Awesomesquad! Assemble! 5!

I turned the knob and the warm water ceased it’s warm, therapeutic strumming on my head and shoulders. I strained the excess water out of my rich, chocolate brown mane, and stepped onto the bathmat.  I stood there for a second just as a towering mass of muscles and sexual energy and then wrapped my towel around my waist without drying myself off first. “Why didn’t he dry himself off?” you might be asking yourselves. Well, that’s because drying off is for pussies. Anyway, I stood there, wet, muscular, and nude when the door burst open and a man holding a rather large handgun stepped in. He was dressed in all black, much like a member of black ops.  He fired his gun, but I luckily dodged the bullet. I then whipped the towel off of me; I’m not sure why I did it, but it seemed like it was a good idea. While he was momentarily paralyzed both by my sudden disregard for modesty and the impressive size of my member, despite it being flaccid, I was able to grab my Coldsteel Bowie spike off of the back of the toilet.

someone’s about to get all kinds of fucked

The masked man realized his mistake (that is, breaking into my fucking house,) turned around and ran out of my bathroom screaming, “I changed my mind, I’m sorry, I’M SORRY!!!!”

I didn’t care. I pulled the Bowie spike from its sheath and threw it at the guy.  The knife sliced through the air, rolling end over end.  It did this in slow motion because that is how I see anything I do that is remotely cool.  Everything sped back up right as the knife split the man’s spine vertically. The intruder fell to the floor, a twitching mass of decommissioned body parts. I was amazed that I didn’t kill him with that. I rolled him over and looked into his eyes. He was in pain; you could see it in his deep green eyes.

It was at that moment that I first felt the hu-mon emotion of pity. I reached behind the man and felt the rough handle of the blade protruding from the base of the man’s skull. With a quick jerk, the blade released from the bone, and the man’s emerald eyes went blank. He was gone, and that feeling of pity left me just as his soul left his body, and I do not mean by me releasing my bowels. Yeah, I know, I totally just killed that moment there, but whatever. My body being dry now, I put on my clothes, and dialed a number on my cell.

A deep (and possibly drunk) voice answered the phone. “What is it Minigan?” The voice asked, apparently weary of my calls.

“Yeah, I got another Code 404.” I replied as I watched the body from the bathroom door.

“Jesus Honeyglazed Christ, Minigan, Another one? That’s like the third one this week.”

“I told you that it happens a lot.”

“Yeah, but I didn’t think it would be this often. I always thought giving the scenario in which a masked man tries to kill you once you get out of the shower and you sever his spinal cord by throwing a knife at him was a bit too specific to deserve its own code name, but I guess I was wrong for thinking that.”

“I told you so,” I added, “Also, I think I might have felt pity this this time, but it could have been indigestion. I’m not sure which it was.”

“Did you feel it in your gut?” he asked.

“And chest a little bit too,”

“Hmm, That could be really either one.”

“Let’s just say it was indigestion, I don’t want to look weak in front of the others.”

“But it will also make you look more human.”

“Eh, I don’t really want that,” I replied, “Remember that I took care of that kid to prove that I was more Hu-mon?”  I stared at the corpse as my dogs began to sniff it and poke it with their noses. It figures that the dogs I got for protection would fucking hide while I did the goddamn protecting.

“You mean that time you got us all onto a Government watch list involving child endangerment. Do you know how long it took GMZ to hack into the CIA’s computers to clear all of our names?!?!”

“Hey,” I snapped, “I told the kid very clearly how to properly hold a grenade launcher. It wasn’t my fault the little tyke couldn’t take the kick.”

The voice admitted, “You’re right, that five year old really should have handled himself better.

“But at least he has some really good stories to tell his friends in the orphanage or foster home or whatever he’s staying at.”

“Well, it’s a cemetery, but close enough.”

Good kid, terrible sidekick. You will be missed… Kind of.

“Right. Well, can you send some of the team over to clean up this body; my dogs are starting to eat it.”

“Will do, broseph” the man replied.

“This is why you’re my second in command, Jibbles.  Thundercock over and out.” I hung up the phone without saying good bye. I do it because I think it makes me seem like a badass and a leader. Perceptions are everything. Anyway, as I waited for the body cleanup team to arrive, I shooed away the dogs and pulled a Lady Caggiano by rummaging through the dead intruder’s pockets, looking for money. None. Damnit, They’re learning.


Awesomesquad Assemble 5: The Sultan of ‘The Shore’

Bad News Tumbleweeds, (yes, once again I did quote a My Chemical Romance album there) We lost 2 members recently.  I am saddened mostly because they were both people I knew fo’ realz.

The first one was Sean McCormick, who was our genetic scientist who was supposed to alter our genes in order to give us super powers. To my knowledge he dropped out of school and is now going to head down to Peru to become some kind of shaman. I wish I was joking about that. I wish him all the luck in the world, and hope that if he comes back with shaman powers, he will rejoin Awesomesquad!. However this still leaves an opening in my team that needs to be filled. If anyone has an idea of a person who could work, leave a comment BELOW, and if  I like their credentials, I will consider them. I don’t care what they look like as long as they are hot women. I’m thinking about you, Bones.

I know she doesn’t know how to alter one’s DNA. I was just using her as an example of a hot scientist.

The second person I lost is much more upsetting to me. To be honest, I didn’t really give two damns about Sean. This person I give a huge damn about, so I am incredibly sorry to say that Lady Caggiano is no longer on the team either. If you read my blog waaaay back in December (which I am going to blindly assume you did), you may remember that she got into a bad car accident because of that giant shit monster that lives in Pataskala. You know the one I’m talking about. No, I don’t mean me; close though. Anyway, since then, she has only talked to me once, and that was to tell me that she wasn’t pissed at me, which I assume was a lie since that message was back in February. So, although it hurts me to say it, fuck her. If she doesn’t want to bother to text me, but she can tweet every time she takes a shit, then I am obviously not that important to her, and I don’t need to bother anymore. And therefore I don’t need her on my team. Lady C, if you are reading this (which I doubt) and you still want to be on my team (also doubt) you will need to have some kind of conversation with me. And I mean a back and forth conversation not a “You send me one message on facebook and never reply to my reply” conversation.  Lady Cagg, please note that I am not trying to be a dick about this, I still have every intention of being friends with you, and I genuinely miss your company, but being friends with you is impossible when you don’t at least confirm that you are still alive. I feel that this is totally reasonable. I also have a really good idea for our TV show that I want to run past you, if that entices you at all.

I, however, feel that she is probably not going to read this, let alone have an actual convo with me, so I needed to find a replacement. Luckily, I already have a Second in Command replacement lined up. And as you could tell by that story up there, it is Jibbles or “Jimmy” as he is sometimes called. I have mentioned this cavalier of men on this blog several times before.  For now on, however, I shall call him The Knifemaster. This came about when he gave me a Coldsteel Bowie knife(also in the story above) for my birthday and also the fact that he is obsessed with the idea of me owning machete. He will be incredibly useful in teaching me how to properly use my Justice Stick (get your minds out of the gutter, I mean a pole arm), as well as teaching the whole group how to fuck someone up with our standard “Killin’ Machetes” and how to throw knives so well that we make John Locke look like a retarded, knife wielding asshole.

You just know he as, like, 10 knives on him at the exact moment this picture was taken.

He will also do all the things that the previous second in command did, that is, helping with formulating strategies of attack, assisting in executive decisions that I cannot make on my own, calling our group into action, and also getting the groupies. All important jobs, all to be done by someone I trust, and all fitting jobs for The Knifemaster.

There is one problem with having the Knifemaster in my group. That problem is that his sister is already our team psychologist. As I assume you remember from my first Awesomesquad Assemble! post, I mentioned one of my issues with me including my brother on the team was that if we both died, we would knock out a good portion of our gene pool and an even greater portion of people who would carry on our family name. Now, you might be assuming that this might cause me to reject The Knifemaster’s talents, and if this was a perfect world, you would be right. I have two reasons that I am willing to disregard that conflict of interest: the first one is that Emily is part of “Team Protection/ Prevention,” but The Knifemaster is part of “Team Pugnastics.” That is Emily is a part of the team that does not do much fighting. This isn’t to keep them from harm (although that is a plus), but to provide intel and to keep the morale of the team up and their minds sane. However, if in the very unlikely and unimaginable event that we were to lose The Knifemaster to that great knife shop in the sky, she may want to join “Team Pugnastics” in order to avenge her brother. And when has that ever happened to someone and resulted in mental instability.

Pictured: a mentally stable adult male

The second reason that I am going to allow this is because I am not related to them, and therefore, don’t care too much. I love you, Kohlberg Family!

OK, onto the third bit of bad news. The warehouse I had chosen to be our base of operations has been bought by some stupid fucking company or some shit, so I have to find a new place. I do have one good idea in mind, and it is based off of this house:

Suck on this, villians.

Basically, it is a house that seals itself up in case of a zombie apocalypse, or more likely for my purpose, an attack by terrorists/ ninjas/ ninja terrorists/ or angry groupies. The only (known) entrance to the facility would be across a drawbridge (I shit thee not) which would rise up and become a concrete barricade when not in use. There would be two to three secret entrance/ exits for the vehicles, and several secret entrances for members of Awesomesquad! Each of which would be only known to a couple of members and no one else. These would also be carefully monitored and labeled so that if some of the members were to leak the entrance location, then we would have a limited number of suspects. Man am I untrusting.

Anyway, in the event of an attack, huge concrete slabs will slide over the windows and skylights and lock in place, creating a giant concrete box which will be impenetrable to planes, bombs, and the fevered clawing of an army of horny, horny women.

Ok, on to the next bit of news: I have one new member for the team! That exclamation point was probably a bit hasty, especially since the only reason he’s going to be on the team is because he threatened me with creating a rival team if I didn’t invite him into mine. Normally I would take such a silly threat as some fun competition and a good way to build up loyalty within my own team. This rivalry with BAAsK (Bad Ass Awesomesquad Killers) was actually going to be the focus of an update I was going to write back in December, but Lady Caggiano got into her car accident, and I felt that that story was more important, so the Awesomesquad! Vs. BAAsK update got postponed indefinitely. Eventually, with my team losing 2 members, I felt that it was necessary that I nip that nasty little “Competing team” in the bud, and let the founder of that group join mine.

The man I am talking about (though he already knows I am talking about him) is Mr. Bannon Keeran (yes, that is his real name), but his code name will be Mr. Expendable, or Seňor Expendablé if we’re in Mexico.

Such a shady character should be a perfect addition to my team!

Before Sean left for his Peruvian spirit trip or whatever, he was able to make a vaccine that would give the taker the ability to regenerate damaged tissue at a much faster rate than normal. However, when The Knifemaster found it, none of the team wanted to try it. Then, in comes Mr. Expendable for our scheduled meeting in which I would induct him into the team. After filling out some forms and a waiver (none of which he read. Cha Ching!), taking a blood sample, urine sample, and fingerprints, and swearing his allegiance to the death, we offered the vaccine to him. He accepted (without us having to explain it at all), and injected himself with it. This man has moxy. We then did a series of tests to make sure the vaccine worked. And by “tests” I mean “we attacked him with several different types of weapons. Not only did he heal, his reflexes and fighting ability were greatly boosted. He was able to disarm each of us one at a time, even though we were attacking him simultaneously.

With his new ability, Mr. Expendable will always be the first one into enemy territory, followed closely by myself. I will go in second because I am the leader, but also because I care for my team’s well being more than I do my own. Except, of course, Mr. Expendable; I don’t care for his because he can regrow his own goddamn limbs.

Ok, wow this is pretty long already (That’s what she said), but I still have one more update, and it is the most exciting one! NEW VILLIAN

We all know of (unfortunately) the latest villain to the world. I recently had come across some evidence that proves that the piece of shit I am talking about is more than just a- um- piece of shit. I am of course talking about Pauly-D from the cultural black hole that is “The Jersey Shore.”  Originally, I assumed that either Snooki or The Situation would have been bigger threats to national security than some douchebag disk jockey, but then I remembered that the only way Snooki could destroy the world is by procreating, and there was no way in the world any man would dive penis first into that clam pit. (Note: I accidentally wrote “clap pit” first, but then changed it. I do think that both are accurate names for Snooki’s vagina.) And, of course I remembered the Comedy Central roast of Donald Trump and came to the conclusion that the Situation couldn’t even form a sentence even by the loosest definition of the word, let alone form an army to take over the world. I then, however, saw the Pauly D’s true nature in this gif:


Why did none of us notice this before? We must have been blinded either by that show, or by our hatred of that show. Either way, we are all at fault for letting this asshole continue to live. Here are the abilities that I have figured out so far in convenient list form:

  1. Can shoot laser beams out of his huge mouth
  2. Impossibly strong (from the steroids)
  3. Has irrational fits of explosive anger (also from the steroids)
  4. His hair is as hard as titanium, and as sharp as a razorblade. If you’re not sure how he would use this, watch this axe commercial and draw your own conclusions.
  5. His orange skin is impervious to all types of deadly radiation.
  6. Worst of all, he has an insatiable desire for attention, meaning that he will go through extreme and potentially dangerous measures in order to get people to look at him.

How the hell will we deal with such a formidable and douche opponent? The answer may be below…


As I stood over the dead body the hallway outside my bathroom, I noticed that the man’s head had a bizarre shape to it. It wasn’t rounded at the top as you would see with most people that one would consider hu-mon, but instead had a wide and flat top to it, almost as if as a newborn he had placed upside down on the floor, and his soft skull flattened to support its body.

I touched the top of his head. I was right; the top of his head was as stiff as a skull should be. Was this a genetic variation? A hideous deformation? A sign of allegiance to a particular evil organization (The Salvation Army I bet)?  A practical joke by a cruel, yet hilarious God?  I had no clue. The only way to check was to remove his mask.

As I was about to remove the mask and find out what particular kind of disgusting monster broke into my house, the voice I had talked to over the phone, called out from behind me, “let’s get it back to base before we figure out what group this asshole worked for.”

I then replied, slightly annoyed, and “Why is it so easy for people to break into my house?”

“No time to answer that,” The Knifemaster said as he waved hand in between us. He was holding a butterfly knife in that hand, so as he waved, the knife flapped around, clicked, and gave a dazzling display of reflected light. “We need to get this body back to base, so that we can perform an autopsy.”

Just as I was about to argue that he could answer that question before everyone else showed up, Criss Angel, Danica McKellar, and Derren Brown came up the stairs and into the hallway. Criss’s hair had finally grown back out, and so he no longer looked like a complete cock.  Derren was holding a bucket of soapy water and a scrubber brush, Danica wasn’t holding anything; she must be supervising again. Criss magicked (magiked? Magiced?) the corpse and its limp body levitated off of the ground, over the banister, and down the stairs. Criss followed it. Derren got down onto his hands and knees, and feverishly began to scrub the blood spot away. Danica and I watched him for a second or two before she took her eyes off of the floor and gazed at me.

She put her arms around my neck and whispered into my ear, “Oh, Minigan, last night was amazing! We really REALLY need to do it again sometime. I want you so bad.”

I want to stick my hypotenuse into her Pythagorean theorem.

“Yes we do,” I replied, “but unfortunately, we are going to be really busy now, what with having to figure out who that bastard worked for, and adding more security measures to my house. We’re gonna have to wait until tonight at the earliest.”

At this point, Derren was done scrubbing (That was fast), and all that was left of the man I killed was a heavily scrubbed wet spot. Derren stood up, saluted me (I had no clue why, I never told him that saluting me was customary), and walked down the stairs and out of the house.

Danica put her mouth close to my ear once again and whispered, “I will see you at the base.” She then gently nibbled on my earlobe for a second or two, and when she let go and started to walk away, she  gently ran her smooth hand down my face to my rock hard pecs, all while locking her deep brown eyes with mine. She gave a small yet mischievous smile, and followed Derren out.

The Knifemaster, who was standing in the hall awkwardly as the conversation between Danica and myself transpire,d walked up to me, extending a clenched fist, and said, “Dude, nice. You hit that?”

“Yes I did. I hit it like Chris Brown,” I replied as we fist pounded. Our hands then exploded back as we both made explosion sounds with our mouths.

We then shared a good, hearty, man laugh, and then The Knifemaster said, “OK, I am going to get to base and start the autopsy. What time do you think you’ll be there?”

“In a few; I need to figure out how that guy got into my house.”

The Knifemaster nodded in agreement and left without another word. I finished cleaning up after my shower, and once I found out how the masked assassin got in (I left the garage door open again), I made my way to my secret entrance to the Awesomebase!. I cannot (for obvious reasons) tell you the location of my entrance, but I can tell you that it may or may not be in Ohio. Anyway, I type in my access code, insert my access card, say my code phrase, then scan my retina and my fingerprints to finally gain access. The hallway I entered was dimly lit; you can only see about a foot in front of your face. I did this on purpose so that any intruder will not know where they are going, nor that their every step is being watched.

After about ten minutes or so of walking and singing this song out loud (I know. Don’t judge), I finally made it to the entrance of the base. You can tell because the corridor comes to an abrupt end. I pushed on the right corner of the wall, and it easily gave way, opening up to the high ceilings and bright walls of Awesomebase!. I walked across the main hall of Awesomebase! as my eyes adjusted to the light, and made my way upstairs to the autopsy room.

I almost threw up. I walked in the door and the sight I saw would probably be best at home in one of the better saw movies. Blood splatter covered all of the walls, ceiling, and light fixtures. Organs were thrown haphazardly around the room, most of which were on the floor, but one, maybe the spleen, was sitting on top of the computer monitor like some rated R desk toy. The Knifemaster was standing at  the foot of the autopsy table. He was covered from head to toe in blood. The body on the table no longer looked like a body, but more like a pile of bloody dog food with arms, legs, and a masked head growing from its center.

“What the fuck happened here?” I screamed both out of anger and of fear.

“KNIFEMMMMMMAAAAAASSSSSSTTTTTEEEEERRRRR!!!!!!!!” he screamed while raising both of his hands to the sky. From the looks of it, he had taped scalpels to each of his fingers, and proceeded to go all kinds of Freddy Kruger on the corpse.

“Dude, Jibbles,” I said, feeling like I might have made a mistake letting him on my team, “I said he needs an autopsy, not his body mutilated. What the hell is wrong with you?”


I pinched the bridge of my nose and clenched my eyes shut, “Well, did you find out anything about this…guy.”

“As a matter of fact, I did,” The Knifemaster replied, completely snapping out of his insane spirit finger of death stance, “I first noticed that the man’s skin was orange and leathery, like if a wallet was soaked in Tang and vomit. When I opened him up, I discovered that he had no organ that housed his soul. I assumed he must have had one, so I began a frantic search for one, hence why all of his non-soul housing organs are all over the place”

I sighed, “Jibbles, the soul doesn’t have an organ. It’s just in there.”

“Oh,” he said, looking somewhat dissappointed, “Well that doesn’t matter anyway because judging by his thick leathery hide, and his flat skull, this thing is obviously not human.”

“Have you looked at its face yet?”

“No,” The Knifemaster answered, “I was about to do that right as you walked in.”

I made my way to the center of the room, careful not to slip on the puddles of blood or to step on any of the organs. Once I got there, The Knifemaster cut off the mask, revealing a leathery face that looked as though it was covered in makeup. I asked The Knifemaster is this was a woman, and he pointed to the crotch, where a small, shriveled up penis sat. we both chuckled a bit, and then looked back at the face.

“Yeah, he is definetly wearing lipgloss,” I commented.

“And eyeliner. Jesus hairstylin’ Christ, look at the top of his head!”

My eyes moved from the face of the creature that attacked me and to the top of its grotesque misshapen head. However, the skull was not what made it misshapen like I had previously thought. No, the shape of his head specifically came from is over gelled hair.

 For the second time in five minutes, I felt like I was going to throw up. “Well, Knifemaster,” I said slowly, trying to keep my lunch down, “you were close when you said that the creature wasn’t human. This thing is just barely human: it’s a guido.”

“What does that mean, Minigan?” He asked.

“It means Awesomesquad! Is going to have a rough and tumble with Pauly D.”

The Knifemaster replied with a simple, “Sweet merciful Fuck.”


Sorry, but this was getting to 5,000 words long. That is a ridiculous length for a blog post. If the world doesn’t end this Saturday, It will be my next post. And if we all die on Saturday like those religious crazies say we will, I say we meet up in Hell and take that place over. Who’s with me?!?

Peace until Saturday, and then its everyman for himself.



  1. […] Status- Former Member […]

  2. […] he either attacks us or tricks us into going along with him. That’s why I’ve been attacked by guidos, zombies, pop singers, and pundits within three years! He forces us to do these things, and we […]

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