It is said that at the dawn of 120 B.C, when the world was forced to serve under the great dark rule of Ziproth, Lord of Evil, there existed a Greek god of revenge who lived inconspicuously among humans. Slowly, the god raised an army that grew to bludgeoning numbers to fight Ziproth.
But his army consisted of mostly stones, pens and crumpled papers to throw at Ziproth while shouting: “Shooo, Ziproth. Shooo! Go away! We want term limits!” So in the end, the Greek god was defeated and cursed to live an eternity of misery until the day a son of the gods of good would be born to rescue him.
Enter Mr. Ernest Bazanye.
The events surrounding the day of his birth are so mysterious that people thought he was the promised son: the historical demi-god. So ULK tracked down the nurse who birthed him, found her, stalked her, broke into her apartment and set up camera equipment to interview her, then poured hot water on her legs to wake her up:
- Welcome to ULK, madam.
- Calm down! We have your mother in the other room.
- Now Madam Nurse, do you know the woman in this picture?
- That’s Bebe Cool!
- Sleek, my money. I told you it was female. Okay, how about this one? Do you know this man?
- Oh! My! God! Is that…?
- Baby Baz. Yes. He…
- No! Is that man on my…?
- Street! Leave the woman’s daughter! She’s like 12. Hell’s wrong with you? Sorry, madam. So you birthed this baby. Is he the promised demi-god?
- Is he the promised savior of our cursed freedom fighter and Ziproth’s arch nemesis, the Greek god?
- You don’t know about…did anything weird happen during his birth?
- Not really. Apart from being born with specs, a cap that said ‘Bad Idea’ and a wicked smile, there was nothing much. He was the sweetest…
- Hey! Let’s dwell on the evil things.
- So the message on the cap. Did it mean it was a bad idea to birth him or was it some sort of encrypted message to New Vision?
- I don’t know.
- Look, you need to give us something. Something wicked. Something…Bazzy.
- Like I said, he was the sweetes…
- Nothing? You’re sure?
- He was a good bo…
- Nothing. I’m sorry.
- Goddamn you! Guys, let’s just pack up and go sing for the dude.