SmackDown: MadMike's Revenge!

Round 1, Team 1: Unicorn Jizz & Battenberg - @AngusEcrivain

Unicorn Jizz & Battenberg

by AngusEcrivain

"I don't believe this shit," the man mumbled to his computer monitor. He took a sip of his extra-large Watty and grimaced in disgust. Picked a stray orange pube from his tongue. "They didn't even read my fuckin' story! The fuck is this comment supposed to mean, anyway!? 'Loved the way Pixy Dust rode Unicron LOL!' There wasn't any Pixy Dust or Unicron in my fucking story, nor was there anything remotely funny in it! What the hell are you LOLing at, you dumbass!?"

He rubbed his temples, leaving orange Cheetos dust behind. His head killed right now. Had been hurting a lot lately, but this took the cake. Nobody understood his beautiful writing. Their comments were irrelevant. It made him sick. Made him want to teach them all a lesson.

A grin worked its way across his pale face.

Yeah. Teach 'em all. A lesson.

The man brought up the profile of the latest imbecile to comment on his riveting story. Got a good look. Memorized the name and the face.

He went to his gun rack. Grabbed his finest and most powerful weapon. Locked it and loaded it.

The hunt was on.

Getting close enough to them to enact his plan was going to be a piece of cake; Battenberg, if he had anything to do with it.

He loved Battenberg. His favourite part was the goo, the sickly sweet and sticky glue that held the marzipan to the strips of pink and yellow sponge.

Sure he liked the marzipan, in fact he loved it, and he liked the spongy parts, too, though it has to be said that if he was forced to choose, at gunpoint, which part of a Battenberg cake was his least favourite then he would probably have said it was the yellow sponge.

And that was nothing against the yellow sponge, not really. In truth there was nothing wrong with it at all. It was sweet and for the most part succulent, everything a piece of cake that made up a larger cake ought to be.

There had to be a least favourite part though. There had to be a least favourite part to everything even if the sum of all parts, including the least favourite, amounted to something he truly loved.

Like Battenburg.

He'd said as much in a thread on one of Wattpad's Serial Killer forums, too, and whilst that might not have been the start of his troubles because as you, I and everyone knows, his troubles began long before the Almighty Wattpad Gods, in what was quite clearly their finite wisdom, had decided Serial Killers were the new rockstars, the new bestsellers and had invited a whole host of them to join the site.

Things got, as I'm sure you can imagine, pretty messy, but he had no intention of revisiting those dark times.

He had reached the top though. There was no doubt about that. He had reached the top of the Serial Killer Hotlist but still, still, he had one I-love-your-story-'specially-the-bit-about-unicorn-jizz-so-clearly-I-didn't-even-try-to-read-your-story-lolz inbreds to annihilate.

Whilst climbing the space elevator in a very 1960s Batman-esque fashion, because it was at the very top of said space elevator that he would find his target. She - because she was a she - was, after all, enjoying a tour of Wattpad's newest HQ; a reward for something, obviously, but he did not really care what that something was. No, all he cared about was that for the first time in a long time, he knew exactly whereabouts she was going to be.