Getting your Footing
When Lil Wayne came to, he was lying face down on his horse dick. His eyes slowly opened, and he heard the sound of a middle-aged brutha talking at him.
“Are you alright, son?” The old, graying man nudged the rapper with his foot, trying to illicit some sort of response from him. The busy school hallway was starting to get congested as students slowed to see what was happening.
“Nigga, I ain’t ever gon’ be alright ‘til my baby Blaggy and I are reunited by love!” Lil Wayne shouted at him. He got up and looked around, and noticed all the poorly-dressed muthafuckas lookin’ like theys was being dressed up by Square-ass Enix or some shit.
“Well alright son,” the teacher replied, a look of genuine concern on his face, “But you need to move along, class will be starting soon and you don’t want to be late.” The man took a step away from Lil Wayne and turned to all of the students who had stopped, “That goes for all of you! Hurry up and move along.” And, with the elder man’s command, the hallway quickly started flowing again with no one wanting to go against authority this early in the school year.
Just as Lil Wayne stood up and found his footing, a small blue-haired retard ran up to him at mach-speed, screaming his fuck-mothering lungs out. Lil Wayne didn’t recognize the “boy” as he ran up to him.
“SHIT Lil Wayne,” The boy, Black Star, shouted, “It looks like a witch knocked you flat on your ass.” Lil Wayne, who was shocked by the lil nigga that was currently accosting him, went to reply but was immediately cut off.
“I’m glad to see that you’re okay, though! We need to get to class! Today is the day that the Sorting Hat assigns us our Meisters!” Black Star laughed obnoxiously and clapped Lil Wayne on the shoulder.
“Nigga, why you be calling ‘yo self Black Star when you be whiter than Patrick Carney in a snowstorm, my honkey-tonk niggardly nig?” Lil Wayne asked the honkey-tonk niggardly nig. “And why the fuck is you acting like I know your white ass?”
“Oh Dwayne,” Black Star laughed, still obnoxiously, “You’re so funny. Now let’s get going, I wouldn’t want to get assigned a fat weapon.” Black Star ran off, clearly expecting Lil Wayne to follow.
After taking a long-ass hit off his emergency blunt (to ensure he’d be able to make it through this shit, ‘yo), Lil Wayne absent-mindedly followed the Mr. Potato Head-ass muhfuh. In a matter of minutes, they arrived in the coliseum like auditorium and took their seats. Lil Wayne, not wanting to deal with this shit, took a seat at the back where he could hit his blunt in peace. Black Star, being a prick, followed.
Lil Wayne and POC Star took their sits and the Young Money rapper did his best to try and filter out what the mosquito ass nigga beside him was buzzing on about. He was snapped out of his dank ass kush induced haze moments later when two other young boys took the seats in front of them.
“OH HEY GUY S,” Black Star said with another annoying fucking laugh as he grinned at them, “this is my friend Lil Wayne, he’s a Meister too! Dwayne, this is Death teh Kid and Draco Malfoy! They’re in our class.”
“It’s nice to meet you, Lil Wayne.” Death the Kid said, extending a hand for the rapper to shake. Wayne didn’t touch that shit.
“Grrrrrugugureeerggg,” Draco moaned, kicking his head back and opening his mouth as wide as he could.
“Oh don’t mind him,” Death said with an embarrassed shake of his head as he tried not to stare at his sperg king friend, “He cut his tongue out in seventh grade so that he would be edgier than his friends who got to go to the Blood on the Dance Floor concert.”
“GRURURURUGGGGRU,” Draco retorted, “GR GRU GR GRU GRU GURUUU!”
“That’s some hardcore-ass shit, my Nig Dug,” Lil Wayne said, his high starting to kick like it was Chris Brown at a fashion show. “That’s like what happened with my friend Lil Debbie back in high school. She got her start watching Cops reruns on TV as a kid, and that already turned her edgier than a dodecahedron. But then she started wearing Dead Kennedys shirts and carving the anarchy logo into her desks in middle school, and then she was so brooding she could’ve been in Starcraft: Brood War. But then in high school, her edginess reached a singularity, and her body completely inverted in grimdarkness. You should’ve seen it. It was like Pearl Harbor all over again.” Lil Wayne reminisced, a single tear running down his black face.
“Damn, fuck, pizza.” Draco said, the edginess of that moment absorbing his own edginess and temporarily restoring his tongue, “That’s like some next leve-GRUGURUGULR.”
Lil Wayne was about to speak again, but he was cut off when a teacher stepped into the room and started to speak. Lil Wayne was tired of niggas interrupting him up in this bitch. “Attention Meisters,” the tall, dark haired man said, “my name is Professor Snape, and it is now time for you all to get your weapons. You will be called one by one for the sorting hat to sort, once you have been given your weapon you will have the rest of the day to get acquainted with them before training and classes truly begin. Understood? Good. Then I will begin. First up… Black Star.”
“THAT’S ME!” Black Star shrieked, popping out of his seat and running down the aisle to where Snape was waiting. “I’m ready I’m ready I’m ready to get sorted!”
Black Star was quieted as Snape struck him across the face, hard, sending him sprawling onto the floor. “Be quiet, boy.” Snape said as he slowly leaned down to remove one of his boots, “Behavior such as yours will not be tolerated here at DWMPA, and I will punish you before you get sorted. Now, take off your pants.”
Black Star, who was turned on by violence play and rough BDSM, quickly complied, and Snape moved forward to begin inserting his foot into Black Star’s Black hole. Lil Wayne sat in his seat, watching with a look of shock on his face. “NIGGA, I DIDN’T KNOW WE’S WAS IN INDIA. WHAT THE CHRIST FUCK MUHAMMED FUCK SHIT GRAVE DIGGA.” Lil Wayne shouted as he collapsed to the floor in shock.
“This is Death Weapon Meister Punishment Academy,” Death the Kid said quietly, making sure to not take his eyes off his friend’s anus. Snape was knee deep in Black Star now and Death was sure that anyone caught looking away would find themselves in a similar situation, “the Meister school where teachers are encouraged to punish their students with sexual violence.”
“IT HURTS SO GOOD!” Black Star shrieked, “DADDY IS STEPPING ON MY THROAT AND IT HURTS SO GOOD!”
“You see, children. Disobedience will not be tolerated here at DWMPA. Now, while we give mister Black Star a chance to learn his lesson, let’s have another student come down to get sorted.” Snape, who was wearing Black Star like a pair of Wellingtons, walked over to the list of names on his desk. “Now Let’s see here… Lil Wayne! Lil Wayne, come to be sorted!”
In a fit of awkward reservation, Lily calmly and slowly stood up and made his way down to ground level to be sorted out as well. “Aight, let’s do ‘dis sh--- I mean, uh, junk…” Lil Wayne stopped himself, lest he get Snape spelunking his cave with his entire bottom half like it was Ramadan in Miami 2009 all over again.
Snape guided Wayne onto a stool and placed an ugly looking wizard’s hat on his head. Wayne was about to ask what the point of all this fucking shit was, when that bitch hat started talking. “Hm… Most curious,” it said slowly, “So many options, so many candidates, but who’s the best one? Dick Cheney? No… Hm. I give you… Drake!”
With maple syrup tears running down his Canadian-ass face, Drake slowly approached Lil Wayne like it was their wedding and he was walking down the aisle. “Dwayne… my love…” Drizzy said, his tongue dangling out of his mouth, perhaps to spite Draco. “It’s been far too long… I have so many questions…” Drake continued.
After clearing his throat, he began. “Do you love this shit? Are you high right now? Do you ever get nervous? I heard you fucked Rod, is it true? Is you makin’ money? Do you think those niggas you with is with you?”
And Lil Wayne was like, “Fuck no! I told you I wasn’t in for this shit and I still ain’t! He ripped the sorting hat off of his head and started running towards the door, “I love Rod Blagojevich, Aubrey! Not your half-black ass!” He stormed out of the auditorium, leaving a crowd of awed spectators behind him.
Drake stared after him, his tears flowing more freely than ever before.