Drunky McDrunkard, France's last great hope...

On the 22nd day of November in the year of our Lord, 2005 there was a great quaking of the Mother Earth as the molten core of the land belched forth a great man... a hero... and a lover of laced women's undergarments. Steam poured from the open chasm that had birthed this man of all men, spilling white hot plumage high into the mid day sky. The scene played out before the poor peasants of the small French Villa of Bevanarium, much like the confusing electric light display infused with a naked "Terminator" that had crapped all over the silver screen in 1984 (though it didn't reach the European markets until the following year... and Chuck Norris took Paris with "Invasion U.S.A. and a thick hand slapping the key French city around like the drunken wench it is).

The townsfolk were frightened to the point of pissing on themselves (which in France is not that big of an issue) but soon the nostalgia of "The Terminator" wore off and they casually turned back to eating a plate full of babies... but the wine was magnifique! crescent Rolls danced in the streets and the feet of wine smashers were not stained with the pungent aroma of sour grapes but with the satisfying squish of blood for as soon as this creature aptly named, Bevan (named for the town in which he soon found himself) promptly tracked down the shit laden scent of Walker, Texas Ranger... he killed him with a kebob skewer and a grapefruit. It was a good day to be a Frog, I will tell you... the French people had been freed from the tyrannical rule of Chuck Norris.

Soon, a new evil would come-a-knockin' on the small Villa of Bevanarium's door. That evil was far worse than the watered down Karate offerings of Chuck Norris. No, this evil could smash kittens with the whisper of his lips. This evil was simply known as: Sir Andy of Shepherd as David Hasselhoff's more attractive bi-curious better half, "Steve Stallone." He had ruled the land of Washington Park with an iron fist and taste for butter. His army of cloned homeless men-woman-thing ninjas had been trained in the shadow of Benjamin Franklin's timecapsule statue over the last 3 days (there's not a lot of "off-time" when training ninjas in a public park and having to work a day job). Shepherd had quarreled with the towns folk of Bevanarium over tax incentives and shoddy furniture craftsmanship. He had burned their milk goat several times in one day... just to make sure that they would not soon forget the massacre and he would have to make another long plane flight to this shitty rural town in France. His wrath was not forgotten. The milk goat had to be put through minutes rehabilitation... so the townsfolk pulled together enough money to hire the World-renowned Dr. Farvo to create a time machine and bring back the man known only as, Drunky McDrunkard: Warrior of the People's George Lucas bobblehead collection. They named him Bevan (I mentioned that earlier... you were paying attention, right? Fuck you... try reading higher than an eigth grade education level, you smarmy shitbag).

For years, the land had been tormented by the cruel and sadistic karoke vocal stylings of "The Shepherd AuGratin." The crowds would quake with timid shivers of fear as he crooned out classics like, "Dirty White Boy" and "Cat Scratch Fever," for those that were foolish enough to disrupt this personal concert would be stabbed, shot, killed, raped, burned, and made to sing back up on his Tina Turner encore performances. The townsfolk of Bevanarium had lost many a good man to such antics. Due to his torturous reactions to such outcries, Sir Andrew of Shepherd held a strong fist over his army of cross-dressing ninja Transvestites. The army would pour over the small country towns flinging sequined thongs and high heels into roadside homes. The land lived in absolute terror.

Yet on this fateful day, the drunken warrior would stretch his arms towards the sun in a battle cry before decimating the entire Transvestite army of Gallatea. Penis slings and cheap costume jewelry remained scattered across the battle field soaked in lanolin and vaseline. At the end of the "long-goodnight" the drunken warrior, Bevan, stood weeping in the fields. He had fought his way through hell... but he had never seen so many dead whores die for such an insane cause. Hitler would be jealous. Only his battle with the evil powers of Shepherd remained. However, the journey would be a long one. Bevan would have to fight his way through the layered Pagoda of dance clubs to get to the heart of Shepherd's lair. He would once again need Dr. Farvo's help. He must prepare for the battle of his life... a battle to the death... and disco...