Having conquered an onslaught of opposing lacrosse players and bested three babes in bed our hero, Wickedman (patent pending), embarked on what he thought would be a relaxing, yet righteous, day of shopping. Wickedman needed new hiking boots to tread upon the face of injustice, a new bedspread to replace his old one (which had become a veritable protein shake), and a new cell phone to download that Crazy Frog ring tone from Mobizzo. Wickedman pulled up to his third favorite girlfriend’s villa in his brand new rocket car. As they sped down the highway and she polished his knob our hero thought “this is the life”. Little did he know his arch enemy was lying in wait for him, just a few miles down the road.

Several miles, and ten gallons of semen, later Wickedman drop kicked his girlfriend out of the car in front of a Target. “Get your stomach pumped” he yelled as he sped away. Moments later he had arrived at his destination and he pulled into the parking lot. “Zounds” he exclaimed, “an open spot and so close to the store!” He put on his blinker and began to turn when he realized that three young children were playing in the open spot. Wickedman resisted the overwhelming urge to run the little bastards down and waited. “Surely the parents will ask their children to move” he theorized. Instead of controlling their children the parents allowed them to continue running amok. Not only that, they did one better. They pulled another child out of the car and proceeded to change his diaper in the open spot. Wickedman’s mouth and neck began to pulsate erratically, his palms began to sweat profusely, and his proud, majestic cock began to flail about shattering the driver’s side window. “How is this possible” Wicked man queried, “they know my only weakness…stupidity!”

Wicked man quickly hit the turbo thrusters and his jet engine incinerated the family of evildoers. “Enjoy the skin grafts bitches” he cackled as he drove ten feet to the next available parking space. He had arrived at Verizon Wireless. “Surely at such a bastion of technology and immutable reason I’ll find solitude” our antagonized hero lamented. Wickedman sauntered over to customer service and made small chat with the semi-attractive woman at the customer service desk. (By semi-attractive I mean that she was probably attractive by your standards, but to our hero she looked like Yasir Arafat in a red blouse) Then, they got down to business.

Wickedman: Miss, I would like to transfer myself off my fathers plan and start my own plan. I have all of the paper work right here for you.

Customer Service Rep: Oh, I’m sorry. We can’t accept those from you unless you mail them in or your father is here to sign the forms.

W: Wait just a tic, if I mail these same forms in to you they are acceptable, but not in person?

CSR: You got it!

W: But they are the same exact forms. The only difference is that they are not in an envelope.

CSR: Exactly.

W: Can I put them in an envelope now and we can play make believe mail?

CSR: I’m sorry sir, we can’t do that. Company policy.

At that moment the shear stupidity hit Wickedman like a sock full of locks. He grasped his heart and collapsed to the floor. Wickedman foamed at the mouth writhing in agony as he desperately attempted to speak. “The…. stupidity….. overwhelming me… can’t fucking comprehend this logic… what the fuck… Who are you?”

The customer service rep guffawed uncontrollably. “Don’t you know who I am? You should. All those little political diatribes on your website finally caught up to you. There aught to be a limit to free speech you know.” Wickedman, now coughing blood onto the floor, sputtered “limits to… fucking stupid… free speech… how… are you…” The sales rep tore off her mask revealing an older gentleman with enormous ears. “Some call me Dubya, but now I go by another name. You can call me The Decider, and you will never escape my web of half-witted logic. Ahahahahahahaha…ever feel a cell phone sliding past your O-Ring?”

Will our hero overcome the incomprehensible stupidity of The Decider? Can you get an unlimited chirp plan for your ass? Is the internet really more like tubes than a dump truck?

All these questions and more will be answered in volume two. Don’t blow those loads just yet.