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I'm Halihalinabe. It comes from a Japanese hotpot dish containing whale meat. wow, its cluel.
I can draw pictures and write nonsense that's sexually harassing towards certain men. This account consists of about 80% of those things.
I appear on Tumblr and Instagram every few months, then disappear again. I'm Japanese, my English isn't that great, and I basically hole myself up on X's private account. I do accept follow requests. Here are those accounts↓
broken bones, broken strings: a jackass and dead kennedys crossover
summary: Jello Biafra sets his dignity aside for an offer to be featured in Jackass, bringing his bandmates along so they could bond over a myriad of perilous stunts that’ll surely break their existing friendships — and a couple of bones while they’re at it.
Johnny Knoxville and Jeff Tremaine had about a week left to brainstorm for their upcoming film, and their ideas flowed in nicely, with each one growing increasingly outrageous than the last. Although, admittedly, the movie lacked one thing to push the excitement factor to new heights — despite the plethora of childish, injurious stunts that they had in mind — and that ate away at Knoxville more than he cared to admit.
“Okay, how about this—why don’t we invite a couple of guys on set?” Tremaine finally suggested.
Johnny sank deeper to his chair and propped his feet onto the table. “A couple of guys, huh? Hm…”
Then, with a snap of a finger, the perfect idea struck Johnny. He jerked back up from his seat and slammed his hands on the table. “Oh, I got it! What about the Dead Kennedys?”
And it was finally settled. Phone calls were made, and Jello was surprisingly on board with the invitation. He passed it on to his bandmates, and they were more than willing to go, seeing that they had no upcoming shows anyways — and besides, being featured in a movie sounded fun.
The day finally came, and the band arrived on set — amidst the forest clearing were several canopies set up to shield the crew and assistants from the blazing sun. If a member of the crew wasn’t minding his own business beneath the canopies, he would either be drinking or doing something that toddlers would happily partake in, or both.
In this case, Ryan trudged on a mixture of dirt and grass, pushing the shopping cart that his friend, Bam, was happily slumped in. The two men were preoccupied with nonsensical chit-chat until Bam caught sight of four men in the distance.
“They’re here!” he drunkenly yelled, leaping out of the shopping cart with ease.
“Who?” asked Ryan, taking his shades off for a better view.
Bam gulped the remaining drops of his beer and tossed the can aside before sprinting away. “The motherfuckers are here, c’mon, let’s go!”
“Hey, wait up!” Ryan was already huffing before he could even chase after him.
The crew’s ears perked up at the commotion, and every single one of them sprang up from their seats and sprinted after Bam, applauding and cheering on their way. In fact, the musicians were already at the forefront of the cameras held by the videographers.
“Welcome aboard, folks!” Johnny chirped, stretching a hand towards Jello.
The lead singer smiled and shook his hand. “Thanks for having us.”
“Woah, the Dead Kennedys!” beamed Wee Man. “This is awesome, I’m a huge fan!”
“East Bay Ray! Oh, man, your music is nuts!” Chris came up behind the tall guitarist, patting him on the shoulder. “How’s it going?”
“I’m alright…just a little nervous, I guess,” Ray mumbled. “We’ve never done this before, so…”
Preston and Dave approached Klaus, handing over a can of beer to him.
“Oh, hey. Thanks a lot.” The bassist smiled and gladly accepted the offer.
“Pleased to meet you, Floss!” said Preston, reaching out for a handshake.
Dave nudged Preston on the shoulder. “It’s Klaus, you idiot!”
“Oh, right, right, right—sorry, I meant Klaus!” Preston gushed.
Klaus chuckled as he took a sip of his beer. “Don’t sweat it. And hey, Floss Flouride ain’t too bad of a stage name.”
Ehren, with glimmering hazel eyes, approached Darren as he raised a fist. “Hey there, what’s up?”
“Hey, man, what’s happening?” The drummer smiled, bumping the man’s fist with his own. “I’m D.H. Peligro. Uh, Darren, for short.”
“Nice to meet you, I’m Danger Ehren!” said the man, smiling gleefully. “Or just Ehren…Ehren McGhehey!"
Darren smirked. “Danger, you say? Now that’s what I’m talkin’ about! You and I, we’re danger buddies now!”
“Hell yeah, we are!” Ehren swiftly raised one palm in the air, and with a resounding high-five, the two made a pact to indeed become danger buddies.
“You’ve got an interesting show going on,” Jello remarked with a tone of mockery. “I’d say that it’s no different than football, given the injuries that you voluntarily subject yourselves to, but I suppose it’s better to go out this way, especially when you’re surrounded by your so-called buddies—which makes it all the more fun, right? Now why don’t you go ahead and give us your best shot—because boy, I can barely wait for the broken bones, the vasectomies, the inevitable brain damage, and what have you.”
Ray scrunched his eyebrows as he glanced at Klaus. “What’d he say?”
“What the fuck is he talking about?” Darren whispered to the bassist.
Klaus, equally just as puzzled as they are, shrugged his shoulders for an answer. Jello hadn’t explicitly told them about the movie in detail, but they all had one question in mind as they tried to make sense of his words — were they going to be stuntmen of sorts?
Meanwhile, Johnny tossed his head back as he cackled loudly. “Oh, football’s got nothing on us, my friend! In fact, you forgot about one other thing that football doesn’t have!”
“And what would that be?” Jello asked, hooking one hand on his hip.
Bam came up behind him, drunkenly sputtering, “Electricity up yer ass, bitch!”
Zap!
“Ouch, fuck!” Jello lunged clumsily onto the ground as the entire crew burst out laughing. “What the hell was that!?”
Bam bubbled with maniacal laughter as he fell down to his knees, recklessly brandishing the taser in the air.
A panic-stricken Ryan backed up against Ray. “Don’t you fuckin’ dare put that thing on me!”
Still, volts of electricity nipped at his back.
“AHH! You fucker—” Ryan jolted from the pain, only for his head to wind up colliding against Ray’s jaw.
“Ouch!” Ray yelped as the impact threw him off balance, making him plummet down on the ground with a loud thud.
“Oh! Oh, my! Hoooh boy!” Johnny hollered as he began to retreat, guarding his groin with his hands. “We haven’t even started yet, boys! We haven’t even begun!”
Klaus froze in his place as he felt a mixture of panic and worry. The next thing he knew, there was a stabbing pain in his lower leg that dug deeper and deeper into his flesh.
“AHH! Fuck! What the hell is this!?” cried the bassist, flinging his beer can in the air.
“Motherfucker!” Darren shrieked when the beer can whacked him in the eye. “Shit, Klaus! I think I’ve gone blind!”
“Oh, shit! It’s the snapping turtle!” Dave yelled frantically as he stared at the creature that held onto Klaus’ leg with its hooked beak. “How the fuck did it get away?”
A shirtless Steve-O came sprinting towards the group, breathing heavily as he approached. “Sorry, bud…I only turned around for one second, and this son of a bitch turtle already got away!”
“What were you even planning to do with it?” asked Chris.
Steve-O snickered as he yanked the snapping turtle away from Klaus, who then screamed from the scathing pain.“Uh…we were gonna tie it to a stick so I could carry it around and make it bite at least one of you while you’re all caught up in this whole thing.”
On camera, the confusion across the musicians’ faces were as clear as day — the videographer then swivelled it towards Johnny, who stood meters away from the chaos that unfolded, wearing a smile that was mischievous in every sense of the word.
“Welcome to Jackass, boys! I hope you didn’t forget to pack a wife, ahahahah!”
—
A few hours later, most of the pain — if not all — had already subsided. Unfortunately, the same couldn’t be said for Klaus, whose bite wounds still ached by the second. Among the four of them, he was the only one who required the attention of the medic on-site, whom the crew had hired to be on standby in case anything really went south — it’s not like they were headed anywhere else other than that direction, anyways.
The first stunt idea had already been pitched to Jello, and he eagerly agreed to do it.
“Are you enjoying the trampoline so far, Jello?” Steve-O asked, darting his eyes up and down.
“Why yes, I do.” The lead singer crawled towards the edge and leaped off. “Although, I admit, I was skeptical at first, because for all I knew, it could’ve been tampered with so that once I jumped on it, it’d sent me flying all the way towards Nebraska, or something, y’know?”
A husky laugh came out of Steve-O. “No, of course not! But that’d be a good one!”
“Alright, ladies, buckle up!” called Johnny, clapping his hands together as he approached the two. “So, things are all set up and cameras are filmin’, are you ready to do this?”
Jello flashed a prideful smile. “Are you kidding me? With a stunt of this nature, I’m capable of doing it even when I’m sleeping.”
“Hell yeah, dude!” cheered Steve-O.
“You’ve got nuts, Jello—er, I mean guts,” said Johnny. “I like that.”
“I hope they’re still intact by the time we’re done filming,” mumbled the lead singer. “So, are we doing this or what?”
A chuckle left Johnny’s mouth. “Well, I’m sorry to keep you waiting. Come on, Steve, let’s get out of here.”
Johnny looped an arm around Steve-O’s neck as they walked out of the way, joining the rest of the crew, who stood behind a long table — it boasted a colorful array of gelatinous desserts resting on top of paper plates. Separated from them was Klaus, who observed the set from afar while getting his wounds tended by the medic.
“He doesn’t have a fuckin’ clue, does he?” whispered Steve-O.
“No,” replied Johnny, suppressing the laughter that bubbled at his throat. “Guy’s really, reaaally smart, but the second we told him about this stunt, all that logic left his noggin’!”
Jello climbed a ladder that led to a makeshift wooden diving board. He stood proudly on the platform, awaiting Johnny’s confirmation. All he had to rely on for protection was merely the pair of jeans he had on — which hadn’t mingled with laundry detergent in a long while — as well as the lustrous belt that always accompanied him throughout the years. It’s not like he needed knee pads, a helmet, or even goggles, since all he had to do was try his best to avoid being hit by jelly — as simple as that.
As expected, he heard Johnny’s voice from afar. “Okay, Jello, do your thing!”
He then flashed a smile towards the nearest camera and waved his hand.
“Hi, I’m Jello Biafra, and this is Jiggly Jello!”
With a deep breath, he leaped off the board and went diving towards the trampoline, where it collided with his body before making him bounce high in the air.
“Yeaaah, Jello!” Wee Man applauded merrily along with the others. “You the man!”
Chris hopped excitedly like a child who’d just witnessed the launching of a rocket for the first time. “Oh, just look at him go!”
“He looks stupid,” remarked Darren.
Ray nodded his head. “Yeah.”
“Alright, fellers, grab your weapons!” Johnny ordered. “Give him your best shot!”
Giggles broke out as everyone grabbed a plate from the table, with Bam being the first one to hurl jelly towards the lead singer’s direction.
“Woah!” Jello yelped mid-air as he saw the red-colored dessert flying past an inch away from him before plummeting back to the pad — as he sprang back up in the air, he couldn’t help but laugh at the failed attempts that began to follow.
“Oh, he’s laughin’ at every single one of you,” taunted Johnny. “Aim better, come on!”
A fury of gelatin rained upon Jello as he bounced up and down, and yet, not a single one hit his body — except maybe for the small piece that splatted against his boot, but that didn’t do much to dull his fighting spirit.
“How is he so good at dodging everything?” questioned Ehren, who was beginning to doubt his next attack. “I don’t get it.”
“Must’ve been the years of playing on stage and having to avoid the shit that people throw at him,” Darren recounted. “You won’t believe how rowdy people got during our shows sometimes, especially if they got pissed.”
“Well, he obviously hasn’t been hit yet by Knoxville,” said Chris. “Guy’s got the eye of an eagle.”
Ray and Darren nearly shuddered from Johnny’s demented laughter, especially when they eyed the dangerous sheen of the plate in his hands.
“That’s right, Chris,” said the man, shaking the plate to make the jelly dance on top. “...and I’m about to end this stunt.”
“Oh, shit…that’s not fucking porcelain, is it?” asked Dave, who was beginning to feel sympathetic towards Jello.
Johnny merely glanced in his direction and chuckled darkly. On the side, silence fell upon Ray and Darren; they knew that they had the power to stop this from happening, and yet, for reasons they couldn’t pinpoint, they were feeling somewhat amused.
And so everybody else stepped back, giving Johnny enough space to aim accurately. Hiding behind the safety of his dark shades were eyes glinting with devilish intent, and the smile that stretched his lips from ear to ear was enough indication that things surely won’t end well — at least, for the victim, like always.
Then, in a skillful manner, he propelled the plate of gelatin with great force.
All pairs of eyes went after the projectile soaring through the air; some had their arms crossed, some had their mouths open agape, and one guy was temporarily numb to the bite of the snapping turtle as he sat at the edge of his seat.
Jello bounced once more, and as he flew mid-air, the plate smashed against his abdomen with an impact so forceful, the air had been driven out of his lungs — all he could do was let out a visceral cry of pain as he fell back down on the trampoline.
As though humanity had just made a life-changing discovery, the entire crowd burst with triumphant screams as they showered Knoxville with praises.
“Oh…oh fuck, that hurts,” whimpered Jello as he lay curled up in the middle of the trampoline, surrounded by morsels of gelatin and shards of porcelain. “This is not…what we agreed to—ah, fuck…asshole!”
Everybody sprinted towards the trampoline, with Ray and Darren being the first people to reach there.
“You okay, buddy?” the drummer inquired.
Bam caught up and wheezed. “What’s the matter? I thought there were more ways than one for Jell-O?”
Ryan was quick to protest. “That’s not how it goes, you idiot! It’s—”
“Shut up!” Bam retorted.
“Is he alright? Is he okay?” asked Johnny, jostling through the crowd to take a better look.
“Geez, man up!” Chris teased. “He only hit you in the stomach, it’s not like—”
“Dude, he’s got pieces of plate stuck on his back! Fuck!” Steve-O began retching.
One of the cameramen began to film Jello’s bare back, and sure enough, there were several shards buried under his skin, stained slightly with dripping blood.
“Did Knoxville do that shit?” Bam asked, pointing a shaky finger. “Did he, like, do that shit, or did Jello just land on them?”
Johnny shrugged. “I don’t know, but does it matter? I hit him! Ahahahahah!”
“Knoxville, you motherfucker…” said a frail, pained voice that pulled everybody’s attention back to the curled body.
Wee Man screamed in surprise. “Oh, he’s alive!”
“Well, hey! Welcome back, Jello!” Johnny threw both hands in the air. “How’s your first ever stunt? If you ask me, you did—”
“Forget about it!” grumbled the lead singer, struggling to move an inch. “Just…just get me off this thing—ah, it hurts so bad!”
“Okay, well, anyone willing to get him off the trampoline?” Johnny asked mockingly. “Anyone?”
Ray and Darren reached for the lead singer’s hands and carefully dragged him towards the edge of the trampoline.
“Ooh, that’s gonna leave a nasty mark.” Johnny started waving towards one of the canopies. “Somebody get the medic, Mr. Biafra here is gonna need a few stitches!”
Jello moaned in pain. “Can you just…can you guys at least pull one off my back? I can feel it poking my spine, please!”
The guitarist and drummer eyed each other for a moment.
“You do it!” said Ray, shoving Darren.
“Uh, uhm, okay…” Darren gingerly grabbed one of the plate shards. “Is it this one?”
The lead singer shut his eyes. “Anything, just pull it out, I don’t care!”
“You want me to just pull—”
“Yes, Darren! Just fucking do—”
The drummer tugged the porcelain forcefully.
“AHH! Fuck! Oh, fuck! Christ!” Jello gripped on the steel frame of the trampoline. “Okay, that’s it—I’m going home when they patch me up!”
Bam snickered. “Don’t puss out just yet, dude!”
“Don’t you wanna see your buddies go through the same thing?” Chris asked. “I know I do!”
“Yeah, and besides, theirs could be worse than yours,” Johnny added.
Jello lifted his head and met Ray and Darren’s gaze — he, too, could see all facets of fear flickering through their very own eyes. Would he just sit there and let his friends go through every possible injury that there is, and possibly even cut their lives short? Hell no — he would never do such a thing, and he needed to get that message across these men’s battered skulls.
“I’m afraid that no amount of wheedling will get me to do more of this nonsense,” said Jello in the midst of wincing. “Much less let them go through it—ah, fuck, this really hurts…”
“Yeah. That’s what they all say in the beginning,” Chris quipped.
The lead singer scoffed. “Yeah, no. I can’t believe that I’m saying this, but I’d rather lip sync for MTV.”
“Our films are broadcast by MTV,” Johnny stated matter-of-factly. “So, uh…”
Jello glared at him. “Oh! Well, there you have it—one more reason to back out of whatever this is!”
Ray inched closer and knelt down, meeting his bandmate eye-to-eye. “What’s going on here? I thought they invited us over to record a movie?”
Darren nodded, adding his own sentiments as well. “Yeah—fuck kinda movie are they going for, anyways?”
“I don’t know!” the frontman whispered through gritted teeth. “But t-that’s what they told me, they just wanted to record a movie with us!”
Ray narrowed his eyes. “You knew what they’re up to, didn’t you? You knew, and you didn’t tell—”
“No, I didn’t!” Jello protested.
“Then what was all that shit you said earlier about vasectomies?” Darren snapped.
The cameras panned towards the other men, who were clearly amused from the bickering that was unfolding right before them.
“Holy shit,” whispered Bam, trying his hardest to stop snickering. “Do they not have any idea about what’s gonna happen?”
“Seems like it,” said Rick Kosick, chuckling as he swung the camera back to the three musicians.
“Ohoho! This is going to be so great!” gushed Johnny.
Despite the pang of pain nipping at his back, Jello tried his best to reassure his friends. “Look, we are getting the hell out of here as soon as they get this stuff off me, okay?”
“Aw, don’t be such a partypooper, Jello!” pleaded Johnny. “Look, you’re gonna make Wee Man very sad! You wouldn’t want that now, would ya?”
Steve-O giggled. “Yeah, he’s like, the biggest fan that you’ve got, dude!”
“You should at least have the balls to do it for Wee Man!” taunted Bam.
Chris nodded. “Yeah, he’s right!”
“Do it for Wee Man!” yelled Dave.
“Wee Man! Wee Man! Wee Man!”
Steve-O and Ryan lifted Wee Man in the air as the entire group chanted his name like he’s some politician who’s capable of bringing much-needed change in their country; Jello shattered the collective enthusiasm with a shake of his head.
“Not in this lifetime. I’ve made my choice, and that’s final. Uhm…no offense to you, Wee Man, sir.”
—
Moments later, at a different filming location…
“I’m East Bay Ray, and this is Dumpster Skate Dive.”
The camera followed Ray as he rode a skateboard down a lengthy ramp, waiting until he leaped at such a height before slamming into an empty dumpster.
Thud!
Chris shrieked, raising both of his fists in the air. “He did it! He finally did it! Woohoo!“
“And it only took eight takes to get it right!” Preston added, clapping his hands together.
Johnny cackled uncontrollably as he pointed a finger. “He’s got such a long body, that his legs are stickin’ out of the dumpster, ahahahah!”
“God,” Darren sighed wearily. “Ray sucks so bad at skateboarding.”
Jello, who sat on a recliner, had a huge grin plastered on his lips. “Come on, it’s not so bad. It could’ve been better, but it wasn’t bad! Why don’t you go give it a try?”
“Fuck outta here!” the drummer retorted. “You go and do that shit!”
The lead singer rolled his eyes in return. “Why me? My back’s messed up! We should get Klaus to do it—wait, come to think of it, where is he?”
Ryan inched closer to Steve-O and whispered in his ear. “How did Johnny win ‘em back to do stunts? I thought they wanted nothing to do with us?”
The scrawny man turned to face him with a crooked smile.
broken bones, broken strings: a jackass and dead kennedys crossover
summary: Jello Biafra sets his dignity aside for an offer to be featured in Jackass, bringing his bandmates along so they could bond over a myriad of perilous stunts that’ll surely break their existing friendships — and a couple of bones while they’re at it.
Johnny Knoxville and Jeff Tremaine had about a week left to brainstorm for their upcoming film, and their ideas flowed in nicely, with each one growing increasingly outrageous than the last. Although, admittedly, the movie lacked one thing to push the excitement factor to new heights — despite the plethora of childish, injurious stunts that they had in mind — and that ate away at Knoxville more than he cared to admit.
“Okay, how about this—why don’t we invite a couple of guys on set?” Tremaine finally suggested.
Johnny sank deeper to his chair and propped his feet onto the table. “A couple of guys, huh? Hm…”
Then, with a snap of a finger, the perfect idea struck Johnny. He jerked back up from his seat and slammed his hands on the table. “Oh, I got it! What about the Dead Kennedys?”
And it was finally settled. Phone calls were made, and Jello was surprisingly on board with the invitation. He passed it on to his bandmates, and they were more than willing to go, seeing that they had no upcoming shows anyways — and besides, being featured in a movie sounded fun.
The day finally came, and the band arrived on set — amidst the forest clearing were several canopies set up to shield the crew and assistants from the blazing sun. If a member of the crew wasn’t minding his own business beneath the canopies, he would either be drinking or doing something that toddlers would happily partake in, or both.
In this case, Ryan trudged on a mixture of dirt and grass, pushing the shopping cart that his friend, Bam, was happily slumped in. The two men were preoccupied with nonsensical chit-chat until Bam caught sight of four men in the distance.
“They’re here!” he drunkenly yelled, leaping out of the shopping cart with ease.
“Who?” asked Ryan, taking his shades off for a better view.
Bam gulped the remaining drops of his beer and tossed the can aside before sprinting away. “The motherfuckers are here, c’mon, let’s go!”
“Hey, wait up!” Ryan was already huffing before he could even chase after him.
The crew’s ears perked up at the commotion, and every single one of them sprang up from their seats and sprinted after Bam, applauding and cheering on their way. In fact, the musicians were already at the forefront of the cameras held by the videographers.
“Welcome aboard, folks!” Johnny chirped, stretching a hand towards Jello.
The lead singer smiled and shook his hand. “Thanks for having us.”
“Woah, the Dead Kennedys!” beamed Wee Man. “This is awesome, I’m a huge fan!”
“East Bay Ray! Oh, man, your music is nuts!” Chris came up behind the tall guitarist, patting him on the shoulder. “How’s it going?”
“I’m alright…just a little nervous, I guess,” Ray mumbled. “We’ve never done this before, so…”
Preston and Dave approached Klaus, handing over a can of beer to him.
“Oh, hey. Thanks a lot.” The bassist smiled and gladly accepted the offer.
“Pleased to meet you, Floss!” said Preston, reaching out for a handshake.
Dave nudged Preston on the shoulder. “It’s Klaus, you idiot!”
“Oh, right, right, right—sorry, I meant Klaus!” Preston gushed.
Klaus chuckled as he took a sip of his beer. “Don’t sweat it. And hey, Floss Flouride ain’t too bad of a stage name.”
Ehren, with glimmering hazel eyes, approached Darren as he raised a fist. “Hey there, what’s up?”
“Hey, man, what’s happening?” The drummer smiled, bumping the man’s fist with his own. “I’m D.H. Peligro. Uh, Darren, for short.”
“Nice to meet you, I’m Danger Ehren!” said the man, smiling gleefully. “Or just Ehren…Ehren McGhehey!"
Darren smirked. “Danger, you say? Now that’s what I’m talkin’ about! You and I, we’re danger buddies now!”
“Hell yeah, we are!” Ehren swiftly raised one palm in the air, and with a resounding high-five, the two made a pact to indeed become danger buddies.
“You’ve got an interesting show going on,” Jello remarked with a tone of mockery. “I’d say that it’s no different than football, given the injuries that you voluntarily subject yourselves to, but I suppose it’s better to go out this way, especially when you’re surrounded by your so-called buddies—which makes it all the more fun, right? Now why don’t you go ahead and give us your best shot—because boy, I can barely wait for the broken bones, the vasectomies, the inevitable brain damage, and what have you.”
Ray scrunched his eyebrows as he glanced at Klaus. “What’d he say?”
“What the fuck is he talking about?” Darren whispered to the bassist.
Klaus, equally just as puzzled as they are, shrugged his shoulders for an answer. Jello hadn’t explicitly told them about the movie in detail, but they all had one question in mind as they tried to make sense of his words — were they going to be stuntmen of sorts?
Meanwhile, Johnny tossed his head back as he cackled loudly. “Oh, football’s got nothing on us, my friend! In fact, you forgot about one other thing that football doesn’t have!”
“And what would that be?” Jello asked, hooking one hand on his hip.
Bam came up behind him, drunkenly sputtering, “Electricity up yer ass, bitch!”
Zap!
“Ouch, fuck!” Jello lunged clumsily onto the ground as the entire crew burst out laughing. “What the hell was that!?”
Bam bubbled with maniacal laughter as he fell down to his knees, recklessly brandishing the taser in the air.
A panic-stricken Ryan backed up against Ray. “Don’t you fuckin’ dare put that thing on me!”
Still, volts of electricity nipped at his back.
“AHH! You fucker—” Ryan jolted from the pain, only for his head to wind up colliding against Ray’s jaw.
“Ouch!” Ray yelped as the impact threw him off balance, making him plummet down on the ground with a loud thud.
“Oh! Oh, my! Hoooh boy!” Johnny hollered as he began to retreat, guarding his groin with his hands. “We haven’t even started yet, boys! We haven’t even begun!”
Klaus froze in his place as he felt a mixture of panic and worry. The next thing he knew, there was a stabbing pain in his lower leg that dug deeper and deeper into his flesh.
“AHH! Fuck! What the hell is this!?” cried the bassist, flinging his beer can in the air.
“Motherfucker!” Darren shrieked when the beer can whacked him in the eye. “Shit, Klaus! I think I’ve gone blind!”
“Oh, shit! It’s the snapping turtle!” Dave yelled frantically as he stared at the creature that held onto Klaus’ leg with its hooked beak. “How the fuck did it get away?”
A shirtless Steve-O came sprinting towards the group, breathing heavily as he approached. “Sorry, bud…I only turned around for one second, and this son of a bitch turtle already got away!”
“What were you even planning to do with it?” asked Chris.
Steve-O snickered as he yanked the snapping turtle away from Klaus, who then screamed from the scathing pain.“Uh…we were gonna tie it to a stick so I could carry it around and make it bite at least one of you while you’re all caught up in this whole thing.”
On camera, the confusion across the musicians’ faces were as clear as day — the videographer then swivelled it towards Johnny, who stood meters away from the chaos that unfolded, wearing a smile that was mischievous in every sense of the word.
“Welcome to Jackass, boys! I hope you didn’t forget to pack a wife, ahahahah!”
—
A few hours later, most of the pain — if not all — had already subsided. Unfortunately, the same couldn’t be said for Klaus, whose bite wounds still ached by the second. Among the four of them, he was the only one who required the attention of the medic on-site, whom the crew had hired to be on standby in case anything really went south — it’s not like they were headed anywhere else other than that direction, anyways.
The first stunt idea had already been pitched to Jello, and he eagerly agreed to do it.
“Are you enjoying the trampoline so far, Jello?” Steve-O asked, darting his eyes up and down.
“Why yes, I do.” The lead singer crawled towards the edge and leaped off. “Although, I admit, I was skeptical at first, because for all I knew, it could’ve been tampered with so that once I jumped on it, it’d sent me flying all the way towards Nebraska, or something, y’know?”
A husky laugh came out of Steve-O. “No, of course not! But that’d be a good one!”
“Alright, ladies, buckle up!” called Johnny, clapping his hands together as he approached the two. “So, things are all set up and cameras are filmin’, are you ready to do this?”
Jello flashed a prideful smile. “Are you kidding me? With a stunt of this nature, I’m capable of doing it even when I’m sleeping.”
“Hell yeah, dude!” cheered Steve-O.
“You’ve got nuts, Jello—er, I mean guts,” said Johnny. “I like that.”
“I hope they’re still intact by the time we’re done filming,” mumbled the lead singer. “So, are we doing this or what?”
A chuckle left Johnny’s mouth. “Well, I’m sorry to keep you waiting. Come on, Steve, let’s get out of here.”
Johnny looped an arm around Steve-O’s neck as they walked out of the way, joining the rest of the crew, who stood behind a long table — it boasted a colorful array of gelatinous desserts resting on top of paper plates. Separated from them was Klaus, who observed the set from afar while getting his wounds tended by the medic.
“He doesn’t have a fuckin’ clue, does he?” whispered Steve-O.
“No,” replied Johnny, suppressing the laughter that bubbled at his throat. “Guy’s really, reaaally smart, but the second we told him about this stunt, all that logic left his noggin’!”
Jello climbed a ladder that led to a makeshift wooden diving board. He stood proudly on the platform, awaiting Johnny’s confirmation. All he had to rely on for protection was merely the pair of jeans he had on — which hadn’t mingled with laundry detergent in a long while — as well as the lustrous belt that always accompanied him throughout the years. It’s not like he needed knee pads, a helmet, or even goggles, since all he had to do was try his best to avoid being hit by jelly — as simple as that.
As expected, he heard Johnny’s voice from afar. “Okay, Jello, do your thing!”
He then flashed a smile towards the nearest camera and waved his hand.
“Hi, I’m Jello Biafra, and this is Jiggly Jello!”
With a deep breath, he leaped off the board and went diving towards the trampoline, where it collided with his body before making him bounce high in the air.
“Yeaaah, Jello!” Wee Man applauded merrily along with the others. “You the man!”
Chris hopped excitedly like a child who’d just witnessed the launching of a rocket for the first time. “Oh, just look at him go!”
“He looks stupid,” remarked Darren.
Ray nodded his head. “Yeah.”
“Alright, fellers, grab your weapons!” Johnny ordered. “Give him your best shot!”
Giggles broke out as everyone grabbed a plate from the table, with Bam being the first one to hurl jelly towards the lead singer’s direction.
“Woah!” Jello yelped mid-air as he saw the red-colored dessert flying past an inch away from him before plummeting back to the pad — as he sprang back up in the air, he couldn’t help but laugh at the failed attempts that began to follow.
“Oh, he’s laughin’ at every single one of you,” taunted Johnny. “Aim better, come on!”
A fury of gelatin rained upon Jello as he bounced up and down, and yet, not a single one hit his body — except maybe for the small piece that splatted against his boot, but that didn’t do much to dull his fighting spirit.
“How is he so good at dodging everything?” questioned Ehren, who was beginning to doubt his next attack. “I don’t get it.”
“Must’ve been the years of playing on stage and having to avoid the shit that people throw at him,” Darren recounted. “You won’t believe how rowdy people got during our shows sometimes, especially if they got pissed.”
“Well, he obviously hasn’t been hit yet by Knoxville,” said Chris. “Guy’s got the eye of an eagle.”
Ray and Darren nearly shuddered from Johnny’s demented laughter, especially when they eyed the dangerous sheen of the plate in his hands.
“That’s right, Chris,” said the man, shaking the plate to make the jelly dance on top. “...and I’m about to end this stunt.”
“Oh, shit…that’s not fucking porcelain, is it?” asked Dave, who was beginning to feel sympathetic towards Jello.
Johnny merely glanced in his direction and chuckled darkly. On the side, silence fell upon Ray and Darren; they knew that they had the power to stop this from happening, and yet, for reasons they couldn’t pinpoint, they were feeling somewhat amused.
And so everybody else stepped back, giving Johnny enough space to aim accurately. Hiding behind the safety of his dark shades were eyes glinting with devilish intent, and the smile that stretched his lips from ear to ear was enough indication that things surely won’t end well — at least, for the victim, like always.
Then, in a skillful manner, he propelled the plate of gelatin with great force.
All pairs of eyes went after the projectile soaring through the air; some had their arms crossed, some had their mouths open agape, and one guy was temporarily numb to the bite of the snapping turtle as he sat at the edge of his seat.
Jello bounced once more, and as he flew mid-air, the plate smashed against his abdomen with an impact so forceful, the air had been driven out of his lungs — all he could do was let out a visceral cry of pain as he fell back down on the trampoline.
As though humanity had just made a life-changing discovery, the entire crowd burst with triumphant screams as they showered Knoxville with praises.
“Oh…oh fuck, that hurts,” whimpered Jello as he lay curled up in the middle of the trampoline, surrounded by morsels of gelatin and shards of porcelain. “This is not…what we agreed to—ah, fuck…asshole!”
Everybody sprinted towards the trampoline, with Ray and Darren being the first people to reach there.
“You okay, buddy?” the drummer inquired.
Bam caught up and wheezed. “What’s the matter? I thought there were more ways than one for Jell-O?”
Ryan was quick to protest. “That’s not how it goes, you idiot! It’s—”
“Shut up!” Bam retorted.
“Is he alright? Is he okay?” asked Johnny, jostling through the crowd to take a better look.
“Geez, man up!” Chris teased. “He only hit you in the stomach, it’s not like—”
“Dude, he’s got pieces of plate stuck on his back! Fuck!” Steve-O began retching.
One of the cameramen began to film Jello’s bare back, and sure enough, there were several shards buried under his skin, stained slightly with dripping blood.
“Did Knoxville do that shit?” Bam asked, pointing a shaky finger. “Did he, like, do that shit, or did Jello just land on them?”
Johnny shrugged. “I don’t know, but does it matter? I hit him! Ahahahahah!”
“Knoxville, you motherfucker…” said a frail, pained voice that pulled everybody’s attention back to the curled body.
Wee Man screamed in surprise. “Oh, he’s alive!”
“Well, hey! Welcome back, Jello!” Johnny threw both hands in the air. “How’s your first ever stunt? If you ask me, you did—”
“Forget about it!” grumbled the lead singer, struggling to move an inch. “Just…just get me off this thing—ah, it hurts so bad!”
“Okay, well, anyone willing to get him off the trampoline?” Johnny asked mockingly. “Anyone?”
Ray and Darren reached for the lead singer’s hands and carefully dragged him towards the edge of the trampoline.
“Ooh, that’s gonna leave a nasty mark.” Johnny started waving towards one of the canopies. “Somebody get the medic, Mr. Biafra here is gonna need a few stitches!”
Jello moaned in pain. “Can you just…can you guys at least pull one off my back? I can feel it poking my spine, please!”
The guitarist and drummer eyed each other for a moment.
“You do it!” said Ray, shoving Darren.
“Uh, uhm, okay…” Darren gingerly grabbed one of the plate shards. “Is it this one?”
The lead singer shut his eyes. “Anything, just pull it out, I don’t care!”
“You want me to just pull—”
“Yes, Darren! Just fucking do—”
The drummer tugged the porcelain forcefully.
“AHH! Fuck! Oh, fuck! Christ!” Jello gripped on the steel frame of the trampoline. “Okay, that’s it—I’m going home when they patch me up!”
Bam snickered. “Don’t puss out just yet, dude!”
“Don’t you wanna see your buddies go through the same thing?” Chris asked. “I know I do!”
“Yeah, and besides, theirs could be worse than yours,” Johnny added.
Jello lifted his head and met Ray and Darren’s gaze — he, too, could see all facets of fear flickering through their very own eyes. Would he just sit there and let his friends go through every possible injury that there is, and possibly even cut their lives short? Hell no — he would never do such a thing, and he needed to get that message across these men’s battered skulls.
“I’m afraid that no amount of wheedling will get me to do more of this nonsense,” said Jello in the midst of wincing. “Much less let them go through it—ah, fuck, this really hurts…”
“Yeah. That’s what they all say in the beginning,” Chris quipped.
The lead singer scoffed. “Yeah, no. I can’t believe that I’m saying this, but I’d rather lip sync for MTV.”
“Our films are broadcast by MTV,” Johnny stated matter-of-factly. “So, uh…”
Jello glared at him. “Oh! Well, there you have it—one more reason to back out of whatever this is!”
Ray inched closer and knelt down, meeting his bandmate eye-to-eye. “What’s going on here? I thought they invited us over to record a movie?”
Darren nodded, adding his own sentiments as well. “Yeah—fuck kinda movie are they going for, anyways?”
“I don’t know!” the frontman whispered through gritted teeth. “But t-that’s what they told me, they just wanted to record a movie with us!”
Ray narrowed his eyes. “You knew what they’re up to, didn’t you? You knew, and you didn’t tell—”
“No, I didn’t!” Jello protested.
“Then what was all that shit you said earlier about vasectomies?” Darren snapped.
The cameras panned towards the other men, who were clearly amused from the bickering that was unfolding right before them.
“Holy shit,” whispered Bam, trying his hardest to stop snickering. “Do they not have any idea about what’s gonna happen?”
“Seems like it,” said Rick Kosick, chuckling as he swung the camera back to the three musicians.
“Ohoho! This is going to be so great!” gushed Johnny.
Despite the pang of pain nipping at his back, Jello tried his best to reassure his friends. “Look, we are getting the hell out of here as soon as they get this stuff off me, okay?”
“Aw, don’t be such a partypooper, Jello!” pleaded Johnny. “Look, you’re gonna make Wee Man very sad! You wouldn’t want that now, would ya?”
Steve-O giggled. “Yeah, he’s like, the biggest fan that you’ve got, dude!”
“You should at least have the balls to do it for Wee Man!” taunted Bam.
Chris nodded. “Yeah, he’s right!”
“Do it for Wee Man!” yelled Dave.
“Wee Man! Wee Man! Wee Man!”
Steve-O and Ryan lifted Wee Man in the air as the entire group chanted his name like he’s some politician who’s capable of bringing much-needed change in their country; Jello shattered the collective enthusiasm with a shake of his head.
“Not in this lifetime. I’ve made my choice, and that’s final. Uhm…no offense to you, Wee Man, sir.”
—
Moments later, at a different filming location…
“I’m East Bay Ray, and this is Dumpster Skate Dive.”
The camera followed Ray as he rode a skateboard down a lengthy ramp, waiting until he leaped at such a height before slamming into an empty dumpster.
Thud!
Chris shrieked, raising both of his fists in the air. “He did it! He finally did it! Woohoo!“
“And it only took eight takes to get it right!” Preston added, clapping his hands together.
Johnny cackled uncontrollably as he pointed a finger. “He’s got such a long body, that his legs are stickin’ out of the dumpster, ahahahah!”
“God,” Darren sighed wearily. “Ray sucks so bad at skateboarding.”
Jello, who sat on a recliner, had a huge grin plastered on his lips. “Come on, it’s not so bad. It could’ve been better, but it wasn’t bad! Why don’t you go give it a try?”
“Fuck outta here!” the drummer retorted. “You go and do that shit!”
The lead singer rolled his eyes in return. “Why me? My back’s messed up! We should get Klaus to do it—wait, come to think of it, where is he?”
Ryan inched closer to Steve-O and whispered in his ear. “How did Johnny win ‘em back to do stunts? I thought they wanted nothing to do with us?”
The scrawny man turned to face him with a crooked smile.
I think I mentioned before that American Hardcore(book) said the hardcore scene was all guys, but conversely, it also said that the few girls in the hardcore scene were all unfriendly and like Amazons who didn't mind getting hurt... Ever since I got that information, I've started to think that Y/N might be the kind of girl who doesn't care much about her appearance. But those kinds of girls are cuter, right? Imagine you running your fingers through her messy hair and she smiles happily with that innocent look on her face.
Speaking of Pull My Heartstrings, Y/N here seems to have experience as an interviewer and is involved in making fanzines, so there's a possibility he's a bit of an intellectual (that's just my assumption, though). An intellectual, but with a journalistic temperament that makes him want to do things himself. In that case, he'd probably care about at least a minimum level of cleanliness (since he's meeting people), but I get the feeling that his fashion sense would be more focused on practicality and ease of movement. I mean, if there was a girl in all black work clothes with messy hair next to Ray, who's dressed rather modestly and formally for a punk, I'd be thrilled. No, you see, I'm more of an otaku matchmaker aunt than a typical self-projection type...
i've never really thought of writing that fic using an OC (because i'm shamelessly self indulgent and i want others who are just as crazy for East Bay Ray to enjoy the fic as well) but this is an exciting thought...so there's this :^)
I think I mentioned before that American Hardcore(book) said the hardcore scene was all guys, but conversely, it also said that the few girls in the hardcore scene were all unfriendly and like Amazons who didn't mind getting hurt... Ever since I got that information, I've started to think that Y/N might be the kind of girl who doesn't care much about her appearance. But those kinds of girls are cuter, right? Imagine you running your fingers through her messy hair and she smiles happily with that innocent look on her face.
Speaking of Pull My Heartstrings, Y/N here seems to have experience as an interviewer and is involved in making fanzines, so there's a possibility he's a bit of an intellectual (that's just my assumption, though). An intellectual, but with a journalistic temperament that makes him want to do things himself. In that case, he'd probably care about at least a minimum level of cleanliness (since he's meeting people), but I get the feeling that his fashion sense would be more focused on practicality and ease of movement. I mean, if there was a girl in all black work clothes with messy hair next to Ray, who's dressed rather modestly and formally for a punk, I'd be thrilled. No, you see, I'm more of an otaku matchmaker aunt than a typical self-projection type...
i've never really thought of writing that fic using an OC (because i'm shamelessly self indulgent and i want others who are just as crazy for East Bay Ray to enjoy the fic as well) but this is an exciting thought...so there's this :^)
I think I mentioned before that American Hardcore(book) said the hardcore scene was all guys, but conversely, it also said that the few girls in the hardcore scene were all unfriendly and like Amazons who didn't mind getting hurt... Ever since I got that information, I've started to think that Y/N might be the kind of girl who doesn't care much about her appearance. But those kinds of girls are cuter, right? Imagine you running your fingers through her messy hair and she smiles happily with that innocent look on her face.
Speaking of Pull My Heartstrings, Y/N here seems to have experience as an interviewer and is involved in making fanzines, so there's a possibility he's a bit of an intellectual (that's just my assumption, though). An intellectual, but with a journalistic temperament that makes him want to do things himself. In that case, he'd probably care about at least a minimum level of cleanliness (since he's meeting people), but I get the feeling that his fashion sense would be more focused on practicality and ease of movement. I mean, if there was a girl in all black work clothes with messy hair next to Ray, who's dressed rather modestly and formally for a punk, I'd be thrilled. No, you see, I'm more of an otaku matchmaker aunt than a typical self-projection type...
I think I mentioned before that American Hardcore(book) said the hardcore scene was all guys, but conversely, it also said that the few girls in the hardcore scene were all unfriendly and like Amazons who didn't mind getting hurt... Ever since I got that information, I've started to think that Y/N might be the kind of girl who doesn't care much about her appearance. But those kinds of girls are cuter, right? Imagine you running your fingers through her messy hair and she smiles happily with that innocent look on her face.
i love your art... it's like a beautiful butterfly that flutters in the air as i tend my thriving flower garden.....like a golden piece of butter melting atop a stack of freshly cooked pancakes.........like a shiny crisp apple that falls on my lap as i read beneath a tree.... <3
Actually, the fiction you write is like a glass of water offered to me in a vast desert. Seriously. Thank you, it seems we're mutually in love…🤩🤩🤩
autisticzaphodbeebleebrox aka auburn aka zaphod i am coming for you right after i finish hyperventilating over the horrendous image you've made me envision
