The Twerker.

About 'The Twerker'Edit

Do not go into the basement Barry, for there lurker The Twerker.

In today's world, 'twerking' is a term used to describe a post-modern dance move used by snotty teenagers and slutty females by the boatload. The Oxford Dictionary states;

"to dance to popular music in a sexually provocative manner involving thrusting hip movements and a low, squatting stance."

This however, is WRONG. The REAL term for twerking comes from a beast we have had locked up at the Mansion for years now. Back in 1993 it was captured and used for testing, as it simply wanted to 'Twerk' its victims to death.

The Twerker would run about, twitching 1000 times a minute as it did and making a high pitched screaming sound much like a pig/fox combination. If it came into contact with a human, it would 'Twerk' them to death. This involved it forcefully pushing out its tongue from its body. The tongue was over 2ft in length. It would either insert into an eye socket of the victim, mouth, or nostril. Although never an ear. The tongue would latch on to the victims heart, making them twitch uncontrollably like the Twerker, in fact so alike to the Twerker that one would almost believe that it was a complete mimic of its actions. The victim would also scream much like the Twerker, making it a messed up kind of dance routine. Spit and froth would ejaculate from the victims mouth, while the duo would 'Twerk' violently for minutes on end.

We studied the 'Twerking' as detailed as we could. While we found no correlation to the present day twerking, it did have some similarities. It seemed that the Twerker only went for dumb looking women; mainly blondes. We had to test it on a male subject, so being the nice people we are, we chose Barry.

Barry reluctantly accepted our offer of 'a holiday in the Bahamas' and walked into the Greenhouse we had set up outside, just before the steps leading down into the basement where the Twerker had made its home. Barry immediately knew he wasn't going to the Bahamas, but he continued his journey anyway, respectively. Just before he took his first step, Eugene (who was holding the green tape that was covering the entrance up, ready to be pinned back down) whispered:
Do not go into the basement Barry, for there lurker The Twerker.
Barry stopped, and his mind did too, visibly. He thought to himself
Lurker ain't even a damn word. I ain't never believe a word this negro says!
Then, he asked Eugene
uuuuhhhh, there ain't anything down there that's not supposed to be, is there?
And after this, Barry hesitated. He then went for it.

As he sprinted down the steps, and into the darkness, our BNK night vision camera came into play. We watched as the Twerker lunged swiftly for Barry, almost as soon as he entered the stinky, dark and damp room. It latched on to his face as usual; its eyes were pulsating, completely white as they had gotten used to the darkness but still showed signs of anger and hatred for the man standing in front of it. Barry screamed in terror while foaming at the mouth instantaneously also. He then went into a minor coma, while the Twerker worked its 'magic'. In a mere three seconds, Barry was Twerking around with the Twerker next to him; almost sprung over its shoulder dancing in midair. Eugene reports having to 'walk out of the damn room, because it was too funny'. Others watched on the monitor in disbelief.

About five minutes later, the Twerker stopped moving and Barry was released. Unlike the female victims, Barry's asshole was left undamaged; un-penetrated. The females in the past had been viciously ravaged from behind while forcefully twerking at the beasts might. Barry let out a sigh of relief, and we opened the door (quickly) for him to escape while the Twerker was resting. After this, we sent Mikelle down. Mikelle proudly plodded down the stairs, with a big grin on her face while releasing her claws both from her arms and mini-claws from her boots. She ran at the Twerker full force.

Then a funny thing happened. The Twerker turned around, and within a second it had latched on to Mikelle's right nostril. Mike instantly sat up from his chair and went to run to her aid, however it took the rest of the room to hold him back while we watched. Mikelle was Twerking, and then the Twerker edged back slowly, still latched on to her nose with its now-lengthening tongue. It revealed a long and skinny penis from its crotch, about 19 inches in length, and casually started raping Mikelle from behind (The twerking still went on). Mike slammed his hands down on his lap. He had enough. We let him leave to save Mikelle, but when he got to the basement, she was laying in a puddle of semen and saliva. Mike, now seemingly worried and upset, crouched over Mikelle and picked her up. He slowly went to walk with her in his arms up the basment stairs, when we picked up movement behind him.
Mike, this is Eagle base. Behind you. Do you copy?
Mike didn't have an earpiece with him. *Gulp*

However, none other than the GRUEJOR came to save the day. It must of been hidden somewhere in the ceiling, as it silently dropped down behind the Twerker who was now stalking Mike, while licking its lips and salivating heavily at the thought of taking Mike's life. However when the Gruejor hit the ground, it made a very loud thud. Everyone at this point (including the Gruejor) had an expression on their face that read oh shit.
So, what did the Gruejor do? What it does best. We later on praised it for its quick thinking, saving both Mike and Mikelle in the process. Gruejor shot its sticky semen all over the Twerker, stopping it with a web-like gunge which stuck to the floor and the side walls. The Twerker was trapped, and we could now transport it to a safe facility.

A party was thrown for Mike, Barry, Mikelle, and the Gruejor that night. Party poppers filled with Gruejor sperm, and ornaments of Mike lay about on tables, with huge glasses sat empty literally everywhere. Mike had consumed over 35 gallons of beer. Barry was drunk (again) and got the next day off work as a result.

The Twerker now resides in Gateway #B. It screams day and night for new flesh to feast on, while sometimes eerily chanting Mike's name. Mike sometimes stands outside, with his arms crossed simply meditating. We will ever know why, but what we do know is that Mike is the savior we all know and love. A savior we can count on for a long, long time. A savior we can count on...