I think, yes?" as an R2D2 unit launched itself out of the fighter's hatch headfirst into the swamp, beeping angrily as it went. Shittalker minced over to Yoyo undoing his g-string as he advanced, but stopped short when he caught the pungent aroma wafting from the yomosexual fuckmuppet.

    "You smell" he lisped.

    "Smell bad I do, yes. Much better I bend over, young Shittalker" said Yoyo, seeing his chance slipping away like fresh turds down his calves after a particularly nasty curry.

    "No, I don't think so" said Shittalker backing into the R2D2 unit which had since re-emerged from the swamp and was trundling about looking for a vantage point from which to hurl itself back in. "But Adam here will do the honours, wont you Adam?"

    The R2D2 unit swivelled to look at Yoyo and various phallic appendages sprang from its flank, twirled rapidly and retreated with a loud clang. It's beeps and whistles adopted an alarmed undertone as it reversed back into the swamp with an evil "splut". Yoyo, mildly alarmed at the prospect of yet another day without sex, was nonetheless intrigued with the R2D2 unit (or more accurately its appendages, many of which surpassed his wildest crisco lubricated fantasies).

    Shittalker noted Yoyo's interest. "Thats Adam, my state of the art R2D2 unit" he said, "equipped with internet capability and all the latest in marital aids".

    Yoyo drooled. He didn't know what an internet capability was, but if it was anything like the bewildering array of dildoes and vibrators he'd just seen, he wanted a piece of it. A BIG piece. Repeatedly.

    Shittalker, noticing Yoyo's interest in the R2D2 unit which was even now emerging warily from the swamp, seized his chance and made good his escape. Skipping down the path, inflatable cocksabre at the ready (just in case he bumped into any more yomosexuals) he suddenly stopped short as the sounds of flutes and mandolins assailed his earlobes.

    "That's pretty" he breathed.

    "Can you feel my gums, Tardmongooooo" sang an as yet unseen bard. "Can you feel them wrapped around your manmeat sucking you to meeeee...."

    Shittalker was entranced. Anything who sang that well couldn't be evil, right? Adjusting his g-string and putting fresh batteries in his cocksaber, he pranced down the path, his anus tingling with anticipation as the singing grew louder.

    "I was cumming in your hair last night, your hole was tight, Tardmongooooooo....."

    The sound was closer now. Rounding a corner in the path Shittalker spied a man sporting a dirty sanchez and baseball cap with a small bulge in his hot pants deejaying to a party of sockpuppets. The sockpuppets themselves lay on the ground immobile as most normal sockpuppets do. In fact, had sockpuppets been imbued with mobility, these ones would have assuredly been hobbling off in search of seamstresses and washing machines. Some were more hole than sock, and all were starched beyond belief. Shittalker only had eyes for the deejay, who was currently segueing from one Abba song to the next.

    "Ring, Ring, give me the juice of your nut" sang the deejay, his hand slipping into his shorts and tugging wildly at its meagre contents. "Ring, Ring, pound my bum like I'm a slut" he continued before he noticed Shittalker tugging on his nipple tassels.

    "Oh hi", he said, tugging a crusty sockpuppet from his pants and tossing it on the pile. "I'm Analin Vader".

    "Hi" said Shittalker. "Will you be my friend?"

    "Sure thing" said Analin as he felt up Shittalker's crotch. "Where do you want it?"

    "Right here will do fine" said Shittalker, undoing his g-string and draping himself provocatively across the mixing desk. Analin Vader grunted as he forced his two inches of erect throbbing manmeat between Shittalker's quivering thighs and went for the reacharound, smacking Shittalker's oblong head about with a penis-shaped microphone.

    "Oh yeah" barked Analin. "Feel the power of the Dork Side. Who's your Daddy? WHO'S YOUR DADDY???"

    Meanwhile back in the swamp, the ever hopeful Yoyo was putting the moves on Adam who had re-emerged from the swamp innumerable times, only to hurl itself back in at vain attempts of suicide. No matter how much Yoyo pleaded, the recalcitrant R2D2 unit with the vibrating attatchments seemed to prefer the repidly congealing fecal matter to Yoyo's ample shitter. Which was not after all so surprising, as the yomosexual fuckmuppet was at this point cutting a particularly terrifying figure, a wildly slavering hairy turd on legs with an ever growing army of flies in attendance. Not even a mother could love it.

    Finally, exhausted, Yoyo sat down and began to weep. Oklahoma City had never looked so good - at least it had plenty of drunken men and a fire hydrant on each street corner. Yoyo would have done just about anything for 5 minutes with a fire hydrant to fill his crack with. "Even sleep with a woman" blubbed the abject yomosexual, as behind him Adam finally slammed into a particularly solid and evil smelling turd and fell forever silent.

    Will Yoyo forsake the primitive swamps for the fresh fields of Endor for tea, crumpets and Nookie with the lovable Ewoks, or will he merely be transported to midwestern america to be digitally pack-raped by the glowing fingers of an army of stranded ET's hell bent on dialling home on his ring? Will Shittalker discover Analin Vader is indeed his father and turn to the Dork Side? Will ANY of us be able to contain ourselves for the next extremely gay instalment of "Yoyo - Lord of the Ringpiece"???

    Tune in next week and find out...