Tony Baloni
New Member
- Joined
- Aug 11, 2002
Just when I thought I wuz out dey pull me back in. Hey youse, Knock Sensahs! I hasn’t been around lately due to ah problem dat developed wit dis rice-ah kid. See…I wuz mindin’ my own beez wax when dis little cam button come by saying ta me, “Hey, Mistah, your cah is old and slow” and makin’ fun ah my GN in general. Soez, I took him for a ride ta show him he wuz way off da mark about Toybo Buicks. Well, my friggin’ parole officah says, “Tony, youse can’t do dat!” An’ I sez, “What’s da beef? I just took da squirt for a ride.” An’ he says, “Yeh, but not tied up in da trunk, you can’t!” Sheesh, ya’d tink I killed da kid! Well anyways, ta show youse my literary acumen (dat means I’m a good writah, Fuel Gauge Face), I’ve penned dis story based on actual true events!
RACE IN HELL
Paht I
(A soon-to-be majah motion pictcha production)
Da night wuz black, like planet Eart wuz runnin’ too rich. Tony made his way down da deserted highway in his Buick Grand National. Da cars dual exhaust growled menacingly, like Ariel Sharon’s stomach between meals. Suddenly a figure appeahed in da middle of da road. Tony abruptly stopped and got out of his Toybo Buick to investigate. The figure approached him and Tony froze. Dis guy had horns, a tail, and cloven friggin’ feet!“
Allow me to introduce myself,” spoke da creatcha, “I’m…”
“Da devil! Tony blurted.
“Well, yes, technically,” continued the devil, “but I prefer to be called Phyllis.”
“Wha…what do you want wit me?” asked Tony, still in a state of shock.
“A race, my dear fellow,” he replied, lighting a cigah wit his fingah. “You see, Tony, I’ve beaten the best of them all. The best Corvette, best Camaro, all but the best…Grand National.” Da devil’s eyes locked on Tony. “Will you race me or haven’t you the stomach?”
“What do I get if I beat youse,” retorted Tony, angered by the devil’s off-handed insult.
“If you beat me,” assured the devil, “I will give you…This.”
Da devil held forth a set of blood red headers. His voice boomed like thundah, “Behold! The Unholy Headers of Hades! Forged in the darkest depths of my malevolent labyrinth by the damned souls of a thousand bad vendors! They can withstand any temperature and never crack!”
“Hows da spool wit dem?” Tony fired back.
“Oh, it’s right there, you won’t see any lag,” commented the Prince of Evil. “But my mortal rival,” he added, “if you lose, I get…”
“I know. I know. Youse get my soul,” remarked Tony apathetically.
The devil shook his head and said, “No, I’ve been out of the soul business for quite some time now. The market really plummeted on them once all those reality tv shows became popular.”
“Den…what do youse get?” said Tony.
“Why, your car, of course,” exclaimed da devil. “So, is it on?
Tony could feel da sweat beading up on his forehead. How could he live if he lost his ride? he thought to himself. But, oooh doze headers…
“It’s on!” yelled Tony.
The ground then began to shake violently, like Muhammed Ali and Katrin Hepurn slow dancin. Tony and his cah began hurtling down fahther and fahther until they reached dare destination…Hell!!
To be continued…
RACE IN HELL
Paht I
(A soon-to-be majah motion pictcha production)
Da night wuz black, like planet Eart wuz runnin’ too rich. Tony made his way down da deserted highway in his Buick Grand National. Da cars dual exhaust growled menacingly, like Ariel Sharon’s stomach between meals. Suddenly a figure appeahed in da middle of da road. Tony abruptly stopped and got out of his Toybo Buick to investigate. The figure approached him and Tony froze. Dis guy had horns, a tail, and cloven friggin’ feet!“
Allow me to introduce myself,” spoke da creatcha, “I’m…”
“Da devil! Tony blurted.
“Well, yes, technically,” continued the devil, “but I prefer to be called Phyllis.”
“Wha…what do you want wit me?” asked Tony, still in a state of shock.
“A race, my dear fellow,” he replied, lighting a cigah wit his fingah. “You see, Tony, I’ve beaten the best of them all. The best Corvette, best Camaro, all but the best…Grand National.” Da devil’s eyes locked on Tony. “Will you race me or haven’t you the stomach?”
“What do I get if I beat youse,” retorted Tony, angered by the devil’s off-handed insult.
“If you beat me,” assured the devil, “I will give you…This.”
Da devil held forth a set of blood red headers. His voice boomed like thundah, “Behold! The Unholy Headers of Hades! Forged in the darkest depths of my malevolent labyrinth by the damned souls of a thousand bad vendors! They can withstand any temperature and never crack!”
“Hows da spool wit dem?” Tony fired back.
“Oh, it’s right there, you won’t see any lag,” commented the Prince of Evil. “But my mortal rival,” he added, “if you lose, I get…”
“I know. I know. Youse get my soul,” remarked Tony apathetically.
The devil shook his head and said, “No, I’ve been out of the soul business for quite some time now. The market really plummeted on them once all those reality tv shows became popular.”
“Den…what do youse get?” said Tony.
“Why, your car, of course,” exclaimed da devil. “So, is it on?
Tony could feel da sweat beading up on his forehead. How could he live if he lost his ride? he thought to himself. But, oooh doze headers…
“It’s on!” yelled Tony.
The ground then began to shake violently, like Muhammed Ali and Katrin Hepurn slow dancin. Tony and his cah began hurtling down fahther and fahther until they reached dare destination…Hell!!
To be continued…
Good to see you again Tony, I mean Raven lol. This is by far your best work!
