Wednesday, January 31, 2007


My name is Shake-Zula,
The mike rulah,
The old schoolah,
You wanna trip, I'll break it to ya.
Frylock and I’m on top
Rock you like a cop,
Meatwad you’re up next with your knock-knock.
Meatwad make the money, see,
Meatwad get the honeys, G.
Drivin’ in my car,
Livin’ like a star,
Ice on my fingers and my toes and I’m a Taurus.
’Cause we are the Aqua Teens,
Make the homeys say ho and the girlies wanna scream.

Frylock looked at Master Shake and cocked his eyebrow.

“What the hell is the story with these electronic ‘packages’ you’ve been leaving all over Boston? Do you know you created a major panic? The cops all thought they were bombs planted by some terrorist cell! Are you on crack?!!?

Master Shake began to mumble, embarrassed. “It was Meatwad’s idea...”

Frylock was having none of it. “Meatwad ain’t smart enough to think up something this...boneheaded. He doesn’t have any bones, anyway. Pull the other one.”

“It was a marketing ploy! The consultants and the media geniuses thought it was a great idea!”

“Damn, Shake! This is the stupidest thing you’ve done since Carl was trying to hide from those fast-food dudes that wanted to saw his dick off! And you kept tellin’ them where he was! What have you got to say for yourself?”

“Well, we’re getting some major media exposure...”

“The only exposure you’re gonna get is to that 300-pound dude in the prison shower when you bend over to pick up the soap.”

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