It all started on a chilly autumn day in a little town to the east of the Hudson River in southern New York. A bunch of friends and I were watching a DVD of Wrestlemania VII, the interviews of the Nasty Boys & Hart Foundation in particular.

“Knobbs! Saggs! You say you’re gonna rock the foundation! You say you’re gonna move the foundation! You say you’re gonna CRACK the foundation. Well, to CRACK the foundation, you gotta be right at the bottom, and that’s exactly where you are Nasty Boys, if you think your gonna take the tag belts away from the hart foundation (inhales (deeply) for the first time in 20 seconds)… tell ‘em hitman.”

We were laughing it up like a bunch of baboons that just sucked down some helium and our voices sounded like Alvin and the Chipmunks.

It was then, when we were so preoccupied that the unthinkable happened. An electric shock ran through the television removing the power from the household and zapped the Hart Foundation and Nasty Boys to life right in front of our eyes. The moment they appeared Jim “the Anvil” Neidhart asked if he could snort cocaine off of one of our “peesh-da-lings.” As I pondered what the fuck a peesh-da-ling was, my good friend Nick Rude informed me that it meant “dick” so I disgustedly told the Anvil I wanted no part of lingering with any peeshes.

After that whole spiel, we watched in horror as the coked up mongoloid wrestling entertainers started jabbering with each other. Our collective group of friends said “fuck that,” and we bounced to Toys R’ Us to buy some 25 cent bouncy balls or some Nickelodeon Gak in those coin machines.

Who wants to play BUNS!

We found our glorious bouncy balls for 25 cents, and left Toys R’ Us, but not before Damien Trilogy banged some broad that worked there in aisle number 8 as he gave her his own 25 cent bouncy balls. He called it “The Ocho.”

There we were with the bouncy balls in hand as we traveled to find a huge wall to bounce these fuckers against and have a grand old time like the people in the 18th century could only have dreamed of. Don’t you feel bad that sons of bitches like Voltaire couldn’t have had the glory of bouncing tiny balls that you can’t even see once bounced at night and will most likely lose in a matter of seconds? I thought so.

Isn’t that the face of a man who has never experience the JOY of a rubber baby bouncy ball? It’s sad really. I might cry. Actually I might weep, weep is more like it.

After thinking about the age of Enlightenment, we were all pooped so we decided to go back home and take a nap; sort of a day-sleepover if you will.

Little did we realize that Jim “the Anvil” Neidhart would still be there when we got back.

“YEAH BABY! HAAHAHAHHAHA! I WANNA TAKE A NAP!!!!! HAHAHHAHA! LET ME TUCK YOU IN YEAH BABY!!! YEA!” said “the Anvil.”

So what can I say? We let that coked up motherfucker tuck us in to get that pocket of warmth we need so badly. One of the other guys acted like Ferris Bueller did at the end of his movie when his parents were tucking him in, and the Anvil did not like it one bit.

Rock a bye…ROCK A BYE by Charlie Mullens was Jim The Anvil’s favorite song

Jimmy the Anvil sang us a song of sixpence and we passed out. Several hours later we awoke in a daze. It seemed as if we had woken up in an entirely different house.

“That Song of a bitch!” screamed Jim Byrne, creator of ZubazPants.com.

“Did you just say ‘song of a bitch’ Jim?” I said back to him. We all had a hearty laugh at Jim’s expense, which carried on for approximately ten intoxicating minutes. Once we tired ourselves out, we started pre-gaming for the nighttime festivities of drinking the beers. That’s what we called it anyway, some prick called it Beirut. As I was drinking one of my cups of beer, I looked down and saw something very frightening.

The Anvil shaved his entire goatee and put the hairs into my cup!

I hocked a loogie unintentionally right into Damien Trilogy’s face. If you look at his head shot in the archives that’s where the face he is making came from. It’s called an EXPLANATION. We all like to explain things when we know where they come from don’t we? It makes us feel so smart! Damien forgave me once he saw why I was nastified in the first place. Let’s just say that it was definitely definitely not “radimus” or “radamoshius” whichever made up word you would like to use in this scenario is fine with Mu.

Beer pong, not Beirut was played until Jim the Anvil got mad that he lost, snorted more coke off the beer pong table, and then flipped over the table. The table made a hole in the ground, which was really odd. We sent Zubaz writer Curley down to investigate.

Someone called him “Pooh” like he was called back in first grade, and he got mightily upset, spazzed out and fell all the way down the hole. We had a rock-paper-scissors tournament in which I was the # 1 loser, so I had to climb all the way down to get this son of a gun. By the time I reached him, he was dancing with gnome people singing “Bad Boy” by Mase, and it made him FEEL SO GOOD. Curley was putting on his boogie shoes; tap dancing and doing a new dance move called the “spider” which all the gnome people loved until they bit his kneecaps. David the Gnome came in and bitch slapped all the other gnomes for doing such bad things to us. Then he gave Curley an Eskimo kiss, which after I witnessed, made me think I should get the fuck out of there in a hurry.

And then the gnomes loved me!

So Curley wound up staying down there until he had to write his next Zubaz article with a capital Z. The rest of us partied, rolled some kegs into cars, threw beer cans at English people, and downright did things you weren’t supposed to do. It was a Zubazpalooza of sorts, and everyone enjoyed themselves. Someone kept quoting Stifler from American Pie 3 and I think we killed whoever that was. Sorry about that friends. Poopy. This story has to end, therefore someone had nasal sex and HATED IT, the end.

Does your mind hurt from reading this story? It should. Are you sexually frustrated? Probably. Do you want your eggs in the age of enlightenment? Fuck you. Are you going to use new phrases that I mentioned in my article in your every day life from now on? E-mail me because that’s some good shit to do at Yeahyeahyeaaah@aol.com. Or join the forum if you haven’t already, your missing out I’m FUCKING telling you. Retro shit.