Storm clouds gather, Jesus weeps and kittens spontaneously combust: the nightmare never seems to end as we Mockingbirds engage in the sordid, tortuous challenge known as Marry, Fuck, Kill. We must decide the fates of people we don't even know, and we must do it now. Some will be blessed, some will get laid and some will sleep with the fishes depending on our whims and blood alcohol levels. The "men" in this round are Shia LaBoeuf, Arnold Schwarzenneger and Axl Rose, and the judges are Madame "Hiccup" Taunt and Countess "Shots!" auContraire.
Let's get down on this.
The Madame says:
(Side note: Have you ever tried twelve Harvey Wallbangers? It’s real nice.)
MARRY: I’m going to marry Shia LaBoeuf because this seems like a pretty solid way to meet Spielberg, which would of course be an honor and way awesome and also step one in
my plan to avenge the atrocity that is The Crystal Skull, a plan so secret that I can’t tell you and I am not entirely sure exists. Also, this is probably a good way to deal with whatever legal ramifications may arise from interactions with this kid who is like 13, right? Whatever.
FUCK: Arnold Schwarzenegger- that’s why they’re called Harvey Wallbangers, amirite?! And I thank you. This can’t be that bad because he’s in really good shape but the kind of shape where it will all be over soon plus after another three of these cocktails I won’t remember anyway so there.
KILL: Axl Rose must die because he screwed Slash out of not only millions of dollars but also the rights to some pretty righteous rock songs but mostly because he nearly got Metallica killed by inciting a riot in Montreal when Jaymz needed to get to the hospital and FOR THAT HE MUST PAY. He will die slowly, listening to Master of Puppets (the album!). Unless he is already dead, which recent pictures seem to suggest, so this was pointless. Metallica 4EVA!
The Countess says:
(Side note: Let me begin by saying, “Eeeeeeeeeewwwwwwwwwwwwwwww!!” and “I hate this…a lot.” Okay, let’s go.)
MARRY: Ahhnold. He’ll be too busy chasing maids and getting his face pulled back even more to touch me, and I’ll get mad cash in the divorce. Win!
FUCK: Shia LaBoeuf because he’ll be too busy to talk.
KILL: Axl Rose, and this is a tough one because I initially found him the clear choice for Marry. Guns 'N' Roses is the shit and his relaxation app is without peer. So of the three heinous choices, he is the only one whose body of work I appreciate. But if I kill Axl, I’m pretty sure Slash will both fuck AND marry me, thereby making me Champion of The World!
Okay. Well, that was horrifying, but not without its bright spots. We are going to need the holiday season to recover from this particular exercise, but we will be back, perhaps in full effect, and it shall be glorious.
Peace be with you (but not you LaBoeuf),
The Mockingbirds
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