The Jovi Battle

“You know, you don’t have to say ‘dot, dot, dot.’ If you just kind of trail off, then we’ll know that the dots are there.” I told The Jovi, tellingly.
“Silence!” The Jovi exclaimed, and The Boss and I winced.
“Nobody exclaims around us!” The Boss told him, and I nodded my head in approval.
The Jovi spread his arms out in a godly manner, and told us that he no longer was bound by the laws of The Boss and The Niles. Small butterflies and little gay 80’s hair band people with wings and neon-colored spandex covered The Jovi from behind with a giant cloak. I had to admit, The Jovi pulled off ominous very well.
“We’ll see who can exclaim!” I tried to exclaim, but couldn’t. Something was wrong. Instead of exclaiming, I was only able to holler, which is undeniably lame. Hollering is something only very lame people do. I couldn’t even yell for Christ’s sake! I tried again, but this time I felt squeamish and doubled over in complete lameness.
“The Boss! First I holler and now I’m squeamish… I’m going completely lame!” I hollered again, this time even more hollerish than the last. Tom the Penguin-Fish came over to give me scotch. It was 18 year Macallan and it helped a lot.
“What’s going on?” Ferocious asked, alarmed and forgetting momentarily to be refined and instead appearing simply frightened.
“I don’t know Ferocious,” The Boss replied, drinkingly. “But I don’t like it at all.”
“Ha, ha!” The Jovi ha-ha’d. “The mystic fogs surrounding my island give me super-exclaiming abilities and debilitate the ability for anyone else. You’re no match for me now The Boss and The Niles!”
“What are we gonna do?” Tom asked us, then proceeded to take a drink of Rumplemintz.
“Everybody calm down.” The Boss started, and then everyone was much calmer. “Scotch me.” Arbitrary Henchman #25 was the designated scotch-carrier for our journey on Jovi Island, so he quickly tossed a bottle of 10yr Jura. Boss gulped it drinkingly and then smiled. “I’m good.” He said, with a thumbs up and a wink.
With everyone wondering what to do next and The Jovi just weirding up the place with his maniacal laugh and gay-ass cloak (see advertisement below), I knew that it would come down to me. Weak from my failed exclaims, but feeling better with the delicious Macallan pulsating through me, I stood up proudly and took stock of what was around me. There had to be something that was drawing in all the fog… causing all of our exclaiming ability to go to The Jovi. It was then that I realized the music of The Jovi was still playing on the loud-speaker, polluting the island. The solution occurred to me… I ran drunkingly to the loudspeaker which was actually a really cool looking giant phonograph shaped thingy. The Jovi gave chase, but I knew I could outrun him when I saw him trip over his gay-ass cloak. I made it all the way to the loudspeaker control building and demolished the 8-track player that was playing his music, knowing that he’d never find another archaic device that could play his crappy 8-tracks. The music stopped and all the fogs began to disperse. I came back to the dock where The Boss and everyone else was, each of them looking puzzled. I kicked The Jovi on the way back and he cried, cryingly.
“Damn The Jovi!” The Boss exclaimed.
“That’s right The Boss!” I exclaimed back, and we did the penguin dance that we made up right there on the spot. It consisted of waddling around and trying to fly, then laughing at each other when we failed to actually fly. This offended Tom at first until The Boss actually succeeded at flying, at which point we were all just shocked and amazed until The Boss did three loop-da-loops and floated back down to the shore, looking rather divine and suddenly wearing a basket of grapes on his head.
“Dude!” I exclaimed again (as there was much exclaiming to do in order to make up for the lack of exclaiming from before). “How did you do that?”
“Don’t mess with Texas.” Came a voice from behind a nearby Bush, which we then discovered was actually The Bush and not behind anything at all.
“Exactly.” The Boss explained, tossing grapes into Tom’s Penguin-Fish mouth. I was confused but figured I’d let it go.
“The Bush! What are you doing here?” I asked the former President.
“What are you doing here?” The Bush responded, whittling and looking confused, or in other words… normal.
Before explanations could continue, The Boss interrupted to ask why the fog disappeared. I had The Boss hallucinate a chalkboard and some chalk so I could diagram it out, very teacherly, and everyone sat down criss-cross-applesauce to listen intently to my explanation. Well, everyone except The Bush who continued whittling and kept muttering something about Alan Jackson owing him a new belt-buckle and needing a piece of wheat to chew on.
“You see,” I began. “The Jovi’s music was so terrible, that when it was played at such great volumes from this tiny island, the Earth itself became agitated. Because of this, the planet went into natural defense mode. Mother Nature put her dead-beat husband Father Time in charge of getting rid of this disturbance. However, because ironically Father Time always chose the quickest resolution to things, rather than getting rid of The Jovi and all his evilness once and for all, he simply sent out a couple of mystical fogs and rerouted a trash barge in order to cover up Jovi Island; much like a teen might cover up a bad facial blemish. This fog kept the world safe from the terrible noises coming from Jovi Island. Unfortunately, it also negatively affected everything that entered the island as well, which is why The Boss and I struggled to exclaim. The fog made any awesomeness transfer straight from the outsider to The Jovi. Thank God it didn’t affect the scotch.”
“Nothing transamathingy’d from me.” The Bush stated. We all just kind of sat there, nobody wanting to tell The Bush that there was nothing awesome about him, thereby hurting his feelings.
The Jovi was still crying, so The Boss and I went over and beat the ever-living fuck out of him. We elected not to take his shit however, as neither of us wanted anything to do with his gay-ass cloak. We dragged him back over to the group near the dock, feeling The Jovi’s minions closing in on us. Hurriedly, we got back onto the S.S. Glen and shook The Jovi violently to try and get him to stop crying long enough for us to interrogate him.
“I’m really, really cool…” The Jovi kept uttering to himself incoherently. The Boss slapped him repeatedly yelling obscenities at him and kicking him in his left shin; one of The Jovi’s biggest weaknesses.
“Damn you The Jovi!” The Boss yelled over and over again drunkingly. I could see this would never end. Once you start beating up The Jovi, it’s so much fun that it’s hard to stop.
“Not livin’ on a prayer now are ya? You bastard!” The Boss continued.
I pulled The Boss away, handing him a bottle of 20yr Inchmurrin to help him relax.
“This is really good!” The Boss exclaimed and a bum named simply Zeke in New Haven who’d been receiving all the beer from this entry’s exclaims decided to “make it rain” with all the bottles he’d gotten. This proved unfortunate for Zeke, as all the bottles came crashing down on him, giving him a concussion and helping him slip further into insanity.
“I know, I just found about it!” I told The Boss excitedly. “It’s expensive, but it looked really awesome, so I thought we’d throw it in there.” The Boss drank it happily and all seemed right in the world.
As I looked out on the horizon, The Jovi captured, The Boss and I scotched, I knew the entry was about to end. With that in mind, I downed a bottle of 10yr Ardberg, grabbed The Jovi by the collar on his gay-ass cloak and looked him square in his damn The Jovi eyes.
“What do you know about GlenGodly?” I demanded.

-The Niles


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