killa
02-23-2007, 02:57 PM
The Audi A4 Goes Hunting for DSM's
The Russian Rocket (RR) had just finished washing and waxing the A4. It stood there in the afternoon sun displaying it brutish magnificent handsomeness. This was the world's greatest Audi: The ultimate statement of automobiledom's German masculinity. Under the hood was a highly modified 1.8Liter. It now displaced 2032cc's thanks to a stroker kit and custom JE pistons especially designed for this particular engine.
However, there was more. A master engineer had designed the camshafts for this motor. After hundreds of hours of testing, the fuel and timing maps of the Bosch Motronic ECU were exactly perfect. Mr Hans Gobbels of Gobbels' Motorwerken in Barvaria Germany had spent countless hours porting and polishing the head. The valves were oversized and integrated into the head to provide a perfect flow of air and gasoline to the hemispherical swirl combustion chambers.
Ah, but there is so much more. Supersprint designed a 4" stainless steel exhaust system, that matched OBK's cock in width. Hans had devoted his life to perfecting the engine. The engine was sent to his shop every year to incorporate the current technology of Germany's greatest engine designers and tuners.
But, the Hell with further details. It's the results that count. On the dyno, the engine was putting out 1000HP and 850 ft-lbs of torque. This was all due to the Racist ass KKK turbo that OBK himself had under the hood. There was nothing in Germany or America that could offer any attempt of a challenge.
The White paint sparkled and gleamed in the afternoon sun. The Rocket had worked all afternoon in the boiling sun to ensure that the paint reflected the soul of the beast. The finest craftsman had forged the BBS 3-piece custom wheels in the fires of Hell. They had a light polish complimented by the platinum-plated lugnuts. Their beauty would make any man gladly trade his current whore for them, including usual NJDSM faggots such as AWD 4TW,CollegeDropout,90goldtsiawd and some other corny sounding inbreds.
In side, there were acres of Connolly leather. The cattle had gladly given their life to cover the seats. Burled walnut graced the dash. A custom 20-speaker Sony CD designed by Mr Sony himself provided the tunes. There were tasteful accents of gold, silver, and platinum on the various switches, knobs, and bezels of the instruments. The Audi A4 was the Taj Mahal of cars. Any man would give his soul to enjoy it for just a few moments.
But, this car belong to one man, the great, mighty, omnipotent, omnipresent, all knowing, master of everything, connoisseur of the finest of the finest, and lover of the most beautiful white women in America, Osama Bin Killaman.
It was early evening at the mansion when Killaman decided it was time to start the evening's pleasures. What would it be tonight? Perhaps, hunting down faggots driving their Gayllants? This was the Russian Rocket's favorite pastime beating up these gay little twits in their queer mobiles. Other times, Killaman liked to insult Corvette drivers by throwing a couple of Big Gulps in their cockpits. The Corvette is a hideous pile of plastic crap with an old fashion push rod engine designed fifty years ago by some drunk at GM.
Most of the time Killaman stepped out with the fabulous Miss Pam Anderson, the most beautiful woman in the world, for an evening of dining pleasure at Mortons or Club 21. Afterwards, the glamorous couple would go disco dancing at one of their favorite exclusive club like the Golden Parrot, which was just a block away from the Twinkletoes Lounge, the favorite hangout for Gaylant owners.
On these evenings, The Russian Rocket chauffeured the magnificent couple in the grand Audi A4. He was always happy when Killaman choose the Golden Parrot, because he could visit the Twinkletoes Lounge and beat up some Gayllant people. However, this evening was different. Killaman wanted some new action. He was tired of Gayllants and Corvettes.
The Rocket had a suggestion for Killaman, "Killaman why don't we hunt down one of those Eclipses and Talons?" Killaman didn't know what it was, so The Russian Rocket gave him a description, "It's a small horrible bloated pile of metal built by Mitsubishi. It resembles an upside down bathtub or a beached whale. It has little tiny windows that one can barely see out of. On the trunk lid, it has a huge ugly spoiler. For power, it has an inline 4 cylinder DOHC engine with a small little 14b or T25 hung on it."
Killaman with a note of disgust in his voice, "2liter turbocharged motor and still only 190-210 hp? ? What a piece of crap. Killaman will challenge one of these monstrosities tonight and show them that Killaman 4banger is the supreme automobile."
So, Rocket and Killaman set off in their quest for a Eclipse and Talons. After several unfruitful hours, Killaman remarked, "Rocket are you sure an Eclipse isn't a figment of your imagination?" Killaman had stopped for a red light when the Russian Rocket started gesturing madly to a car that had just pulled up in the right lane, "Killaman there is that homosexual piece of metal known as the Eclipse. I smell tacos and Jack Daniels. It must be a couple of Mexicans."
Inside the Eclipse were four eyeballs peering out. It was dark, but one could make out the fuzzy dice hanging from the dash, monkey balls around the windshield, and the outline of the driver's and occupant's sombreros. Besides the tacos and JD, there was the horrible stench of refried bean farts. The color of the car was translucent yellow, and it wore gold plated wire wheels with a picture of Jesus on the center caps. The two dudes were playing some rap music, and the car was accompanying it with some peculiar vibrations. Yeah, it was a lowrider's dream machine.
"Issue them a challenge to race OBK." The Russian Rocket jumped out of the Audi with some Big Gulps meant for some Corvette. The Russian Rocket accurately threw them through the tiny windows and hit the mark. Rocket stepped a bit closer, and he saw the interior was a crushed red velour. The occupants weren't a bit wet; the upholstery had sucked up the Big Gulps like a sponge.
Rocket returned to the A4. Killaman was angry, and he punched the throttle. The transmission was in neutral , and the engine let out a deep visceral guttural growl. The ground shook, and the gates of Hell opened up down below. Suddenly out of the ground arose a phantom. It was Mr Hitler shaking his fist and screaming, "Goddamn Mexican burrito eating wetback scum of the earth. Who are you to even dare rub fenders with Germany's greatest automobile?"
The sky turned dark, and lightening bolts were everywhere. Mr Hitler eyes turned red from the reflection of the fires of Hell. The phantom grew larger and larger. It looked like it was going to engulf the Eclipse and carry it off to the nether world. The Mexicans cried out, "Aye Carumba es El Diablo. Por favor Dios mios nosotros queremos vivir. Vamanos." The door of the Eclipse flew open, and the two low lifes fled for their mortal existence.
All the tires of the Cheapclipse went flat all at once. The car sat there in a dejected pathetic heap. Steam was pouring out of its radiator, and its motor was knocking. Then it clunked to a stop. The lights dimmed, and finally died. The Pissclipse was dead.
OBK was in a state of euphoria. He grabbed for his silver diamond encrusted Tiffany decanter of whiskey and took a long swig. Rocket snorted a line of Columbia's very best Cocaine, El Whamo Bambo. Mr Killaman shoved some Juvinille into the CD player and cranked the volume. "Back that ass up" was rocking out on massive speakers. Mr Killaman felt like God, because he was. He had the best car in the world, and he had the most beautiful woman in the world, the exotic temptress Ms Pamela Anderson.
Killaman moved the shift lever to 1st gear and stood on it. The Audi leaped into the air and jumped forward fifty feet. When the wheels hit the ground the speedometer was reading 120 MPH. Seconds later the tachometer was hitting 10,000 RPM and the transmission was already in fourth. The speedometer was now at 180 MPH. Rocketman felt a couple of bumps. He looked backed to see a couple of dozens bodies in the road. Oh well, probably some colored people or some other unimportant minority like some Arabs. They always clump together. At least it was night, so it couldn't be any school kids getting off the bus.
The Audi was cutting through the night like a rocket. Up ahead was an old truck with two old dilapidated sofas in the bed. There must have been twenty Mexicans crammed onto them. "Killaman look there are those two Talon guys cowering in the back." Killaman looked over at the Rocket, "The night is still young. What do you want to do?" Rocketman thought for a moment, "Let's go down to the Twinkletoes Lounge and beat up some Gayllant twits." Killaman nodded his head, "Sounds like a plan." In an instant, the taillights of the A4 disappeared into the darkness.
The Russian Rocket (RR) had just finished washing and waxing the A4. It stood there in the afternoon sun displaying it brutish magnificent handsomeness. This was the world's greatest Audi: The ultimate statement of automobiledom's German masculinity. Under the hood was a highly modified 1.8Liter. It now displaced 2032cc's thanks to a stroker kit and custom JE pistons especially designed for this particular engine.
However, there was more. A master engineer had designed the camshafts for this motor. After hundreds of hours of testing, the fuel and timing maps of the Bosch Motronic ECU were exactly perfect. Mr Hans Gobbels of Gobbels' Motorwerken in Barvaria Germany had spent countless hours porting and polishing the head. The valves were oversized and integrated into the head to provide a perfect flow of air and gasoline to the hemispherical swirl combustion chambers.
Ah, but there is so much more. Supersprint designed a 4" stainless steel exhaust system, that matched OBK's cock in width. Hans had devoted his life to perfecting the engine. The engine was sent to his shop every year to incorporate the current technology of Germany's greatest engine designers and tuners.
But, the Hell with further details. It's the results that count. On the dyno, the engine was putting out 1000HP and 850 ft-lbs of torque. This was all due to the Racist ass KKK turbo that OBK himself had under the hood. There was nothing in Germany or America that could offer any attempt of a challenge.
The White paint sparkled and gleamed in the afternoon sun. The Rocket had worked all afternoon in the boiling sun to ensure that the paint reflected the soul of the beast. The finest craftsman had forged the BBS 3-piece custom wheels in the fires of Hell. They had a light polish complimented by the platinum-plated lugnuts. Their beauty would make any man gladly trade his current whore for them, including usual NJDSM faggots such as AWD 4TW,CollegeDropout,90goldtsiawd and some other corny sounding inbreds.
In side, there were acres of Connolly leather. The cattle had gladly given their life to cover the seats. Burled walnut graced the dash. A custom 20-speaker Sony CD designed by Mr Sony himself provided the tunes. There were tasteful accents of gold, silver, and platinum on the various switches, knobs, and bezels of the instruments. The Audi A4 was the Taj Mahal of cars. Any man would give his soul to enjoy it for just a few moments.
But, this car belong to one man, the great, mighty, omnipotent, omnipresent, all knowing, master of everything, connoisseur of the finest of the finest, and lover of the most beautiful white women in America, Osama Bin Killaman.
It was early evening at the mansion when Killaman decided it was time to start the evening's pleasures. What would it be tonight? Perhaps, hunting down faggots driving their Gayllants? This was the Russian Rocket's favorite pastime beating up these gay little twits in their queer mobiles. Other times, Killaman liked to insult Corvette drivers by throwing a couple of Big Gulps in their cockpits. The Corvette is a hideous pile of plastic crap with an old fashion push rod engine designed fifty years ago by some drunk at GM.
Most of the time Killaman stepped out with the fabulous Miss Pam Anderson, the most beautiful woman in the world, for an evening of dining pleasure at Mortons or Club 21. Afterwards, the glamorous couple would go disco dancing at one of their favorite exclusive club like the Golden Parrot, which was just a block away from the Twinkletoes Lounge, the favorite hangout for Gaylant owners.
On these evenings, The Russian Rocket chauffeured the magnificent couple in the grand Audi A4. He was always happy when Killaman choose the Golden Parrot, because he could visit the Twinkletoes Lounge and beat up some Gayllant people. However, this evening was different. Killaman wanted some new action. He was tired of Gayllants and Corvettes.
The Rocket had a suggestion for Killaman, "Killaman why don't we hunt down one of those Eclipses and Talons?" Killaman didn't know what it was, so The Russian Rocket gave him a description, "It's a small horrible bloated pile of metal built by Mitsubishi. It resembles an upside down bathtub or a beached whale. It has little tiny windows that one can barely see out of. On the trunk lid, it has a huge ugly spoiler. For power, it has an inline 4 cylinder DOHC engine with a small little 14b or T25 hung on it."
Killaman with a note of disgust in his voice, "2liter turbocharged motor and still only 190-210 hp? ? What a piece of crap. Killaman will challenge one of these monstrosities tonight and show them that Killaman 4banger is the supreme automobile."
So, Rocket and Killaman set off in their quest for a Eclipse and Talons. After several unfruitful hours, Killaman remarked, "Rocket are you sure an Eclipse isn't a figment of your imagination?" Killaman had stopped for a red light when the Russian Rocket started gesturing madly to a car that had just pulled up in the right lane, "Killaman there is that homosexual piece of metal known as the Eclipse. I smell tacos and Jack Daniels. It must be a couple of Mexicans."
Inside the Eclipse were four eyeballs peering out. It was dark, but one could make out the fuzzy dice hanging from the dash, monkey balls around the windshield, and the outline of the driver's and occupant's sombreros. Besides the tacos and JD, there was the horrible stench of refried bean farts. The color of the car was translucent yellow, and it wore gold plated wire wheels with a picture of Jesus on the center caps. The two dudes were playing some rap music, and the car was accompanying it with some peculiar vibrations. Yeah, it was a lowrider's dream machine.
"Issue them a challenge to race OBK." The Russian Rocket jumped out of the Audi with some Big Gulps meant for some Corvette. The Russian Rocket accurately threw them through the tiny windows and hit the mark. Rocket stepped a bit closer, and he saw the interior was a crushed red velour. The occupants weren't a bit wet; the upholstery had sucked up the Big Gulps like a sponge.
Rocket returned to the A4. Killaman was angry, and he punched the throttle. The transmission was in neutral , and the engine let out a deep visceral guttural growl. The ground shook, and the gates of Hell opened up down below. Suddenly out of the ground arose a phantom. It was Mr Hitler shaking his fist and screaming, "Goddamn Mexican burrito eating wetback scum of the earth. Who are you to even dare rub fenders with Germany's greatest automobile?"
The sky turned dark, and lightening bolts were everywhere. Mr Hitler eyes turned red from the reflection of the fires of Hell. The phantom grew larger and larger. It looked like it was going to engulf the Eclipse and carry it off to the nether world. The Mexicans cried out, "Aye Carumba es El Diablo. Por favor Dios mios nosotros queremos vivir. Vamanos." The door of the Eclipse flew open, and the two low lifes fled for their mortal existence.
All the tires of the Cheapclipse went flat all at once. The car sat there in a dejected pathetic heap. Steam was pouring out of its radiator, and its motor was knocking. Then it clunked to a stop. The lights dimmed, and finally died. The Pissclipse was dead.
OBK was in a state of euphoria. He grabbed for his silver diamond encrusted Tiffany decanter of whiskey and took a long swig. Rocket snorted a line of Columbia's very best Cocaine, El Whamo Bambo. Mr Killaman shoved some Juvinille into the CD player and cranked the volume. "Back that ass up" was rocking out on massive speakers. Mr Killaman felt like God, because he was. He had the best car in the world, and he had the most beautiful woman in the world, the exotic temptress Ms Pamela Anderson.
Killaman moved the shift lever to 1st gear and stood on it. The Audi leaped into the air and jumped forward fifty feet. When the wheels hit the ground the speedometer was reading 120 MPH. Seconds later the tachometer was hitting 10,000 RPM and the transmission was already in fourth. The speedometer was now at 180 MPH. Rocketman felt a couple of bumps. He looked backed to see a couple of dozens bodies in the road. Oh well, probably some colored people or some other unimportant minority like some Arabs. They always clump together. At least it was night, so it couldn't be any school kids getting off the bus.
The Audi was cutting through the night like a rocket. Up ahead was an old truck with two old dilapidated sofas in the bed. There must have been twenty Mexicans crammed onto them. "Killaman look there are those two Talon guys cowering in the back." Killaman looked over at the Rocket, "The night is still young. What do you want to do?" Rocketman thought for a moment, "Let's go down to the Twinkletoes Lounge and beat up some Gayllant twits." Killaman nodded his head, "Sounds like a plan." In an instant, the taillights of the A4 disappeared into the darkness.