h2g2 The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy: Earth Edition

now you'll never know where i hid him

BWAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!

*Crashes through the virtual roof*

I have here a blow torch. Which I am, at this moment, using to kill you (It's the nearest I could get to spontaneous combustion, which is the way I want to go). Look at him burn!!

See. Burnt to a crisp, and, more than likely, dead.

I will kill you momentarily. Just hold on.

"Uncle Heavy, you fool! He's not dead by any stretch of the imagination! He just has some black marks on him!" Says a random punter. But he is interrupted, when a ventilation grate behind him bursts open and a seven-foot tall, suit wearing, Oakley-sporting Xenomorph lunges into him and knocks him to the floor.

As the lightly toasted MoC grins in anticipation, Giguschild throws himself off walls and cieling, dodging randomly appearing gunshots and explosions. In a massive leap, Giguschild flies towards the Master and runs him through with his razor sharp tail. This roots Giguschild to the spot and spins him around, with which momentum he throws the stiff and gurgling body onto the floor. With a snap, the Xenomorph's legs straighten, propelling Giguschild 20ft into the air. As he nears the zenith of the jump, he draws back his lips and hisses menacingly, snapping the vicious secondary jaw out of his mouth. MoC laughs maniacally as the creature falls towards him, and then splatters MoC's brains onto the floor, exploding his head with the force of the secondary jaw.

In a split-second, the Xenomorph slices his knife-like claws down the gut of the deranged master, spilling his viscera onto the floor in a slippery, purple and red pile. Giguschild then proceeds to grab the frying pan and beat the sorry remains of MoC's head with it repeatedly, reducing it from a hollow shell of gristly bone into a thin red smear. Finally, with a snap the Alien leaps back onto the cieling to watch what happens.

geez. what a shame. i'm not sure the frying pan is gonna be ok.

{Miss D}
*Chains him to a big rock and throws him off the cliffs of Dover*
right now he is dead will someone tell me why?

"LIKE TO??? Like to?!? I'd LOVE TO!!! As a matter of fact I do believe I will...Hmmm, kindness would surely kill the likes of you!
Come here...closer, closer still, that's it!" *grabs Master of Chaos
and lays a KISS right on the lips...then moves to the neck, a shimmer of light sparkels from Pandora's mouth...SLICE...the razor in Pan's mouth glides clean through Master of Chaos' throat...the head, nearly severed, sways as blood pumps out with every heartbeat* "HA! Here's a mirror...watch yourself die you sorry excuse for a Hiker!" *spits razor in Master of Chaos' pale face*

ah....
what a way to go...
mmmm

"That's what you get for taunting me!" *evil laugh*

ok, am i the only one who thought MoC was tied to a rock and tossed off the white cliffs of dover to drown? or maybe he got lime poisoning? how about lime disease?

{St Bob}
he was....but maby that happend underwater...
but will some onefish him out because I want to run him over with this steam roller

ohh!
a steam roller!

{St Bob}
yep..I like them to..will we need to chane you up or are you going to be a good boy and stay still?

i can do either.
*flops down on the ground*

{St Bob}
Starts the engin and slowly drives over MOC, he getd down to inspect the flat boddy of MOC*
any one want a kite?

~maria walks over to inspect what st. bob has to offer~
Well, it's butt-ass ugly, smells of seaweed and wet chalk, and did i mention it's butt-ass ugly?

Yes. Pull up your trousers, Bob!

Yes, Bob, please do.
and your MoC kite leaves a lot to be desired too.

Ok.

*Takes the MoC kite and attaches string in the appropriate places. (Ouch). As we seem to be on the cliffs of Dover, there is plenty of wind, and the kite flies well, unravelling several hundred yards of string. Giguschild nods to St. Bob.*

You know what to do, Bob.

*St. Bob kneels, puts his hands together and starts praying. Heavy storm clouds form, swirling around the flattened form of MoC. Suddenly, several dozen lightning bolts hit him, frazzling him to a thin layer of charred paste. The wind picks up to a force ten hurricane and the force rips MoC to bits. However, the tatters are still attached to the string and are pulled back down to the ground. The storm quietens to a light drizzle and a layer of grey cloud.