Once upon a time, there was a guy named Bohemius Jackson. He was a tall, chiseled man of Croatian descent living in Amsterdam. One fateful evening he found himself floating down a river in a wooden barrel. He thought to himself, “Ja stvarno želim sam imao milkshake!”
So he crawled his way out of the barrel and swam to shore. As he was wringing out his hair, he saw three men bicycling straight at him! Not three men on three separate bicycles or three men on one three-seated tandem bicycle, but three men on one regular bicycle. Outrageous. “Wat zijn jullie aan het doen?! he yelled in Dutch. “Er zijn twee veel mensen op die fiets! Je gaat jezelf pijn doen!” But the three men scoffed and laughed. They would not slow down. They kept pedaling—er, one of them kept pedaling; the rest balanced and gave Bohemius Jackson menacing looks.
Bohemius Jackson looked on in horror as his damp hair dripped down his neck. Time seemed to pass by in slow motion as the three men barreled forward. Bohemius Jackson initiated a large gulp as he braced himself; he knew what was coming. Bohemius Jackson widened his stance, spread his arms out wide and screamed “Mijn naam is Bohemius Jackson en ik verdomme hou milkshakes! Doe je ergste!” Mere seconds later the three men crashed into Bohemius Jackson in a catastrophic display never before seen by the eyes of man. The front tire of the bicycle smashed into the inner side of Bohemius Jackson’s right knee, and as the wheel spun, it tore the skin open, causing Bohemius Jackson’s right kneecap to fall out and onto the ground.
As the collision proceeded and the bike propelled forward, Bohemius Jackson’s right leg was twisted out of place and eventually dislocated. The initial contact knocked one of the men off balance and he began to fly forward. He groaned and threw his arms forward to catch himself. In doing so, he poked Bohemius Jackson in both of his eyes, rendering them useless.
Bohemius Jackson, now blind, began to panic. He started to flail his arms around and whacked the driver of the bicycle right in the dang temple. This knocked the driver out and he began to fall to the ground, tipping the bicycle with him. The third man on the bicycle tumbled forward in the midst of the collision, and as the bike fell sideways, so did he. He yelled as he hit the ground, and he tumbled into the river and floated downstream. The first man, who poked Bohemius Jackson in the eyes, landed behind Bohemius Jackson, who was now staggering around, blind and crippled. Enraged, the man picked himself up and hit Bohemius Jackson with a powerful kick to the side of Bohemius Jackson’s now kneecap-less knee. Bohemius Jackson yelped in pain and fell to the ground in despair. “Waarom?!” he bellowed to the sky; it began to drizzle.
Adrenaline coursing through his blood, Bohemius Jackson collected himself and examined his attacker, who was standing a few yards away, with a staggered stance like that of a sumo wrestler prepared to engage in combat. “Waarom doe je me dit aan?” Bohemius Jackson asked the man. The man rolled his eyes, laughed, and spat on Bohemius Jackson—an impressive distance, it is worth noting. This sparked Bohemius Jackson into action. Bohemius Jackson stood, relying on his one good leg. He leapt at the man and swung a fist, but the man dodged it and parried away. The man then brought his right hand to his forehead, sticking out his index finger and thumb in the shape of an “L” while sticking his tongue out. Now Bohemius Jackson was furious.
He reached into his back pocket and pulled out three shuriken; the man looked on in horror.
“Oh neuken! Je hebt verdomme shuriken? Neuken!!” he exclaimed.
Bohemius Jackson laughed heartily and threw the three shuriken into the man’s neck, shoulder and torso. The man collapsed and bled to death. Today, justice was served.
To be continued…