Jihad Sherbert

by Delphino


The long awaited continuation of Jihad Icecream

A visibly exhausted man enters a bar and orders a double shot of whiskey, pickleback style. “Long day?” The bartender asks. “No all days are 24 hours long” the man replies, amazed at how uneducated the bartender is. The bartenders absolute stupidity was so distasteful in fact, that the man pulls out his .44 magnum and shoots the bartender in the balls. The bartender simply chuckles. Dropping his trousers, he reveals that he had caught the large caliber ammunition between his large meaty testicles. “And that kids is how I met your mother” Peter tells his children.

As the ringing begins to subside, the muffled yells of a man begin registering in Peter’s head. Suddenly he realizes a man is shaking him saying “Snap out of it Cap! This isn’t popular TV sitcom How I Met Your Mother. We’re in the middle of a fucking battle!”

Coming to his senses, Peter tries to grasp the situation. “By Odin's neobussy, tell me it's not the Jews!” Peter says frantically. “No,” the man in uniform exclaims, “the Russians.” Thank Odin, Peter thinks. My tax dollars are safe. As his eyes lock with an angry russian wearing a 12 inch strapon, his momentary relief turns into sheer panic. He pulls out his .44 magnum and points it at the mans balls but his senses indicate to him that it won’t work. Instead, he directs the barrel upward and shoots the man in the noggin.

All around Peter gunfire and explosions rain down. The man is no other than Captain Peter Goatfuckerino, leader of Bravo team. One moment the crew was casually sitting around eating sardines in hot mustard and discussing what base Tom Brady has gotten to with his son. The next moment they were surrounded by buff russians with strapons and ski masks. “Why does this always happen?” Corporal Bingus cries out in agony, remembering the horrors of when his highschool girlfriend Kate stuck a finger in his butt, no lube. Needless to say, Kate resides at the bottom of the Mississippi.

Amidst the chaos, Captain Goatfuckerino gets on all fours and begins mooing, signaling for Bravo Team to retreat. Every soldier immediately recognizes the retreat call, and begin hightailing it out of there. Corporal Bingus, destined to be a breedable little bitch, trips on a tiny pebble like an idiot. Three furious russians jump on him and begin thrusting with the fury of a chinese man eating rice with chopsticks. As Corporal Bingus accepts his fate, a lone tear falls from his eye. His life flashes before his eyes but his mind pauses on one particular memory of pure bliss. He remembers when he was a small child standing in the living room, and TikTok by Kesha nightcore remix was playing in the kitchen, and there was a pear on the coffee table and he thought to himself - hell yeah. In fact, this memory alone was the highlight of his life and brought him much comfort as his guts began to be rearranged.

Captain Goatfuckerino leaves no man behind however. Releasing his own dragon, he slaps away 2 of the russians with enough force that a sonic boom is produced before mounting the final russian to show that the GOAT can indeed FUCK. Bullets wizz past him but dedicated to save his fellow man, Peter gives out a primal roar. In return, the russian tries to counterfuck leading to the two barking and chasing each others assholes around in a circle, dick in hand, like a dog chasing its own tail. After about 14 revolutions, the two men realize how ridiculous they look and decide to make peace and walk away. The Russian was none other than Borav the Destroyer, who signals his own party to back off. As a token of respect to the only man to ever tango with him and survive, he informs Captain Goatfuckerino that Rootin Tootin “knows.”

Thoughts begin flooding Peter’s mind. What could Rootin Tootin possibly know? Was it that he pops his finger in his belly button and then smells it so that he can "hit the cheese"? Or is it that whenever he is about to hop in the shower he pees his diaper first because the warm feeling brings back memories of the womb? Either way, the world is not ready for such dangerous information. He extends a hand out to Corporal Bingus, pulling the man up to his feet but his legs quiver so hard that he falls right back down. “Can I get a piggyback” Bingus asks? Mildly annoyed, the captain obliges.

Bravo team regroups inside a nearby cave. The men battle their primal instincts to start a fire and punch the shit out of their thighs. Peter does a role count. He ascertains that the only survivors are Bingus, Mingus, Cunnilingus, and Oliver. But nobody likes Oliver because his name doesn’t rhyme so he just fucking shoots him in the spine. The other men give a little golf clap in response.

Suddenly at the entrance of the cave, shadowy figures emerge, masked by the blinding light behind them. The crew equip their state of the art night vision googly eyes and see several biblically accurate angels, grey aliens, and a sasquatch. The group of mysterious supernatural beings look at each other and whisper amongst themselves in confusion. Finally the sasquatch steps up with a fat doobie in hand and begins nervously mumbling in an australian accent.

“Uhh hey mane. Hows it going? Uh you see, we kinda already have this cave booked yeah? This is actually the uh location for the intergalactic yahtzee championship for the entire galaxy cluster.” He pauses and takes a huge rip off the doob. “You guys ere to play then?” Mingus steps up. “I recognize that voice. It’s fucking Stan the sasquatch!”

“Well lather vegemite on my nips and call me the prime minister of Bingbongland!” Stan exclaims, turning back to his group of supernatural beings. “Yo these guys are chill, this jit was my roommate back in college.” Both groups lighten up and begin conversing to break the ice.

An Agarthan portal opens up and mickey mouse driving a neon green monster truck wheels through. In the back are several black men carrying a coffin. The casket opens up to reveal Jesus Christ nailed to a cross. “What up my droogs!” Jesus yells. Mickey Mouse exits the the vehicle, cigarette in his mouth, wearing a black tank top with japanese characters on it, baggy jeans, and no shoes or socks. “What up bitch?” He says in the deepest blackest voice imaginable causing Bingus' butthole to pucker.

Stan insists everyone take a hit of the cosmic kush. Meanwhile, tables and yahtzee boards begin manifesting out of thin air. Gary the time lord appears with the Miami University's girls volleyball team wearing nothing but panties and hydroflasks. Jesus promptly turns the fluid inside them into wine before offering his divine sack as their volleyball. It seems the party has only begun. Peter and friends take a seat at the yahtzee table. Meanwhile, the sounds of loud slaps followed by screams of pure ecstasy can be heard in the distance.

Several rounds of yahtzee ensue as the group of friends hit the doob and sip wine. Bingus passes the joint to Mickey Mouse. Mickey gets angry for no good reason. “The fuck dude? You think cause I’m black I’m gonna hit that or some shit? I don’t fucking smoke bro. I’m not a low-life bum like the rest of you. I actually plan to do something with my life not just waste it smoking boof every day until I end up in prison.” Since Gary is a lovecraftian creature made of several thousand tentacles and an eyeball he is incapable of speech.

Instead he uses group telepathy to say “Shut up nigga you litterally have your toes out for the whole multiverse to see and you’re fucking tank top says “pork fried rice.” You look like you only listen to rob zombie and eminem and you beat your wife when she forgets your pack of newports with your Banquet brand salisbury steak TV dinner. That fucking ford F-250 you modded with those ridiculously oversized wheels and underglow makes you looks like a total douchebag not to mention it fucks up your odometer and speedometer because they’re calibrated to the circumference of your stock wheels, you complete nincompoop. You got dropped by Disney because you wouldn't stop masturbating to hentai in the public restrooms and they had to completely redo their septic system cause you clogged it to shit with your cum towels. After I smoke your pathetic pipsqueak ass in some yahtzee I bet you’re gonna go home, beat your wife out of frustration, take a rip of some mid ass earth weed, and then immediately fall asleep after rubbing your bussy to nezuko anime feet pics thinking your truck is the hottest shit on the streets.”

Infuriated Mickey fires back, “That’s real tough shit coming from a dude that looks like the lead star in every tentacle hentai. You look like you reside in the gabagoolithic era and are best friends with an isopod named Pinchington. Not to mention your name is Gary, probably short for Garold. So I’m supposed to believe that the most powerful being in the Yottaverse has the name of a computer-science major who can solve a rubix cube in 12 picoseconds and hasn't felt the touch of a woman since their mom accidentally shit them into the toilet? You probably the type of nigga to watch Dahmer and feel relatable. I bet you hit up the gym just so you can look at muscle mommy asses. In fact, I’m certain I’ve seen your slimey ass on tiktok gym creep compilations before. No amount of casual workout attire can mask the unfathomable mass of your tentacles or the gaze of impending doom your eyeball emits. You probably go woop woop woop when you cum. You diss on Eminem meanwhile here you are still listening to gregorian chants and frequencies of the cosmic microwave background. You shit on my sweet wheels meanwhile you probably drive a prius the size of a walnut just so you can impress that one liberal barista at starbucks but I’m sorry bro she's not gonna fuck you. She’s just being nice because that’s what the job demands. Next time you wanna throw shade at least evolve a mouth first you fucking overgrown cephalopod.”

“Okay first of all, only my grandma is allowed to call me Garold. And if I uttered my true name, your tiny 3 dimensional brain would be sent into a spiral of existential torment. You’re a literal fucking rodent and I am an infinite dimensional being with complete dominion over space and time. We are not the same.”

Ares God of War proposes a duel to settle things, transporting the group into the colosseum on Mount Olympus. In one corner, Mickey Mouse adorns himself in gladiator armor choosing the brass knuckles he bought off Temu as his weapon. He gives them a kiss and whispers "Remember you are God's fiercest soldier." In the other corner is Gary whos weapon is reality itself. Sitting in the bleachers, Peter turns to an alien next to him and asks “Do things always get this heated in these tournaments?” The alien informs him “merp” before waddling away to piss in the corner.

In the arena, Mickey goes in for a left hook. “So predictable” Gary says before stretching the space between them to infinite proportions. As a result, Mickey’s swing never lands. Gary’s next move is to banish him to the shadow realm. Mickey counters by shitting his pants in terror as a lightless void opens beneath him and he begins falling into a hole of infinite depth.

“Well, I guess that settles it” Ares declares raising Gary’s tentacle in triumph. He snaps his fingers and suddenly they’re back at the yahtzee table.

The tournament adjorns for lunch. The aliens pull some gleeb out of their shulker box and begin devouring. Jesus manifests a banquet table, recreating the last supper. Meanwhile, Peter and friends feel silly for forgetting to pack a lunch.

“Hey buddy. You forget to pack a lunch?” Gary asks Cunnilingus (Cunny for short). “Yeah I did” he replies in shame. Gary pulls a sandwich out of a pocket dimension. “Here have a bite of my sandwich” Gary offers. Skeptical, Cunny says “I don’t know. I feel like there might be a neutron star in that sandwich.”

“No. No. It’s just a normal sandwich” Gary replies.

“Oh yeah? Then why is it unfathomably dense”

“I think it’s density is perfectly fathomable.”

"Bruv I can see space and time distorting around it."

"Nah dawg that's just the intense gravitational field generated by my colon. I ate a Googolplex million grilled cheese burritos from Tbell like 20 min before this tourney - and thats with fire sauce..."

Curious, Cunny removes the top half of the sandwich only to be melted into primordial soup by the immense gamma radiation emanating from the sandwich.

“LMOA I fucking gotchu with the oldest trick in the book!” Gary exclaims before reversing time to restore his state.

“Ha you got me good. Shoulda known it was gonna be the old neutron star sandwich prank.” Cunny says. “Hey man, you like Denny’s? I’m feeling like a nice cobb salad from Denny’s right now. Maybe some strawberry crepes too” Gary says. “Uh sure. Let me check with the captain first,” Cunnilingus replies. He looks to the captain and sees him balls deep in a goat. I guess he lives up to his name Cunny thinks.

Gary leads the crew outside of the cave and generates a Denny’s out of thin air. Understandably, the workers immediately panic in response to the situation they find themselves in. When they realize that these fine men and octopus thing are paying customers, the assistant manager Amanda whips the workers into shape. Their african american slave genes just cannot help but obligue. Gary orders his cobb salad but decides against the crepes. Peter gets a nice fat stack of blueberry pancakes. Cunny, a simple man, gets a club sandwich and a cup of OJ.

"Would you like your sandwich with or without a neutron star?" Amanda asks.

"With!" Gary answers hastily, "I'll eat it," he whispers to Cunny.

Mingus sat this one out so he could hit the bong with Stan and catch up. He will probably regret this decision once the munchies kick in. And Bingus unsure if his ravaged asshole can handle food right now, tells Amanda to come back in a little bit. In the meantime, he keeps glancing her way. Their eyes meeting momentarily before the two of them quickly look away and smile.

Gary nudges Bingus “Dude. She’s totally into you. You should ask for her number.”

Bingus says “I don’t know man she’s way out of my league. Her boobs are massive and the handwriting on her nametag is so pretty and my tiny micropenis couldn’t even satisfy a hamster.”

“Uh I’m pretty sure those tags are printed” Gary replies, “Well whatever dude, in 99/100 goobiliion realities she gives you her number. I’ll even distort space to give you an absolute hog”

“No man. I don’t think that’s likely. My only chance is to find a toxic goth girl with daddy issues and no self respect and hope she doesn’t kill herself before she can supply me with an heir”

“You fucking suck dude. You miss 100 percent of the shots you don't shoot. Just imagine she's wearing an XL size cure shirt and has scars all over her wrists.” Cunny says.

“For the love of Odin's neobussy, fine! But you’re all gonna laugh when I fuck it up.”

Amanda returns for Bingus’ order. Still trying to muster the courage to ask her out, he decides to wait until after his order is taken. Afraid to pick something that would be considered weird, he orders eggs and bacon. “How do you like your eggs?” Amanda asks. “Unfertilized?” Bingus responds. Their eyes lock and several seconds of silence ensues. The whole table is frozen. “Umm so, your place or mine?” Bingus asks. Amanda responds by spontaneously combusting into flames. The whole table breaks out in laughter. Utterly humiliated, Bingus runs away crying his eyes out “See I fucking told you. This always fucking happens.”

Gary tells the rest of the table “Haha I lied. He fucks it up in every single reality.” The men continue laughing and telling stories at the expense of Bingus' honor, reveling in their newfound friendship. Suddenly Peter has a genius idea, what if he can get Gary to help Bravo team defeat Rootin Tootin? Unbeknownst to the crew, Rootin Tootins forces were enclosing the Denny’s at that very moment headed by none other than Borav the Destroyer and Oliver with a reconstructed exoskeleton spine and moby huge attachment.

Too be continued…

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