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the-blomster · 4 years

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Jello Biafra VS the Forces of Corruption 33

Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction and all relation to real individuals is done purely for parody purposes. I am not associated with any of the people named in this work of fiction and this is not intended to reflect negatively upon anyone.

Chapter 33: The Punk Rock Tournament Showdown Part 10: The Finale

We find Jello awakening from a long, tumultuous slumber. But not just a literal slumber, but also a metaphorical one. Jello had had many deep, meaningful epiphanies, probably. And now, he had emerged from his cocoon a better and stronger person, probably. There is probably no doubt in my mind that Jello has grown a lot as a character. He’s probably learned a lot of very important lessons, such as… um… well I’ll get back to you once I can think of a single lesson that Jello has learned thus far. Either way, I’ve written a lot of words, so there has to be some importance to it, probably. There’s no more getting sidetracked for Jello. He’s failed one too many times. Is this truly the end of Jello’s career? Jello has already failed once, thrusting him downward into the losers bracket of the tournament. He’s already fallen so low. Could he really pick himself back up? All while in a state of delirium? All by himself, cold and alone like a stray dog out in the rain? Alas, in his time of need, Jello’s one true friend returned, bringing with him that which Jello needed the most; hope.

“Jello?” A familiar voice spoke. “Jello are you alright?”

“K… Klaus?”

“That’s me.”

“Klaus… I’m sorry I ever doubted your judgement.”

“It’s ok Jello I forgive you, as long as you know how important what you’re fighting for is.”

“I do. In my state of delirium, I had an epiphany. When I was a young lad, I never quite fit in, and that seriously damaged my ego. But I’ve realized my purpose now. I need to write aggressive, pseudo-intellectual songs in a failed effort to fill the multitude of irreparable gaps in my psyche.”

“That is precisely correct Jello.” Klaus replied.

Suddenly, a voice boomed over the loudspeaker. “The fight between D.H. Peligro and Jello Biafra will begin in five minutes.”

The two looked at each other in misbelief.

“Well Jello,” said Klaus, “All the belief I had in you just went completely out the door. You’re fucked.”

“Shit,” Jello replied. Jello moped his way over to the stadium. The announcement was made for the combatants to emerge from their respective waiting rooms. The dejection was visible on Jello’s face. He tiptoed anxiously onto the field, but much to his surprise, Jello’s opponent was nowhere to be seen. An announcement was made. “D. H. Peligro has 30 seconds to make his way to the stadium before he is disqualified.” But nobody came. Those 30 seconds felt like 30 hours, with each second more stressful than the last. Then, just as the time was about to run out, and Jello about to breathe a sigh of relief, a red dot appeared in the sky, being pulled by a herd of reindeer. It was… Santa Claus, also known as… D. H. Peligro!

“You didn’t think I would skip out on a fight as good as this? Did you?” D. H. Peligro asked as he gracefully landed his sleigh just a few feet away from Jello.

“I was kinda hoping that you would.” Jello replied sardonically.

“Got your hopes up eh?” Santa sneered.

“I guess you could say that.”

“Well prepare to have more of your dreams crushed!” Upon saying this, Santa leapt off of his sleigh, hitting the ground with such veracity that it instantly caused a 6.2 magnitude earthquake, resulting in the collapse of one of the stands, killing several hundred spectators. The foolish sheep above believe that the cause of all of California’s earthquakes is the shifting of tectonic plates, but really, it’s the untamed wrath and hatred of Santa Claus(D.H. Peligro)! Santa stepped toward Jello, each step resulting in a 1.3 magnitude earthquake. That’s the real reason Santa rides on his iconic sleigh. He can’t even take a step without causing a natural disaster!

And as Santa lumbered toward Jello, his heart sank further into the depths of fear with every step taken. But Jello stood firm nonetheless. He had faced many opponents before, and he wasn’t about to let this one defeat him with fear alone.

And so it came time for the first punch to be thrown. This honor was given to none other than Santa Claus, and so Jello buried his heels and crossed his arms in front of his face so as to block the oncoming blow. Jello’s block proved effective, for while the punch pushed him backwards about 3 meters, Jello remained standing and unharmed.

Santa went in for another punch. This time however, Jello did not block in time. Santa inched closer and closer. The audience could only look on in fear, as though they were witnessing a terrible tragedy, one which would undoubtedly end poorly for our protagonist.

But then, at the last moment Jello effectively did a Dark Souls dodge-roll out of the way, causing Santa to miss his mark and sending him flailing forward and falling flat on his face. Jello, on the other hand, successfully completed his roll and landed cleanly on his feet.

This embarrassment sent Santa into a blind rage and rushed toward Jello, fist at the ready.

Jello smirked. “I’ve already won.”

“What did you just say to me?” Santa replied.

“You see, when it comes down to pure strength, I’m no match for you, even one as brash as me could recognize that. But when it comes down to speed, I’ve got a definite upperhand. No matter how many punches you throw, I can simply dodge all of them, and eventually, you’ll be too tired to throw another punch. That’s when I’ll go in for the kill.”

“Nonsense! Nobody can defeat me!” Santa threw yet another punch.

Again, Jello dodged swiftly, this time throwing a punch of his own that hit Santa square in the jaw, launching him into the air, landing 7 meters away after which he slid across the ground for another 3 meters.

Jello stood menacingly above Santa. “I told you Santa. I’ve already won.”

Santa smirked. “Don’t be so hasty.” Santa placed his thumb and index finger on his lips and let an -ear-piercing whistle. Suddenly, a parade of reindeer noises rang out throughout the stadium. From the sky descended hundreds of thousands of reindeer from every corner of the earth, heeding the call of Santa Claus. “Get him! Attack Jello!” Santa shouted. The reindeer all zoomed toward Jello.

If Jello didn’t come up with some sort of plan quickly. His signature roundhouse kick would be enough to cover his sides, but what about his head? Jello knew what he had to do. He would perform a series of upward jabs whilst also performing his roundhouse kick. Maintaining his balance while doing so would be difficult. But he had no other option. He began performing the bizarre move. Reindeer after reindeer fell, but with each passing reindeer, Jello felt himself getting weaker and weaker. At the second to the last reindeer, Jello lost his balance, and the final reindeer impaled Jello in the stomach. Upon receiving this injury, a blast of adrenaline was sent through Jello, and he punched the final reindeer so hard that it flew upwards and collided with the stadium ceiling. After this struggle, Jello had single handedly brought the conservation status of reindeer from vulnerable to endangered.

But the fight was not complete yet. Clutching his stomach, Jello faced his opponent confidently. Santa could only face Jello with a look of pure fear. He had lost. Jello punched Santa square in the face, sending him flying to the opposite of the stadium. The crowd stood silent.

“...Jello wins!” Uproarious applause. Jello had overcome what could arguably be considered his most powerful opponent yet. Jello’s victory was so stupendous that he almost failed to notice his own injury. But the adrenaline of the moment was wearing off, and Jello was slowly returning to reality. And the closer he came to reality, the more his vision faded, until soon it had faded to black.

When Jello awoke, he found himself in a hospital bed yet again. There, waiting at Jello’s side, was Klaus.

“I knew you could do it Jello.” said Klaus.

“But just earlier you said that I was completely and totally fucked.” Jello replied.

Klaus glared at Jello. “I was lying.” Klaus lied.

“That’s kind of a strange thing to lie about… Why did you lie about that?”

“It doesn’t matter Jello,” Klaus explained dramatically, “That’s all in the past now…”

“I mean it was like an hour ago…”

“Still technically the past.”

“I mean I guess it’s technically the past, but…”

“Alright alright!” Klaus interrupted, “I get your point, now let’s just cut to the chase, can we?”

“Ok…”

“Good. Here’s the deal. We’ve both made it real far in this tournament. Now we each only have one opponent left… And that’s each other. I may have been helping you up until now, but shits about to get real, real soon. Once this is over, we can maybe go back to being friends, but for now, we’re rivals. You’ll be getting no more help from me.”

“...I understand...,” Jello replied, “... That you’re a petty little bitch!” Jello leapt out of his hospital, shoved his former friend out of the way, and ran out of the door all in one swift motion. Klaus could only manage a bereft sigh.

Jello ran down the hallway, crying, feelings of betrayal streaming through his mind, infecting his being like a disease. But as Jello fled like a distressed animal, he felt a presence; a very cool and epic presence. It was… 6025!

Jello immediately stopped crying. “6025, what are you doing here?”

“I should ask you the same question.” 6025 replied.

“So much has happened…” Jello let out a dejected sigh. “I’ve come so far only to be betrayed by my only friend.”

“Were you really betrayed, or is that just how you feel?”

“It’s not just how I feel. He said it to my face. He’s not going to be my friend until this fight is over.”

“Maybe your friend is just looking out for you. Have you ever considered that?”

“What do you mean?”

“Maybe he’s concerned that if you view him as a friend, you’ll hold back. Maybe he just wants to draw out your true potential.”

“Wow I never thought of it that way,” Jello admitted.

“Well, sometimes when tensions are, it can be difficult to think rationally.”

Jello nodded in agreement. “Thank you for your advice. I’m feeling a lot better now.”

“It’s no skin off my back.”

And so, Jello returned to Klaus.

“What do you want?” Questioned Klaus. “I thought I told you that I’m not gonna be all buddy-buddy with you anymore.”

“I just wanted to let you know, friend or not, that I’m not going to hold back against you tomorrow. The thought never even crossed my mind.”

Klaus smirked. “Good.”

And so the two began training for their fight tomorrow. Who will win nobody knows for sure, but one thing was certain, this was going to be Jello’s most difficult fight yet, and moreover, he was going to have to go head to head against his closest friend. Yeah, it was really difficult… and stuff. But soon, tomorrow would come, and the two found themselves stepping out onto opposite sides of the battlefield. Every second the timer counted down, they glared menacingly into each other’s eyes. And then the countdown hit zero.

The two sprinted toward one another, reeling back their fists for the most powerful punches they could master. When their fists collided, the forces cancelled out, sending them each flying backward in an identical manner. They continued to throw punches in such a manner, and honestly it was kinda epic, but soon all this fighting stuff had caused the two friends to grow tired and weary. And just as the two were about to collapse from exhaustion; losing focus and vision fading, from the sky descended East Bay Ray, laughing maniacally.

“I couldn’t possibly give up on two musicians as skilled as you two,” said East Bay Ray.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Jello questioned.

“You both win. You both get to join the band.” East Bay Ray explained.

“So that’s it. It’s just over?” Klaus asked. He seemed disappointed.

“Yep. Get off the battlefield now. It’s over.”

Klaus turned to Jello. “This isn’t over.” He walked off the field.

Jello, taken aback, found himself unable to respond, and so he too exited the field.

And here we leave Jello, now a member of the Dead Kennedys, but strangely more alone than he has ever felt before. Now that the tournament is over, with Jello successful, what is to come for our protagonist? What awaits Jello in the Dead Kennedys? Will Jello and Klaus ever conclude their battle? Find out in the next chapter of Jello Biafra VS the Forces of Corruption!

#fanfiction #Jello Biafra #Dead Kennedys #punk #creative writing

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the-blomster · 5 years

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Jello Biafra VS the Forces of Corruption 32

Chapter 32: The Punk Rock Tournament Showdown Part 9: Fuck its been so long that I can’t remember what I was planning on writing Part 2 or Shit I took a break from writing again and now I’m really lost Part 1 or Jello Gets Amnesia Part 2

We find Jello lost deep within the dredges of his own consciousness, or at least I think that’s where we left Jello, I didn’t really bother to go back and read the last chapter so your guess is as good as mine. In the abstraction of Jello’s subconscious, we find coherence in the form of a memory, or perhaps it could be a dream?

We find Jello walking down the streets of Portland before a gig at around 10:30 at night, as any respectable young american might do. Suddenly, a blue pick up truck appears above the horizon with a group of unrespectable young americans sitting in the back. As the jocks in the truck drive by they splash all over Jello, which is honestly not the vibe. In retaliation, Jello throws a rock at the truck, leaving behind a sizeable dent and a minor expense for their rich white parents.

Jello assumes that that is the end of it, but the overpriced hot wheel truck stops in a parking lot up ahead and the jocks got out to pursue Jello. He attempted to outmaneuver the meatheads, but Jello was no match for the group of about six, and Jello soon found himself surrounded.

The lead jock pointed at Jello in a most intimidating manner. His eyebrow twitched. He was irritated. Now he would have to go home and cry to his rich parents and beg them to fix his truck. Jello had gotten under his skin. “You’re dead meat punk”

“Is that so?” Jello cocked an eyebrow and smirked.

“You won’t be smiling once we’re done kicking your ass,” one of the jock minions exclaimed.

“I wouldn’t be so sure about that.” Jello dropped to the ground and performed a sweeping roundhouse kick, knocking all of the meatheads flat on the ground. Jello made a mad dash for it, but he didn’t run fast enough. The lead jock whistled loudly and more jock minions appeared from the bushes. However, Jello easily disposed of the underlings, and the jocks were forced to turn tail and call the police.

Soon a police officer had arrived, donuts in hand. The officer, obese, stepped out of the car, brushing the donut crumbs from his thick, greasy mustache. Without a word from either party, the officer began to speak. “I already understand the situation. Even though there’s about a dozen jocks here who could quite easily be harassing this poor young gentleman, I assume that because you are all rich and white you are incapable of committing any wrongdoing, and I therefore I am assuming this punk is the one at fault.”

The lead jock chimed in. “I couldn’t’ve said it better myself.”

“Welp, that’s all the proof I need!” The officer pulled handcuffs out of his pocket. “Jello you’re under arrest for uh… um… me not liking you, I mean, for ‘public disturbance,’ whatever that means. Anyway, I would read you your rights, but the truth is, you don’t have any.”

“Not if I have anything to say about it,” Jello exclaimed smugly. Then, in one sweeping motion, Jello snatched the donut from the officer’s hand, throwing it to the ground, and subsequently stomping on it with his spikiest cleats.

The police officer fell to his knees, sobbing like a toddler who just had his favorite toy taken away. “NOOOOOOO!!! I WAS GOING TO EAT THAT DONUT!!!” The officer then proceeded to curl into a ball and cry some more.

The lead jock mustered up the last of his courage to sputter out a few noises that could be vaguely construed as words. “Y-y-y-you c-c-can’t d-d-do that! Th-that’s n-n-n-not c-c-c-cool b-b-bro…”

“Oh yeah, what are you gonna do about it, jock?”

The lead jock turned to his minions. “C-c-c-come on g-g-g-guys, let’s f-f-f-forget about this l-l-l-l-loser...” All the jocks turned tail and ran, crying all the way home.

It was that brief, fleeting moment of victory that Jello realized his true purpose; to absolutely dunk on yuppies and jocks. To protect those in unfortunate situations. And most importantly, to play punk rock. Upon receiving this epiphany, Jello awoke from his coma, only to see above him the blurry image of his old friend Klaus.

And now, as Jello awakes a new man into a world he only vaguely remember, what awaits him? Will Jello get back his memories? Will Klaus ever forgive Jello? Will I finally be able to remember to write this story on a regular basis? Find out in the next chapter of Jello Biafra VS The Forces of Corruption!

#Jello Biafra #Dead Kennedys #punk rock #music #writing #creative writing #fanfiction

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the-blomster · 5 years

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Jello Biafra VS the Forces of Corruption 31

Update: Sorry I’ve been gone for so long. Life has hit me like a brick wall. You know. School and stuff. Anyway, I’ve begun to fall into something of a rhythm again and I think I’ll be able to fit writing this thing into my schedule again, so stay tuned!

Chapter 31: The Punk Rock Tournament Showdown Part 8: Fuck it’s been so long that I can’t remember what I was planning on writing Part 1 or Jello gets amnesia Part 1

We find Jello in a tumult; lost in an endless dream. The contents of his dreams; unspeakable, unimaginable even, not because I just didn’t feel like writing what his dreams were, but because they were unspeakable, just believe me. And when Jello awoke from this unimaginable, unspeakable dream, he found himself lying prostrate on the battlefield.

The announcer spoke, “Jello fucking lost, what a bitch. Anyway, 6025 wins!”

It would appear that Jello had been thoroughly whooped. And not just whooped, but whooped. You know the kind whooped you pronounce hwooped. And the audience was absolutely eating it up. They kept shouting mean mean words like, “Jello’s a bitch!”, and “Jello fucking lost!” How uncouth of them.

Jello was terrified. He sweated profusely. He curled up in a ball and hoped that the pain from hearing those mean mean words as well as the pain from being thoroughly whooped would go away. Was this another part of his dream, nay a part of his nightmare? Or was this a cruel joke? Or could it be… reality?

Yep, it was reality. Jello confirmed this fact by pinching himself really hard. Upon realizing that this was, in fact, not a dream, Jello took a few moments to look upon this new reality and hopefully not cry. Standing across Jello on the battlefield was what appeared to be a mexican bandito. He looked sort of like the picture below, only even cooler, and wearing a cape. Could that be… 6025? Who was 6025 anyway? And why was he so cool? Suddenly, the extremely cool man who was supposedly 6025 swept his cape up in front of his and disappeared without a trace. 6025 was gone. This left Jello in quite the predicament. Jello was left with no memories of the day’s events. He didn’t even know what he had for breakfast, but judging by the lingering flavor in his mouth, it was something… vile.

Jello, however, did know one thing. He had to find Klaus. Jello stumbled through the halls in a state of delirium. To his legs, the hallways seemed to stretch an infinite distance, and yet to his eyes the back walls seemed within arms reach. Jello brushed his forehead and widened his eyes in a futile effort to regain control, but to no avail. He stumbled and crashed into walls. Sometimes Jello even fell to the ground. And still Jello murmured on, and eventually his efforts paid off, and he found himself barely standing at his friend’s doorstep.

Jello rung the doorbell, only to hear a friendly voice that was hopeless nonetheless. “Go away Jello. I told you I wasn’t going to help you anymore!” And suddenly it seemed that Jello had found himself alone in this cruel, cruel world yet again.

However, just as it would have appeared that all hope was lost for Jello, 6025 , or at least a vision of 6025, appeared before him, looking as cool as ever.

“Wh… who are you?” Muttered Jello under crippled breath.

“My name,” replied 6025, “I will tell you my name… But only because I know that I can trust you, and trust you I must, for you Jello, are the only hope this planet has.”

“Why, why me?”

“All will be revealed in the near future. But first, I have some questions of my own. Remember, think clearly, and answer honestly. Now allow me to ask, who are you?”

“I am Jello.”

“While it is true that society perceives you as Jello, is that really who you are? Are you a mere perception? Where does your identity lie, within society, or within yourself?”

“Within… myself?”

“Yes, that is correct Jello, now allow me to ask you again, who are you?”

“I don’t know…”

“And why is that Jello? Why do you not know who you are?”

“Because I have amnesia?”

“Wrong! It is because you have not found yourself Jello. You have hardly even begun to look for yourself. Your perception of the self only comes outwardly, from society, but now you have lost. I have defeated you. The people no longer look upon you as a bastion of strength. The people have forgotten about you. Your ties to your only true friend have been severed. And because you define yourself outwardly rather than inwardly, you too have lost yourself. You are lost. Lost within the labyrinth of your own mind. Now think Jello. Not for others, but for yourself. But to find yourself, you first must lose yourself, so go, lose yourself in the depths of your own mind, and emerge a stronger individual.”

“But what…” Jello began to lose consciousness. “What is your name?”

“Ah yes, I believe I promised that to you. My name.” 6025 hesitated. “My name is Carlos. Carlos Cadona.”

And with the speaking of those words, and a whisk of his cape, Carlos was gone, along with Jello’s consciousness.

And now, as Jello finds himself in a struggle with his own self identity, what awaits him in the depths of his own mind? Will Jello successfully escape the labyrinth of his thoughts? And most of all, will Jello be able to overcome his most powerful enemy yet… himself? Find out in the next chapter of Jello Biafra VS The Forces of Corruption!

#Jello Biafra #Dead Kennedys #punk #music #writing #creative writing #fanfiction

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the-blomster · 5 years

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Jello Biafra VS The Forces of Corruption 30

Chapter 30: The Punk Rock Tournament Showdown Part 7: The Red Krayola Part 2

We find Jello disgusted because ew, mayonnaise is gross. But more importantly, Jello has to fight the Red Krayola tomorrow. Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaah! I guess Jello should really get to training if he wants to continue on in the tournament!

“Klaus!” Jello shouted, “I should really get to training if I want to continue on in the tournament!”

“Jello you imbecile,” Klaus replied, “You’ve trained enough, right now you should really get to resting.”

“What? I can’t hear you!” Shouted Jello as he walked out of the lunchroom, “I’m too busy getting to training because I want to continue on in the tournament.”

And before Klaus could even lift a finger, Jello was gone. And so Klaus agonized. Where could Jello really be training? There are 17 training centers in this facility, each of which covers at least one square mile, so where could he have gone? Klaus scoured the area for hours and hours, asking the various competitors if they had seen his friend, but to no avail. Soon the sun sat heavy upon the western horizon, and Klaus was forced to return to his room.

But the next morning, Klaus was waiting. He awaited Jello’s arrival in the waiting room, and eventually his patience paid off. There Jello stood; disheveled and tired. Klaus frowned. “Jello where were you yesterday!”

Jello yawned. “I was training…”

“Well maybe if you had listened to me,” Klaus exclaimed, “You would have known that training all day before a match is a terrible idea!”

“Why’s that?”

“Are you stupid or something? Were you born with a literal hole in your brain! I oughta slap you all the way to Oakland! What do you think is going to happen? How do you feel right now?”

“I feel pretty tired,” Jello replied.

“Exactly! You need your energy for your fight!”

“Well you could have me that yesterday.” Jello’s speech was slurred.

“I did tell you yesterday,” Klaus snapped, “But you were so caught up in your delusions that you refused to listen to me!”

An announcement came over the loudspeaker. “Attention competitors. The fight between Jello Biafra and The Red Krayola will begin in five minutes. I repeat. The fight between Jello Biafra and The Red Krayola will begin in five minutes. Thank you for your cooperation.”

Klaus paced nervously around the waiting room. “Great! This is just great!”

Jello placed his hand on Klaus’ shoulder. “Don’t worry about me,” Jello mumbled in a half slumber. “I’ll be fine.”

“I am most definitely going to be worrying,” Klaus replied as Jello stumbled out into the stadium.

Standing across from Jello was Mayo Thompson as well as the other two members of The Red Krayola. They seemed prepared, ready for a merciless battle. Jello on the other hand was not ready. He stumbled around like an absolute buffoon, and his shoelaces were untied. What a fool! What a miscreant!

The announcer began the countdown. “10… 9… 8… 7… 6… 5… 4… 3… 2… 1…” And so the fight began.

Mayo laughed maniacally. “Jello you imbecile!” Mayo shouted. “You dare insult my eating habits! That’s fine! I have already prepared my most crippling attack just for you! Prepare to die Jello!”

The Red Krayola began playing a series of discordant noises, meant to disorient the opponent and leave them open for attack. But what Mayo did not know was that because Jello was worn out from his training yesterday, he was already disoriented, meaning that the attack had the opposite effect on Jello! Instead of making him confused, the freeform instrumentation had the same effect as an alarm clock, and woke Jello up! Since The Red Krayola were busy dishing out there ‘unavoidable’ attack, they were actually leaving themselves wide open! Jello took it upon himself to use this opportunity to lay waste to all three at once using a sweeping roundhouse kick, leaving Jello victorious.

Jello returned to the waiting room after his fight. “Looks like I wasn’t in any trouble after all!” He bragged.

“You got lucky,” Klaus scoffed. “What if The Red Krayola wasn’t your opponent? What then? You would have lost, and you know it.”

Jello brushed Klaus off. “Whatever! You just don’t appreciate all the hard work and effort I put into training!”

“No, that’s not it at all! I do appreciate all the hard work you put into training, and I don’t want to see all of that go to waste!”

“Whatever! I’m leaving!” Jello stormed out of the room.

And now, as relations between Jello and Klaus feel as though they are being suspended on a twine over a cliff, what awaits Jello? Is it for the best that he goes without Klaus? Will he be able to win his next fight without his help? Find out in the next chapter of Jello Biafra VS The Forces of Corruption!

#Jello Biafra #Dead #punk rock #music #writing #creative writing #short story

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the-blomster · 6 years

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Jello Biafra VS The Forces of Corruption 29

Chapter 29: The Punk Rock Tournament Showdown Part 6: Red Krayola Part 1

We find Jello sitting in a hospital bed yet again, struck down by The Sonics, scared and cold, lost in the labyrinth of despair. How could Jello recover? How could he return to the spotlight now? The Sonics were not even the most powerful opponents in the competition… How could Jello possibly move on?

Jello sits idly, pondering these pointless questions, staring dully at his muted white bed sheet. He has accepted it… Jello will give up…

Suddenly a fist pounded boldy on the doorway. Jello looked up. It is none other than Klaus Flouride. Where his fist made contact with the door frame there is now a sizable dent.

“What are you doing!” shouted Klaus, “You fucking plebeian! You big dumb stupid idiot dumb face! Stupid dumb idiot dumb dumb idiot dumb!”

“What do you want?” Jello pouts.

Klaus pointed his finger threateningly at Jello. “Shut up! I don’t wanna hear it! I know your full of shit! All you do is talk about you! Think about the threat the PMRC poses to the world! Think about the good punk rock can do! Was it all for nothing! Are you just going to let it go here? All for one loss! You’re pathetic! When you lose you’re not supposed stay down! You’re supposed to get back up! To make all the people who brought you down regret it!”

“You shut up!” Jello shouted, “All you ever do is complain and complain and go on these worthless speeches! I’m sick of it! Get out of here!”

Klaus grinned. “Fine. Stay in here and weep. I don’t care. But when you choose to get up again, you know where to find me.”

Klaus walked out of the room, slamming the door behind him; however, the door failed to close because the door frame had been too severely damaged.

Jello fumed on his emotions for awhile, but that’s boring, so I’m gonna skip over that. Once he had finally gotten over his emotional turmoil Jello stepped triumphantly out of the hospital room and met up with Klaus, who was proud to see that Jello had finally stopped having genuine emotions, like a real man.

“So…” asked Klaus, grinning from ear to ear, “are you ready to begin your training?”

Jello clenched his fists. Some say he clenched his fists so tightly that his hands began to bleed. “Yes…”

“Good… good...”

Then a really badass training montage played and it was really badass. God this chapter is boring… Let’s get to the excitement then!

Sometime during the vapidity of Jello’s training, Klaus and Jello decided to break for lunch. We find them standing idly in the lunch line, awaiting their mediocre meals.

We see Jello’s face cringe and twist up like a crumpled piece of garbage.

“What was that smell?” Jello asked, disgusted.

Klaus scanned the area, searching for a possible assailant. When he could find none, he took a big whiff in order to better grasp the nature of the scent. Upon doing so, it seemed as though he would immediately throw up, but luckily he didn’t, because that would be gross.

“It smells like…” Jello though aloud, “Mayonnaise…”

Klaus froze dead in his tracks. “Say that again… but slower…”

“Maaaaaaay-oooooooooo-naaaaaaaaaai-sssssssssssssssse,” said Jello.

“Yes!” Klaus replied, “That’s it! There’s only one man I know who could smell that badly of mayonnaise! It’s…”

Klaus was cut off. “Mayo Thompson,” said a voice from behind.

The duo turned around to see an average looking man. Towering above them however, was a burger which consisted solely of two pieces of bread and mayonnaise. (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cN9Xhtb345w)

After seeing the monster of a sandwich, Jello and Klaus immediately covered their faces to shield their virgin noses from the horrendous scent. “Why the fuck are you eating that?” Jello shouted.

“Hey man,” replied Mayo, “I don’t judge you, so you don’t judge me.” Mayo stepped over to a table with the rest of his band members who seemed unaffected by his mammoth mayonnaise monstrosity.

“Hey,” Klaus whispered to Jello, “Be careful who you go around insulting here, they may not go easy on you if you have to fight them.”

“Oh please,” Jello replied, “There are so many people in this competition that the chances of me having to battle that guy are almost zero.”

Klaus ignored Jello. “Hey look the new roster’s been posted.”

“Nice,” replied Jello, “Who am I fighting?”

“Red Krayola.”

“See, what did I tell you, there’s no chance I was gonna fight that guy. He’s probably lost the competition already anyway.”

“Mayo Thompson is their lead singer.” “Shit.”

Here we leave Jello, confidently awaiting his battle with a potentially angered opponent. And I’m gonna let you in on a little secret here, I talked to Mayo about it, and he seems pretty pissed. So considering that, will Jello be able to defeat Red Krayola? Will people finally realize that mayonnaise is disgusting. Like, especially in egg salad, like that’s just eggs and mayo. Ew gross yuck. Find out in the next chapter of Jello Biafra VS The Forces of Corruption!

#Jello Biafra #Dead Kennedys #punk rock #music #writing #creative writing #short story

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the-blomster · 6 years

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Jello Biafra VS The Forces of Corruption 28

Chapter 28: The Punk Rock Tournament Showdown Part 5: The Sonics Part 3: The Sonics Finale?

We find Jello standing in that same arena in which he clashed with Robbie the Werewolf, though now he faces a different, and more deadly opponent. Whether the outcome is negative or positive, this will be Jello’s final incursion in his conquest against The Sonics. Will Jello succeed? That is to be discovered… now!

“Will the contestants please step to the center of the arena and shake hands,” boomed a bored-sounding announcer from every direction.

Jello slumped his way to the middleground. Even though he had been unconscious for over eight hours (the average amount of sleep recommended for adults aged 18 to 25 according to the National Sleep Foundation), Jello did not get any rest, and so now he arrives to the battlefield unprepared!

Jello stares The Sonics directly in their hypnotic eyes, and feels nothing. Jello is sick of them. He reaches his hand out aggressively so that it may be shaken and so that the battle may begin. All five members of The Sonics place their collective hands on top of Jello’s, giving it a single, hearty shake.

The loudspeaker boomed on. “Will the competitors please recede to their respective corners?”gunshot was heard, indicating the start of the match. Generally, there are a few moments at the start of a match wherein the two competitors wait for one another to make the first move, but The Sonics sprung into action, charging recklessly towards Jello is a horizontal line as though it were still the civil war. And, much like the civil war, Jello hoped that recent innovations in firepower would render this form of warfare highly fatal. Jello reared back his fist in an effort to counter the quintet. However, just as his punch was supposed to connect, the group split into two, leaving Jello toppling over by the weight of his own punch.

By the time Jello had removed his face from the dirt, one of The Sonics was again running toward Jello, but this time he was prepared. Just as a fist was about to make contact with his person, Jello did a 180 degree turn, skillfully spinning out of the way of the punch. However, when Jello finished his twirling about, he was met with another one of The Sonics standing just a few inches from him. Jello, stunned, watched as The Sonics’ member took time to grin smugly, then punched Jello square in the nose. Jello was once again knocked off his feet, and when he stood back up, he saw several members (it seemed like all of them, but it was hard to tell because they were moving so quickly.) chipping away at the foam padding on the stadium walls. Jello was greatly confused by this, so he stood there and stared absentmindedly.

“Jello you idiot!” shouted Klaus from the spectators seats, “Don’t just stand there! That’s what they want you to do! Get up and fight! Strike while their guard is down!”

“They can’t hear you Klaus,” Robbie explained, “Stop wasting your breath.”

Klaus sighed audibly, plopping downward upon on his chair. “I know,” he moped, “It’s just so frustrating watching him be this idiotic.”

Jello continued his vacant staring as The Sonics slowly revealed more and more of the bare concrete wall. As Jello was engaged in this fruitless act, The Sonics had been scheming. One of them had snuck out, and was now several feet behind Jello, sneaking up on him. He grabbed Jello by the arm and began spinning him around like a lasso in a singular, sweeping motion.

Klaus grew so stressed by Jello’s blatant incompetence that he placed his hand upon his forehead, averting his view from the battlefield.

Jello was growing dizzy from the g-forces, and just as he was about to lose consciousness, Jello was released, sending him flying toward the bare concrete wall. It was kind of like one those bowser fights from Super Mario 64. Jello crashed into the wall, leaving an indent that was roughly two feet deep, and leaving Jello severely crippled.

The Sonics returned to their horizontal positions and watched gleefully as Jello slid of the wall and collapse pitifully into the dust. The countdown began.

10… 9… 8… 7…

“Come on Jello,” Klaus shouted, “Get up! Get up! You’ve come so far! You can’t lose now!”

6… 5… 4…

Robbie’s face was dry, evoking little emotion. He adjusted his seating and rested his cheek on his right hand.

3… 2…

The Sonics continued their menacing stance.

1…

Klaus was silent now, the only sign of his emotion his clenched fists.

… 0. Match over!

A deep droning silence fell over the crowd. For the first time, Jello had been defeated, beaten to an inch of his life. The only sign that he was still living was the occasional twitch of the finger.

Later after the match, Klaus sits with Jello in the waiting room. Jello, bloodied and bruised, awakens for the first time after the match.

“W… what happened?” Jello muttered.

Klaus stood up. Looking down at Jello, he said, “You lost Jello. You messed up big time.”

“So… I’m out of the running then.”

“Not necessarily. The competition calls for three winners. You can still make one more mistake and be in, but ideally you would have made it a little further along the first bracket before losing. You’ve still got quite a few more fights ahead of you, are you sure you’ll be able to make it?”

Jello clenched his fist and stood from the bench. “I’ll do it. I’ll win. I’ll train harder from now on. I’ll make sure this doesn’t happen again.”

Here we leave Jello, deep in the shadow of his first loss. Who will Jello face in his next match? How will his loss affect his upcoming matches? Find out in the next chapter of Jello Biafra VS The Forces of Corruption!

#Jello Biafra #Dead Kennedys #punk rock #music #writing #creative writing #short story

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the-blomster · 6 years

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Jello Biafra VS The Forces of Corruption 27

Chapter 27: The Punk Rock Tournament Showdown Part 4: The Sonics Part 2

We find Jello staring into the cold hearted eyes of his future opponent. Across the lunchroom they stood; the Sonics. Jello attempted to resist the temptation to glare at them, but it couldn’t be helped. Jello looked tentatively at the quintet. Their cool, relaxed posture evoked a sense of power. For many it triggered a sort of fight or flight instinct; either be cooler than these dudes or be banished to being lame forever. Jello was unsure of how to react.

Before Jello could muster the courage to look away, the Sonics caught Jello by the eyes. All at once, the often distant eyes of the five turned to Jello, digging directly into his soul. Threatening music probably started playing in the background. Jello was frozen. Dead in his tracks. Jello was engaged in a staring match more challenging than any battle he had previously fought, and Jello was losing; caught in a deadly, unending trance. The Sonics just looked too cool.

It was at this point that Klaus decided to jump into action. He stood up in a sweeping motion, the skidding of his chair producing an ear piercing scratch against the smooth linoleum floor, directing the attention of all in the vicinity to Jello. Then continuing the same movement, Klaus spun around, snapping his fingers three centimeters out from the tip of Jello’s nose. But it was to no avail. Klaus’ surefire trick had let him down. Klaus forced his fingers against Jello’s eyelids and proceeded to force his eyes open. Jello’s pupils were absent, and his eyes were flashing all sorts of crazy color, like that one scene in the jungle book, but Jello still refused to return to reality.

Great, Klaus thought to himself, Now how is Jello supposed to fight these guys? His options were running short, and Klaus couldn’t confront the Sonics directly. Klaus decided that there was only one person who could help Jello. Reluctantly, Klaus tucked Jello beneath his arm and walked to the room of their one and only hope.

Klaus knocked on the door as he swallowed his pride. Footsteps. The creaking of the floorboards. The subtle collision of hand with doorknob. The door slid open ever so slowly. “What is it?” Robbie the Werewolf asked.

“Well, I hate to be at your door, begging on my knees, but… we’ve got a bit of a dilemma,” Klaus explained.

“Well come on in,” Robbie replied.

Robbie’s hotel room was fittingly decorated with cobwebs and a burlesque purple wallpaper. The room was lit purely with candles and every mirror was broken, not that Robbie’s reflection showed up in mirrors anyway.

Klaus plopped Jello down on a chair that had relatively few cobwebs, and Robbie began to inspect Jello. “Well let’s see here…” said Robbie. He opened Jello’s eyes and took note of their ever changing color. “It would appear,” explained Robbie, “that Jello has become entranced with the Sonics.”

“I know that!” Klaus snapped. “That’s why I brought him here!”

“Well,” Robbie replied calmly, “What do you do when you become obsessed with a band?”

“I listen to their music until I’m sick of it.”

Robbie grinned intelligently; his beady eyes stuck out like a sore thumb.

Klaus thought for a few moments before it him. A look of understanding came across his face. “Oh… So then how are we going to access to the Sonics’ music?”

“Don’t you know,” replied Robbie, “that all good musicians carry a copy of their entire discography at all times.”

“So what you’re saying is…” Klaus surmised, “that I’m going to sneak into the Sonic’s hotel room, and steal their music from them?”

“Precisely,” Robbie replied.

“And I’m gonna have to be the one to do it?”

Robbie nodded.

“Great.”

We find Klaus sitting outside of the Sonics’ hotel room, patiently awaiting the target’s return so that Klaus may enter the room. And it would appear, coincidentally, that the Sonics are returning right at this moment. Good thing. Klaus was beginning to feel his eyelids grow droopy.

Klaus his behind a corner as the Sonics proceeded towards their room in a line that took up the width of the hallway, each step they took perfectly in sync. One of the band members swiped the keycard on the door, and the five stepped into the room single file.

This was Klaus’ chance. Klaus dived in through the door, landing in the bathroom and concealing himself before he was noticed. He peeked out from behind the door and noticed a stack of three vinyl records on a shelf in front of the television, but sadly, all of the band members were lined up horizontally in five chairs in front of the TV. In fact, everything in this room came in horizontal groups of five; five chairs, five beds, five restrooms, everything except the vinyl records was in a group of five.

Klaus decided just to wait patiently for the Sonics to leave, but much to Klaus’ dismay, the Sonics all decided to use the bathroom, where Klaus was hiding. Klaus had to act now and act fast. He leapt out from behind the bathroom door, immediately garnering the attention of the Sonics. He snatched the records off of the coffee table and made a mad dash for the door. The Sonics let out an odd screech that sounded as though it had been recorded in a room with no sound proofing whatsoever. Luckily Klaus dodge rolled over the screech’s shockwave, sending him straight into the door, which splintered into hundreds of tiny strips of wood, and sending Klaus flying out into the hallway, the Sonics’ discography in hand, and allowing him to escape the Sonics safely.

Klaus swung open the door to Robbie’s room.

“Do you have the music?” Robbie asked.

“Yes,” Klaus replied, whipping out one of the records and tossing it like a frisbee, upon which it landed perfectly in the center of the record player. The collision of the record cause the needle to drop and for the record player to begin spinning, upon which Robbie subsequently slid the headphones down over Jello’s hypnotized head. “How much longer does Jello have before his fight?”

“About 8 hours,” Robbie replied, “I think he should be fine.”

“Well let’s hope he’s resting peacefully right now, because he’s gonna need all the rest he can get for this fight.”

Robbie and Klaus passed the next eight hours restlessly, constantly putting on new records as needed, but before they knew it, an announcement came over the loudspeaker. Will contestants Jello Biafra and The Sonics please report to the stadium. Their time was running out. Jello had still not woken up.

Klaus got down on his knees. “Come on Jello,” he pleaded, “Wake up! Wake up!”

Robbie sighed. “We did all wwe could do…”

Suddenly, Jello winced. His eyes, pupils and all, opened. Jello tore the headphones off of his head. “We’ve been listening to this shit for eight hours, for the love of god turn it off!”

Klaus began laughing. “Jello! You’re awake!”

Jello was confused. “What? Where am I?”

“You were hypnotized by the Sonics,” Klaus explained, “You were out for over ten hours! But there’s no time for that now, you’ve got a fight with the Sonics right now! Let’s go!”

The two walked down the hallway to Jello’s next match.

“Why are you, a fellow competitor, so eager to help me?” Jello asked.

“Well you see,” Klaus explained, “You’re a strong guy, and when I fight you, I want it to be worth my while.”

And here is where we leave Jello; somewhat discombobulated and on the cusp of his next battle. Will Jello be able to defeat the Sonics? What dastardly tricks will the Sonics have up their sleeves? Find out next time on Jello Biafra VS the Forces of Corruption!

#Jello Biafra #Dead Kennedys #punk rock #music #writing #creative writing #short story

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the-blomster · 6 years

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Jello Biafra VS The Forces of Corruption 26

Chapter 26: The Punk Rock Tournament Showdown Part 3: The Sonics Part 1

Jello awakens from his long and arduous slumber. Above him; an unfamiliar ceiling. He tried to fall back asleep, but the crisp, golden voice of CNN’s very own Wolf Blitzer muttering in the background kept him awake. Jello observed his surroundings. Some first aid kits here, a defibrillator there. I don’t know. Whatever it is they have in the hospital. But, much to Jello’s surprise, he noticed a figure standing above him. No, not the shadowy figure running this mysterious tournament, but it was…

Jello squinted his eyes vigorously. Eventually the world became clear to him. Standing above him to his left was none other than Klaus Flouride. “Klaus?” Jello questioned. “I thought we were going to be enemies.”

“We aren’t in the arena yet Jello,” replied Klaus.

“Where am I then?”

“We’re in the hospital, can’t you tell by the bandages and the defibrillators and whatever it is they keep in hospitals?”

“Well I did just have my head knocked in by a werewolf.”

Klaus chuckled. “That’s true. Luckily for you; however, you’re making a speedy recovery.”

“That’s fortunate,” said Jello, “But will I be released in time for my next fight?”

“I hope so, if you are unable to fight, it counts as an automatic loss, get three of those, and you’re toast. It would be a shame if I missed out on the opportunity to fight an opponent as great as you.”

Jello laughed. “I knew you weren’t being so kind to me purely out of the kindness of your heart.”

Klaus refused to acknowledge that remark. “How are you feeling, are you well enough to walk?”

“I’m feeling a lot better. I should be able to get up and walk around.”

“Good, then come with me.”

“Wait, shouldn’t I wait for the doctors to release me?”

“Jello,” explained Klaus, “We’re in a tournament where the main goal is to hurt one another, do you really think anyone running a tournament like that would be will to help you? Plus, if the other competitors find out that you’re in a weakened state, they’ll target you like an obese deer sitting perfectly still in a wide open field. That’s not a pretty sight.”

Jello sighed. “Ok, where are we going?”

“We’re going to lunch,” replied Klaus.

“Lunch? The nurses can deliver my lunch here.”

“You don’t get it do you Jello? We’re the little guys. We’re unprotected. Unless you’ve got eyes in the back of your head, there ain’t nobody watching your back. I don’t give a shit about lunch, nobody does, but we gotta scope out the competition before they scope out us. We gotta learn their tactics, we gotta know where in our backs they plan to stab us.”

“Alright alright I get it, I’m going.” Jello stood from his bed. They stepped out into the hallway and began ascending through the building. Aside from his hospital gown, Jello was stark naked. “What are we going to do about this?” Jello grasped his clothing dubiously between his thumb and index finger. They stopped at the elevator’s closed door.

Klaus gave it a cursory glance before dismissing Jello’s clothing situation entirely. He pressed the up button on the elevator. “It’ll be fine. If you show up to lunch like that, you’ll confuse your opponents, and that’s what we want.”

“What? I can’t show up to lunch in nothing but a hospital gown!”

“Who’s gonna stop you Jello? This isn’t the real world, this is the underground scene, there aren’t any police here. If you want to be an exhibitionist, who’s gonna stop you?”

The two stepped onto an elevator. “I’m not an exhibitionist!” Jello shouted. “If anything, you’re one, since you’re the one making me do this.”

“Relax,” Klaus assured Jello, “I’m just messing with you. We’re heading back right now.”

Jello breathed a sigh of relief. Soon they arrived back at Jello’s room. Room 666. Jello entered, and even though it was not his place of permanent residence, experienced the rush of relief one feels when entering one’s home for the first time in awhile. He forced Klaus to wait outside. Once inside, Jello immediately collapsed onto his bed. Jello was exhausted, but for some reason couldn’t bring himself to sleep. He was exhausted but not tired. And worst yet, Jello was now hungry. It seemed that he would be forced to entertain Klaus, and that he couldn’t simply abandon him.

Jello put on some standard jeans along with a belt bearing a star-shaped buckle, but he couldn’t locate his favorite t-shirt, so he instead opted for one that read ‘Nobody Knows I’m a Lesbian.’ He topped it all off with a leopard print vest. He made one last disapproving sigh before opening the door to face Klaus.

“You sure took awhile,” Klaus said, arms crossed.

Jello sputtered a half truth. “I would have gone faster if I hadn’t lost my favorite t-shirt.”

“That’s your favorite t-shirt?”

“No this isn’t my favorite t-shirt! I lost my favorite t-shirt!”

“Oh, well we better get going, lunch is going to be over in a half hour!”

The two hurried up to the lunch room. Upon first inspection, the lunchroom appeared to be a large glass dome suspended high above the city of San Francisco, but upon closer viewing, it could be seen that it was not, in fact, the city of San Francisco, but rather several television screens held close together so as to create the illusion of a wide open space.

Punk rockers of every background were spread out all around. Some were friendly toward one another, others gave one another looks of sheer scorn. It was a turbulent environment to say the least.

Jello stood in line to get his share of the grub. Jello plopped some mac and cheese onto his plate that could hardly be described as food, when trouble came his way. Robbie the Werewolf, the man Jello had just beaten to the ground last chapter, came limping towards Jello. Robbie’s expression was always a bit difficult to place. Was it angry limping, or was it some other variant of limping? Jello gulped. Robbie was getting closer. His gnarly coat of hair stuck out from beneath his sleeves. Luckily, he wasn’t in his werewolf form right now. Robbie placed his hand on Jello’s shoulder. Jello shook more than California during a particularly bad tectonic plate shift.

“Don’t worry my boy,” Robbie assured, “I am not a vengeful man. I believe fighting should remain in the arena, and that humans should settle their grudges with words. But worry not, I have no grudges with you.”

“Humans should settle their grudges with words?” Jello questioned. “Are you not a werewolf?”

Robbie chuckled. “Don’t read into things too much, all I mean to say is that I have no intention of hurting you, in fact, I’ve come to you with some useful information. I have discovered who you will be fighting next.”

“Really!?” Jello exclaimed. “Who is it?”

Robbie looked around nervously. “Not so loud.” He whispered. “If people find out about our collusion they’ll have me for my head. Your next opponent will be The Sonics.”

“The who?”

“No not The Who, The Sonics. That’s all I can tell you for now, don’t come to me asking any questions, or people will start to get suspicious. I make my leave.” As he himself stated, Robbie the Werewolf did, in fact, make his leave. Jello collected up the rest of his rations of slop they dare to call food, and sat down at a table with Klaus.

“So,” Klaus leaned in towards Jello so as to indicate secrecy. “What did you learn from Robbie?”

“How did you know we were exchanging information?” Jello asked.

“I don’t know,” said Klaus sarcastically, “Maybe it was the part where you shouted ‘Really? Who is it?’”

Jello sighed, though unusually the sigh was not directed at Klaus, but at himself. “Well, if you must know, I’m fighting some band known as The Sonics.”

“Hmmm…” Klaus rubbed his chin. “This may be interesting.”

“Do you know who The Sonics are?”

Without looking behind his back, Klaus nudged his head backward. “Behind me. There should be five of them. Tallest guy on the left. Second tallest in the middle. Shortest guy in the middle left. Second shortest on the far right. The guy that’s right in the middle in terms of height should be on the middle right.”

Jello was impressed. “You’re right. How did you know that?”

“Of course I know,” Klaus explained, “That’s how The Sonics always are.”

“What are they doing? They’re just standing there, menacingly!”

“Yep, that’s The Sonics alright,” Klaus said, still without looking backward, “Rumor has it that The Sonics are just one person, but they move so fast that they look five people.”

Jello gulped. And that is where we leave him. Nervous and vulnerable. What perils will The Sonics wage against Jello? Will Jello be able to make it through the whole tournament without three losses? Find out in the next chapter of Jello Biafra VS The Forces of Corruption!

If you enjoyed this chapter please like and reblog so that more people can see it.

#Jello Biafra #Dead Kennedys #creative writing #writing #short story #punk rock #music

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the-blomster · 6 years

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Jello Biafra VS the Forces of Corruption 25

Chapter 25:The Punk Rock Tournament Showdown Part 2: Robbie the Werewolf

We find Jello where we left him; in a lush, yet vaguely unsettling hotel room, awaiting his fight against the mysterious ‘Robbie the Werewolf’. Jello’s time was approaching swiftly. A knock was heard on the door. Jello swung the door open in anticipation. His heart was beating out of his chest. Behind the door was waiting a man of a slightly unsettling nature.

“Your time has come, Jello.” The unsettling man smiled a dastardly grin, revealing his rotten teeth.

Jello quivered. He attempted to sputter out a response, but failed utterly, leaving the conversation between him and the unsettling man lost in a sort of conversational purgatory.

The unsettling man drew closer to Jello’s face in anticipation of a response, still maintaining the same stilted grin. After several confounding moments, the man said, “Follow me.” Then took off down the hallway. Jello followed the unsettling man posthaste. For such a short, decrepit man, he sure could move quickly. Luckily, Jello managed to keep up. After some walking, Jello found that the unsettling man had stopped. He lifted his hands to his side, as though presenting Jello with something. “Here is your waiting room.” He opened the door with one hand, while maintaining the same presentory pose with the other.

Jello stepped into the room. It was about what one would expect from a waiting room. Some benches, some lockers, a bathroom area. For people who were about to be sent to their possible deaths, they sure didn’t make it very comfortable.

Jello figured that if he wasn’t ready now, he never would be. He stepped out into the arena. The arena was huge. It was a circular affair with a radius of about three football fields. I don’t really know how long a football field is, but yeah, football! The stadium was completely enclosed on all sides by hundreds of thousands of spectators. The ceiling was entirely concrete, meaning that the stadium was underground, and that there would be no escape.

Standing across the stadium from Jello was someone that was presumed to be Robbie the Werewolf. Aside from his slightly pointed and transylvanian appearance, Robbie was relatively normal. He was dressed in a standard, but classy, black and white suit. He was holding an acoustic guitar. Jello figured if he was just using an acoustic guitar, he couldn’t be too challenging of an opponent.

The shadowy figure from before came over the loudspeaker. “Will the two contestants please approach the center of the arena to shake hands.”

The two met each other centerfield. Jello lifted his hand in front of him. Robbie grasped his hand firmly. “I’ll be making a deposit at the blood bank tonight,” said Robbie, “And the blood will be all yours.”

“Let the battle begin!” exclaimed the announcer.

Robbie sprinted toward Jello with his guitar slung behind him like a baseball bat. Jello attempted to react, but he was not allowed enough time. Robbie’s guitar hit him square in the jaw. Jello fell to the floor, grasping his jaw in agony. But there would be no time for pain. Robbie once again came at Jello with his guitar. But Jello was too busy wincing in pain to notice! Robbie swung at him full force, this time hitting the other side of his jaw. Jello screamed! For that was all he could do. Jello had no idea how formidable the opponents faced in this tournament could be. Robbie was coming in for the finishing blow. Jello clenched his fists, bit his lip, and swallowed his pain. He would not allow the future of punk rock, nay the future of the world, to be in the hands of anybody but himself. Robbie swung down his guitar, this time aiming for the top of Jello’s head. In the last second, Jello rolled out of the way, leaving just the tips of his hair damaged.

The guitar slammed into the ground, leaving behind it a sizable crater but resulting in the utter destruction of the guitar itself. Robbie grinned a dastardly smile, revealing to the world his vampiric set of chompers. He bared his fangs to the world, tearing down upon Jello full force. But Jello had figured out Robbie’s tricks. As Robbie’s teeth were about to meet Jello’s flesh, Jello lifted his fist in the air, causing it to collide painfully with Robbie’s jaw.

Robbie met the floor, and his fangs met their demise. Jello stood above his oppressor. “You’ve lost Robbie, I’ve eliminated your trump card.”

“Not yet you haven’t!” Robbie replied. He quickly gathered up the strings of his crippled guitar, then whipped them into the air. The stadium went dark, all but for a single round light that seemed to illuminate the stadium like the subtle light of the full moon.

“What did you do?” Jello questioned.

Robbie chuckled. “I’ve broken all the lights in the stadium!”

“But you’ve left one in tact! It seems that you’ve failed!”

“Jello you fool!” Replied Robbie. “What is my name!”

“Robbie?”

“No, think harder Jello, what is my full name!”

“Robbie the Werewolf.”

Robbie laughed. “Good, your feeble mind finally figured it out! And now, beneath the light of the simulated full moon, I shall reveal to you my true form!”

Robbie’s skin began to contort and morph in ways that the human integumentary system should not move. A thick brown fur sprouted from each of Robbie’s pores. His legs grew wolf-like, and claws extended from his fingers. He howled beneath the sudo-moonlight.

The beast formerly known as Robbie came at Jello. It swiped at Jello, cutting his prized ‘What would Jello do?’ shirt clean in two. Jello was delirious, but when he noticed the remains of his favorite shirt, he was enraged. When Robbie came at him once more, this time with his dogged mouth wide open and ready to bite, Jello leapt into the air, and bore down upon his opponent with the soles of his shoes. He collided with Robbie’s wet nose, knocking Robbie to the ground, whimpering and in pain.

The judge came over to Jello’s downed opponent. 1… 2… 3… 4… 5…

Jello stood triumphantly, though his true feeling differed.

6… 7… 8…

Jello felt his heart beat out of his chest. Robbie was trying to stand up, but he failed again and again.

9…

Robbie managed to push his own torso upward with his hairy arms. The crowd stood silent. He stood suspended somewhere between up and down… before collapsing back to the ground.

10…

Jello breathed a single sigh of relief before too collapsing to the floor.

And here is where we leave Jello. Who will his next opponent be? If he barely managed to defeat his previous opponent, how will he succeed against his next? Find out next time on Jello Biafra VS The Forces of Corruption!

If you enjoyed this please consider liking and reblogging this post so that I get free advertising.

#Jello Biafra #creative writing #writing #short story #punk rock #dead kennedys #music #humor

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the-blomster · 6 years

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Jello Biafra VS The Forces of Corruption 24

Chapter 24: The Punk Rock Tournament Showdown Part 1: Jello Joins the Fray.

We find Jello cold and alone, meandering aimlessly the streets of San Francisco.

“What am I going to do now?” Jello thought dismally aloud.

Jello moped about in a manner similar to this for some time, that is until something caught Jello out of the corner of his eye. Came to a halt quickly, causing the soles of his already worn out shoes to be ground down further. Jello eyed the poster suspiciously. On it in a bold font was written, “Looking for members to form a punk rock band.” This was it. This could be Jello’s opportunity to finally break into the punk rock scene. He continued to scan the flier. At the very bottom, it read, “If interested, meet me tonight in the east bay.” Jello crumpled the paper triumphantly in his fist. He crammed it inside his pocket.

Jello turned to his left and climbed onto a bus to east bay, because Jello just so happened to be at a bus stop, which wasn’t a surprise considering that San Francisco has a thriving public transportation ecosystem. And, because of San Francisco’s thriving public transportation ecosystem, Jello had arrived at east bay within the hour, which was a blessing and a curse because it meant that Jello had arrived before sundown, meaning that it was technically not tonight, meaning that Jello would have to wait for a few minutes before whomever it was that placed the posters up would show up, because whomever it was that placed the posters up made it very clear to meet them tonight.

But as Jello stepped off the bus, it seemed that his position in the band would not be guaranteed as he once thought. A crowd of around 200 had gathered in the designated meeting place, and unless this was a marching band, Jello was pretty sure that this many people couldn’t be in a band.

Jello stood around for a few minutes, and as soon as the sun was entirely concealed behind the horizon, a shadowy figure leapt from a nearby alleyway. It did a triple front flip before landing on its feet in the center of the crowd. Upon seeing this incredible stunt, the crowd began cheering, but they were swiftly cut off by the mysterious figure shouting into a megaphone. “Alright shut up and stop cheering before I kick all your asses, and believe me, I can and will kick your ass.” The crowd began to quiet down, but one audience member didn’t get the memo, and so the figure rushed through the crowd, pushing the noisemaker with such veracity that he flew backwards and crashed into the wall behind the crowd. The figure returned to centerstage. “Ok, now that that’s out of the way, I bet you’re all wondering why I’ve gathered you here tonight. Well, you shouldn’t be, it said it on the fucking flier, and if you were wondering, then leave, because your puny minds are too useless to be part of something this meaningful.” About half the crowd left. “Good, now I can see which of you are actually serious about this.”

Jello felt a sense of relief that someone so confident and intellectual was going to be at the head of whatever was going on right now.

“I have gathered you here today so that I may find new members for the latest and greatest punk rock band ever. Now, this obviously isn’t going to be a marching band, so I’m going to have to cut you down to three people. Each and every one of you, should you choose to accept the challenge, will fight to the death, slowly climbing your way up the punk rock ladder until you reach the top three, at which point I will have my band. Any questions?”

One individual raised their hand. The figure did a running jump kick towards the audience member, kicking them square in the jaw and sending them flying several hundred yards away from the gathering.

The figure returned to his central position. “Alright, any more questions?” The crowd was silent. “Good.” The figure pulled a big red button out of his pocket that was connected to absolutely nothing and pressed it. A hole opened in the ground and the crowd fell through. A small platform remained upon which stood the figure. The crowd fell through a series of increasingly smaller tubes; the competitors were being divided up.

After a good bit of falling, Jello landed in a classy hotel room onto a soft comfortable bed. But, before Jello could sit up, another man collided atop him. After Jello regained his senses, he asked, “Who are you?”

Standing in front of Jello was a strapping young lad wearing a loose fitting button-up shirt and round, thick-rimmed glasses. “I could be asking you the same thing,” said the lad in a joking manner.

“I suppose you’re right. The names Jello, Jello Biafra.”

The two shook hands welcomingly. “I suppose we won’t be so chummy in the arena, will we?” The man turned to leave, but as he was about to step out into the hall he looked at Jello once more and said, “The name’s Flouride, Klaus Flouride.” And as quickly as the two had met, they had separated. Jello loneliness made his large, cushy hotel room seem like a dank, cavernous dungeon.

Jello sat alone for some time, taking in his surroundings, but he was interrupted by a paper being slid under the door. Jello picked it up and looked it over. It had some basic information, like when meals would be served, or where to do your laundry, stuff like that. But at the bottom of the page was listed tomorrow’s matchups. Jello scanned the page over quickly, for a few moments Jello feared his name had not been listed, but eventually he found it, and his fears subsided. Tomorrow evening, Jello would be facing someone name Robbie the Werewolf.

And here is where we leave Jello. Scared but hopeful. Will we discover who the mysterious shadowy figure behind this tournament is? Will Jello be able to succeed in the punk rock tournament? Find out in the next chapter of Jello Biafra VS The Forces of Corruption!

#jello biafra #creative writing #writing #short story #punk rock #music #humor #dead kennedys

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the-blomster · 6 years

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Jello Biafra VS The Forces of Corruption 23

Chapter 23: Jello Runs for President Part 4

We find Jello facing his oppressor. Formerly a friend, Prince would offer Jello no help in this fight. They were nothing but enemies now. Prince’s eyes glowed a violent red.

“Come on Jello!” Prince shouted, “Attack me already!”

“I will not do that,” Jello explained, “I will only attack if it is in self defense.”

Prince scoffed. “You’re just afraid to attack me aren’t you? You still think of us as friends! How sad, how deplorable!”

“Is there anything so wrong with that? Is it wrong for me to hope that there can be a peaceful solution? To aspire to a future where punk rock can live in harmony with the rest of society?”

“Hope and aspirations are for men who are dead and forgotten! And soon you will be one of those men!”

“That is where you are wrong Prince!” Jello shouted. “You have been accepted by the masses. You have been indoctrinated into consciousness of society, and therefore you will be remembered as nothing but another worn out brick in the wall.”

“Those will be your last words Jello!” Prince shouted back, “And sadly for you, no one will remember them!” Prince placed both of his hands out in front of himself, keeping them close to one another. A blue light began forming on Prince’s palms. Jello stood opposite of Prince, confused but still in a defensive position. The blue light grew to roughly the size of a bowling ball before a beam shot out of Prince’s hands. The laser got within a few inches of Jello, but luckily he managed to leap several dozen feet into the air, leaving only the bottom of his shoes mildly singed. The wall behind Jello; however, did not fare so well. A large hole had been melted into it. The section of the wall had simply dissipated like ice on a hot summer day. What remained of the wall was nothing but steam.

Jello landed on two feet, but was awestruck at what Prince had made of that poor, innocent wall. But Jello’s awe would not last forever, because it was interrupted by the sound of Prince’s footsteps. Prince ran at Jello with lightning fast speed. Prince lifted his fist into, ready to attack, but Jello dodge rolled off the stage and into the awestruck crowd. Prince’s fist collided with the stage, destroying it instantly and leaving a crater with a 40 foot radius in its place. Prince’s attack created a 9.3 magnitude earthquake that knocked Jello and his fans to there feet and causing stage lights to cascade from the ceiling.

With the stage destroyed, the only thing protecting Jello’s fans from Prince’s unfiltered rage was Jello himself. Prince went in for another punch, but this time Jello couldn’t dodge it, otherwise it would hit his fans. As the punch landed, time seemed to stop. Jello’s face could be seen contorting in all sorts of strange ways before time once again returned to normal and Jello flew backwards, knocking his fans down like bowling pins, and sending his crashing face first into the wall.

Jello pushed himself up off of the wall, of which he had been embedded several feet into. He stood triumphantly on his two feet. He pointed directly at Prince and said, “Prince, you can hurt me. You can hurt me all you want. You can try to turn me into a slave to society, but don’t you dare hurt my potential voters!” Jello snapped his fingers. A blast of air so powerful was emitted from Jello’s fingers that Prince collided with the wall opposite of Jello. Prince crashed against the wall but bounce off of it, sending him crashing face first into the ground.

Prince, defeated and out of energy looked up to see Jello standing over him. A menacing shadow formed over Jello’s eyes. “Please!” Prince begged. “Don’t kill me!”

Jello scoffed. “Heh, do you think I’d sink that low? Do you think I would sink as low as the likes of you? I would never hit somebody while they’re down. The fact that you think I would even consider it is despicable. I’ll tell you this though, if I ever have the displeasure of seeing you again, I won’t go easy on you.”

Jello returned to his apartment where he closely watched the election results. Jello watched the votes for both George W. Bush and Al Gore slowly count up. Jello wasn’t even close to them. It would take Jello years of training if he wanted to run again in the next election. But Jello wasn’t concerned about that right now. Jello wanted to know, would Bush win, and still be an overall pretty bad president, or would Al Gore win, and allow his wife Tipper Gore and the PMRC to suppress punk rock permanently. The final results were in. Jello earned 2,882,955 votes, Bush earned 50,456,002 votes, and Al Gore earned… 50,999,897 votes. Jello sighed. It seemed as though punk rock was over for good. But then, CNN’s very own Wolf Blitzer came on the TV. “It seems as though George Bush has won.” Jello was so shocked that he grabbed his TV. Then Jello realized, that the people’s vote didn’t actually matter, and that only the votes of the electoral college mattered. Thank god for corrupt political systems and faux democracy! Now the US government would just be incredibly shitty instead of oppressively shitty! And most important of all, punk rock was saved!

And here is were we leave Jello, with a small glimmer of hope for the future! What will Jello do to secure the safety of punk rock in the future? What will Jello do now that he is independent from the NMCDF? Find out in the next chapter of Jello Biafra VS the Forces of Corruption!

#jello biafra #creative writing #writing #short story #punk rock #music #humor #dead kennedys

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the-blomster · 6 years

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Jello Biafra VS The Forces of Corruption 22

Chapter 22: Jello Runs for President Part 3

And now, we return to our hero, Jello Biafra. So pained and sorrowful is he! But for now, let us forget that, and to look back upon we asked ourselves last time; Will Jello finally realize that he shouldn’t eat McDonalds before a campaign rally!? And the answer, dear readers, to that question which we have all surely been stewing over every hour of every day is no. No! Jello did not stop eating McDonalds before his campaign rallies! Jello you fool! How could you! Don’t you realize how much sodium is in a ten piece chicken mcnugget meal from McDonalds! A big mac has 26 grams of fat, and a quarter pounder has 28 grams of fat! I know it tastes good, but you have to stop yourself! Do not give in to the subtly sweet and salty sensation that is a ten piece chicken mcnugget meal. Don’t even get me started with McDonalds ketchup, like goddamn, how do they even make that shit taste so good? But what is the most surprising of all about your recent McDonalds binge, is the fact that McDonalds is a multimillion dollar organization. If you were going to slowly gorge yourself to death, you would at least do it while supporting a local business! Truly and honestly, what has gotten into you Jello Biafra? What have Prince and the other members of the filthy fifteen done to you to force you to resort to such capitalistic tendencies!

Anyway, what were those other hypothetical questions I asked last chapter? Oh yes, something about his presidential campaign. Alright, well that went something like this:

Jello continued through much of his campaign in the same manner as his first campaign rally, that is slowly and painfully. Prince continued his brainwashing regiment against Jello with much success. Jello was slowly but surely turning into a good ol’ all-American boy, just like the PMRC wanted him to. It was, to put it lightly, absolutely horrid and disgusting.

It was the night of Jello’s last campaign rally, and all through America, not a creature was stirring, not even a mouse. The fans of Jello’s that still remained were waiting hopelessly in the audience. But sadly, Jello’s rallies had become so infested with PMRC agents that it was becoming harder and harder for Jello’s adoring fans to see him live in person.

Jello began his speech. “Blah blah blah patriotism blah blah blah America blah blah blah.”

Jello’s speech continued on like this for sometime. A wave boos flowed over Jello like they were nothing. People threw tomatoes, tomatoes that they should throwing at statues of Dan White, at Jello. The tomatoes hit Jello square on, turning into ketchup, and not the good McDonalds ketchup either, and yet Jello felt nothing.

But one thing an audience member said hit Jello like a tsunami. They said, “Your speeches are boring, long, and self indulgent, just like Rick Wakeman’s songs!”

Jello fell over onto his back, presumably unconscious, but in front Jello appeared an image of JFK, also known as John Fortnite Kennedy.

“Jello!” said John Fortnite Kennedy, “You’re being one fake motherfucker right now! And what for? So you can bow down to the man? So that you can get the vote of all these baby boomer bitches? Are you really going to take that Jello? The me generation is ruining the world! The world need punk rock so that they can stop being so stupid!”

“But John Fortnite Kennedy,” Jello said meekly, “What if the people of America don’t accept my messages because I don’t capitulate to the American people’s idealistic views of a president?”

“Well then those people can go fuck themselves.”

“Well why don’t you just run for president yourself JFK?”

“Oh Jello, I already did that, and now I’m dead.” JFK glanced at his watch. “Well Jello, it seems my time with you is up, but remember, ask not what your country can do for you, but what you can do for your country.”

JFK’s image disappeared as vaguely as it appeared, and with it, a new wave of enthusiasm spread over Jello. Jello leapt onto his feet, and his trademark inflammatory grin came over his face. “In conclusion, fuck capitalism, fuck the PMRC, and fuck Tipper Gore!”

Jello’s fans went into an uproarious applause, but the few dozen PMRC agents in the audience were not so pleased. They climbed up onto the stage and encircled Jello. Perfect. Jello did a spinning roundhouse kick, sending every single PMRC agent flying several miles away.

“Jello!” Someone shouted.

Jello turned to face his oppressor. It was… Prince! His were glowing red with rage and his stance had widened as though he were preparing for a fight. “Prince, please don’t do this to me, I don’t want to fight you! We were friends! You were like a brother to me! But you chose to corrupt my mind!”

“No Jello!” Prince rebuked. “It is you who is attempting to corrupt me! You are trying to allow the PMRC to rise to power intentionally so that you could take over the NMCDF!”

“That’s not true! Have seen the audience of my recent rallies? No real people! All PMRC agents! You know Prince, I’ll tell you why I don’t think your campaign strategy worked. The people resonate with new, revolutionary ideas. Often times politicians bring these in the form of empty promises, and that is what you have forced me to bring to the people. You see, I don’t accel at lying to people like Tipper Gore does, I accel at telling people the truth.”

“We’ll see who's campaign strategy was effective tomorrow night at the polls!” The fire in Prince’s eyes grew brighter. “For now, let’s fight!”

And here is were we leave you. On the border of a fight between two former friends, turned foes. Will Jello be able to subdue Prince, and hopefully turn his mind back to the side of punk rock? Will Jello be elected president? Find out in the next chapter of Jello Biafra VS the Forces of Corruption!

#Jello Biafra #creative writing #writing #short story #punk rock #music #comedy #humor #funny

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the-blomster · 6 years

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Jello Biafra VS The Forces of Corruption 21

Chapter 21: Jello Runs for President Part 2

We left Jello in a state of anticipation, desperately trying to avoid the fact that in a few mere hours, he would have to censor himself, and attempt to not be too inflammatory. But now those hours have passed, and now we find Jello on the brink of an anxiety attack, backstage of his first campaign rally. Luckily for Jello, this rally is taking place in San Francisco, the land of his people.

But soon would the day of Jello’s reaping come. A man in casual jeans and t shirt as black as the robes of death himself appeared. The clipboard in the man’s hands seemed as though it listed all those who were marked for a boat ride down the river styx.

The man tapped his watch casually. “You’re on in five minutes.”

Jello quivered with fear. Each minute felt like a day. And after roughly a week of awaiting his demise, Jello took one last breath, and stepped into the abyss.

The stage wasn’t as bad as Jello had assumed. He had thought the expectant eyes of the people would force him into saying something that wasn’t completely idiotic and conforming, but luckily for Jello, the stage lights were so bright that he could hardly see any of the audience members.

Jello breathed a sigh of relief and glanced over his script. He needed a script because it was literally impossible for anyone to think up something so idiotic that it would please everyone. But when Jello even just looked at the script, he began to feel the ten piece chicken mcnugget meal he had just consumed begin to force its way out his esophagus. In other words, he was about to spew digested toxic McDonald’s sludge all over his potential voters. Not a good scene. Not a good scene at all.

Jello went right into the script to forget the horrible sight he had just scene. “M… my fellow americans…” The pain on Jello’s face was blatant and excruciating. “I… have come here today to tell you why I am the most qualified for the office of president of this g… great country. First of all, I would like to say that I am a… a… a…” Jello’s breathing grew heavier with each ‘a…’ he spoke. The word written next on his script was simply too stupid for Jello to handle. He attempted to read the script again. But he failed. He fell to his hands and knees, hyperventilating. But still Jello tried. “P… p…” Woah! There goes those chicken mcnuggets! Once all of the toxic waste had been purged from his body, the word finally escaped Jello’s mouth. “Patriot.”

An audible and simultaneous gasp could be heard from the audience. The audience, clearly unsettled by Jello’s sudden change of direction, began to whisper back and forth to one another. “Jello,” one person shouted, “This isn’t like you!”

“I’ve…” Jello quaked like a man in a fever dream. “I’ve got to appeal to the American people…”

Another audience member stood up. “But Jello the hardworking average American is a farce! A lie perpetuated by big businesses to control the minds of the people.”

But the wise words of the people failed to reach Jello’s corrupted mind. He stood back at the podium and completed his vile speech. “In conclusion… G… God bless America!” Jello stumbled off the stage.

One person, presumable a PMRC spy, clapped for Jello. The rest of them just booed. Which they had every right to do, because that speech was fucking terrible.

When Jello finally made his way off the stage, Prince was there waiting for him. “Good job,” Prince said. “You did better than I thought. You’re one step closer to appealing to the American people!”

“Yeah.” Jello coughed a sickly and pained cough. “Whatever.”

Later that night, as Jello lay recovering from his recent run in with death, he turned on the tv to see none other than CNN’s own ever-exciting and always entertaining Wolf Blitzer. Beneath his perfect face that was just made for television was a headline that read, “Damn, Jello fucking sucks now.”

Jello flipped that channel once again, this time to Fox News, where footage of Al Gore’s campaign rally was being shown, and who would come up to the podium other than Tipper Gore.

“Jello Biafra is a fucking disgrace to our society.” Tipper went on, “I fucking hate that little bitch. Clap if you want to get up on stage and suck the cocks of the PMRC!”

The crowd went into a unanimous and thunderous applause.

And now, as Jello is in his lowest point, and he questions his motives for even being a punk rock musician, what awaits him in his future. Will trying to appeal to the average American really be an effective campaign strategy? Will Jello finally realize that he shouldn’t eat McDonalds before a campaign rally? Find out in the next chapter of Jello Biafra VS the Forces of Corruption!

#Jello Biafra #creative writing #writing #short story #punk rock #music #comedy #humor #funny

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the-blomster · 6 years

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Jello Biafra VS the Forces of Corruption 20

Announcement: JBVFC is now weekly!

Chapter 20: Jello Runs for President Part 1

Jello slept peacefully in his San Francisco apartment. An apartment that he now got for free because he sued his landlord for nearly breaking his back. It’s not like Jello was paying for the apartment anyway though, because Jello isn’t a slave to capitalism. Jello was having a delightful dream about being a racecar driver, because well, what else are you supposed to dream about in a racecar bed? Suddenly, Prince, critically-acclaimed american musician and head of the filthy fifteen apparated from nothingness inside of Jello’s bedroom.

“Jello!” Prince’s voice boomed. Jello awoke, hazy eyed and drowsy, but awake nonetheless. “Why did you go off and complete that mission even if we told you not to?”

An inflammatory look came across Jello’s face. “Well,” Jello said. “I didn’t realized I belonged to you and the filthy fifteen.”

Prince sighed. “That’s not what I said Jello.”

“Well what were you trying to say then?”

“I just thought that the mission would be too dangerous for you. I was worried for you.”

“Well you were wrong, so why can’t you admit that?”

“I don’t think I was wrong for worrying about you.” Prince assumed the least aggressive tone that he could. “Jello, you’re the greatest hope this organization has at taking down the PMRC. We can’t risk any chance of losing you.”

“Oh so that’s what I am to you? A figurehead? A pawn in your game of three dimensional chess?”

“Jello…”

“Whatever! Just give me my next mission.”

“Fine,” Prince replied calmly, “for your next mission you’ll be running for president.”

“What?” Jello was surprised. “Already? I thought that mission was to be delayed for quite some time.”

“It was,” Prince explained, “But your recent exploits in the north pole have escalated your public image to new highs. We need to exploits your newfound popularity while we still can.”

“Heh. That’s funny. Just a minute ago you were scolding me for going to the north pole, but it seems to be for the best. How does it feel to be wrong Prince? Anyway, is there any paperwork this time? That turned out to be quite the process when I ran for mayor.”

“Nope, luckily for you all the paperwork has been worked out in advance. All there is to do for you is get out on the campaign trail and appeal to the people of america.”

“That’s relieving.”

“Yeah… There’s just one thing.”

“What’s that?” Jello asked.

“Well…” Prince replied, “I know you’re not going to like this, but we have to ask you to be a little bit less… derogatory.”

“So let me get this straight… You’re asking me to censor myself.”

“...yes.”

Jello laughed. “You must be going insane! Are you sure your head is in the right place? You sound more like the PMRC right now than the NMCDF!”

“I know that’s hard for you to do, but if we want to win this election you’re going to have to try.”

A serious look came across Jello’s face. He gulped nervously. “You’re serious aren’t you?”

Prince nodded.

Jello gazed wistfully into the distance. “Ok. I’ll do it. If it’s for the sake of defeating the PMRC I’ll do it.”

Prince sighed with relief. “I’m glad that’s the decision you made.”

“Yeah, when’s my first campaign speech?”

“Tomorrow.” Prince explained, “It shouldn’t be too bad since it’s taking place right here in San Francisco.”

“That’s good.” Jello replied, “I’ll give it a shot as best I can. Who will I be running against anyway?”

“That’s the thing… You’ll be running against George W. Bush.”

“Oh great,” Jello said sardonically, “That’s just what we need! Another Bush in office!”

“That’s not all,” Prince explained, “You’ll also be running against… Al Gore!”

“No…” Jello was awestruck. “You don’t mean…”

“Oh I know what I said.”

“Tipper Gore’s husband!”

“Yes Jello,” said Prince, “That is why it is so imperative that you run for office now. Your lucky you went to the north pole when you did, otherwise Al Gore would have won for sure. But now, I think you may have a chance at defeating him. You just need to censor yourself a little bit.”

“If Al Gore gets in office, it will mean that Tipper Gore and the Parents Music Resource Center have direct access to the US military. Which will mean censorship forever. If I have to censor myself just for the campaign trail in order to end censorship for good, then I would be more than willing to censor myself.”

Jello sits tentatively at the head of the campaign trail. Jello can see the walls in the distance begin to close in. But Jello still has enough time to escape their grasp. What will Jello encounter on the brutal campaign trail. What horrific enemies will Jello be forced to face? Find out in the next chapter of Jello Biafra VS the Forces of Corruption!

#Jello Biafra #humor #punk rock #music #comedy #writing #creative writing #short story

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the-blomster · 6 years

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Jello Biafra VS The Forces of Corruption 19; Christmas Special Finale

JBVFC Christmas Special Part 3: Jello Kills Santa and Ends Racism

We find Jello sitting awkwardly in the living room of the Buzzcocks headquarters. The weight of Jello’s wrongdoing weighs upon him like the weight of a metric ton of feathers.

“So…” Jello said. “How about this weather we’re having.”

One of the members coughed. “It’s alright i guess.”

That sat in an awkward silence for several moments until Pete walked into the room carrying a platter of tea on the coffee table. Jello picked up a glass of tea and began to sip it.

“Well I suppose now is a good time to begin your special training to defeat Santa,” said Pete. Pete proceeded to kick Jello square in the nads.

“Owie,” Jello said calmly as he fell to the floor and writhed in pain. “What’s the big idea!?”

“How do you feel right now,” Pete asked.

“It hurts you whore!”

Pete laughed maniacally. “Would you say that your cock is buzzing right now?”

Jello’s pain instantly went away upon hearing that brilliant pun. “Yes, I would in fact say that my cock was buzzing.”

Pete smirked. “Now try it on me!”

“I’d be glad too!” Jello achieved a fighting stance, then proceeded to roundhouse kicked Pete right in his balls. As Jello’s foot connected, the clanking of metal was heard and Jello was launched backwards from the force of his kick, but Pete, on the other hand, was left completely unscathed. Jello looked on with an expression of pure terror.

Pete loomed menacingly above. “These are the skills you must master if you wish to defeat santa! Jello! Old friend! Are you ready to master these skills?”

Jello managed to force a nod through his shock and awe.

Pete smiled and extended a hand out to his fallen friend. “Let’s go kill santa.”

Then there was a training montage ‘n shit, and then Jello and the Buzzcocks ended up at the North Pole. But… awaiting them at the North Pole was an army of culturally insensitive elves!

“Oh god!” Jello screamed. “My eyes! They’re burning!”

“Jello,” screamed Pete as steam poured forth from his scalding eyes. “I know seeing racism makes your eyes burn! But you have to fight through the pain! Think of all the good you can do!”

Jello paused he took a deep breath. Then he opened his eyes. As his eyes burned, he ran screaming into the battlefield. He kicked every elf he saw right in the nuts. The cocks of his enemies were buzzing.

But then, a series of red lights appeared on the snow beneath them. The whir of machinery was heard as a hidden door opened on the side of Santa’s headquarters. And lo and behold, there was Santa! He had several miserable looking reindeer chained abusively to his sleigh. Santa whipped them ferociously, and the begin to move down the runway in an attempt to stop the suffering. “Ho ho ho niiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiggaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaas!”

“SANTA!” Jello was infuriated! “YOU CAN’T SAY THAT! THAT’S RACIIIIIIIIIIIIIIST!” Just as Santa was about to lift off, Jello leapt beneath the sled and held on to the treads beneath for dear life. Jello climbed on top of the sled. They were now tens of thousands of feet in the air. Santa attempted to knock Jello off the sled, but he missed. Jello got into a stance to use his newly learned attack. Jello attempted to kick Santa in the balls… but he bounced right off!

“Ho ho ho!” Santa laughed. “Jello you troglodyte! You can’t hurt me! I’m too fucking fat!”

Jello was lost. Lost in thought. Ten thousand feet in the air. With a racist incarnation of Santa. But then Jello got an idea. He widened his eyes and pointed them directly at Santa.

“Jello you fool! Your vacant stares have no effect on me!” A subtle sizzling sound was heard. “What? What’s that noise?”

Jello lifted his hands to the air as bloody tears of joy streamed from his singed eyes. “ANTI-RACISMMMMMM BEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAM!” Flames began pouring forth from his eyes, setting Santa ablaze. Santa’s fat acted as a fuel, and so Santa burned and burned and burned. At some point during Santa’s much deserved suffering, he stumbled backward and fell off of the sleigh, plummeting to the earth like a rock.

Jello sat quietly in the sleigh, until an african american man popped out of one of the presents. “Who are you?” Jello asked.

“Me?” said the man. “I am D.H. Peligro, but most people know me as the real Santa Claus.”

“Thank goodness the real santa isn’t white!” Jello exclaimed.

The two laughed for some reason as they rode back to San Francisco. When the sleigh landed, none other than CNN’s Wolf Blitzer was waiting there to interview him on this quaint, snowy christmas eve’s night. “Jello, is it true that Santa was actually a white supremacist and you fucking killed him?”

“No,” Jello replied, “That Santa was an imposter, the real Santa is right here, and thankfully, he’s not white.”

“Wow.” Wolf Blitzer turned to face the camera. “There you have it folks. Fox News will never be able to recover from this.”

And now, what awaits Jello as he makes his first success separate from the NMCDF? Will the NMCDF welcome Jello back with open arms, or will they expunge him like a cancer? Find out in the next chapter of Jello Biafra VS The Forces of Corruption!

#Jello Biafra #humor #punk rock #music #comedy #writing #creative writing #short story

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the-blomster · 6 years

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Jello Biafra VS The Forces of Corruption 18

JBVFC Christmas Special Part 2: Jello Amasses an Army to Invade the North Pole

Jello stood in the rubble of what used to be his home. He would have been shocked at having his home destroyed, but most of the stuff in there he got for cheap, and his landlord was a dick anyway, so it didn’t bother him much. Oh yeah, also Santa Claus is a fucking racist so that was also a little bit more concerning. Jello simply had no idea where to turn for help, I mean, who could possibly believe him?

The first place Jello tried was at a PMRC. After listening to the members of the filthy fifteen ramble on about worthless money issues, Jello finally had his chance to speak. “Guys, I know you think money is important, but I have something much more important than any of that bullshit.”

“Well get on with it then, we’re busy balancing our checkbooks.” Prince said, or at least that’s probably what he said, but then again, anything having to do with money just sounds like nonsense to Jello.

“Ok,” Jello thought for a few moments, “Hear me out here. Santa… is a white supremacist, and we need to stop him.”

The filthy fifteen stared at Jello like he was the biggest idiot west of the mississippi. “Jello,” Prince said, “You have to be one of the stupidest people this side of the mississippi.”

“Ok, so you won’t support my plans, fine!” Jello scoffed. “If I’m the dumbest person west of the mississippi, then I just have to go east of the mississippi!”

“Oh?” Prince questioned condescendingly. “Where to?”

“I’ll go to Manchester!” Jello explained.

“Heh, what’s in Manchester?”

“The Buzzcocks!”

“Oh!” Prince rolled his eyes. “Those startup hacks! Good luck going anywhere with those losers! And good luck getting all the way to England without NMCDF support!”

“You fool! After the great anglo-irish cyber civil war, the teletube™ system was upgraded, so now I can transport all the way to England without going to the airport!”

“Fuck,” Prince replied calmly.

A gentle whirring was heard as a teletube slowly descended from the ceiling. “Later!” Jello shouted. He reached up to the teletube and pressed a button on it. He was instantly sucked up a transported to Manchester England, a place sparsely populated by the PMRC, for you see, most of England’s punk rock activity resided in London, though there were a few fringe groups battling it out in this unknown frontier, the most prominent of which was the Buzzcocks. The Buzzcocks weren’t associated with the NMCDF or any of that jazz, there self-made superheroes, vigilantes of the wasteland left behind by the PMRC.

Jello walked up to the front door of the Buzzcocks headquarters and knocked. Pete Shelley opened the door and welcomed Jello with open arms, “Jello! How are you doing old pal!”

“It’s great to see you, but…” Jello sighed. “I bring bad news.”

“What’s happened?”

“Well Pete… I don’t know how to break this to you, but I just found out that Santa is a white supremacist.”

“Oh no!” Pete threw his arms in the air in frustration. “Are you going to get help from your buddies over at the NMCDF?”

“Well… that’s the thing. The NMCDF doesn’t believe me…”

“Ohhhh! So when the NMCDF turns it’s back on you, you come crawling back to the Buzzcocks, is that it?”

“Pete… please! I need your help to stop Santa and his racism once and for all.”

Pete thought for a few moments. “Fine, I’ll help you this one time, because this is so important, but don’t expect any favors from me in the future.”

Jello managed to crack a smile. “Thank you.”

And now, as Jello forms a shaky partnership with the Buzzcocks, will Santa be defeated? Will the evils of Christmas finally be abated? Find out in the next Jello Biafra VS The Forces of Corruption Christmas Special!

#Jello Biafra #punk rock #music #short story #creative writing #writing

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the-blomster · 6 years

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Jello Biafra VS The Forces of Corruption 17

Jello Biafra VS The Forces of Corruption Christmas Special Part 1: The Truth About Santa Claus

Jello sat peacefully in his San Francisco apartment, hoping that his landlord would forget to collect on his long overdue rent again, but alas, that fateful knock came on his door. When Jello heard the knock, he quickly fumbled to turn off his record player, but instead dropped it an album his big toe, leading to him squealing in pain, and causing him to fall over in a series hilarious slapstick events that I don’t care to recall but am sure would have made everyone laugh and slap their collective knees.

“I know you’re in there Jello!” Shouted the landlord, “If you don’t open up I’m coming in!” The landlord waited outside for his unseemly patron. Jello stumbled to stand up, but not quickly enough. An audible and obnoxious sigh was heard from outside the door as it slowly creaked open. “Jello what are you…” The landlord was caught off guard when he saw Jello failing to stand in a variety of equally hilarious slapstick comedy events that were sure to evoke the laughter of dozens of pre-recorded audience members. “Jello!” The landlord raised his hands in the air in a motion that evoked the same energy as a New Yorker saying ‘I’m walking here.’ “What are you doing? You better get your act together young man!”

Jello stood up quickly, with a goofy, yet serious expression. “Why’s that?”

“I’m doubling the rent ‘cuz the buildings condemned! You’re gonna help me buy city hall.”

“Why are you doing that!”

“Cuz I can!” The landlord laughed maniacally and threw the peel of the banana he was apparently eating this whole time on the floor and walked out the door.

“Landlords!” (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_7OzzMPQgAM) Jello shrugged violently as the door slammed shut. Jello took a step and immediately slipped on the banana peel, landing flat on his back.

Jello passed out, and when he awoke, he found himself lying down in a hospital. The constant beep of the heart monitor was almost more annoying that the constant laugh track that seemed to follow Jello wherever he went. But of all the annoying sounds in the hospital, one topped them all. It was… a television. Jello didn’t own a television because of his eternal mission to not hate the media, but become the media. But what was on the television was an evil Jello could not have predicted. Not only was it a television, but it was changed to Fox News, and worst of all… they were talking about Jello’s least favorite holiday… Christmas! How despicable! How scandalous! How… traditionalist.

Jello fumed with rage. He was ready to throw whatever object might cause damage at the television, but just as he was about to, he heard of another medium through which to vent his anger. He heard Megyn Kelly, renowned Fox News host, say the words, “And by the way for all you kids watching at home, Santa just is white.” (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=28LKckSSgmE)

Jello, in that fateful moment, forged a brilliant plan, that would outclass the minds of both Albert Einstein and Stephen Hawking alike. Jello was going to go to the north pole, and prove that Santa was not, in fact, white, as Fox News has claimed on many occasions. With this epiphany, Jello was instantly cured of his numerous spinal cord injuries, and began his trip to the north pole.

Jello faced many trials and tribulations that I don’t particularly care about, but just know that Jello did, after some time, reach Santa’s workshop on the north pole. What Jello found was an awful sight. Insensitive imagery hung on every square inch of wall. The elves… were indescribable. Just think oompa loompas, but even more racist. Yeah it was bad.

It was so bad that Jello marched right into Santa’s office. “Santa! What is the meaning of this?”

“Oh Jello, you’ve been a very naughty boy this year, I’m sorry, but all you’ll be getting in your stocking is coal! Ho ho ho!” Santa Claus turned around ominously. To Jello’s surprise, all that remained of Santa’s iconic gray beard was a deeply insensitive Hitler stache.

“Shove it Racist Claus! You can’t be the real Santa! Santa cares about all the children in the world!”

“Ho ho ho!” Santa laughed maniacally. “That’s where you’re mistaken Jello! Why do you think starving African children never get any presents?”

“Oh my god… Santa is a… is a…” Jello struggled to allow the words to escape his mouth. “Santa is a white supremacist!”

“Ho ho ho! That’s right Jello! And now that you’ve exposed yourself as a fucking liberal I’m going to have to kill you! Ho ho ho!” Santa picked Jello up and threw him so hard that he flew all the way back to San Francisco, crashing into and subsequently turning his former apartment building to rubble. The laugh track droned on at Jello’s clumsy yet hilarious slapstick antics.

And now, with Jello being sent back to square one and mysteries unfolding all around him, will Jello be able to accomplish whatever his goal might be? Will Fox news stop saying stupid things? Find out in the next Jello Biafra VS The Forces of Corruption Christmas Special!

#Jello Biafra #punk rock #music #short story #writing #creative writing

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