Sir Chris
31st March 2004, 07:17 PM
If you don't know what it is, it was a huge poll that pitted Mario from the mario series and Sephiroth from final fantasy 7 against each other, well, sephiroth won in a blowout. But I haev a little bit of a different say on things...
note: this isn't supposed to make a damn bit of sense, its simply humor...
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
As the stadium roared with cheers, the Italian plumber stepped forth to face off against the pretty boy known as Sephiroth. Mario had his hands firmly in his pants and was “preparing” for the fight.
Meanwhile, up in the stands, the remaining few were clamoring about. Cloud was sitting there gazing into Sephiroth’s eyes with a new found passion, it was hard to hide it for so long, he was just waiting to claim his prize at tournament’s end, yummy!
So, as the gong rang out throughout the stadium the match began!
Mario, using his expert skills OMG WTF MAGUS!
“The black wind howls, Sephiroth, I have returned for your soul. Now, feel the wrath as the wind howls your name- and yours alone. DARK MATTER”
“LOl newbie. I shall now cast reflect and prove once again how my mind is obviously superior to your infer- OMG THAT HURTS IT HURTS MOMMY MOMMY MOMMY!
“Well Sephiroth, I believe the wind is satisfied, and by wind, I mean your mom, and by satisfied, I mean just had a hot night of sex with me. I bid you farewell, you pitiful excuse for a man.” And thus Magus with a poof vanished, leaving the two fighters as they were… well, except Sephiroth was whining about his hair.
“This is totally unbelievable. How could an ingrate even dare…” He straightened his hair out and sighed. Then he began to get dreamy eyed and his mouth opened - if only then we would have known it wouldn’t be shut for quite awhile.
Call me Ishmael. Some years ago - never mind how long precisely - having little or no money in my purse, and nothing particular to interest me on shore, I thought I would sail about a little and see the watery part of the world. It is a way I have of driving off the spleen, and regulating the circulation. Whenever I find myself growing grim about the mouth; whenever it is a damp, drizzly November in my soul; whenever I find myself involuntarily pausing before coffin warehouses, and bringing up the rear of every funeral I meet; and especially whenever my hypos get such an upper hand of me, that it requires a strong moral principle to prevent me from deliberately stepping into the street, and methodically knocking people's hats off - then, I account it high time to get to sea as soon as I can. This is my substitute for pistol and ball. With a philosophical flourish Cato throws himself upon his sword; I quietly take to the ship. There is nothing surprising in this. If they but knew it, almost all men in their degree, some time or other, cherish very nearly the same feelings towards the ocean with me.
There now is your insular city of the Manhattoes, belted round by wharves as Indian isles by coral reefs - commerce surrounds it with her surf. Right and left, the streets take you waterward. Its extreme down-town is the battery, where that noble mole is washed by waves, and cooled by breezes, which a few hours previous were out of sight of land. Look at the crowds of water-gazers there.
Circumambulate the city of a dreamy Sabbath afternoon. Go from Corlears Hook to Coenties Slip, and from thence, by Whitehall northward. What do you see? - Posted like silent sentinels all around the town, stand thousands upon thousands of mortal men fixed in ocean reveries. Some leaning against the spiles; some seated upon the pier-heads; some looking over the bulwarks of ships from China; some high aloft in the rigging, as if striving to get a still better seaward peep. But these are all landsmen; of week days pent up in lath and plaster - tied to counters, nailed to benches, clinched to desks. How then is this? Are the green fields gone? What do they here?
But look! here come more crowds, pacing straight for the water, and seemingly bound for a dive. Strange! Nothing will content them but the extremest limit of the land; loitering under the shady lee of yonder warehouses will not suffice. No. They must get just as nigh the water as they possibly can without falling in. And there they stand - miles of them - leagues. Inlanders all, they come from lanes and alleys, streets and avenues, - north, east, south, and west. Yet here they all unite. Tell me, does the magnetic virtue of the needles of the compasses of all those ships attract them thither?
Once more. Say, you are in the country; in some high land of lakes. Take almost any path you please, and ten to one it carries you down in a dale, and leaves you there by a pool in the stream. There is magic in it. Let the most absent- minded of men be plunged in his deepest reveries - stand that man on his legs, set his feet a-going, and he will infallibly lead you to water, if water there be in all that region. Should you ever be athirst in the great American desert, try this experiment, if your caravan happen to be supplied with a metaphysical professor. Yes, as every one knows, meditation and water are wedded for ever.
But here is an artist. He desires to paint you the dreamiest, shadiest, quietest, most enchanting bit of romantic landscape in all the valley of the Saco. What is the chief element he employs? There stand his trees, each with a hollow trunk, as if a hermit and a crucifix were within; and here sleeps his meadow, and there sleep his cattle; and up from yonder cottage goes a sleepy smoke. Deep into distant woodlands winds a mazy way, reaching to overlapping spurs of mountains bathed in their hill-side blue. But though the picture lies thus tranced, and though this pine-tree shakes-
“DUDE. LIKE, WTF MAN.” A person stood up in all Mario attire, very pleased with himself and looking every bit the computer geek he was, he spoke in a high pitched voice one might expect from a Japanese school girl. But he was a white male in his mid thirties… how… strangely erotic.
“Look, if you don’t shut up and get on with fighting Mario, who is, THE BEST THERE IS, THE BEST THERE WAS, AND THE BEST THERE EVER WILL BE. I am going to BANNINATE you from GameFAQs.
“As if you poser, who are you, some random dork from the boards who shouts ‘KNOW YOUR ROOTS!‘ ROFLMFAO”
“****ish mortal, you dare defy the power that is CJayC? Ye shall live to torment yourself on the reckoning that I shall now give you…
A chair suddenly appears with straps on it and suddenly they bind Sephiroth, as he grows wide eyed with fear CJayC continues to laugh and does his (and by his I mean Kefka’s) trademark finger taunt.
As the lights in the arena dim as the orchestrated version of Aeris’ theme plays in the background. Sephiroth turns his head from side to side, steadily getting the chills
“hey man, like wtf are you doing. Is this some kind of psyche crap you are doing to me man? ANSWER ME WTF DUDE. I killed this *****. Don’t tell me she is going pop up and be like “Oh it was only a flesh wound guys!” I stabbed her man, I ****ING STABBED HER, THE ***** IS DEAD, DON’T TELL ME OTHERWISE MAN. Oh come on, not this holy crap again, I am so screwed. I was so ready to make Porta Dei mine. SHE LEFT SHE CAN’T COME BACK. ITS NOT FAIR OMG WTF”
And thus CJayC is all like,” dude wtf have some self respect Jesus Christ Aeris isn’t coming back, I am so not biased towards her, because like did you see her beating sonic? She could have, but she didn’t. Do you know why? Because I didn’t make it happen. We all know that I control the match ups! Haha, to think, you thought your skill determined them, what a n00b”
And so began the torture as CJayC popped in the video on the big screen.
I wanna be the very best
like no one ever was
To catch them is my real test
To train them is my cause
I will travel across the land searching far and wide
Each pokemon to understand the power that's inside
Pokemon! its you and me
I know its my destiny,
Pokemon! Oh you're my best friend
in a world we must defend
Pokemon! a heart so true
Our courage will pull us through,
You teach me and I'll teach you,
Pokemon! gotto catch'em all
Pokemon!
“The goggles, they do nothing!” Sephiroth screamed in utter agony as his eyes were treated to the entire first season of pokemon.
“Uh CJayC! Perhaps-a you have-a got a little too far with-a this treatment! How about-a we just get on with this here battle?” Mario, truly was being subjected to the same treatment as
Sephiroth, and just wanted to end it all.
CJayC look around with a craze in his eyes and then spoke,” Fine Mario, anything for you!” With that the chair retracted and Sephiroth collapsed to the ground in a heap of disgusted flesh. CJayC retreated back to his owner’s booth and the match resumed.
Sephiroth slowly gathered himself and dusted himself off. He took the time to crack his neck and slowly un-sheath his legendary sword, the masamune from his side.
“The horrors that I have seen now plumber, they prepare me well for this match up. You are simply a pathetic weakling with no more power than the failure himself, perhaps even less. Now I show you what power truly means, for you see-”
“Is this-a going to be another-a long winded speech?” Mario groaned
“Well, I was planning on it, why do you have to be so rude!?” Sephiroth was visibly upset, on the verge of tears one could say.
“Man, ****-a that!” Mario reached into one of his seemingly endless pockets and pulled out a star. “It’s time to go old school on your newb ass.” Mario charged himself up with the power of the star and and ran full tilt towards Sephiroth. Seph, being the complete dumbass he was, tried to slash at Mario with his sword, only to have it bounce right off the plumber and the force of the blow caused him to drop it.
Mario didn’t lose a beat as he jumped as high as he could into the air, performing several back flips awarding him many “ooh” and “ah” from the impressed crowd. Finally Mario came down feet first right on top of Sephiroth’s head which caused a foot of him to be planted into the ground.
“Pound it! Pound it! Pound it!” The crowd was chanting in favor of Mario vigorously as Mario took off again and pounded the top of Sephiroth’s head over and over and over and over until finally nothing of Sephiroth’s body could be seen but his head.
Finally Mario’s star power faded and he grinned at Sephiroth as he gave his trademark V.
“How could I be beaten by this ignorant plumber! It is my destiny to rule Porta Dei… This can not be happening!” Sephiroth broke out in tears and continued to whine.
“Aha, who is the failure now? MAGUSBUTTSEXED“ Cloud cried cheerfully from the stands. Everyone kind of edged away from him and gave him a few awkward glances because of that latest outburst.
And so Magus was declared the winner, however Mario got to move on because Magus was such a good sport.
note: this isn't supposed to make a damn bit of sense, its simply humor...
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
As the stadium roared with cheers, the Italian plumber stepped forth to face off against the pretty boy known as Sephiroth. Mario had his hands firmly in his pants and was “preparing” for the fight.
Meanwhile, up in the stands, the remaining few were clamoring about. Cloud was sitting there gazing into Sephiroth’s eyes with a new found passion, it was hard to hide it for so long, he was just waiting to claim his prize at tournament’s end, yummy!
So, as the gong rang out throughout the stadium the match began!
Mario, using his expert skills OMG WTF MAGUS!
“The black wind howls, Sephiroth, I have returned for your soul. Now, feel the wrath as the wind howls your name- and yours alone. DARK MATTER”
“LOl newbie. I shall now cast reflect and prove once again how my mind is obviously superior to your infer- OMG THAT HURTS IT HURTS MOMMY MOMMY MOMMY!
“Well Sephiroth, I believe the wind is satisfied, and by wind, I mean your mom, and by satisfied, I mean just had a hot night of sex with me. I bid you farewell, you pitiful excuse for a man.” And thus Magus with a poof vanished, leaving the two fighters as they were… well, except Sephiroth was whining about his hair.
“This is totally unbelievable. How could an ingrate even dare…” He straightened his hair out and sighed. Then he began to get dreamy eyed and his mouth opened - if only then we would have known it wouldn’t be shut for quite awhile.
Call me Ishmael. Some years ago - never mind how long precisely - having little or no money in my purse, and nothing particular to interest me on shore, I thought I would sail about a little and see the watery part of the world. It is a way I have of driving off the spleen, and regulating the circulation. Whenever I find myself growing grim about the mouth; whenever it is a damp, drizzly November in my soul; whenever I find myself involuntarily pausing before coffin warehouses, and bringing up the rear of every funeral I meet; and especially whenever my hypos get such an upper hand of me, that it requires a strong moral principle to prevent me from deliberately stepping into the street, and methodically knocking people's hats off - then, I account it high time to get to sea as soon as I can. This is my substitute for pistol and ball. With a philosophical flourish Cato throws himself upon his sword; I quietly take to the ship. There is nothing surprising in this. If they but knew it, almost all men in their degree, some time or other, cherish very nearly the same feelings towards the ocean with me.
There now is your insular city of the Manhattoes, belted round by wharves as Indian isles by coral reefs - commerce surrounds it with her surf. Right and left, the streets take you waterward. Its extreme down-town is the battery, where that noble mole is washed by waves, and cooled by breezes, which a few hours previous were out of sight of land. Look at the crowds of water-gazers there.
Circumambulate the city of a dreamy Sabbath afternoon. Go from Corlears Hook to Coenties Slip, and from thence, by Whitehall northward. What do you see? - Posted like silent sentinels all around the town, stand thousands upon thousands of mortal men fixed in ocean reveries. Some leaning against the spiles; some seated upon the pier-heads; some looking over the bulwarks of ships from China; some high aloft in the rigging, as if striving to get a still better seaward peep. But these are all landsmen; of week days pent up in lath and plaster - tied to counters, nailed to benches, clinched to desks. How then is this? Are the green fields gone? What do they here?
But look! here come more crowds, pacing straight for the water, and seemingly bound for a dive. Strange! Nothing will content them but the extremest limit of the land; loitering under the shady lee of yonder warehouses will not suffice. No. They must get just as nigh the water as they possibly can without falling in. And there they stand - miles of them - leagues. Inlanders all, they come from lanes and alleys, streets and avenues, - north, east, south, and west. Yet here they all unite. Tell me, does the magnetic virtue of the needles of the compasses of all those ships attract them thither?
Once more. Say, you are in the country; in some high land of lakes. Take almost any path you please, and ten to one it carries you down in a dale, and leaves you there by a pool in the stream. There is magic in it. Let the most absent- minded of men be plunged in his deepest reveries - stand that man on his legs, set his feet a-going, and he will infallibly lead you to water, if water there be in all that region. Should you ever be athirst in the great American desert, try this experiment, if your caravan happen to be supplied with a metaphysical professor. Yes, as every one knows, meditation and water are wedded for ever.
But here is an artist. He desires to paint you the dreamiest, shadiest, quietest, most enchanting bit of romantic landscape in all the valley of the Saco. What is the chief element he employs? There stand his trees, each with a hollow trunk, as if a hermit and a crucifix were within; and here sleeps his meadow, and there sleep his cattle; and up from yonder cottage goes a sleepy smoke. Deep into distant woodlands winds a mazy way, reaching to overlapping spurs of mountains bathed in their hill-side blue. But though the picture lies thus tranced, and though this pine-tree shakes-
“DUDE. LIKE, WTF MAN.” A person stood up in all Mario attire, very pleased with himself and looking every bit the computer geek he was, he spoke in a high pitched voice one might expect from a Japanese school girl. But he was a white male in his mid thirties… how… strangely erotic.
“Look, if you don’t shut up and get on with fighting Mario, who is, THE BEST THERE IS, THE BEST THERE WAS, AND THE BEST THERE EVER WILL BE. I am going to BANNINATE you from GameFAQs.
“As if you poser, who are you, some random dork from the boards who shouts ‘KNOW YOUR ROOTS!‘ ROFLMFAO”
“****ish mortal, you dare defy the power that is CJayC? Ye shall live to torment yourself on the reckoning that I shall now give you…
A chair suddenly appears with straps on it and suddenly they bind Sephiroth, as he grows wide eyed with fear CJayC continues to laugh and does his (and by his I mean Kefka’s) trademark finger taunt.
As the lights in the arena dim as the orchestrated version of Aeris’ theme plays in the background. Sephiroth turns his head from side to side, steadily getting the chills
“hey man, like wtf are you doing. Is this some kind of psyche crap you are doing to me man? ANSWER ME WTF DUDE. I killed this *****. Don’t tell me she is going pop up and be like “Oh it was only a flesh wound guys!” I stabbed her man, I ****ING STABBED HER, THE ***** IS DEAD, DON’T TELL ME OTHERWISE MAN. Oh come on, not this holy crap again, I am so screwed. I was so ready to make Porta Dei mine. SHE LEFT SHE CAN’T COME BACK. ITS NOT FAIR OMG WTF”
And thus CJayC is all like,” dude wtf have some self respect Jesus Christ Aeris isn’t coming back, I am so not biased towards her, because like did you see her beating sonic? She could have, but she didn’t. Do you know why? Because I didn’t make it happen. We all know that I control the match ups! Haha, to think, you thought your skill determined them, what a n00b”
And so began the torture as CJayC popped in the video on the big screen.
I wanna be the very best
like no one ever was
To catch them is my real test
To train them is my cause
I will travel across the land searching far and wide
Each pokemon to understand the power that's inside
Pokemon! its you and me
I know its my destiny,
Pokemon! Oh you're my best friend
in a world we must defend
Pokemon! a heart so true
Our courage will pull us through,
You teach me and I'll teach you,
Pokemon! gotto catch'em all
Pokemon!
“The goggles, they do nothing!” Sephiroth screamed in utter agony as his eyes were treated to the entire first season of pokemon.
“Uh CJayC! Perhaps-a you have-a got a little too far with-a this treatment! How about-a we just get on with this here battle?” Mario, truly was being subjected to the same treatment as
Sephiroth, and just wanted to end it all.
CJayC look around with a craze in his eyes and then spoke,” Fine Mario, anything for you!” With that the chair retracted and Sephiroth collapsed to the ground in a heap of disgusted flesh. CJayC retreated back to his owner’s booth and the match resumed.
Sephiroth slowly gathered himself and dusted himself off. He took the time to crack his neck and slowly un-sheath his legendary sword, the masamune from his side.
“The horrors that I have seen now plumber, they prepare me well for this match up. You are simply a pathetic weakling with no more power than the failure himself, perhaps even less. Now I show you what power truly means, for you see-”
“Is this-a going to be another-a long winded speech?” Mario groaned
“Well, I was planning on it, why do you have to be so rude!?” Sephiroth was visibly upset, on the verge of tears one could say.
“Man, ****-a that!” Mario reached into one of his seemingly endless pockets and pulled out a star. “It’s time to go old school on your newb ass.” Mario charged himself up with the power of the star and and ran full tilt towards Sephiroth. Seph, being the complete dumbass he was, tried to slash at Mario with his sword, only to have it bounce right off the plumber and the force of the blow caused him to drop it.
Mario didn’t lose a beat as he jumped as high as he could into the air, performing several back flips awarding him many “ooh” and “ah” from the impressed crowd. Finally Mario came down feet first right on top of Sephiroth’s head which caused a foot of him to be planted into the ground.
“Pound it! Pound it! Pound it!” The crowd was chanting in favor of Mario vigorously as Mario took off again and pounded the top of Sephiroth’s head over and over and over and over until finally nothing of Sephiroth’s body could be seen but his head.
Finally Mario’s star power faded and he grinned at Sephiroth as he gave his trademark V.
“How could I be beaten by this ignorant plumber! It is my destiny to rule Porta Dei… This can not be happening!” Sephiroth broke out in tears and continued to whine.
“Aha, who is the failure now? MAGUSBUTTSEXED“ Cloud cried cheerfully from the stands. Everyone kind of edged away from him and gave him a few awkward glances because of that latest outburst.
And so Magus was declared the winner, however Mario got to move on because Magus was such a good sport.