#i mean Teach can go to f*cking hell and burn for eternity

[beif0ngs]

Blackbeard:

Coby (the only one unaffected among the rest of the Marine soldiers who were all turned into stone): 😐

and so much for Coby and Hancock having a truce or bonding over their mutual affection for Luffy... like i just need to know what was Coby’s first reaction when he saw that giant scroll of Luffy’s Wanted poster hanging on Hancock’s castle!!!

[magic5ball]

Nature Trail to Hell Arc II: Watt outta Hell (11)

Chapter 11: F-Bomb Teaches Me the Secret to Being a Successful Rock Star

Weird as it sounds, the weeks I’d spent in the Underworld never felt like a real punishment. There were demons, sure, and I’d been shot more than a few times, and I’d been given dinosaur feet against my will, but overall, I’d say it was still a step up from summer camp.

That all changed over the next three days. F-Bomb, Sailor Moon and I perfected our talents to a montage that would have made Rocky look like one of those videos parents make of their kid learning to walk. We worked until we collapsed. Then worked our worthless sacks of bodies until they broke down into puddles, which we’d drink for hydration, then it was back to the grind. The only one who didn’t work out was Sailor Moon, on account her leg was still a bit mangled from the flight. And F-Bomb insisting she was perfect the way she was, as usual. But that was okay, since she was only playing drums. By the time the third day arrived, we had biceps the size of footballs. All was good, except for one thing.

“You know, maybe we should have perfected our singing instead of working out our bodies.” I told F-Bomb.

“Kid, if there’s one thing pop stars have taught me, it’s that your music can be the most vapid, pointless schlock in the world, but if you have a hot bod, the world is your racquetball court.”

“But I hate racquetball.”

“Too bad! We’re on in an hour!”

                                                       .   .   .

           If you ever go on Dailymotion, type in ‘Sailor Moon Blues Bros’. Keep scrolling down (further!) until you get to the very last option. Click on it, and you’ll see a video posted by Hellspawn47 of a velociraptor and a boy singing ‘Soul Man’. (And yes, that is what we are singing. The audio’s garbage. And don’t get me started on the lens flare!) The boy will be dressed in a tuxedo, while the raptor will be dressed as Sailor Mini Moon and wearing an eyepatch. In the background, you’ll see a Sailor Moon pillow leaning over a rusty drum set. So if you ever wonder what the heck’s going on in the video, now you know the whole story. (Also, make sure the guy is wearing A TUX. There’s a really similar one where the guy is wearing a hula skirt instead. I have no idea where the video came from, but believe me you DO NOT want to watch it all the way through! Shudder. 

Anyways, for more funny videos, please sell your sou- I mean, subscribe, to Hellspawn47’s channel.)

And yes, Hellspawn did pay me to say that. Need to raise money for the physical publication somehow.)

           Funny thing was, it was actually F-Bomb who got freaked out. Apparently, when you’re not on WEEB, dressing up like a cute schoolgirl in front of over 400,000,000 damned souls isn’t so much empowering as it is embarrassing. I even had to nudge him a few times to keep him from freezing up! As for me, I got over my stage fright using the good old Tostig family method of imagining everyone as Ronald Reagan. (Though slapping the face of America’s greatest president on the bodies of the Underworld’s most unsurely residents did make things a tad awkward.)

           Speaking of high-ranking hellspawn, at the back of the crowd was none other than Raposa, head judge of the whole hooplah and Princess of the First Circle (though F-Bomb told me she was more like a Prime Minister). Even with the bright lights threatening to burn my eyes out, I could see her, about five feet high with spiky pink hair, getting high off a drink that was more than likely grape juice (which is considered sinfully high in sugar in the First Circle). The moment we finished singing, she was clapping so hard I’m amazed her hands didn’t fall off.

“Bravo!” She howled, strutting to the front of the crowd as they parted like the Red Sea.

CLAP! CLAP! CLAP!

“Bravo! That, my friends, has to be the best music I’ve heard in ages!”

“You mean blues music? Its noth-“

“Finally, someone did a song that wasn’t pop or rap! Do you know what it’s like to hear Spice Girls for the 500,000th time? Now that’s eternal punishment!” She glared at the crowd. “And take notes, nerds! Your princess demands it!”

Immediately the assorted cretins that were the crowd started etching notes in their skin. Some even took their brains right out of their skulls out and wrote in there.

“So does that mean we won or what?” demanded F-Bomb, face red as a beet from embarrassment.

“With that gigantic biceps of yours, you could have sung Nickelback and won!”

Despite the compliment, F-Bomb looked like he was about to melt into a puddle. “I-I told you these things were mostly spectacle.” He whispered to me.

Raposa grabbed our muscled arms, lifting them high in the air. “Now, without further ado, I hereby declare F-Bomb and the Turd-“

Now, if there’s one thing I learned from being in Hell a couple of weeks, it’s that there is always a catch. Even if it doesn’t seem like it, there’s a catch. And for F-Bomb and I? Ours was about to catch up with us big time.

“Now wait just a f*cking minute!” Someone bellowed backstage. A very familiar demon wearing a sparkly vest and a pair of panama hats on each of his giant horns swaggered onto the stage. “I seen those boys, and those boys been cheating!” 

Leroy Brown, Archdemon of the 5th Circle of Hell.

I knew I should have been nervous, but it was hard to be intimidated by a demon that, only fifteen minutes ago, you’d seen do a (very bad) cover of ‘Baby Got Back’.

He sauntered over to us like he owned the place. “Now if I remember right, these fools parked their machine gun in the wheelchair space without bein’ crippled. That counts as grounds for disqualification!”

F-Bomb cringed. You see, before we started training, F-Bomb and I had to park our gun in the lot. Only problem was, we were in the hippie part of Hell, so all the spaces had wheelchair signs on them for the next 500 miles. Our solution to this mess? We did what my Dad usually does and pretended our feet were asleep. If only I knew how badly this would come to bite us all in the butt, I would have just lugged the thing in with me.

“Well, my foot’s asleep!” Protested F-Bomb. “That counts, doesn’t it!?”

The demon stamped down on F-Bomb’s foot. Hard.

They say F-Bomb screamed so loud it caused an Earthquake up in California. All I know is that I learned what it was like to have my ears gush blood like Niagara Falls gushed water. (Painful, but weirdly awesome in its’ own right.)

The demon gestured to the crowd “Does this sound like the voice of a guy whose foot is asleep?!”

The crowd, who only moments before had been cheering us on, was now a chorus of boos.

“Sailor Moon!” cried F-Bomb, “Do something!”

But even Sailor Moon could not help us now, slumped over a drum set. too shamed to assist.

Meanwhile, Raposa pulled a piece of paper out of her back pocket. Reading through it, she hummed

“Yuppers, you guys just broke the rules.”

F-Bomb was completely silent, content to just let raptor tears stain his pink dress.

I looked at Raposa. She was about my height, but now she seemed to tower over me like the Empire State Building.

“Um, what are you going to do to us?”

She grinned, showing off rows upon rows of serrated teeth. “What do you think, dum-dum? Go on, guess.”