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he was a legend in the east. born of a yeti and a sweedish polish bear, flailing fists joss flaccid was the meanest badderfucker that there ever would be. with 303s for fingers and a bearing like an 808, he was the embodiment of a living human triangle. you would never want to cross him, not the moment you laid eyes on him. even if one look wasn't enough to make you think real good, the mostly-finished bottle of 1776 in his hand would be. and if you still weren't thinkin' hard enough, then you'd see the little square of paper stuck to his lip. no, no one messed with flailing fists joss flaccid. he was just the meanest badderfucker that there ever was. fingers shooting laser beams and thunderous stamps creating dancefloor hokey-pokey, he would storm from town to town, causing mavoc and havem. local authorities soon learned to give him a wide berth, to allow him to drink his ale, to make some fuckin' noise for the squarepusher, and move along. this arrangement kept things calm, for a time... but, he grew bolder, and soon the authorities realized he would always want more. they decided that they would conspire to get rid of him - for good. this, unfortunately, was the beginning of the end, for ol' flailing fists joss flaccid, the meanest badderfucker that there ever was.
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