Lovers Unite
Previously, on Family Matters…
“Shit, Drake,” Lil Wayne started, immediately recognizing the city from one of his tours, “we’s in Chicago.”
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“My name is Carl Winslow, and I have a five centimeter penis. That’s tiny right?” He laughed. “What’s your guys’ names?”
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“Wowee! My wife loves Rich Gang! You‘re definitely coming over to get some meatloaf.”
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At this point the force-field was tight around them, pressing the three men’s sweaty, clothed bodies together (not gay). This gave Drake the mightiest of erections, but Lil Wayne was none too pleased with their current situation.
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“THAT’S RIGHT, DWAYNE!” Urkel laughed maniacally as he held up a large science remote with a single, comically oversized button. “AND NOW ALL I HAVE TO DO IS PRESS THIS BUTTON TO KILL YOU!”
“Shit nigga,” Dwayne ‘Lil Wayne’ Carter started. “Dis right here is all powered wit’ Japanese Anime Waifu figurines?” Lil Wayne was an expert in this field, and was incredibly impressed by the progress that had been made during his week of absence.
“YES IT IS DWAYNE!” Urkel exclaimed, his pants vibrating rhythmically as he approached them, his finger still floating over the button that would spell our heroes’ demise. “THE TECHNOLOGY YOU’RE SEEING HERE TO DAY IS THE TRUE CUTTING EDGE. THE CULMINATION OF YEARS OF ADVANCED WAIFU RESEARCH.”
“Well shit nigga.” Lil Wayne said, with a smile and a very very sultry nod. “Then I’s only got one questions fo’ yo’ ass.” Lil Wayne pause all dramatically. Tryin’ to make Urkel tremble with antici…
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pation.
“Who be yo waifu?”
Steve laughed at the genuine question, for in his mind, there was really only one possible answer. Not just for him, but for any nigga who dared consider themselves an affluent waifu connoisseur.
“AS IF THERE IS ANY COMPETITION, RYUKO FROM KILL LA KILL, BIG GUY.” Steve gave a snort-intensive chuckle to himself as he pulled out his cum-stained figurine.
“Well shit, Urkel.” Drake said, standing up and reaching deep into his pants. “That’s just too bad fo yo dumb ass. Cuz any nigga with half a brain knows that Ryuko be a scissors-ass Waifu.”
“OF COURSE, AUBREY. BUT WHAT DOES THAT HAVE TO DO WITH ANYTHING?” Urkel looked up from his beloved waifu figurine, genuine confusion passing over his face.
“Well, as any kindergarten nigga can tell you, Rock beats scissors.” And, with that, Drake revealed his waifu as he pulled his Dwayne the Rock Johnson anime figurine from his pants. The resulting clash of energies caused a distortion of spacetime unlike anything that had been seen before. A flash of light filled the room and when everynigga could see again, the force field had shattered and Urkel was sprawled out on the floor, his precious figurine desecrated. Drake and Lil Wayne barely managed to stand while Carl collapsed to the ground, still crying about how his wife had been brutally murdered by the Artist Formerly Known as Urkel.
Urkel groaned, his body twitching in pain. “I’VE FALLEN AND I CAN’T GET UP!” He cried, the oft-repeated phrase triggering one of the house’s failsafes.
Drake and Lil Wayne watched as panels in the ceiling opened up, dropping down all the parts required for him to ascend to his final form, Mecha Urkel. Lil Wayne gasped as he gazed upon the seven foot, plasma cannon-armed behemoth that now stood before them.
“LOOK WHAT YOU DID.” Mecha Urkel said, his gatling gun cock starting to spin up as he bared down on the seemingly defenseless rap duo.
“You know, Lil Wayne, I always meant to tell you that you the only nigga for me, and I always said that you only live once, but you never really realise how numbered your days are until you’re no longer alive e’rryday, e’rryday, e’rryday, e’rryday…” Drake continued to rap the entirety of “The Motto” as everyone around him tried desperately to awkwardly pretend they didn’t notice.
Eventually Lil Wayne put a stop to all this shit because, as the prophet DMX once said, ’I show no love to homo thugs.’
“Oh shut up, Drake. I is all for Rod Blagojevich and ain’t no amount of bad rap gon’ have you steal my heart, even if it be the sweetest damn thing I done ever heard, nigga.”
Drake felt his heart go doki doki as the other man satisfied his humiliation fetish. He could hear that Dwayne was denying his love, but he knew deep down that eventually the other rapper would come around. He knows, deep down, that his soul mate wouldn’t leave him runnin’ through the 6 with his woes.
“Aight Dwayne but we’s about to die.” He gestured to the speed at which Urkel’s ‘gatling gun’ was spinning. “So either you be suggestin’ a plan, or we’s gonna be iced like all of my hometown.”
As much as Wayne h8’d to admit it, Abraham Nigcoln was right. He needed to think of a plan, and fast. Lil Wayne went to subtly reach for his Glock. He pulled it out and kept it out of sight. Han Solo.
Urkel, being somewhere near omnipotent in his mech form, immediately saw what was going on and put a stop to it with his death laser, blasting Lil Wayne’s Glock away like it was the public’s interest in the music of Tyler, The Creator. “DID I DO THAT?” Mecha Urkel called, his annoying laugh reminding Lil Wayne of a chapter gone by.
“Well shit, Drake,” Lil Wayne said, a frown on his face, “I think we’re going to have to do the one thing I don’t wanna do.”
“You’re gonna let me penetrate your rectum with my moose antlers?” Drake asked hopefully.
“Nah, Eleanor Nigby,” Lil Wayne said with a frown, wishing shit could be no-homo like it was fifth grade. “I’m gonna need you to become my weapon. I didn’t want nor need you just a day ago, as I had my trusty Glock and my horse-cock at my disposal. But now, I…” Lil Wayne almost choked on the homosexuality.
“...I need you.”
Upon hearing this, Drake came fast like 911 in white neighbourhoods. “D-Dwayne… you… want me to be your weapon?” Drake’s eyes were watering like Lil Wayne had just blazed another fat one.
“Yes, Drake. I want to use you to knock down bad guys like Bush knocked down the towers.” Nothing anybody could say could convince Lil Wayne that that wasn’t a made-for-TV event. THERMITE WAS FOUND AT GROUND ZERO.
In that moment, Drake felt complete. His body filled with tingling excitement. He felt himself being lifted into the air slowly, but surely. He could feel his body going up, on a Tuesday. His body did a twirl or two as his body contorted and imploded onto itself like this was some Pac-Man-ass shit. A beam of white light emanated from Drake’s horrifically contorted, not-quite-human body, which was surprising considering Drake is black. No one could even bear to look at Drake, ‘cos the money in the way.
Lil Wayne was shocked as ever. “Ay ‘yo, Nigg.com, what’s happenin’ to ‘yo ass? Is you turnin’ into some freakay-ass voodoo-ass nigga?” Lil Wayne hadn’t been this confused since he first found out that Young Thug was successful.
Eventually the light faded and people could finally look at Drake, who had transformed into a diamond-studded bong. Huge pillars of smoke billowed comically out of his mouthpiece.
Lil Wayne could barely contain himself, and he proceeded to take the longest hit he had ever taken. When he finally pulled back, he was higher than Snoop Dogg on his tip-toes on top of Mount Everest.
“Are you ready to trash this fool, homie?” Drake said telepathically to Lil Wayne, the power of his smoke beginning to hot-box the entire kitchen.
Lil Wayne stared at the bong for a long time, thoroughly confused about how he was hearing Drake’s voice. “Nigga, how are you talking to me? Smoke signals?”
“No Dwayne, I’m in your head. And, if things go my way, soon I’m gonna be in your pants too.” Drake continued to speak to Lil Wayne, his mouthpiece beginning to release a bit more smoke than usual.
Lil Wayne tried to hit Y to pull his bicycle out of his pocket to get the fuck away from this shit, but Drake stopped him.
Drake’s words echoed. “There’s a time and place for everything, but not now.”
Carl Winslow was still on the floor crying.
Lil Wayne picked up the newly bongified Drake, holding it like a bludgeoning weapon. He looked at Mecha Urkel and went into fighting stance. It was on.
“We got you, nigga…
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“…grocery bag.”