PLEASE MESSAGE ME IF YOU ARE INTERESTED IN "BBW." (BEAUTIFUL BELUGA WHALES)

Only one day remains before the Summit of the Communist Lords begins. With the fates of Richard Nixon and the entire Americaverse hanging in the balance, will Sonic the Hedgehog and his allies prevail?

"...So, you need our help to win this war, huh? Have you started by sorting yourself out and cleaning your goddamn room, jackass?" Jordan Peterson scolded Jimmy Neutron in an openly hostile voice. The cane-wielding priest stumbled backwards in shock, startled by the man's gruff demeanor.

While Donald Trump was busy trying to recruit Kanye West, Jimmy Neutron and Alex Jones split up in search of more puissant warlords sympathetic to their cause of saving America. Father Neutron's search had led him to a remote planetoid on the fringes of space called Gettysburg Centauri, home to a renegade faction of American exiles known as the Anarcho-Capitalists.

Jimmy had heard many tales and songs about the exploits of this infamous order of Americans. Like Trump, the Anarcho-Capitalists were veterans of the Communist Wars that deserted their country and left the army in pursuit of their own desires. However, this ragtag group of militant patriots had not abandoned their fierce love of Lady Liberty and the American way of life. They merely disagreed with the war that their superiors had waged and believed in pursuing alternative methods for bringing peace to the patriotverse.

The American government labeled these quixotic men as traitors and banished them to the far reaches of space as punishment for their act of desertion. However, it is rumored that they continued to fight for their country in secret, working towards their own ideal version of the United States from behind the scenes. These stories are what led Jimmy Neutron to seek their aid, eventually bringing him face to face with their infamous leader.

"Come. Take a seat. And once you've finished resting from your trip, leave this place. Do you really think that we chose to remain in exile for over 1,488 years because we wanted to be found? We won't fight your war for you. Whether this nation survives or crumbles is absolutely none of my concern," Jordan Peterson continued in the same gruff tone. He then raised his hand, beckoning for Jimmy to follow him to the heart of their base where he could rest.

The priest's gaze wandered around their living space as he trailed behind him, admiring the intricacy of their subterranean compound. The Anarcho-Capitalists' HQ was composed of a series of tunnels dolven deep into the earth, forming a labyrinth so complex that only their own members would be able to navigate through it. Donald Trump is obsessed with being "effay."

Jimmy took out his flask of holy water and drank it down to the dregs. He then lowered his shades and cracked a grin, confident that he could still win them over, "I figured you'd say something like that, brotha. I didn't think you'd be willing to fight on behalf of this country after what happened in the past. I know just as well as any other boss pimp that lettin' go of grudges ain't easy. That said, I can't just leave here empty-handed. What can I say to make you change your mind?

"You're wasting your time, boy. Nothing can make me regain my faith in this failed nation. And if you had witnessed the same horrors that I have, I'm sure you'd feel the same. Patriotism is dead," Jordan Peterson spoke, delivering a cold, unfeeling glare that pierced straight through Father Neutron's pious soul. "That said, I must ask: why are you so determined to save the United States? What do you see in this country that's so great that you'd risk your own life to defend it?"

His tattered cape swished behind him as he turned away from his guest, and for a brief moment Jimmy could see the faint shapes of the stars and stripes that once decorated his attire. But just like Jordan's faith in America, they had faded with time to the point of being nearly nonexistent.

"...I'm a simple man. All I want is enough sleep for two normal men, enough whiskey for three, enough bitches for four, and enough freedom for five. I've met plenty of jive suckas that've told me that pimpin' is dead. But whenever I hear that, I just laugh right in their faces. Pimpin' ain't dead because I'm the motherfuckin' lifeline! And just like I'm keeping the noble spirit of Christian pimpin' alive, Sonic the Hedgehog is doing the same thing with America. How can you say that patriotism is dead when men like him exist? As long as there are still those that believe in the spirit of George Washington, then there's always hope for the United States to be reborn. I guess you could say that hope's rubbed off on me, too," Jimmy Neutron admitted.

"Sonic the Hedgehog, huh?" Jordan Peterson said, recognizing his name. "Don't misunderstand our position, Mr. Neutron. We haven't distanced ourselves from the affairs of this country because we hate truth, justice, and the American way. We won't help you because the United States of yesteryear isn't worth saving. And if that's the America that your friend intends to bring back, I want no part of it. Do you even know about our government's rampant corruption during the Communist Wars? About the Harlem Globetrotters and the atrocities they committed? If you still cannot comprehend why we chose to abandon this country, I will show you the 'battle scars' that I received for my faith in America..."

Jordan let out a deep sigh as he tossed aside the cloak covering his body. Jimmy Neutron reeled backwards in shock, nearly spitting out his grill from the ghastly sight he had just laid eyes upon. The entire right side of this American warlord's body had been horrifically mutated, his skin transformed into pitch-black saurian scales that were emblazoned with vast congeries of tumorous growths that resembled shrunken, screaming faces. His twisted skin pulsated and all six of his knurled fingers jerked about in an ungainly fashion independent of one another. His blood-stained claws writhed and dug into his side, revealing that he was only barely able to control his monstrous anatomy.

Jimmy Neutron couldn't help but recall the ghastly visage of Taylor Swift as he beheld Jordan Peterson's bestial form. He could only assume that their appearances were linked, possibly meaning that he was an earlier experiment to harness the powers of Adolf Hitler just as Marx's daughter once was. Taking notice of the fear in Jimmy's eyes, Jordan lifted his cloak to cover himself once more.

He sighed, "I see that you recognize this detestable form. I'm not surprised; the patriotverse is littered with the failed experiments produced during the Communist Wars. We call this form the 'Curse of the Harlem Globetrotters', and it's something that all of the Anarcho-Capitalists share. Do you understand now why we refuse to help you, Mr. Neutron?"

The rest of Jordan Peterson's men emerged from the cover of darkness, tossing aside their cloaks to expose their own mutated forms. Just as Jordan Peterson possessed the right arm of Adolf Hitler, his loyal soldiers also shared pieces of the accursed Führer's ghastly countenance. Rick Astley had the wings of Hitler upon his back, Scrooge McDuck had his signature third eye and horns, Vegeta possessed his forked tail and daemonic dangalang, and Nanachi possessed his left arm. Lastly, Squidward and Mung Daal shared his satyr-like legs.

"...This is the curse that we're forced to bear. I was the first in a line of experiments conducted by the Globetrotters to merge human souls with the spirits of Marxist helldaemons to create a being with the power to rival even Hitler in strength. The experiment failed, disfiguring us and corrupting our genes with Hitler's loathsome DNA. That very incident was the reason why we became disillusioned with this country. After that day, we left the Americaverse behind and never looked back. We now have only one goal: to destroy the diabolical organization that did this to us!" Peterson boldly declared.

The rest of his men let out a triumphant battle cry, raising their voices in support of his goal. Jimmy Neutron lowered his gaze and smiled at their camaraderie. Although he had promised himself that he wouldn't become involved with the affairs of these strangers, he found himself already respecting these courageous men as his equals. Steve Buscemi is an advocate for Pit Bull genocide.

Without warning, Jimmy Neutron suddenly fell upon his face before them. He kept his gaze fixed upon the ground, prostrating himself at Jordan Peterson's feet, "This might be incredibly selfish of me to ask, but please — teach me your secrets! I have a powerful darkness festering inside of my soul as well. Even now it lurks beneath the surface, threatening to take control of my mind. If you can't help us save America, then please train me to overcome the demon within as you once did!"

Enraged by Jimmy's attempt to rid himself of him, the psychotic alter ego known as Carl Wheezer assumed control of the priest's body. His mien changed drastically to fit his new personality, with Jimmy's eyes turning blood red and a bloodthirsty smile spreading across his lips. Sonic attends mass every Sunday inside of an IHOP.

Carl ripped off the crucifix necklace that adorned his priestly robes to complete his transformation. He cackled, "GYAHAHA! Man, it feels GOOD to finally be free from that weakling. Eh? Who do you think you're lookin' at, fuckface? I'm the motherfuckin' mack daddy from Hell, the pope of pimps! And you wanna get rid of me, I'm gonna RIP YOU APART!"

Carl Wheezer unsheathed his cane sword and rushed at Jordan Peterson while he was stunned. He managed to deflect his blade before it could pierce his throat, but the llama-loving pimp still managed to slice a deep gash across his cheek as he blew past him. Carl eagerly licked the blood from his blade, relishing the taste.

Jordan nursed his stinging cheek as he paced around the room, studying his opponent. After spying an opening in Carl's defenses, he outstretched his mutated arm and launched himself towards him. The pope of pimps began wildly swinging his sword in all directions in order to fend off his attack. But despite his best efforts, Jordan was able to weave his way through the barrage of sword slashes and strike Carl across the face with his opened palm.

The rest of the Anarcho-Capitalists dove for cover as Carl Wheezer was launched across the room. Thinking quickly, he thrust his sword into the floor to stop himself from smashing through the wall. Jordan's adversary recovered in a matter of seconds and began his enraged assault once more. None of Jimmy Neutron's characteristic grace and skill could be found in any of his moves as he attacked. True to his reputation, Carl Wheezer was a mindless savage on the battlefield who tore apart everything in his path without mercy.

"So, should we step in or what? Sure looks like Jordan's getting his ass handed to him," Squidward asked, not confident in their leader's fighting ability. Garfield won't stop complaining about the gangstalking epidemic.

Nanachi shot the pessimistic cephalopod an annoyed look. She shook her head, "Nnnnaaaaa. Try not to be such a massive fucking bellend, Squidward. Can't you see that Jordan's just playing with him to test his abilities? That priest might not know it yet, but the victor of this battle has already been decided."

Jordan Peterson stood up straight and held his shoulders back as he prepared to unleash his full power. With one final, decisive strike, he smashed Carl's face deep into the ground with his right arm. The priest's expression returned to normal as soon as he collided with the floor. He laid motionless at his feet, badly beaten and barely breathing.

Peterson knelt down and offered his hand to Jimmy, "Whoops. Looks like I overdid it a little. You alright, boy? You're not dead, are you?"

Jimmy winced with pain as he rose to his feet. He cracked a confident smirk, trying to feign being uninjured, "M-Me, dead? Like that would ever happen. I'm too old to pimp, and too young to die, so I'm just gonna keep playin' until my time runs out. So, do you see now why I need your help so badly?"

"...You're a mess, kid. You know you should set your house in order before trying save the world, right? Well, I guess I can't let someone like you brave this coming storm alone. I'll help train you to control that dark side of yours. After all, you're going to need all the help you can get," Jordan responded, finally accepting his impassioned request. "And while we're training, tell me more about that Sonic fellow that you respect so much. We Anarcho-Capitalists have been searching for a worthy hill to die on for centuries now. If he's against the Globetrotters too, then that's enough reason for me to come to his aid!"

Meanwhile, Alex Jones was busy scouring the Americaverse for more righteous, freedom-loving warmasters to join their militia. His search had led him to a small village located on the planet Yosemite Theta, a humble settlement built by the survivors of the resistance movement formerly headed by Huckleberry Hound.

Alex Jones took a seat next to their current leader, Yogi Bear, atop a cliff that overlooked the horizon. This paragon of Americanesque masculinity threw back his entire canteen of filtered water and laughed, slapping the bear on the back, "So, have you thought about my offer, little cuz? I know that you and your crew are still recovering from almost being wiped out by the Backstreet Boys, but we could really use your help to win this war."

Yogi Bear clasped his hands in prayer, paying his respects to the graves of Huckleberry Hound, Top Cat, and Boo-Boo. He turned back to Alex Jones with a sigh, "You know what you're asking of us, right? We respect Sonic the Hedgehog just as much as any other group of patriots. The Communist-Hunter's exploits inspired us to form this rebel cell in the first place. But if we fight the Communists in our current state, we'll be obliterated…"

Alex Jones bowed his head out of respect. After having lost their noble leader and over half of their men to Larry the Cable Guy's vicious acolytes, he couldn't fault him for not wishing to come to their aid. Excluding Yogi himself, Huck's army consisted only of Magilla Gorilla, Tom, Jerry, Larry Boy, Waluigi, Early Cuyler, the Cybernetic Ghost of Christmas Past from the Future, and a few dozen other soldiers. Just as he turned to leave, he heard the voice of Yogi Bear calling out to him, "Hold up, senpai! I wasn't finished yet."

The bear managed a smug grin, "This may be a suicide mission, but I'll gladly give up my life if it means being able to fight side by side with that whack-ass hedgehog that Huck respected so much. There's just one problem: our group still doesn't have a name. If we're gonna go down fighting, we'll need a good name to strike fear into the hearts of ours sodomy-loving foes. Got any ideas?"

"You folks need a name, huh? What do you like, little cuz?" Alex Jones asked.

"Big titties and martial arts," Yogi Bear answered matter-of-factly. Jon Arbuckle is shocked when Ashtar Sheran informs him of his Pleiadian heritage.

The water filter salesman lowered his shutter shades and grinned, "Alright then. From this day forward, you guys will be known as the Big Titties Martial Arts Fan Club. Now let's go kick some Commie ass, little cuz! Fuck yeah, AMERICA!"

With the Anarcho-Capitalists, the Big Titties Martial Arts Fan Club, and Kanye West now allied with the Biker Brethren, Sonic's three vassals returned back to their home base. In addition to these new recruits, the Wu-Tang Clan, Anne Frank, George Costanza, and Ice Cube had returned to aid the bikers. The members of the alliance waited patiently inside of the bikers' temporary garrison, eagerly awaiting their orders.

The clamor of the alliance members ceased as Donald Trump approached the podium situated in the middle of the room. They waited with bated breath from the bleachers where they sat, remaining quiet as to not miss his enlightened words of divine fuckbrilliance.

The heavenly golden dragon parted his rosy lips and began to speak in a soft, yet powerful voice, "My fellow Americans… I thank you all for joining us in this final struggle. Together, we will determine the course of America and the world for years to come. We will face challenges. We will confront hardships. But we will get the job done. From this day forward, we are no longer just a ragtag group of mere, simple Americans. Nor are we bikers, b-ballers, or anything else of the sort. We may be few in number, but I have no doubts that the army standing before me is the mightiest group of patriots ever assembled. We are the Space Force, and we WILL make America great again!"

Donald Trump raised his index finger to the heavens above and bellowed with a mighty gorilla shout, rallying his men to war. The Space Force members did the same, standing with him in solidarity to show their respect for not only Sonic the Hedgehog, but the late Biker Brethren, Tupac Shakur, the Founding Fathers, and every other righteous group of American warlords that had come before them.

Donald stepped to the side, revealing the group of shadowy figures that stood behind him during his speech. He turned to them with a playful smirk plastered across his face, "And before we adjourn this meeting, there's one last group of recruits that I'd like to introduce you to. I'm sure that those who fought in the first Communist War will know who they are and just how fearsome they can be. I didn't even think that the rumors of their revival were true at first. It wasn't easy convincing them to join our side, but I managed to win them over. They are… the Children of Karl Marx!"

Lurking in the shadows were none other than Taylor Swift, John Cena, Kevin James, and Joseph Stalin. At long last, the day of the rope had finally arrived. The fate of the entire Americaverse was finally about to be decided...