Dead Frontier Presents: Karl Jackson VS The Stick & Co.

Karl Jackson sped through the streets of Denver in his new shiny Bugatti. Everyone who knew Karl knew that it wasn’t his. The man was black after all so it made sense for him to steal a bugatti. He sped, and drifted through the streets. The touch of rubber against the steel concrete ground made him grind his teeth in anger at that bastard stick who took his homeboy’s down.

 That stick was the only thing stopping Karl from going back to LA. This stick had to be stopped before any other brother could become a victim. A tear fell from under his dark shades, at the remembrance of his boy Cedric singing to some funky tunes. “This is for you my light skin brotha.”

 Karl mind quit adventuring when he seen the stick lying on the ground -- motionless. He drifted the car, and slammed his foot to the breaks. The bugatti’s door opened, and his steel clad boots kissed the pavement. “My gawd.” Karl mumbled under his breath when he taken off his shades. He kicked his foot back, and lifted his hands in a guard position that he learned from watching a Karate Kid movie film a few days ago.

 “WHO GOES THERE!” A loud voice boomed throughout the dark purple sky. Thunder begin to twirl, but that didn’t phase Karl. He smashed his hands together, unkowingly that the voice in the sky was the stick. “It’s Karl Jackson sisterfucker. Reveal yourself before I have to kick some ass.”

 “I AM THE STICK OF TRUTH, THE STICK OF POWER, AND KNOWLEDGE. THE ONLY PERSON I TAKE COMMANDS FROM IS LORD DEVON!” A man with a mask appeared. His face was unknown but the man were a mask that was very similar to Deadmau5. He picked up the stick, and raised it above his bootleg deadmau5 mask.

 “What the fuck you think this is my sticka? You think this is a game?” Karl said seductively licking amongst his facial hair. The fgt soldier anchored his arms out in a stance similar as if he had to take a shit. A dynamic dramatic facetown erupted between the two. Karl attacked first.

 He punched the fgt soldier amongst his head, knocking the man back. “I call that one the Jaden Smith bitch!” Karl shouted at the man, before charging at him with a super kick. The fgt soldier body flew miserably back and landed into a tree. The soldier let out his first sign of life with moans from his asshole. He stood up, and held the stick. “WE’RE JUST GETTING STARTED.” the large echoing voice appeared from the skies.

 The soldier ran towards Karl and punched the man in his face. Karl fell to the ground, immediaetly felt the blows. This was the end of Karl’s life, and he knew it. “YOU’RE DONE! HAHA YOU’LL BE WITH YOUR FRIENDS IN NO TIME.”  But then Karl remembered Wax on, and Wax off.

 He lifted his fist and caught the fgt soldier’s swings with the stick. “WHAT THE!” the loud echoing voice in the sky deemed. Karl grabbed the stick from the fgt soldier hand, and swung it as hard as he could. The stick bashed the fgt soldier, and he fell like a ragdoll on the ground. The soldier bled. "You ain't know blue balls til you fought me, fuckingcuntfuckingcuntfuckingcuntfuckingcunt.

Karl lifted the stick, and heard the stick cries for forgiveness, but Karl wasn’t having any of this bullshit. He took the stick to the woods, and started a fire. The stick was now in his hands as he placed it amongst the fire, burning it to ashes. Lifting a Marshmellow he cooked, he lifted it. “This is for all my brotha’s who died.” The marshmallow fell moistfull down his throat.