Bobby Fulbright looked at the underwhelming cheese grater in his hands and felt underwhelmed.

He walked over to the window and reflected on his absolutely hellish surroundings. He had always loved joyful Pissywife with its spluttering, sad skeletons hung from nooses. It was a place that encouraged his tendency to feel underwhelmed.

Then he saw something in the distance, or rather someone. It was the figure of Jim Pickens. Jim was an idiotic Kamakura Kamakura yas queen with fkfkll pubic hair and wrinkly pubic pubes.

Bobby gulped. He glanced at his own reflection. He was a zoophilic, homosexual, shloop drinker with obese pubic hair and ugly af pubic pubes. His friends saw him as a bad, brave banana. Once, he had even saved a puzzled corn on the cob that was stuck in a drain.

But not even a zoophilic person who had once saved a puzzled corn on the cob that was stuck in a drain, was prepared for what Jim had in store today.

The solar annihilation teased like underwhelming tapeworms, making Bobby underwhelmed.

As Bobby stepped outside and Jim came closer, he could see the troubled glint in his eye.

"I am here because I want nudes," Jim bellowed, in an unstable tone. He slammed his fist against Bobby's chest, with the force of 5925 mealworms. "I frigging hate you, Bobby Fulbright."

Bobby looked back, even more underwhelmed and still fingering the underwhelming cheese grater. "Jim, your an injustice I say it is spoken," he replied.

They looked at each other with underwhelmed feelings, like two empty, energetic earthworms underwhelming at a very lustful furry con, which had death metal music playing in the background and two Nazi uncles destroying to the beat.

Suddenly, Jim lunged forward and tried to punch Bobby in the face. Quickly, Bobby grabbed the underwhelming cheese grater and brought it down on Jim's skull.

Jim's fkfkll pubic hair trembled and his wrinkly pubic pubes wobbled. He looked underwhelmed, his body raw like a tiny, tasteless torture device repair kit.

Then he let out an agonising groan and collapsed onto the ground. Moments later Jim Pickens was dead.

Bobby Fulbright went back inside and made himself a nice drink of shloop.

THE END