Veteran hack driver Henry Krinkle pulls up to hiscustomer's destination and lets him get off on the side of the road.
*Henry Krinkle:* "154 Hopper. I'm going to haveto charge you extra because of all those back-rubs you gave me on thefreeway."
*Dan Severn:* "No problem."
The mustachioed behemoth fumbles around in the pocketsof his duster, grunting and heaving as he strains to scrap together every lastcent he can find. Krinkle waits impatiently as the meter on his dashboardflashes the price of Severn's fare.
*Dan Severn:* "I hope this will cover it."
The haggard cabbie idly holds out his palm to catchhis profit only for Severn to pull his hand out of his coat and abruptly fliphim the bird. Krinkle is utterly confounded as Severn saunters off down theroad, aghast that a grown adult would welsh on him like some dumbass teenager.After a moment's adrenaline dump, he climbs out of his vehicle and rushestowards his fare.
*Henry Krinkle:* "Yo, man, what the fuck!"
Severn spins around.
*Dan Severn:* "Oh, I'm sorry. I forgot totip."
The beefy ex-UFC champion quickly reaches into hisduster again and pulls out another middle finger for Krinkle. At this sight,the army-jacket clad chauffeur just loses it and lunges at the goliath wrestlerlike a wildcat busting out of a barbed-wire pen. Henry Krinkle doesn't care howbig this Michigan-sounding goon is, NOBODY fucks around with his livelihood.
The crazed cabbie collides with his delinquent fare,and for but a brief moment he manages to wrap his greasy hands around themustachioed muscleman's neck. After less than a nanosecond's struggle, however,the ground beneath Krinkle's feet suddenly vanishes and he finds his leatheryface being lashed violently by the wind. There's no time to ponder what these sensationsmean before bomb-bursts of wood begin erupting around the stunned hack'sspinning head. After a moment of darkness, Henry Krinkle finds himself in adazed heap in the middle of a mound of crushed oranges. Assessing his situationthrough bleary eyes, the realization of what happened hits him all too quickly:He had been suplexed into a fruit stand.
*Black People Across the Street:*"OHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!"
With trembling legs, the flabby hack slowly regainshis footing amidst the belligerent yelps of the Korean street vendorsscrambling to gather their scattered merchandise. His comically masculineantagonist leers down at him with a sinister smile, his snot-caked mustachestamped above his lips like a mark of the Devil. Despite being in so much painthat he can't even muster a thought, Krinkle presses his attack again throughsome sheer unconscious force of will. Picking up a piece of jagged table leg,he dives at Severn like a caveman trying to thrust a spear through the hide ofa wooly mammoth.
Severn doesn't betray even a flinch as the woundedcabbie attempts to gore him with his wooden stake. The very precise instantKrinkle gets in range to attack, he's back up in the air again, the goliathwrestler hurling him clean off of his feet with an impossibly well-timed ipponseionage. The impromptu pike flies from his grasp mere seconds before he hitsthe concrete with a thud, the excruciating pain he's already in compounded adozen times over. Twin streams of red, both only slightly wider than a needle,dribble out from his ears and begin staining the graying hair near the back ofhis head.
*Black People Across the Street:*OHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!
Krinkle doesn't want to get up. The thoughts of hislost fare seem miles away, now. All he wants to do is crawl into his hack andgo back home to drown his sorrows in corn flakes and peach brandy. Theapparently superhumanly strong psychopath who slammed him doesn't seem to bepressing the attack, so the battered cabbie takes that as a sign that he's beentaken pity on and allowed to leave. Turning over to his stomach, he begins hislong ascent back to yellow salvation... Only to find his rear end being caressedby a bizarre, alien sensation. Like a breeze blowing over the back of histhighs.
*Black People Across the Street:*"OHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!! NIGGA RIPPED HIS PANTS!!!"
Krinkle's ass is out. "Fuckin' perfect," hethinks. "The fruit stand must've shredded my chinos when I wentthrough." Abject humiliation can now be counted among the numerous otherpainful sensations he has to endure at this particular moment. The sudden shockof it all is so potent that it stops him dead in his tracks and implores him tolook around and see just how many people are witnessing his degradation. Thereare considerably more than he had realized: About twelve black dudes cacklingat him from across the street, numerous produce vendors (Who have stoppedtrying to clean up their tables in order to watch all the hullabaloo), andseveral busloads of super-models who just happened to be driving through atthat particular moment. "Fuckin' perfect," he thinks again.
One eerie, malevolent face stands out from the rest,however: That of the beefy Michigan man who had caused him this agony. Withunblinking, dilated eyes, he stares at Krinkle's buttocks like a vampire gazingat the sight of blood. The stunned cabbie is unsure of what to make of thatwhen a strange voice begins echoing in his mind... A voice from the most primalrecesses of his being. "Run! RUN!!!" it tells him. Rich doesn't havetime to move, however. The attack comes faster than a rattlesnake's strike.
*Black People Across the Street:*"OHHHHHHHH-"
The black dudes across the street abruptly cease theirtaunts, unable to process what they're witnessing. After a moment's hesitation, they (Andeverybody else in the surrounding area) flee in terror as Severn straddlesHenry Krinkle's' backside and inserts his formidable penis into the beatencabbie's anus. Krinkle can't even scream; like somebody being stabbed in theback, his breath is drawn out from him. Severn cackles like an erkling as herhythmically pulls out and reinserts his phallus in order to stimulate theerogenous zones along its tip and shaft. Henry Krinkle quietly weeps into hissleeves as he feels his rectum growing wider and wider with each thrust.
*Rich Evans:* "Please... Stop... I have to take ashit!"
*Dan Severn:* "No you don't. That's how it'sSUPPOSED to feel!"
*Rich Evans:*"... Sob."
God knows how much time passes. Hours? Days?Eventually...
*Dan Severn:*"UGHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH HHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!"
The ejaculatory period seems to last almost as long asthe build-up. After he's pumped about ten liters of cream cheese into Krinkle'sliver (He had poked a few ulcers in his intestines during the act), Severnsimply stands up and wipes the dirt off his knees. Casually walking off intothe sunset, he leaves the abused hack on the ground to stew like a used-upwhore, the anus of whom will never possess the same potency as it once did.
*Fin.*
I don't want to understand the theory.All I know is that if it's works then it's good,and seems like it's works since there are a theory behind this
