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As I reached for the volume button on my television since the white noise was too loud, McQueen and Satan both turned and looked at the camera, out the television, at me, into my soul. They were crying tears of incredibly realistic blood and had razors for teeth. “Turn down that volume and I’ll turn up at your house, Geraldo Solomon Leopold-Abategiovanni III.” McQueen said in a menacing, demonic tone. How the fuck did this tape know my name? I restrained myself from turning down the volume as the tape faded to black, then ended. I sat there for what seemed like 2 days, replaying everything I had seen in my head over and over again, without even getting up to go to the bathroom.
Then I heard my doorbell ring. As I stood up to answer the door, all the fluid in my bladder that had built up from the past approximately two days immediately exited out my dickhole, soaking my underwear and pants completely. I quickly ran to replace my soiled trousers and opened the door. It was John Lasseter. He had a crazed look on his face and was wearing a hawaiian shirt with Twinkies on it. “I NEED THAT TAPE BACK!” Lasseter sputtered, spitting and salivating all over my brand-new expensive antique rug that I spent several years of hard-earned car-repair dollars to purchase. I told him that I don’t have a return policy, but I would oblige anyway, handing him a roll of duct tape and a tissue to wipe the retarded slobber off his chin. “Ha, ha, very funny,” Lasseter cackled heartily, “You and I both know what kind of tape we’re talking about. Not Scotch tape, not masking tape, not filament, electrical, friction, or hockey, and certainly
When I awoke, I felt different, but I couldn’t tell how. John Lasseter and the rest of the Pixar team was surrounding me. When they realized I awoke, Lasseter started speaking. “So, how do you like your new body?” He held up a mirror for me to see myself. I was absolutely appalled. I was a car. My eyes were the windshield, my mouth was the grill, my internals the engine. I screamed, but it was cut short by the realization that I sounded exactly like the famous actor Owen Wilson. “What the hell did you do to me?” I shouted. John told me that he had tampered with the drinks I had in my fridge before I drank the can of soda. I should’ve known not to drink from an already opened can of soda. “Come on, Lightning McQueen,” John said, “We have a movie to make!”
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{{video|Cars- The Lost Beta Movie}}
'''''HOW ARE U WRITING THIS AS UR DEAD?'''''[[Category:Pages with grammar that doesn't suck]]
[[Category:Satire]]
[[Category:Lost episudes]]
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