2Pizza Ring
A/N: I never was a big fan of Ringu/The Ring. I'm definitely not a fan a big fan of Hetalia. This is something that I made while bingeing on Internet memes and videos, and maybe off my meds. As of writing I am lucid enough to warn you that this, the plot is thoroughly stupid, the humor is crude, off-color and politically incorrect, there's nothing for you here that is wholesome and good, it's only butchery of the literary sort. In 'net parlance, a shitpost. This comes from a mind going insane from frustration over not being consistent in output. *sigh*
And with the way the world is going and me feeling like having hit rock bottom, it doesn't matter anymore except getting it out of my system.
Disclaimer: This is a non-profit parody, obviously, as Ringu belongs to Koji Suzuki; Hetalia belongs to Hidekaz "Historical Revisionism Kawaii" Himaruya. Any real persons mentioned are portrayed entirely fictional with no real relation to their counterparts whatsoever. And a lot of the stuff read here belongs to their original owners such as such as Laura Palmer from David Lynch and Mark Frost's Twin Peaks and Mussolini's Fascist Party. Happy Easter Egg hunt.
Once upon a time there was an enchanted (twinkie) prince of Italy, Feliciano, who ruled the sunny rolling hills south of the Alps. He enjoyed life and was happy with his magical (principality) kingdom. The birds were chirping, the mammals gamboling across the fields, which happens after taking their Prozac.
And all his subjects, who were the countless models ripped out of Gmod stretching from Valve games to anime charactets, flourished and were happy, and there were no discontents or grumblers, because wise and pretty Prince Feliciano had them all to the mushroom mines with the trade union leaders many years before through his fabulous mafia, which made his chain of sweatshops viable by ruthlessly exploiting people in debt, constantly violating worker and civil rights of its indentured employees (slavery), and making the spent ones sleep with the fishes.
And all the good happy folk of Sunny Italy sang and danced all day long, induced mainly by narcotics to help them forget the saccharine oppression their lives have become and to avoid punishment. And anyone who was for any reason miserable or unhappy or who had any difficult personal problems were taken to the Happy Farms, where they were made happy with electroshock treatments, water cures, blackjacks, and listening to Despacito all day long, while their tears were harvested and exported to aliens.
When something bad happens to his kingdom, he becomes sad, and that happens, he just spread his joy on the areas affected. This happened after he farted his gas of joy from the bottom of his pants on his rebellious Ethiopian subjects after eating some pasta fazul. He was so overjoyed as they gagged and coughed with laughter, and died. An example made, they continued to harvest hash, opium, and methanol moonshine for export while they languish and starved under a fruity jackboot.
One day, while touring the lands on his FIAT (Fix It Again, Tony) mobility scooter he discovered a tape, entitled Seven Days in May. The tape had a warning that said, "Burn this tape! Don't watch it!" Foolishly, he ignored the warning and took it with him and chugged with sunny cheer to his estate, Castle Isengard.
That night, after eating cake and ice cream for dinner and dressed in his favorite furisode, he waited in giddy anticipation of the movie. "Burt Lancaster and Kirk Douglas are such hunks," he whispered in anticipation to his Aniki body pillow.
After watching the old-timey cinema countdown thingy, the feature presentation started.
All he saw was a well, surrounded by trees. In blue-tinged color, definitely not a Christopher Nolan production.
"What!? This is an outrage!" he whined petulantly. "No wonder the previous owner wanted to have this burned."
So he went to bed to dream of gachimuchi, then the TV turned on by itself, with the Die Woody's Fichtl's Lied. At this noise he got up and scratched his eyes.
"Is it the Funky Bratwurst Zeit?" he asked groggily, thinking of his favorite German show.
The music stopped and the screen flashed, "Eh, no." Then it flashed back to the well in the tape.
"What is this, a prank?" he whined again in his high-pitched voice. Then his cellphone rang. "Hello?"
"Seven days," the caller whispered ominously.
"I'm sorry, are you the owner of the tape?" he snapped in a sassy-tone. "I would like to return that awful tape that you lost-"
"GRRAAAAGGHH!" shrieked from the other end,
"Eeeep!" he squealed as he jumped up like the nancy boy that he is.
The text on screen showed, "Seven days of fun and mayhem!" His ahoge stood up in curiosity.
Then something crawled out of the well, Sadako Yamamura, dressed in white with disheveled long black hair. She crawled on all fours towards the screen.
"Why did I have a stripper-"
Then Sadako reached her hand out that pierced the heavens, or the flatscreen LCD, and emerged from it into the real world like a 50s B-movie monster, dropping on the floor like a sack of potatos looted from an Irish Latvian farmer.
"AAAAAAH!" He held his face like that Scream painting and he darted for the closet door so he can take refuge among his other custom dakimakuras, featuring Ironman, Captain America, Geralt of Rivia, Aquaman, Laverenti Beria, Idi Amin, Sauron, Arthas, Reinhard Heydrich, Augusto Pinochet, Pyramid Head, Benedict Arnold, Sir Oswald Mosley, Klaus Barbie, Baldrick, Hideki Tojo, etc. but his furisode made him trip and kiss the marble floor hard, and Sadako was upon him, trapping him with her tentacle-like hair.
"Please don't hurt me," he begged helplessly in the most teeny-weeny voice possible, "I wasn't built for tentacles."
"No..." she breathed, staring back at him with her bulging eyes through her hair. "I have something much worse." She laughed diabolically while lightning cracked and organ music boomed dramatically as she crawled out of the bedroom with our screaming cheap mass-produced, store-bought, creme-filled snack cake in tow and went downstairs to the kitchen, Sadako's nominally natural environment.
"Don't, please!" He squirmed against the writhing mass of hair trapping him. "I'm not into vore!"
"Silence!" she shrieked. Then with a wicked smile, she set out the ingredients and tools. "I make pizza." Worried and confused, our sweet prince watched as she multi-tasked mixing the dough, pre-heating the oven, setting it to rise, mixing the sauce, punching then rolling the dough and added the sauce and other toppings.
"And my secret ingredient!" She tossed something into the air, spun her knife helicopter-like and the slices shot into a bowl. "This is were the fun begins."
Then Feliciano paled as he beheld the terrible truth that hurts harder than a baguette without a butter lubing.
Sliced pineapple.
"Anything but that! Anything but that!" But his pleas would not deter the sadistic Sadako as she slowly picked the slices and began laying them.
"NNNNNOOOOOOO!" She arranged slice after slice after slice to dishonor the pizza, to create this culinary abomination, to desecrate Italian cuisine, to psychologically torment the fairy prince. She turned to the oven.
"It's ready!" she squealed in delight and started to shovel the pizza in with malicious intent.
This was too much! To save his crumbling world, to save his happy days under the sun, he called his ultimate attack.
"Dooiitsuuu-kuuuunnnn!" he cried dramatically with sexy tears.
And his call for aid was answered. Through the roof of the castle, through its wattle-and-daub (cattle waste) ceiling burst Ludwig, his lover, raining stone, wood, and brickwork all over the kitchen.
"And Doitsu has answered," he said with a deep dramatic baritone, then he asked gently, "Who is hurting you?"
"Sadako is," he said with a pout, pointing a finger at her like he's telling on a classmate to the principal while hanging upside-down.
"So you're the bitch who is hurting my little choir boy and distracting me from my lebensraum building in Poland!" he called out in righteous anger, angry that he was pulled away from from soap-making and making blood puddings from orphaned Polish children's blood.
"Hahahahahahaha!" Sadako laughed at that like some deranged anime-visual/light novel yandere. "How can a bishie like you ever defeat me!?" She screamed like a banshee as her battle aura (you want me to say bankei?) glowed in brilliant fury.
Thus Germany, or Ludwig, or Hans, or Dolfy, whatever he is, let loose his own hearty laugh, worthy of the Teutonic gods for whom he slaughtered or enslaved lesser races in their name. He boomed, "You forgot, ghost wench. I am the Avatar of Male Beauty." And he glowed himself, his aura shining brilliantly as the sun, transforming himself into his ultimate form, essentially sentient pretzel.
Sadako shrieked as it was too much beauty for her eyes, used to despair and darkness, for them to handle. As the bishie brilliance cleared, she beheld the ideal of male beauty as depicted by yaoi fangirls, with faithful anatomy like huge hands, long chins, small heads set upon broad shoulders with Hapsburg lips and the like.
"What the fuck this is shit?" Sadako asked, blinking her eyes to see if she's looking at a rejected prop from a Tim Burton movie which later saw use in a 90s Matt Stone/Trey Parker movie she never heard of, and not fawning over the German as girl audiences have expected.
"Blitzkrieg!" cried Ludwig as he jumped into action on his springy yaoi legs. Thus, the battle of the ages began.
Laura Palmer proclaimed, "Elihwnaem..."
Feliciano look worriedly as Doitsu was fighting the mean-old goth girl for life and honor. He was glad but felt useless as Doitsu pulled his awesome moves on the unholy witch. And he decided to get rid of the awful "pizza" once and for all. He was daintily skipping to the dungeon to get the rocket fuel when a metal kebab skewer shot in front of him, stopping his frolic.
"That's dangerous!" he squealed tsundere-like.
Then a big green ogre emerged from the shadows. "It's never ogre, you two-timing bitch," Shrek threatened menacingly.
"Shrek," he gasped, covering his mouth with his sleeve-covered hands. "I thought you were dead."
"You ungrateful shite," Shrek went on ranting, "how could you do this to me? After I fished you out of that Chinese sweatshop, you said we would be together."
"But Shrek, you just weren't the one for me," he explained, "you may be big, green, and muchi but Doitsu is sensitive."
"And to add insult to injury, you evicted me from my swamp!"
At this, Felicano chuckled in embarrasment, the kind that makes you question your sexuality - or enrage you over how makes light of his atrocity like the little school boi he is. "Ooops, I didn't know that when I built my pasta factory."
"AAARRRRGGH!" Shrek roared in outrage. "You broke my heart, Feliciano, you broke my heart. And now I break yours." He pointed to the dramatic fight scene between Doitsu and Sadako.
"Doitsu...," he whispered sadly like an anime best girl/princess seeing her love fighting for his life while Shrek laughed cruelly as any true villain should.
The epic clash rocked the castle as Doitsu jabbed with his long, pointy chin and swung his huge hands attached to rubber-hosed arms at her while Sadako parried and struck back with her hair, using her weaponized screams for maximum damage, which he sidestapped with nary a singe on his biggy-chinchin.
"Why did you make pizza with pineapple?" Doitsu demanded dramatically, flapping his huge lips.
Sadako grinned sadistically. "I have been summoned by the Canadian-Greek Restaurant Combine, who asked me to perform this diabolical task. And how dare you interrupt my work!" She let loose a massive scream. Our little prince gasped at this evil little revelation.
"Ya think I did this all alone?" Shrek asked crossly,"I'm not the only one who wants to screw you over."
"But you packed too much heat, it hurts so much," Feliciano moaned in complaint, "you never cared about my feelings."
"You never said I was being to hard on ye!" Shrek snapped.
"And you made friends with poor Greeks and boring Canadians trying to flood the world market with maple syrup."
"That's rich, seeing how you build your kingdom on forced sweatshop and plantation labor, you prissy-assed fairy. Besides, your Nazi boyfriend was the one who helped you enslaved the untamed tribes in the first place."
This caused our prince to pout at that statement and cross his arms. "Because I was worth it." Shrek trembled in rage at how he, the lover of lovers, was dumped for some prettyboy abomination. Back to the fight...
Doitsu backflipped mid-air, spinning like a top and his ass barely cleared her scream attack attack by barely an inch. Gotta protect dat hawt ass.
"Yay!" He hopped and clapped his hands rapidly like a coke-and-Red Bull addled rabbit at seeing his awesome maneuver.
Shrek cupped both his hands and shouted, "Hurry up, will ya!?"
In response, Sadako used Japanese Yurei Glare, which is super-effective at paralyzing Feliciano's valiant Germanic knight, followed by her scream attack.
The attack knocked him on his ass on the castle floor, creating a crater the size of an Olympic-size swimming pool.
"Oh, no," our pretty prince gasped worriedly, once again, as he saw his champion and lover down for the count.
"Ohhh yesss~," Shrek cooed in delight. "Sadako - FINISH HIM!"
Now Sadako creaked her neck 360 and stretched her arms for the finishing move. Then she took out a pineapple-
"NO!" screeched Fely.
-and formed the Kamehameha Rasengan Ball of Internet Karma, energizing the fruit on which to lay on Doitsu.
Amongst the dust, Doitsu laid on the crater floor, contemplating his last moments which, to spare both reader and writer the painful path of description summed up, "Oh Fely, my Italian schatze, I shouldn't be fighting at all, I just want your sweet little ass, instead I have this dead Japanese schoolgirl that's been left to dry out on a sunny beach for three weeks who tried to put pineapple on pizza, sacrilege! Oh Fely... how I failed you..."
Fely was now rivering tears from his eyes as Sadako was about to commit pineapple sudoku on his seme boyfriend.
"Feelin' useless already, Fely?" Shrek taunted like the big green meanie that he was. "That's what you are, uselesss! You couldn't even save yer butt master."
Now Feliciano was feeling bad at leaving Doitsu on his own and extra pouty. "That's where you're wrong, Shrek!" He took out the Triforce which spun around until it was in the halfway above the floor and cavernous ceiling. Then it shone in trippy colors like a lava lamp, which caused a magical girl transformation on the Italian pastaboi, where he did a provocative dance to some wierd-techno shit which was thankfully silhouetted to avoid either running for the eye bleach, banhammer, or the tissue and KY jelly for the more saucy among you readers; the same dance that he performed at the De Kleine Jongen Van De Melk, the most exclusive twink rave strip club/bathhouse/coffeehouse/massage parlour in all of Amsterdam, which got him rave reviews from patrons and more; said patrons later come down with Ebolaids, Chalmydia, and herpeSARS, which forced the Bidelberg Group to postpone their meetings as many members died horribly from Fely's "gifts," thus his upcoming performances/services at the Bohemian Grove were banned permamently. At the completion of his magic dance, he transformed into...
Super Pop-Tart Italian Giovinezza!
He was dressed in a very revealing, very cutesy Renaissance-style dress for the ass-kicking courtesan. In his high heels he floated above the air, raising his magic wand/marshal's baton.
"Revisionizing Beam!" he called out as he fired a stream of rainbows out of his baton to a dying Doitsu, instantly revitalizing him, much to the shock of Sadako, who prematurely released her flaming pineapple in shock and...
"ARRRGGH!"
... sent Shrek flying across the floor and smacking to the wall.
Doitsu, standing tall in his grotesque anatomically-incorrect glory, declared with his pointy finger, "You! You must be punished for pineapple on pizza!"
Sadako scoffed. "Fat chance."
"Don't believe me?" Ludwig did a flamboyant hand gesture, with pose. "Kinder, Küche, Kirche Reaktion Aktivat!" At that invocation (some really bad German), a morphless shape came out of his back pocket like some protozoa and it slowly coalesced into his familiar...
Kiku Honda - Japan.
Sadako screamed and grabbed her head in terror as she beheld traditional Japanese patriarchy, which was the very thing she abhorred.
"Know your place, bitch!" Kiku declared in uber-dramatic kabuki sound surround, which caused the yurei to let out ear-piercing wails of terror as her mind couldn't take the glory of the traditional ideal of Japanese womanhood and its restrictive yoke. Kiku continued his culture war assault by swirling her with cherry blossoms whilst reciting insufferable pronouncments of what a woman should in the paternalistic Confucian feudal heirarchy of Japanese society whose precepts are a leading cause of death (moe), depression (shoujo) and deviancy (yuri) among their womenfolk , and this continue to shine on her and fill her mind with hanames, school festival, making mochi and the like and she started to warp and distort the space around her before she exploded in a bright flash of light. The only thing left of her was a pile of hair.
"Oh, Doitsu!" Feliciano jumped into Ludwig's arms in joy and relief. "Thank you for saving me~!"
"It was nothing," Doitsu cooed, engulfing him with his oversized hands like any yaoi seme would do to his uke. "I couldn't just leave my best boi behind."
He giggled. "Aw, how could way."
"Nice dress, by the way," he said, very thirsty.
"Oh, thank you do much~." He fluttered his pretty eyes. "Wanna go upstairs?"
"Hellz yeah, we will! Let's Junjou, baby!"
Suddenly, alarms blared throughout the castle and explosions flared up outside. Naturally, he clung to the Avatar of Male Beauty. The revolution has begun! The magical barrier holding all the Slavic Anarcho-Capitalists (convicted bandits and gopniks) in Doitsu's concentration camps broke down, causing them to revolt against their captors, murder them, flay their skins to make leather jackets, before streaming down the border into Sunny Italy, where they murdered Feliciano's enforcers and started a rampage across the countryside as they ransacked houses in search of Żywiec beer, bootleg Camel cigarettes, Smirnoff vodka, kielbasa, canned tuna, stale rye bread, and Monster Energy. The lovely people of the land realize that they don't have suppress their misery anymore and put the mandatory facade of happiness, so they joined in the fun, gorging themselves up on Red Bull and jacking up on steroids. This was aided and abetted by the Nature Collective, a depraved union of sodomites, treehuggers, and furries who were angered by Fely's atrocity done to Shrek's swamp, supported by Canadian forces as the Greeks with the Serbs are trying to retake Constaninople from the Turks.
"Kiku, deal with those revolting peasants while we make love upstairs," Doitsu said, his tone betraying his distaste for the unwashed, impoverished masses who sustain Fely's extravagant lifestyle and the German's military-industrial complex gathering outside the castle.
"Hai, Doitsu-dono," he said with a bow, so Kiku Naruto-ran to meet the angry mob outside the castle lead by a platoon of 28 US Marines with Blackhawks and Ford Raptor trucks while the lovely couple ascended to upstairs in Disney fairy tale fashion. What followed up there was worth a year's supply of eye-bleach and thirty years of therapy to get over the horrible imagery of anime boy meets anime boy Blitzkrieg.
Up the tower, Kiku shot up into the air and sliced up a Blackhawk, just to demonstrate the superiority of the katana to all Western weaponry and science, which exploded behind, giving him a backdrop for his awesomeness as the pinnacle of traditional Japanese manhood and being the East Asian Chad that he was.
Unfortunately, as soon as he did the perfect three-point landing he got tackled by Shrek, who disarmed him by twisting his arms into a snap, kicking him into the balls. Bowled over in pain and being nothing without his katana, the crowd proceeded to perform what Kiku wrote as "Sexual Chivalry (mass Prima Nocta)" in his editorials regarding Korea and Nanking posted in conservative Japanese newspapers. As the poor shonen hero was forcibly bent over and had him try some of his own "sexual chivalry," which was streamed live for the viewing pleasure of the libertines worldwide, Shrek ran inside the castle to settle business.
Going up the spiral stairs following the sounds of high-pitch effeminate bleating and some wild-boar grunting, Shrek reached the top bedroom, kicked down the door and was not prepared for the horror he saw an unbaked pretzel man behind male jailbait in hot acceleration to the rhythm of Eurobeat.
"Fuck this shit I'm out!" Shrek shrieked, doing a T-pose and flying away as he will have nightmares for the rest of his life. He regretted being empowered by the angry mob through the sprinkling of Kiku's ahegao tear. Why was he torn from death's sweet embrace?
As they continued to ara-ara in their forbidden love ritual with Running in the 90s blaring, a black string mass shot from the door like some Attack on Titan Jaeger, it was Sadako!
She landed a kick in Doitsu's jaw, distorting his face in slo-mo, while he was in the middle of the best part. He flew off the giant yaoi bed, with Fely still stuck to him, and slammed into the sound system shutting up for good his death camp sound mix. Sadako then snapped Doitsu's long chin off, making him shriek in pain, and jabbed his shoulder, pinning him to the ground before giving a stomp to his beautiful grimacing face.
"How are you alive!?" the fairy squeaked in shock, propped upright by his lover.
"Pizza time!" Sadako shoved a whole pizza into his mouth. Instinctively, he ate it and choked in panic as the pineapple triggered his Italian senses, causing an adverse chain reaction in the pasta femboi.
"Mmmmmmmmmmm...," which translates as a muffled "Nooooo!" from our hero as the pineapple provoke gas production, causing nuclear diarrhea. Doitsu screamed as the corrosive gas burned his groin away, much like having every STD on the planet.
Sadako laughed madly as she saw him glow and a combination of gas and friction brought about panic caused his bum to overheat, reaching critical masd.
KABROOOOOOOM!
With one simple spark the castle was obliterated in a mushroom cloud, the pineapple digestion having the explosive yield the Tsar Bomba. Now Sunny Italy turned to Sunnier Apocalyptic Italy, where people will reenact Fallout for the rest of their lives, beyond that, the next few dozen millenia.
Todd Howard's Fallout: Pasta Edition. Now even more buggier. Pre-Order now for overpriced season pass cosmetics and loot boxes. And inedible plastic pasta.
While all three players were vaporized, Sadako left her hair smoking in a burnt olive tree. Oh wait, there were two little fruits on the ground and a huge pair of grabby hands, also smoking.
"For eating the poopoo, they're gonna have to put you back together - in HELL!" said a drunk African warlord.
A/N: This trainwreck of a crossover is dedicated to the elitist, passive-aggressive self-proclaimed censors prowling FFN to enforce sight standards on their own accord on the slovenly, unwashed masses of fanfic writers who nest across the sight. They nearly turned FFN into a ghetto in order to stroke their egos, because they believe plebs who write because they want to write can't have nice things if they can't conform to their anal-retentive ideas of FFN guideline abidance and publicly denounce nonconformists in their own fics as they lack even the balls to PM them to point out what they legit did wrong nor the time to actually help, because that would be lowering themselves to the level of peasants, stemming from their Freudian jealousy of reading people who write for fun and the trauma being sodomized by a tree during summer camp. Public shaming, arrogance, insecurity in actually writing a story, with furry sodomy, book and witch burning on the side, all in a day's work for our protectors.
