Joe Zummo

Joe Zummo is the man you wish you could be. He can punch through ANYTHING.

Those who love Joe Zummo can never love a lesser man. He's purported to have done every hipster in Lord.

Furthermore, he shot Chuck Norris, got more votes than Ron Paul, and is an OCon legend.

If you ever meet him, you'll understand.

[edit] The Story

"Zummo!" came the cry from above. Joe Zummo was a famous man, his name in every mouth, his cock in every hipster pussy from North to Lord. Being found face-down in the mud was not something he was accustomed to. The steady -whup-whup-whup- of the helicopter's blades was making it difficult to rise, but step by step he managed it. He made sure he had his pistol in hand as he looked up, but of course, it made no difference. Jake Brody was one step ahead.

Brody's smile shone brilliant, a beacon of godliness as he swiveled the minigun down to face Joe Zummo. The beret on his head was slightly cocked, but Jake Brody didn't care. It was just about over. His finger gripped the trigger.

"You want a random compliment, Zummo?" Joe Zummo got onto his knee, watching the barrels. How could he get out of this alive? Brody tossed his head back and laughed. "Joe Zummo gives excellent blowjobs!"

The barrels started spinning and the ground erupted with fire. Zummo threw himself backwards, fingers scraping in the mud for a hold, feet digging ito the dirty slop, just barely pulling himself ahead of the storm of fire. Brody turned and yelled something to his pilot and the huge helicopter levered itself into motion, seeming to sweep aside murky clouds as it gave chase. Mud whipped about at the helicopter's advance, but Zummo pushed himself on. He had to.

The chugging of the minigun exploded to life again, brass capsules springing out from nothing in front of Brody's face as he tried to get a bead on Zummo. Zummo serpentined, doubled back, doubled forward, double-doubled, double-dribbled, anything to get out of the way of those bullets. Mud splashed up onto Zummo's calf from a just-missed bullet. Zummo was flagging fast, but something in him kept pushing and he kept running. He didn't have a lot of space, though. He was going to get caught soon.

"Son of a bitch!" Brody snarled as his barrels whirled empty. He glanced up at Zummo and down at his ammunition. He had to do this quickly.

Zummo could hear the lack of minigun fire, though. He only had a few seconds. He turned. He straightarmed. He fired.

Brody's head swung about when he heard the shatter of glass in the cockpit. Chris Pisani clutched his throat to try and hold in gushing blood, his body pressed against his seat, kicking into lifeless. Out of his many skills, one Brody had never mastered was helicopter flying; he had always had Pisani for that. The helicopter was beginning to tilt and sink to the ground. Brody looked back at Zummo and his eyes doubled in size. The bastard was taking aim at him!

Zummo's shot hit the hull of the helicopter, just a few inches from Brody's head, but Brody was already in motion, diving from the falling copter to the ground. He was lucky enough that they had been chasing Zummo so close to the ground, because a tuck and roll took care of him rather well. The whip of a bullet into the mud made Brody's heart ram into his ribs and he unfurled himself, starting into a dead run.

Joe Zummo had a lot of trust fund cash, but he could not afford to smile, not now. Brody had pulled a pistol out from nowhere and now this was a chess match, the two men dancing back and forth, trying to get a good shot. Brody fired wild, but Zummo took the bait and ate the mud. Brody stopped, skidding in the mud for a bit, then clawed at the ground to charge stright at Zummo. He let off a few more shots, but Zummo had pulled himself into a roll, just ahead of Brody's rounds.

"No homo!" Brody howled as he leapt into the air, pouncing on top of Zummo. Zummo got his knees under Brody's chest and flipped him overhead like something out of a fighting game. Brody hit the ground sliding, but he righted himself as soon as possible and pushed himself to his feet, straight into Zummo's pistol whip. Brody staggered backwards and Zummo brought his hand back to strike Brody in the forehead, but Brody brought his hand high to block it. He caught the impact on his wrist and, with a gasp, dropped his pistol into the murk.

They were nearing the cliff. Lightning flashed in the darkness. Zummo slammed his pistol into Brody's ribs, making Brody jump backwards, but Brody turned away a would-be crippling kick with his forearm. Brody was close. Zummo could take him out with his bare hands. He threw another kick. Brody caught it against his side. Zummo's eyes went wide and Brody took the chance, snatching Zummo's gun hand by the wrist. With a Batman-like finesse, he spun Zummo about, catching him in a sleeperhold and still holding onto the gun. Zummo fired. Useless.

Brody made Zummo look over the edge at that incredible drop. "Any last words?"

Zummo gasped. Zummo choked. Looking at that fall, he let his lips slide open. "-wheeze- J-Jake Brody... -wheeze-... Jake Brody huffs mad dong... -wheeze-"

Brody's eyes flashed with fury and, with a roar, he hurled Zummo from the cliff. Zummo let himself tumble through the sky with his eyes closed for a bit, feeling the air fill those spaces he had felt so empty in before. And then, he opened his eyes again, streamlined his body, head down. No reason not to make this as quick a death as possible. That's when he saw them. At the base of the cliff.

Otters.

Trembling, Zummo leveled his pistol at them and squeezed the trigger.

Click.

Oh hell. Out with the knife, then.

[edit] Opinions

-Joe Zummo did my homework. Then he punched through the Science Center. Joe is my hero!

-Joe Zummo OWNS at aikido.

-PEOPLE, STOP FEEDING JOE ZUMMO COPIOUS AMOUNTS OF FOOD!!! Haven't you guys seen how fat that guy is already?!?!? I can understand if you wanna leave a little out there because it's so cold and you feel bad for him or whatnot, but 2 overflowing 4th meal trays?!?!?! REALLY?!?!?!?

-Don't do anything with him. He's such a manwhore.

-I saw Joe Zummo put nails in his spaghetti. Twice.