Stabby Joe

Stabby Joe Cracked photo
  • Real Name: Stabby Joe
  • Location: He hasn't provided his location. What an ass
  • Member Since: June 28th, 2009 10:23 am
  • Last Seen: March 16th, 2014 10:39 am
  • Personal tag line: Classy, yet Awesome
  • Message board posts: 8

About Stabby Joe

Stabby Joe's story is a long and complex one...

Joseph Punctus was a business man from the 1800's, working the Penny Wagon Exchange by day, partying by night. At the end of one such night, while walking back to his 19th century house, a masked man attacked him!
"Oh no", he cried.
"Oh no indeed", replied the man.
The two men dueled (as was the fashion of the time), but the fiend gained the advantage, and stabbed Joseph's heart in the chest.
"Now, I will take your money and begone!" said the criminal
"Argghhh", replied Joesph. "My heart has been sliced in twain!"

Laying there dying as he was, he did not notice two peculiar scientists creeping towards him.
"This looks like a good one", whispered the short, South African man.
"Indeed", schemed his partner, the ugly, two-armed Inuit.

They dragged him to a dirty opium den, full of snakes and the poor , and in a quiet corner they proceed to perform evil and deranged experiments on him.
"Hahahahaahhhaa!" They said, evil and derangedly.

As dawn's firery sun broke the horizon the two scientists skulked away back to Camden, home to all that which is evil.

Joseph awoke with a yawn, because he was quite tired.
"Argghhh" he said again. "Why do I have all these scars on on my arms and legs and chest?"
"Quickly, you must go home", said a snake
"Damm this opium", said Joseph "Wait,what the thrice-damm-zeus is going on?"
The snake explained to him his situaton.
"Well, that saved a lot of time, didn't it. How do you even know this?
"I don't exist, I'm just a narrative device..."

Back at his rockin' manison in Picadilly, Joe decide to wait and see how this shit would go down.

Joseph gradually fell asleep in the arms of his bed. But as the midnight hour approached he felt a pulling. An omnious pulling. Pulling at his limbs. He suddenly felt the urge to run, to fight, to kill, to live like a tiger, to live like a pirate.

That night, a scything screaming echoed through SoHo. Joseph ran, his knife still glistening with blood and intestines.

He still was a businessman by day, but now he was also Stabby Joe, knife murderer extraordinare, by night. There was less partying.

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