Rock and Roll himself with Colonel Sir Lawrence Rock and Roll literally having his back.
Every day that goes by, Africa gets weirder and weirder and weirder and weirder and weirder and weirder and weirder and weirder and weirder and weirder and weirder and weirder and weirder and weirder and weirder and weirder and weirder and weirder and weirder and weirder and weirder and weirder. The more fucked-up the country is, the weirder the phenomenon. If the president has blown the country’s wealth, magical shamans come to save the day. If there’s no leader at all, everyone decides to spend half the day digging mass graves and the other half filling them. Just kidding, they spend the whole day filling them, and if there are no graves they just let the bodies rot there in a horrible position that when you see pictures of it you go, “Why the fuck did I ignore the warning before clicking on that? Now I’m going to have that image in my head for the rest of my goddamned life. Fuck.” What the hell is going on over there? Like, what’s the death toll in Darfur at by now, a zillion billion?
We’ve had child armies where they’re told a plastic cross around your neck makes you impervious to bullet wounds. And a man who calls himself Michael Jackson and slaughters your parents in front of you so you have no choice but to join his gang until you get to the next family. There’s General Butt Naked and his ability to become invisible when people shoot at him. What about people in South Africa fucking babies to cure themselves of AIDS? I know—try this: How about the president of Zimbabwe, Robert Mugabe, telling every nonwhite in the country they can kill all the whites in the country and take their land? Even if that means standing over miles of crops you have no idea what to do with (now there’s planning ahead, Mugabs). That went well, didn’t it? No, it didn’t.
Well, the what-the-fuck has just been turned up a notch as a new guy has stepped in to take Mugabe’s place, and the Hitler-mustachioed president is shitting bricks the size of General Butt Naked’s gold bars. His name is Rock and Roll (that’s right, Rock and Roll), and he subsists only on the blood of dying virgins. The more pain they suffered on the way to Death Town, the more delicious their blood is.
We really need to start making playing cards of these guys. Rock and Roll is 5’1″. He is said to be 17 years old. He grew up an orphaned nomad in the Sudan and his powers include: Immortality (as long as the blood keeps flowing), invisibility (how original), immunity to bullets (again, is that all you got?), the ability to fly (finally, a new one), the ability to impregnate women without intercourse (now we’re talking), and the ability to crawl into your dreams and fuck with you à la Freddy (like Kim Jong Il, Rock and Roll is a huge movie buff, so a lot of his shit is ripped off from Hollywood).
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“ROCK AND ROLL IS DEAD. HE DOES NOT INTIMIDATE ME, AND HE DOES NOT INTIMIDATE THE PEOPLE OF ZIMBABWE.”
