So yo, like, my boy Thomas was pissed. His whack AF sister convinced him to hop off the mesh and meet her at the mall. “For some fresh air”. Only like, get this yo, he’s waiting, just chilling when she texts him “The plants are coming, yo! GTFO!”

Now yo, my boy Tom Tom, he ain’t no weak kneed kid yo. So he just sits there, chillin’, watching all the little normals run around screaming. He’s watching, he’s running the numbers, bro loves his numbers yo.

And yo, get this. He’s like 2 seconds from a flawless plan, when these lame ass PoS wannabe’s bowl over this old dude and a little tyke. Fucking bullshit yo. But my boy, he aint phased. He coulda chased down the idiots and taught them what’s what yo. But he aint like that. Boy’s got his priorities straight!

Lanky ass Tom Tom stands up, towering over the panicking crowd yo. And like a ninja, weaves through em, yo, like they didn’t even notice him yo. And then, and then he totally scoops up old man and the tyke in his arms yo, like the king he is. Drags them into where he knows the weapons are at yo. The Sporty Checkers. My boy is hella smart, always planning ahead.

Get this yo, my boy leaves the two in the store, takes a look around, all sneaky like right? Makes sure it’s safe yo. Tom Tom aint about to take his precious cargo out into danger now he’s saved ‘em once. My boy makes sure the coast is crystal fucking clear yo.

He comes back out, old guy and tyke in tow yo. All three of them totally decked the fuck out, geared for fucking war. Hockey helmets, catchers pads, and all the sticks man, my boys got a fucking ars-en-al.

Now, old guy, he’s injured, and little tyke, he’s just a tyke man. Ain’t no way they could make it on their own yo. Tommy ain’t down for that though yo. He tosses the old man over one shoulder, scoops up the tyke. Bro fucking legs it like it’s 4th quarter tied game 10 second left yo. My boy is like lightning.

Unauthorized content usage: if you discover this narrative on Amazon, report the violation.

Then yo, when all seems like it’s ok? Nah, hell breaks loose. Alarms blaring, plant fuckers popping out left and right. But my boy, he’s there, two people in his arms, surrounded. Chill. As. Fuck.

Puts ‘em both down yo. Looks that little tyke right in the eye, says “I got work to do little bro, you get gramps to safety yeah?”

Mother fucking King of a bro my boy Tom Tom, stands up yo, turns around swings his swatting arm all loose, gives one last wink over his shoulder at the boys, sends a quick “ILY” text to the fam, like a mutha fucking KING Yo! And then my boy just fucking wades into the swarm yo. One dinky metal bat, and weak ass pads that barely cover his lanky ass. No fear. He ain’t no Samurai, he ain’t got alien tech from space. He makes games to teach kids how to count! Because the youth are important yo! Raise em up good y’all! Make those kids Kings and Queens mutha fuckas!!

Right, my boy, mutha fucking Thomas. I guess some AI out there saw what I’ve been saying for years. Thomas is a king! Thomas kicks fucking ass! Pops right into my boys head, all “How can I help you?”

My boy tom, cool as fuck. “My bat’s a bit dinged from these weak fucks, you got anything better?”

BOOOOM!

Light explodes around my boy. Little dinky metal bat is gone yo. My boy is holding a solid bar of fucking light. One swing, BAM, swarm is cut in half, two swings, WHAM, just a few left, the few he let live, because he’s got mercy like that. Heart of a KING!

Naaaah! I got you fools! He didn’t spare ‘em for mercy, plants don’t get no mercy. He knew they’d run right back to momma in the hive yo. They’d lead my fucking boy to the fucking prize.

And that yo, is my mutha fucking boy, Thomas, the heavy hitting samurai’s first day on the job yo.

Fucking love that king. Sports BAAAALLL!!

Peace.

Yo-Bro