The story of the Stephen crank squad begins with jimmy bopperson, at the family bop-stop, with his dad, bop bopperson. The Bop Stop is a diner nestled in a mountain range along the route 3000 highway, mostly surrounded by the old faithful road, and the hot sweet sun. Stephen Crank walks in the humid, bustling shop at peak hours. He looks around and sees what he likes, a bunch of good for nothing country boys like himself.
Stephen Gets up:“Listen here you Jim Jammaroos, we’ve got a timmysauras on the loose and we need some of the biggest jerks in here to help me out in the name of the crank boys at the crankland county fort.
Bop Bopperson pulls Mister Crank aside, and says
“Listen timmy-boy, I..”
“I told you only to call me Stephen, Crank, Stephen Crank, and Timbopper, but not Timmy, got it?”
Bop Bopperson continues…
“Fine steve, just...”
Crank Interrupts again.
as if about to snap
Says the Bopster
“You’re bowtie is on crooked, you’re wearing a wife beater and have very sweaty and smelly armpits, but I will hear you out”
Crank explained, ready to acknowledge the offensive comments he made.
“I’m Sorry mister Crank, I promise to take better care of my hygiene and to make sure that all of my accessories are on straight… As I was saying: we got all the Crank Boys™ lined up in the back with full plates of good ol’ diner food like burgers and pancakes.”
Said Bop Bopperson in a genuine, cranked and uncut manner.
“Right on’, lets get to business”
Crank said in a relaxed manner, with a grin and a chuckle.
His squad consisted of Peter Patterson, representing the pit pat crew in Texas, Jim Donaldsburrough, Oscar Diddly-Doo, and last but not least, Tip Toplet
The boys hit the open road in their old blue jeans, matching yellow ed hardy tee shirts, golden cowboy boots, and ten gallon hats. With nothing more than raw man power to take down the run away timmy-sauru.
Tip Toplet was bursting at the brim with excitement, hollering out somee hoots! And heys! And yellin’ I’m gonna teach that timmy saruiss a thing or two about rick rock and roll!
(Oscar Diddly-Doo, and Peter Patterson slap hands with excitement)
The boys arrive at the scene, Jim Donaldsons hat blew off in the ride there, I forgot to mention that JimJim and Stephen crank were in the back of the crank boys pick up truck, but Cranks hat didn’t fall off. It’s okay because Jim Donaldspins hat was green and everyone elses were brown.
The ground underneath the truck starts shaking, gently jiggling Peter Pattersons exposed sweaty belly, being slightly pushed in by the edge of the seat belt. The boys each get out of the truck almost in synchronicity, with the 5 oclock sun striking down on the dry red soil.
Amidst the red rocks in the landscape, there they saw it, the giant 23 foot tall timmy saurusst.
“I’m gonna call him tim tammaroo on a grill, cause I’m gonna teach that mother fudger a thing or two about good barbeque ethics”
Hooted Tip Toplet
All 5 of the men in their blue jeans and cowboy hats joined forces, and thought of a strategy to take down tim tammarooo on a grillt.
Diddly-Doo proposed his idea:
“We can all join our fists together, and punch at the same time. It will be easy because we all happen to be exactly 9 feet tall”.
Said a giddy Oscar Diddly-Doo
“No that idea is reckless, if he takes us out, he takes us all out. I’m not gonna risk a few good men and a few good cowboy hats for some timma sauras. It’s not happening on my watch. What were gonna do is were going to line up in single file fashion. I’m going to jump off of the head of Jim Donsoldon.
You, with the cowboy hat, Tip Toplet, you’re going to stand on top of mister Diddly-Doo. As I leap off of Jim Donaldspins head, you’re going to jump, and then I will leap off of your head. I didn’t tell you guys this but I brought my sword, the timster, along with me. I will deliver the final blow because with Oscars support and tip toplets jumping expertise, it should be enough to get me 23 feet in the air with the perfect opening for a finishing blow on the giant 23 foot tall tim tammaroo which we named tim tammaroo on the gril because of tip toplets obsession with good old fashioned American barbeque.”
Said Stephen Crank, in a cranked and uncut, fatherly and comforting way.
Those rootin’ tootin’ good for nothing country men form a circle. They stick their hands in the middle like a totem of the hands of some good ol’ boys.
They each chant the count of 1…. 2….. 3 “CRANK!” They all exclaim as their hands delicately fly up in the air like a blossoming flower during the brisk dewing hours of the morning spring sun.
“Shoot I’m all amped up! what more can a man such as myself, Peter Patterson, do in the situation of being confronted by a giant 23 foot tall, 20 foot wide Timmy Sööaérus, besides find it’s ass, and kick it once, kick it twice, and then kick it a 3rd, maybe even a fourth time! YeeeeeeeeE-hawwwwwwwWWW!!
Shouted a happy Peter Paterson. One of the Pit Pat Crew’s specialties is being able to locate a Timmy Soureéz ass, and kick it as well. You could say they specialize in kicking ass, but you don’t have to if you prefer to stay away from profanities.
They’re other Specialties include baking three layer cakes in the shape of cowboy boots, the details are astonishing. They can also speak 3 different languages, are laundry men, Jumpers, so on and so forth.
The Timmysaåruss, short for Timmysaåårius Heck, usually grow to be about twenty feet tall, twenty feet wide, and 13 feet in depth, and covered in dark brown fur. They’re heads are only 2 feet tall, and their faces resemble that of a wombats, mixed with a smiley face emmojii, though it is difficult to make out due to it being mostly covered in light grey fur, and very small in relation to the size of their bodies. They’re asses can grow almost anywhere on the body, and are very hard to find. The ass is also they’re weak spot. Theyr’e legs and arms resemble upside down traffic cones. They’re temperament is generally care free and not necessarily out to harm, but have no regard for anything smaller. Sometimes they trip into a house, and completely flatten it, and they roll into other places causing harm. They simply don’t give a hoot, and that’s why they’re a problem.
The Crank Boys™ weigh in at about 9 feet tall each, with the average human man being 7 feet. As strong as human men are, they don’t stand a chance with the Timmysååros. That is why people across the country land count on Stephen Crank, and his boys.
“Peter Patterson, you grab the measuring tape and the level from the glove compartment of that American pick up truck. I want you to make sure that Jim Donoldskin, and Oscar Diddly-Doo’s backs are making a bridge at exactly 2 feet, 2 inches off the ground, and that they are 4 feet apart, and perfectly straight. You know I hate it when things are crooked, it messes up my footin’, I don’t want to take a spill in my dang cowboy boots. You know how that goes. The dang sucker won’t know what’s coming, they never do. YeeeeHAW! Let’s get our boots dirty, boys!”
The boys are yipping and hooting with excitement, screaming yeehaw, the whole 9 yards.
Peter Patterson dashes over to the pickup truck, and pulls a dukes of hazards across the hood of the truck. He grabs the needed gear, and runs back like a little child running to its new puppy.
They all run over to the timmysööriars giggling and hooting with anticipation of the wild west beat down that’s about to happen.
Amidst shuffling, with orchestration by Peter Patterson, the Cranksters prepare themselves.
Everything is prepared, with Tip Toplet standing on a sturdy Diddly-Doo ready to jump, and Stephen lining up to pull off a double jump. Peter Patterson runs over to the TimmySåååru, and is pointing to the location of it’s weakpoint, the ass.
“Ey boys I got er’ located, it’s in the middle of it’s back!”
Peter Patterson hollered, with his finger pointing to it’s exact location.
Stephen says to himself as he takes off like a bat out of heck.
While at full speed he unsheathes the timster.
He pulls the jump off of Donaldspind; at the same moment Tip Toplet leaps up! He makes the jump off of Toplet, ready to rock.
The Timmyååårius catches something coming toward him in the corner of his eye, and turns around thinking that he was about to receive a present. In the process, his arm accidentally knocked Stephen out of the air, and his sword out of his hand.
“Got Dangit Crank, you frigged up this time!”
Crank screams, disappointed in himself.
The boys rush over to their leader.
“Ye’ all-right ya filthy son of a gun? Cause we just thought of a sure fire plan to get that sucker falling down on the dry red soil. We’re going to line up again, but horizontally, and this time we will wait fir that tim tammaroo to be starin off into the distant cactuses and red mountains that are only found in the wild west. We’re going to grab his legs, and deliver a 5 man german sue-plex
Said Peterpatterson, Stephens’ right hand man.
Stephen wipes a tear from his eye.
“You boys are such faithful and loyal boys, I am so humbled by your ability to still consider me your big boy after I frigged up like that. Come here and give me a fist-bop.”
Among sniffles and single tears, the boys bop fists.
“I leave you boys alone for dang near a whole minute and you think of your own perfect dang plan, I guess they don’t call ya The Crank Boys™ for nothin’! Let’s show that bastard how we do it in our old blue jeans, new yellow ed hardy t shirts with the lion on them, cowboy boots, and 4 cowboy hats divided among 5 men!”
Stephen Crank says, as a burst of war cries emerge at the end of his last sentence.
They stalk the Tim Tammaroo for a whole 30 minutes, and they find it dazing into the setting red western sunset. The boys approach quietly from behind, they know they might startle the Timmy Såååårius, so with one look inter eachothers eyes, they each know they need to do it in sync with one another, as quickly and as strongly as possible.
The boys whisper to one another
”Crank!” They yell in falsetto as not to startle the TimmySååårus.
With the raw man power of the 5 Crank Men combined, they hoist the timmysååårus up into the sky, and slowly but powerfully fall backwards, delivering a devastating german sue-plex to the 23 foot tall, 20 foot wide, 16 feet deep, tim tammaroo on a grill, as the boys had named earlier. The Timmy Såårius falls from the sky, landing directly on it’s ass, enough to land a critical blow on the timmysaåårus.
They look over at the Timmysååårius, it’s completely dang knocked out.
”That boys gonna be seein stars for a few days but he certainly know to stay away from us human men!”
Oscar Diddly-Doo says proudly
“Hot Dangit boys, I think we did it again!”
Exclaimed an elated Jim Donaldsburrough
“Hoot, Yippee, YeeHaww! You boys are some dang good ol boys, and that’s why you guys are called the Crank Boys™. We ought to celebrate with some of our signiature victory songs, you boys with me?”
Crank questions his crew.
“You got it boss!”
They all say in unison.
A one, two, one two three four…
“Rock and Roll is the way we go
we’re the crank boys we love the faithful road
to be a crank boy’s to have a heart of gold
boots and hats of the cowboy’s soul
American pick-up trucks and ed hardy shirts
We’re the Crank Boys™ and this is ourvictory jam! Wahoo! Yippee!”
Shortly after the song ends, among a group of cranksters hooting and hollering happily, Stephen Cranks phone rings.
“Hello this is crank, Hoot! Hee-Haww!”
Crank says giddy from the groups accomplishments
“Hellow Mister Crank, or should I call you Stephen, This is the mayor of the route 3000 area in the wild west, Mayor Jimmy. First off, I just wanted to congratulate you on your excellent performance today, they don’t call you Stephen Crank and the Crank Boys™ for nothing. When you boys are done hootin’ and hollerin’ after the big win today, come on by town hall, I have a few medals and a few one of a kind gifts to present to you for helping out our humble highway and wild western country area.”
Explained Mayor Jimster, treating Stephen Crank like a real life hero.
After an evening of several hoots and hollers, a truck load of cheeseburgers and corn on the cob, the boys hit the hay like a sack of bricks.
The boys sleep peacefully, almost angelically, underneath a starlit western classic red rocks and dry red soil night. In the morning, they head straight for town hall after a breakfast of the leftover diner food, like pancakes, and cheeseburgers they had left over from the Bop Stop.
The boys dressed up nice, they wore their classic matching cow print western shirts with pink ties. The boys love dairy cows and they think they are really cute, they like to visit farms and lay with the cows and take naps with them. They feel bad about their love for cheeseburgers, so they try to treat cows as well as possible.
They each put on their signature 10 Gallon Hat. Each one is white with a gold star in the center and their name underneath said star. They each wore their oldest blue jeans they could find as an homage to their roots.
Their belt buckles are polished, showing off the crank boys logo, the badger-smiley emojii like face of the Timmysåårius superimposed over the best country in the world. America.
The boys arrive at town hall to a crowd of people cheering for the boys.
They rush inside, excited for what the mystery gift is going to be.
“Hooo boy I’m excited, I love me some medals! Hoot! Holler!”
“Calm down boys this is town hall, Mayor Jimmy is a very important man”
Says a calm Stephen Crank.
They see a man in a baby blue tuxedo at the enterance to the Route 3000, Western Countryland Town Hall.
The man introduces himself
“Hello, you boys must be the Crank Boys™, pleased to meet you, I’m Mayor Jimmy, but you can just call me Jimster.”
“It’s an honor to meet you, Jimster”
The boys say in unison, completely humbled.
“Come on follow me to the award ceremony, and have some of this dang hot coffee my assistant whipped up for ye all. We’re going to have pastries for you boys so don’t worry we’re going to take good care of ye all”
Mayor Jimster said genuinely happy to treat the boys well, knowing they are blissfully unaware of the secret gift they are about to receive.
The boys follow the mayor through luxurious, burgundy velvet floored, golden walled town hall in the Wild West. They arrive in the mayors office. They each line up horizontally, exactly 3 feet apart, with their cowboy hats held over their hearts with their right hand, and their left arm straight down, and their heads at attention.
The mayor begins,
“First of all, I want to thank you boys for saving our humble western highway countryland town from potential disaster, it was a truly heroic feet, you boys are truly heroes. We had our medal man design these beautiful hand crafter gold medals as a thank you, from myself mayor Jimster, and most of all, these honest good hearted, hard workin men and women who are the only reason why we have this beautiful town in the first place. We all thank and love you very much. You are all very powerful, and ethical. For all of your hard work and dedication, we present to you these special gifts, from our boot boy.”
The mayors staff brings our 9 feet tall boxes wrapped in turquoise and silver wrapping paper, with an orange bow.
The boys frantically unwrap the gift wrap and pop open the lids like a dog shredding up homework.
The mayor is looking over with a grin, knowing the boys will love the gifts.
To their surprise, they find something they couldn’t even dream of, they each receive one giant, golden, embossed with mother of pearl swirly traditional American cowboy boot designs, cowboy boot one-z, with a small circular opening that their faces don’t fit all the way through. They each hop in the one-z, amidst inexplicable hoots and hollering and giggling from excitement.
The boys all run towards eachother, looking like giant cowboy boots, and each chest bump each member of the crank boys 1 time, 2 times, 3times, and a final fourth time.
“I knew you boys would like our towns signiature one-z. We love you boys, and we’d be glad to give you free cheeseburgers and pancakes anytime you’d like. Just tell them Mayor Jimster sent you, they’ll know.”
“Thanks mayor jimmy, these gifts are incredible, only a true ally of the crank boys would be able to whip something like this up for us boys. We well definitely roll on through like a hurricane in the near future. Keep the pancakes and the burgers hot for us, Jimster. We will wear these one-z’s every night as long as our name is the Crank Boys.
They all bop fists, and the mayor stays in the office and waves good bye, as the boys head back towards their American pick up truck in their Cowboy Boot ones-z’s, ready to head down that ol’ faithful road, back to the crankland county fort. Who knows what the future may have in story for these rootin’ tootin’ good for nothin’ country men?
Find out in the next installment of the Stephen Crank Chronicles: Stephen Crank, and the Haunted Cat