The League of Extraordinarily Badass Gentleman is accepting new applicants. All that’s required is a true account of you kicking ass, and a suitably awesome superhero name. Applying for others is not accepted. If they can’t do it themselves, they’re probably pussies anyway.
Here’s an example of what we’re NOT looking for:
Name: Ben Dover
One day I was knitting my grandmother a sweater out of enviromentally friendly cotton when there was a car accident outside. I rushed to the scene with a first aid kit and saved three people’s lives.
Here’s an example of what we ARE looking for:
Name: Huge Dick McCock
One day I was playing video games and eating beef jerky when some kids decided to start playing outside with their retarded little fake motorcycle that was so loud is started to drown out my video game. I burst through my wall and beaned the little bastards, using my massive cock as a baseball bat. Suddenly their dad came out and exlaimed, “Leave my children that I adopted because I’m totally impotent alone!”. He tried to run and tackle me, but he was so fat that he collapsed from fatness. I took his wallet and maxed out all his credit cards buying hamburgers.
Well…
I’M GEORGE ZIMMER, FOUNDER AND CEO OF THE MEN’S WEARHOUSE. I WAS IN MY OFFICE ON THE 34TH FLOOR WHEN FROM THE STREET BELOW THERE CAME QUITE A RUCKUS. PEERING OUT OVER THE COMMOTON, I SOON CAME TO REALIZE THAT THERE HAD BEEN AN AUTOMOBILE ACCIDENT OF MYTHIC PROPORTIONS INVOlVING A TRUCK CONTAINING HAZARDOUS MATERIAL. THE CHOICE WAS NOT MINE TO LEAP FROM THE OPEN WINDOW TO THE STREET BELOW TO OFFER WHATEVER HELP COULD BE OFFERED BY MY SLEEK AND SEXY SEVERAL-STORY SEMINAL SUPER-SOAKER. THE FALL TO THE STREET WORRIED ME NOT SINCE IT WAS EASY TO ASSUME THAT THE AIR DRAG ON MY HAIRY HOOKER-HOSER WOULD SLOW MY DESCENT TO THE POINT OF SAFETY. THE FIRE THAT RAVAGED THROUGH THE STEETS AND DOWN ALLEYS SUCCUMBED TO MY COPIOUS AND CRASHING COCKPASTE CARGO IN WHAT SEEMED TO THOSE CAUGHT IN THE BLAZE TO BE MILLISECONDS. THE IMMENSELY MASCULINE STINK OF MY OCEAN OF SEED SIZZLING ON THE SUPERHEATED PAVEMENT CAUSED ACCIDENT VICTIMS WITHIN WHAT I LATER LEARNED TO BE AN EIGHT-BLOCK RADIUS TO WEEP IN HOPELESSLY INTENSE LUST. BLOODY TRAILS RAN FROM THE OVERLY ENGORGED GENITALS OF MANY OF THEM DUE TO THEIR INCAPACITY TO PREPARE FOR THE INFLUX OF BLOOD CAUSED BY THE SIGNAL BEING TRANSMITTED FROM THEIR OLFACTORY LOBES. A FAIR YOUNG WOMAN APPROACHED, SOAKED TO THE ABSOLUTE IN MY VERY OWN STICKY GENETIC STEW, AND WORDLESSLY KISSED THE TIP OF MY HUMONGOUSLY HEAVY HUMAN HAMMER, PRESUMABLY IN THANKS FOR MY SELFLESS DEED OF SEXUAL SPECTACULARITY. THE RESULTING FORCE WITH WHICH MY REMAINING RECTUM-READY RESERVOIR WAS DISCHARGED IN BETWEEN HER AWAITING LIPS TORE HER HEAD CLEANLY FROM HER NECK. I GUARANTEE IT.