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I realize that my last post was not viewed by the whole twinturbo.net community. (*Personal quote for the people that are going to post saying, I have already read this masterpeice* "This story is not meant for you, this story is being posted for the starving homeless children without shoes. I feel that I owe it to myself and other's, to repost my most recent story so that people everywhere can rejoice in the awsomeness and glory of me. So, without further ado.... My story begins So, there I was, leaving work, when I came up on the same light that I
always do. But something was different this time. Something was terribly
wrong. As I approached the light I discovered the light was green. I thought
to myself, “the light has never been green before. I always stop at this
light and end up racing some poor shmo. There was very little traffic, so I
took a look around to see if any funny business was going on. I slow down to
about 10 miles per hour, and see nothing. Just an open road, with leafes
blowing across the street from a cold breeze. At that moment, I had a
apifany. I realized that I had raced “an anialated” every vehicle in my
town. If I wanted to continue my rock and roll lifestyle, I would have to
move out my neighborhood, and into a new surrounding. A place where import
cars flow like ice cold wine, in my belly. So, I went home and packed up all
of my belongings and began my journey. A journey that would last me 2 long
hours. I packed up my bags, and I moved to Beverly. Hills that is…..Swimming
Pools, and Moviestars. Or so I heard. I drive the Z down to the nicest place
in the 90210 area code, and begin hunting for an apartment. I am driving
down Hollywood Blvd, when this 2003 Porshe Turbo comes up next to me and
proceeds to rev his punny turbocharged engine. I look over and see TV
superstar Luke Perry. Know, If you know, me you now that I will not put up
with TV superstars reving at me. We saw a red light up ahead, and we both
pulled to a stop. I look over at the spoiled rich moviestar and he is reving
his car like a..well, like a spoiled rich moviestar that does not know
anything about cars. He then yelled my way, ‘I hope your car isn’t stock” I
looked back at him and hollered “Dawson’s Creek SUCKS”. This seemed to
infuriate Mr. Luke Perry. Know if you now me, you now that I will not put up
rich moviestar bastards wanting to race me in their riceburner cars. I
looked back at the redlight just as it changed to green. I let the moviestar
go first, just to see if he had done any upgrades to his porshe. Nope. I
easily pulled about 5 car lengths on him with-in about 358 feet. I then
slowed down to ask what went wrong with his car. But to my supprise just
when I got even with him he sped up and just blew by me. Needless to say,
there was only one thing left to do. Open up one of my Sam’s Club Jumbo size
cans of whoopass. I followed behind the porshe until he pulled up to this
Manchan. He trys to get out of his car, but then see’s me right next to his
window. I am screaming, beating on his window, just trying to start a civil,
rational beating. When Luke all of a sudden press’ this button inside his
car, and a damn monkey comes hopes out of his trunk with a crow bar and
attacks me. Know if you now me, you now that I will not put up with sneaky
attach monkey’s with crowbar’s. Sure the monkey got one good swing at me,
but I must admit, I kicked some monkey ass. That monkey is wishing he would
have stayed in that trunk right about know. All the monkey did was piss me
off even more. I took the monkey’s crowbar and smashed the window, and
pulled out Mr. Perry. By know, Mr. Perry was crying and begging me to
forgive his rudeness. Right when I was about to show Mr. Perry the pain, I
felt a felling in my groin. A feeling that I haddent felt, sense I took on
the 400 ninja warriors a few month’s ago, I felt danger. I heard a sound
that sounded like a train..?..I Instintly dove to the ground, and narrowly
dodged the pain train. It was Terry Tate, sneaking up behind me trying to
pull a Goldberg spear on me. Luckily Tate flew over me and hit deadon with
Mr. Perry. Know if you now me, you now that I will not put up with Terry
Tate trying to make a commercial out of the great billy b. I quickly jumped
to my feet and showed mr Tate what it felt like to be on the receiving end
of a Billy B. Asskickin. After I was finished the commercials producers
actually offered me a job for the new commercial entitled “Billy B. Office
Asskicker” we are still shooting, and the commercial should be out next
month. So, know that Terry Tate was out of the way, I looked back over at
Mr. Perry and began a onslot of grown stomps, and forehead knowing, leaving
deep teethmarks in mr. Perrys Superstar forehead. I then unloaded my fury
(and poostick) on Mr. Perrys face, chest, neck, back, and hair. When I was
finishing up, I looked toward the Manchion, and I see Shannon daughtery
walking up. I glance at Ms. Daughtery and say “Hey baby, wanna be with a
real man”, and of course she thru herself at me, and we got back into my Z,
and we headed for this nice little icecream shop. I got rocky road, and ms.
Daughtery Had French vinella. The end. The chronicles of Billy B. 2/17/02
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16:35:00 02/17/03
