The 2nd Greatest Story Ever Told!
 

Sven has never owned a pair of spikes. In fact, he is Cuban. He always wondered why he was named Sven, but his parents died before he could ask.

With a name like that it would seem that he would be a natural for an indie band. Unfortunately he was born without an index finger and tone deaf so that was out.

Sven knew that his handicaps would forever haunt him. He could have never prognosticated, however, how dire they would complicate the situation in which he would soon find himself.

"I will know life!" He shouted at the top of his lungs. That put him in an awkward situation as he was on an airplane. He was on his way to meet a woman who had never heard of him.

Fortunately though the screaming popped his ears preventing mild discomfort.

Unfortunately it disturbed the large, unpleasant man sitting next to him. "What the fuck is your problem?" he huffed, his breath rancid enough to strip paint.

Luckily enough just as the man was about to strike a giant snake came out of nowhere and swallowed him and also a small annoying dog

With a sudden jolt, Maggie awoke in the passenger seat of truck heading for Texas. Last night was hell on her.

The morning light made everything hazy, and she couldn't remember how many of her memories were real. The regular rocking motion of the truck made her slightly ill, and she couldn't trust herself to turn her head to see who was sitting her next to her. He was close enough to smell though, and her stomach heaved slightly.

Her day started out normally enough but when she sat down for breakfast, republican presidential candidate Ron Paul came smashing through the window and defecated on the table. She passed out from the horrible smell and the last thing she can remember is waking up in the truck.

Maggie reached for the window lever to get some air. "Why the fuck are my hands tied you fucker!" This is not good! She heaved whiskey and pizza onto the floor of the cab.

"Because..." said a voice, which hauntingly gibbered, "You are a Doomsday plot device programmed to destroy all traces of good rock music, so that Emo and Chaos reigns supreme. Death shall come with long fringes and thick glasses! MWAHHAHAHAH!"

He further revealed to her that his mother was raped by the members of Molly Hatchet and he is the end result. He chose her because she had that certain Lisa Lobe look.

And that's when he woke up, in a dark damp place, he felt the dry crust of what he was shure was dry blood on the side of his cheek. His flesh felt loose from his bones, he was on his back in cool, smooth sand. His brain was confused, and the dark loomed over him, he felt that overtaking sense of fear of the unknown, he could feel his pulse in his eyes, as he stood up, pain coursed through his left arm, his elbow caked in sand. The blood rushing back from his brain, he stepped forward into the pulsating darkness. Putting his foot down slowly in the soft sand,

...which turned out be quicksand, he slowly started sinking. He screamed for help, upon which glowing pink eyes appeared in the darkness, accompanied by a strange giggling noise coming from their direction.

Trying to fight off the hallucinations, he was sure all the signs of a major stroke were there. Slowly the faces appeared in front of fire. Music? Was that music? Sand, fire, music. He must have been at a party but everything was coming back to him so slow.

"Hey man," a seemingly distant voice spoke to him. "Are you OK?" He sat up, still feeling groggy. He looked around and saw that he was sitting around a camfire with a bunch of strangers. "Oh thank God you're all right!" said the guy sitting on his left side. "Yeah! You were just about to tell us your story!", said a small child on his right.

"Like hell I am!" he roared. "Why should I talk to any of you?" He turned to the man to his left. "You're Arnold Schwartzenager. And you," he said to the child on his right "are the weird kid from The Omen." He got a better look at the others. "OH MY GOD!" he screamed, realizing that they were all leading politicians from the past nine years. Sarah Palin turned to him.