[DIE! Thy end is now. CRUSH! Prepare thyself....] Rivers Cuomo, head honcho fart-master leader supreme of Weezer, was busy in his room blasting this at max volume, whilst stomping with his Big Shoe. Each stomp shook the entirety of the house he and the band currently resided in.
His door handle turned, the door cracked open and in walked SCOTT SHRINE GUY.
"Rivers!" Scott shouted. Rivers had been stepping and stomping all over his brand-new cartoon road rug that Scott had just cleaned for him. "Bad! No! Outside, right now!"
Making a sound akin to a sad doggy, Rivers lumbered outside.
"I just cleaned that. Unbelievable," Scott said to no one in particular.
On the floor below, Shit Head Bell sat alone in his room covered in dust and debris due to Rivers' causing a ruckus. He entered the hallway- or so he tried until he was shoved right back in by PATRICK STA- WILSON who was now walking to the kitchen.
It was time for some cheetos.
He walked to the cabinet, passing a sad SpongeBob-like Rivers outside of the sliding glass door. Pat opened the cabinet and found...... ...nothing.
Nothing was in the cabinet except for a few spider webs and little ghoulies.
"FUUUUUUUUUUUU"
Pat ripped the cabinet off the wall and broke it over his knee.
Rivers phased through the glass and assessed the situation. "Grocery," he stated. Pat outstretched his arms far past unnatural lengths and grabbed the remaining band members by their necks. He threw them and Rivers into a beat-up Honda Civic and SLAMMED ON THAT GAS. YEAH YEAAAAHHHHH. Right into the back of the garage.
BUT THEN he put it in reverse and SLAMMED ON THAT GAS YEEAAAAAAHHHHHHH right through the garage door and over a pedestrian.
There wasn't a single car in the road that Pat hadn't run into on the way to the Walmart.
________________________________________________________________________________
Thom Yorke was on his shift at Walmart gathering stray shopping carts and putting them in their proper places.
"But I'm a cree-" SPLAT!!!
________________________________________________________________________________
Pat felt a bump on his way to a parking spot but didn't pay that any mind, much like everything else on the road he hit that day. He stepped out of the car and lifted the BRIGHT BLUE FORD F-150 LIFTED WHEELS PUNISHER BLUE LIVES MATTER 10 WHEELS DUAL EXHAUST FIRE SPEWING TINTED WINDOW EXTENDED BED TWO GAS TANK BACK RACK PATRIOTIC HEATED ASS SEAT COMPLIMENTARY DILDO MARLBORO LIGHT TRY GOD RADIO CAR WASH 5 TIMES A DAY DRIVEN BY A GUY WITH AN OFFICE JOB LIVING IN THE SUBURBS out of the parking spot he wanted and tossed it away. Then proceeded to park the Civic in its place.
The gang ran inside and got a cart. They floored it to the cheeto section and Scott grabbed more Big Bean Burritos while Pat loaded all the cheetos. Rivers sat in child seat at the back of the cart. Brian went to sniff dog turds or something.
Time to check-out.
"That'll be $3,248,366,935,845.03, sir," said the cashier after scanning countless bags of cheetos and Big Bean Burritos.
Pat pulled out some pocket lint and gave it to the cashier. Rivers gave a nickel. Before the cashier could react, they vanished before their eyes.
And reappeared in the Civic. Except for Brian who was sniffing dog turds. The others drove home.
