Brutomax! 3: Revenge of the Canned

Written by Kobi LaCroix

Still can't decide what to get your loved ones for the holidays? Well, nothing says, "Happy Non-Discriminatory Cultural Obligation Time" like a pair of Thomas Kinkade crocheted ankle warmers, the perfect gift for SHOVING DOWN AUNT PETUNIA'S WINDPIPE 'cause this year, Brutomax! is turning CHRISTMAS into MAXMAS! With over EIGHTY-ONE THOUSAND unconscionable flavors, like Berries and Thermite, Staple Gun Surprise, and FUCKIN' BEES! Now with 120 percent more FUCKIN'!

It's like having your bloodstream injected with a team of SEXUALLY FRUSTRATED CARIBOU!

Brutomax! It's the perfect stocking stuffer for anyone with a functioning esophagus! Sorry Grandpa, the surgeons tried their best.

It's lighter than air! *clunk* Okay, it's heavier than air, but that just means it's BETTER than air, and you should be breathing it INSTEAD OF AIR!

Shoot a can down your gullet and everything you say will sound like a curse word! Observe! *glug* DEFENESTRATE! I just made a nun VOMIT!

Don't go pooping your pants just yet! I have more facts to yell at you!

Brutomax! makes a kick-ass deodorant! Spray it under your arms and grow EXTRA ARMS for DOUBLE THE PUMMELLING! But don't spray it anywhere else, or you'll just get DELTA BURKE!

Turn ordinary events into contact sports, like high-impact CAT GROOMING, kick debate, and BALLISTIC PIANO RECITAL! 'Cause Beethoven's no fuckin' fun without an explosion at the end!

Feel like winning some free junk? Look under the can for a special code. Then write this code on your forehead, put on a tricorner hat and a Hefty bag and hop a flight to Denmark! There, you'll come across a tall, slightly odious man wearing a black cardigan with only one sleeve named Jules. The man's name is Robert. He'll direct you to a local unicycle rental facility. Rent the "Vindengurken" model, ride it into the nearest pie shop, and start belting out "Maybe I'm Amazed" in the style of an obese, congested walrus. When the manager asks you what the fuck you're doing, dump a bucket of cold oatmeal and moose snot down his pants and ride away, shouting, "Hahahahaha! Who's the eggplant now!?"…oookay, so where's the prize?…aw, CRAP!

But you know what, it doesn't matter, because Brutomax! will make you WIN at things that aren't even competitive, things like drugs, Wednesdays, the number 12, and PETER SELLERS!

It'll make you feel like playing a Hammond organ with FLAMING SKI BOOTS! On top of a SCUD MISSILE! Suck on that, Keith Emerson!

Brutomax! is doctor recommended, if your doctor is Ming the Merciless, and he's fisting you in the ass on the counter at Benihana, which is actually a personal fantasy of mine that has nothing to do with Brutomax!

Side effects may include: pupil dilation, time dilation, machine-gun diarrhea, vomiting, vomiting, vomiting, vomiting…'Kay, there's like, twelve pages here that just say, "vomiting"…and this one actually has vomit on it. Great. Moving on…colon cancer, colon-backslash cancer, cartoonism, Objectivism, Lego hands, Mexican lycanthropy, everything you eat tasting like bacon, torso detachment, Montezuma's Revenge, Montezuma's Sick Practical Joke, and delusions of being Christopher Walken, unless you really are Christopher Walken, in which case, AWESOME!

You wanna really know how effective Brutomax! is? I'm actually an EIGHT YEAR OLD GIRL!

Fight global warming by STABBING CARBON ATOMS in the face with a RAILROAD SPIKE! And engage in VIOLENT CARTOON SODOMY with the TRIX RABBIT! Which is just fucking STUPID!

Brutomax! Don't let anything else in your mouth! Unless you want to wake up tomorrow morning being teabagged by a Jack Russell terrier. Again, a personal fantasy of mine that has nothing to do with Brutomax! GOD, I NEED HELP! I'm on my fifteenth can! I CAN TASTE THE COSMOS!

(enter the men from the loony bin)

"Okay, buddy, you're gonna need to calm down and come with us." NO! I'M TRANSCENDING THE TEMPORAL PARADIGM! "Sir, don't make this harder on yourself." DON'T TOUCH ME! "Sir, put your pants back on." JESUS! I PEED MY PANTS! WASH MY PANTS, JESUS! "Sir, nobody needs to see your–Ugh! Did you try to castrate yourself with an aluminum can?"

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