Icy Brian's Birthday Squared!

By Secret Agent Man

Author’s Note: BUAHAHAHA SINCE ICY LOVED HIS FIRST BIRTHDAY FIC, IT’S TIME FOR ANOTHER BOUT OF SUPER FUN


Once upon a time, Icy Brian was walking down the street one day when he saw this HUGE turtle beating up on a giant rat. Dismissing it as some LSD flashback from back in Nam when he was spraying Agent Orange into Iraqi weapons depots, he kept on walking. Which was a good thing, because shortly after he left, the turtle and the giant rat exploded, never to be seen again.

But that’s not important.

What was important was the fact that Icy Brian was walking down the street at 1548 (That’s 3:48 PM for you civilians!) on August second, and didn’t realize that at that very moment, some puppy was taking a leak on a wino’s pant leg in San Francisco while someone in Bolivia poked a voodoo doll of Emperor Akihito in the crotch. Of course, it didn’t work, because everybody knows that when a puppy pisses on a wino’s leg in San Francisco, the Emperor of Japan can’t be harmed by mere voodoo dolls.

But that’s not important either. I just said that to throw you off.

So anyway, Icy Brian was walking down the street at 1548 on his birthday (August Second, you dullard!) to get some anti-itch cream for his colon. For, you see, it had only three days since he was ravaged by a tentacle monster mistaking him for a pert young schoolgirl. And, as it was a day that would live in infamy for Icy Brian, the sheer anger he felt just couldn’t compare to the sensation of an itchy colon. So off to the nearest craft store he went for some copper wire and a wooden spool. For, let’s face it, where was he going to find anti-itch cream at THAT time of the day?

So he walked, and he walked, and he walked some more, when he suddenly realized that there WAS no craft store within walking distance. So he magically teleported himself to the nearest Subway and got a foot-long meatball sub and promptly decided to eat it. He deserved a break that day. He hadn’t had a decent night’s sleep since the tentacle raping three days ago, and he was STILL pooping monster spooge.

As Icy Brian ate the meatball sub, sucking on the meatballs with great gusto, a strange man dressed in a trenchcoat came up to his table.

“Hey buddy, wanna buy a wang?”

“No, thank you!” said Icy. “Can’t you see I’m already eating a sandwich of phallic proportions?”

“Why no! Explain it to me!” said the man in a trenchcoat.

Icy held out his half-eaten sandwich. “You see, this sandwich represents a penis. More specifically, mine. Since it IS a foot-long. (ARE YOU TAKING NOTES, LADIES?) And the great care I’m taking in munching these meatballs represent the great care I’d like to see when other men much on MY balls.” He then blinked. “What the HELL?!”

“What? What is it?” Asked the man in a trenchcoat.

“I… I don’t know. I feel like I’m reading lines given to me by a deranged lunatic who gets their kicks by making everybody question my sexuality.”

Just then, the author sneezed. Haaa-CHOOOO!

The man in the trenchcoat paused. “Would you like me to give you the sweet, sweet lovin’ you so badly need?”

“Don’t change the subject.”

“No, really. I insist.”

Icy Brian flung a meatball at the trenchcoat man. “No! I’m straight!”

The trenchcoat man paused. “Then… you don’t remember about last year?”

For about three and a half seconds, time stopped. Kudos to anyone who can figure out exactly what that means.

“You don’t mean…” Icy gasped, openmouthed. A meatball dropped out of his jaws and landed on his tray.

The trenchcoat man whipped off his coat, revealing none other than… MUSTADIO!

“Let’s fuck, Icykins~!”

Icy Brian, remembering the pain and anguish from his tentacle raping three days earlier (And the episode he encountered a year prior), immediately fled out of the Subway without putting away his trash (I HATE those people) and ran down the street, screaming bloody murder while a half-naked Mustadio chased him screaming something about hot man lovin’.

“Must… find… author…” panted Icy, not sure if he was frightened out of his wits or actually aroused by the entire ordeal.

Little did he know that he would NEVER find me—er… the author.

“I heard that!”

No you didn’t!

“Yes I did, bitch! Who the hell are you?” Argued Icy.

He’ll never find out. NYAH.

“Oh wait! Since this is a fic and it’s being narrated by somebody, that means this somebody has a voice! So all I have to do is recognize the voice!”

“Oh Icy~~~~~~~~!” Screamed Mustadio, closing in fast.

“ThinkthinkthinkthinkTHINK!” Said Icy, still running. “I know that voice from somewhere.”

Just then, the author’s throat gurgled loudly.

“I’ve got it!” Icy shrieked happily. So he magically transported himself to Texas, where he immediately found himself surrounded by the sexiest men anime and video games had to offer.

“Alas! A trap!” Icy choked, unable to escape the mass of writhing bodies around him. “Where is my assault rifle when I need it?”

“Hahahahahahaha!” said the Author, stepping out onto her back porch to enjoy the spectacle of the Brian of Icy being molested by sexy men as the theme to Austin Powers played in the background. “You have fallen beautifully into my trap! Try to work your way of this one, but please… be gentle,” she cooed.

“Dammit! You’ll never take me alive! It was you who sent the tentacle monster after me, wasn’t it? WASN’T IT?” Icy shouted, his hands handcuffed to one of the saplings in the backyard as he was molested.

“Maybe.”

“Damn youuuuuuuuuuu!”

At this, the author laughed maniacally.

Just then, Roushi from Houshin Engi appeared right next to Icy.

“Ssssh… I’m here to save you,” he said. “Put this hat on. You’ll be transported out of here, but I don’t know where to. But I can tell by the look of pain on your face that anyplace will be better than here.”

“Thank you! Thank you!” Icy said gratefully as Roushi pulled out a gaudy party hat and stuck it on his head. There was a pause. “….A party hat? Why a party hat?”

Just then, Icy appeared in a totally black room, devoid of ANY life.

“Where am I?” he asked.

OH NO HERE IS THE PORKHAM AHULUGGGGGAAAAAAAA I MAKE MYSELF INTO A SKINNY AT WILL I AM HARRY POTTER BUT MADE OF TASTY!!!11

“What? I don’t… I don’t… understand.”

WHAT IS THE MATTER ARE YOU WANTING TO BE FATTY TOO YOU HAVE PARTY HAT HURRRRRRRRRR

HAHA PLEASE KILL ME I WANT TO DIE I AM SHAPESHIFTER BACON I AM THE SIDEKICK TO CAPTAIN FATTY NOOOOOO

Icy sighed. “You may have won the battle, Sam, but the war is far from over! YOU WILL DIE! DIE, Y’HEAR? DIEEEEEEE!”

OH NO LOOK AT SIDEKICK WHINE FOR MERCY I DO NOT KNOW WHERE HE PUTS HIS BUTTER.


(THE END?)


No fat chicks in party hats were harmed in the making of this fic.


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