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Wednesday, 29 July 2009

image for Verne Troyer Catches Up With Jalapenoman at Las Cruces Taqueria
"Este pinche hijo de lechero? No vale verga! El consiguio lo que se merecio," dijo un hombre.

LAS CRUCES, NM - A fast food fiesta turned into a midget massacre today when Verne Troyer finally caught up with Jalapenoman at El Taco Timbre in Las Cruces, New Mexico.

Reports indicate the 2' 8" American actor and stunt performer was "burned up" over several spicy comments about short people made in a particularly piquant piece by the capsi-comical spoof editor, so Troyer had been hot on his tail for several days.

Witnesses say mini-man Troyer entered the taqueria unnoticed, strolling casually along the partition between the dining area and the kitchen as the J-Man wrapped his lips around yet another chorizo; he did take notice, however, when he was hit squarely in the left eye with a speeding golf-ball-sized dollop of sour cream coming from the direction of the salsa bar.

"Come here, you peppery little peckerwood. Daddy's got somethin' for ya'," said Troyer as he darted under the table, grabbing hold of J-Man's sizable family jewels (at least compared to Troyer's hand), then dragging him out onto the floor as he squealed like a little girl.

"I never would of thought the little guy could move so fast!" gasped a woman who had been seated at a table near the action. She said Troyer, still firmly grasping the helpless victim's nut sack, reached over J-Man's hip and grabbed a belt loop, rolling the spoofer over onto his stomach, hurriedly straddling his neck as he clamped the J-Man's head in a vice-like grip with his stubby little legs.

Giving the screaming satirist's briefs a tremendous yank, Troyer was hoping for a wedgie, but instead heard the sound of ripping fabric older than the Shroud of Turin, leaving him clutching a skid-marked, tattered scrap of cloth full of holes with "Jalapenoman" printed in bold block letters across the back of the elastic band in black marker.

"Now that's just plain nasty," Troyer was heard to say before disgustedly tossing the pathetic scrap aside.

He scanned the room for an instant before reaching back and removing the laces from his shoes. Using them to roughly secure the ace news distorter's hands and feet, he then also removed one shoe and retrieved the sock, using it to muffle the girlish shrieks now reverberating throughout the taqueria. Standing up, he hooked his fingers into the New Mexican's nostrils and began dragging him toward the restroom.

The going was a bit slow; witnesses indicated Troyer stopped to go back and grab a ladle, drizzling a bit of fresh salsa picante along the way to ease friction, then recommenced, but not before stuffing several pints of sour cream down the back of J'Man's trousers as he chuckled to himself.

"What the hell are you starin' at, lady?" he asked one patron who had stopped to watch, waving her off. "Go on! Beat it!!"

Reaching the bathroom, Troyer dragged him in and locked the door behind them.

Thirty minutes and several "swirlies" later, Troyer emerged from the locked bathroom buck-naked and grinning, strutting proudly past the line of people now waiting just outside the door, his little dwarf wee-wee seeming to be in especially good spirits.

Witnesses said he then exited El Taco Timbre, climbed into the passenger side of his monster truck, and was driven away by the two jaw-dropping swimsuit models still waiting for him outside, leaving the drenched dimwit dripping, dribbling tears into a pool of toilet water as he loosened his bindings, dairy products slowly oozing into his shoes, the words "for a good time, call J-Man" scribbled on the wall of the stall behind him.

"That was just awful," he said, his sobs ceasing momentarily as he dipped his right index finger into his shorts, gazing at a withdrawn dollop of sour cream before touching it to the tip of his tongue. He winced.

"Just awful!"

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The story above is a satire or parody. It is entirely fictitious.

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