PS. Black Mesa is a gungan minority.
Ok, here you go you sacks of mud which smell strangely like poo:
SON OF WANG: PART 6
I was woken up rather rudely, the thumping inside my head in perfect sync with the thump my wallet made as it was tossed onto my chest. My eyes peeked open to see the only man I know of who dares carry around samples of his own urine;
“Vending machines” he said,
wearily, I replied; “did that nurse finally agree to pork with you? How long was I out for – a million years?”
“I was hungry you illegitimate bastard child”
“I wasn’t aware you could eat condoms”
“Well you know what you pathetic sack of miniature flying fucks? I’m not the one here lying on a hospital floor wearing a gigantic boner ripping through the front side of his pants as though he were surrendering to American troops.”I lowered my head to see and unsuprisingly, it was true. I tucked my flagpole back into what was left of my pants, sighed and welcomed myself back to reality.
“By the way, aliens are invading.”
I forced a wry expression onto my face and slid my wallet onto the floor beside me. As I arched myself forward I began to hear a distant rumbling. With little warning, the ground jolted violently, skipping my wallet across the floor to in front of a vending machine which appeared to be selling moist towelettes. Another jolt saw that the machine fell over onto my wallet. A third jolt saw that vending machine exploded in a shower of coins, wallet parts and lemon freshness. To my abject horror; an ominous voice came boomed from outside;
“DESCENDENTS OF WANGLORR! REVEAL YOURSELVES!”
Realising that I wasn’t lied to regarding aliens, I frightfully looked down the hallway in desperation and saw my idiot of a father marching towards the front door carrying a megaphone, I became filled with dread as he stopped metres in front of the door and raised it to his mouth;
“NOT BY THE HAIRS OF MY CHINY-CHIN-CHIN!”
For a tightly spaced sequence of moments silence washed over the entire hospital. Nobody made a move, fearful for their lives – except of course for my father, who stood legs apart, hands resting on his hips and staring down the door with an almost feral determination. He remained still even as the rest of the hospital cowered at the mechanical click that broke the afforementioned silence. The voice boomed again;
“GOODBYE!”
An explosion permeated the front wall of the hospital, introducing a large projectile heading straight for my father; but suddenly the most amazing thing happened – the absolute most amazing thing I ever saw encased in a split second but drenched in a sticky grandeur that surpassed even the greatest action movie that would ever be imagined by anyone (Terminator 2: Judgement Day) – my father’s battering babymaker exploded in size, like the world’s worst airbag, wielding the tree-sized cucumber like a bat, he intercepted the projectile with a mighty punt, propelling it back out and upward towards a place near the middle of eternity.
He ran towards the hole in the wall and began to yell;
“THIS IS MY GUN! IT’S FOR FIGHTING AND FOR FUN!”