Review of Phat Diddy
Big T
When I think of people who make me mad, I can usually refrain from name-calling and other such childish behavior. But when I think of Fat Diddy, my immature side busts loose with a vengeance. So I write this review as a means of expressing my attitude toward this goon in a more mature fashion. On a side-note, I don’t hate Fat Diddy, it’s just that sometimes people just get you so annoyed, that your only option is to sink to their level, or lower still. So without further rambling, I present the Review of Phat Diddy. Have a fun! Enjoy!
Chapter 1
Phat Diddy and Big T:
United By Fate
I first met FD in school. I participated in an art class that I wasn’t enrolled in, because I started classes earlier than my friends and I didn’t have a car, so I had to wait somewhere while they were in class. Anyway, this was a Sophomore art class that overflowed with so much immaturity that a dorm full of drunk frat boys would look like an army of high-class butlers in comparison. My first direct encounter with FD was during one of these classes when above all of the other 20-some students saying how much stuff was “gay” and how awesome it was to talk so much while the teacher was around, I hear this shrill, yet bellowing voice say “Hey!” I look over my shoulder and I see this stocky, mouth-breather with his “cool” Korn shirt on staring at me. “Hey!” he says.
”What?” I reply.
“HEEEYYY!” he says even louder.
“WHAT!!!” I reply again.
“Is your name Mr. T?!” he shouts again.
“No, it’s my nickname…”
“Ohhh!!”
After some well appreciated silence, it happens again.
“Hey”
I try to ignore it.
“Heeeeyyyy!”
Still trying.
“HEEEEEYYYY!!!!”
“WHAT?!!!” I shout in response.
“Your name’s Mr. T?”
Bewildered by the fact that he seems to have forgotten our previous dialogue, I fib in order to humor him.
“Sure…”
“Your name’s Mr. T, huh?”
“Yep…”
“Your Mr. T? Then say: ‘I’m Mr. T! Eat my cereal!’”
I stare in bewilderment.
“Say it! I’M MR. T! EAT MY CEREAL!”
“No.”
“Say it! I’M MR. T! EAT MY CEREAL!”
“No! Shut up!” I immaturely respond.
“Why don’t you just say it?! I’M MR. T! EAT MY CEREAL!!”
“Why don’t you just shut up?! Why don’t you go listen to Korn while you sweat and disappoint your parents.”
The child-like behavior rises.
“YOU SHUT UP MR. T! ALL I WAS DOING WAS ASKING YOU TO SAY: ‘I’M MR. T! EAT MY CEREAL!!!!’ You suck, Mr. T!”
“I know, and it’s making me mad! Your shrill nasally voice is vibrating my brain in a way that is pissing me off!”
“Shut up!!”
“You shut up! You were the one that was trying to make me say… stupid stuff!! (I really didn’t want to say it, and I still haven’t)”
“Shut up!!! You wanna go?”
This comment actually calmed me down a bit.
“Are you sure?”
“Yeah!! Let’s go, pussy!!!”
“Are you sure? I don’t think you want to fight me.”
“You’re just a pussy! Get up fag!!”
I calmly stood up out of my chair to meet FD, as I tried not to gag and keep on my game-face as I took in the sights and smells at a more personal level.
“You REALLY don’t want to fight me.” I wasn’t worried for several reasons. One was/is that I’m good at fighting. I’ve always had enemies who tried to fight me all the time and I would stomp them into the ground. Two, I knew the art teacher, and he probably would have let us off easier than another teacher. And finally, this was a guy who calls himself Phat Diddy and if you’ve seen him you would’ve laughed inside, just like I did.
“Alright, let’s go.” I continued.
“No. Just shut up.” FD replied as he sat down and continued working.
This was the first time I had heard his voice at a reasonable decibel level and it concluded my first encounter with Fat Diddy.
Like I stated earlier, I don’t hate Fat Diddy, and I didn’t then, but his demeanor couldn’t go without constant ridicule. More encounters with him happened throughout the year, as we had to deal with each other more often because of mutual friendship with Shane and because he thought that he was good at Tekken.
Chapter 2:
Tekken Tag Turbulence:
Atrocious Arcade Action!
While playing Tekken FD, you’ll come to realize why you want pee in his food a few times, but not kill him. When playing, FD actually tones down his voice a bit even though he claims that he can’t help it. This isn’t the case when he is on the sidelines though. When watching other people play, he screams obnoxious comments at every little flaw or mistake a player has or makes. And as the matches in which he participated in rose so did his voice. He would complain about every move I used and would scream in my ear things like. “OH MY GOD THAT WAS GAY!!!” or “HOLY SHIT, THAT WAS CHEAP!!” Then in-between matches, he would complain about the characters I was using, then say I was only good with certain characters. Then after I beat him with several other characters he would complain even more and scream in my ear some more. But this time it would be “DAMN IT MR. T!! YOU”RE TOO GOOD!!” Finally after 17 or so straight victories, he would insist that I use my worst characters. I would hold out using my favorable characters for as long as I could, but his voice has a hypnotic effect since it vibrates the whole arcade when he speaks. So I would finally give in and use some characters that I had no idea I was doing with. Eventually he would beat me. That’s when the mayhem would start. As soon as the game said “K.O.!” FD would yell “HA!” right into my ear. Then he would commence to gloat about how he beat Mr. T and that he is so awesome that he won about 6 times in over 100 matches. That’s when I would cut in line and play again so that I could beat him with his own characters. These victories were quite sweet. I would emulate his play style and voice as I dish out double perfect victories. “Hey let’s use Paul and King ‘cause that’s who Mike’s good with!” “Uh-oh! Now Chris is good with Yoshimitsu! Let’s figure out one move and try to abuse it the whole round!!” “Mr. T uses Hwoarang and Baek. They don’t have ultra cheap moves, but I can mash with them. Sweet victory time!” “Oh-no! I suck to bad to use such characters ‘cause the rest of the people are not mashers. Oo-poo!”
FD is actually very good with Paul and King now and I’m glad. It actually got boring beating him so many times when he was using characters that he sucked with.
Chapter 3:
Royal Rumble at the Mall Theatre:
Shane, T, and Phat Diddy United Again!
After the first year with FD I hadn’t seen him until November of the next school year. I had just got a job at the mall theatre and guess who also worked there? Shane AND Phat Diddy! But too bad for Shane, he got fired before we could have some fun. On another side-note, the characters from this workplace will undoubtedly show up in some other writings by Samson himself (we call Shane Samson ‘cause of his super-strength). Well it just so happened that I needed to be trained and there was a perfect employee to do the job. You guessed it! Phat Diddy! Someone else had already told me about making popcorn and getting candy and serving all of the other concessions, but it was FD’s job to show me some other things. These included washing the counters, this required only the genius mastermind that it FD to explain such a feat. Another was cleaning out the theatres another god-given quest of epic grandeur. The last thing was how to change the pop machines. Now I don’t mind taking orders and I don’t mind if they are a little stern while doing so, but when someone makes me feel and treats me like and idiot, I step up to the plate to defend my honor, samurai style! (For added effect, imagine us both in dorky matching outfits)
FD: Do you hear that noise?
T: What noise?
FD: That loud, repetitive kshh!
T: Uhh…No.
FD: It’s kinda hard to miss.
T: Oh your loud obnoxious voice
FD: Shut the fuck up and go change the pop machines.
T: …
FD: Someone did show you how, didn’t they? Only an idiot couldn’t do it.
T: Yeah, but I didn’t really learn. They just said “Watch this” then they rushed ‘cause someone called for them.
FD: *long drawn-out sigh* Jeeeeeeeze! C’mon!
We both walk into the back.
FD: Alright, here are the pop boxes that hold the syrup that is pumped into the fountains up front.
T: ‘Kay.
FD: Now do know which one is empty?
T: No, I don’t know which one is empty.
FD: Alright, only a fucking retard wouldn’t know which one is out.
T: *sigh* They all look the same to me.
FD: ‘Kay you’re a fucking idiot ‘cause it’s the one that is moving all funny.
T: Alright jerk, sorry I didn’t see it immediately. Guess I don’t have god-like powers. Now what?
FD: Alright, now change it!
T: Why do you think we’re both back here?
FD: You’re so fucking stupid! Take the nozzle on the end of that box and twist ‘til the box is loose.
T: …
FD: Change the damn pop box!
T: Alright, ass!
FD: Hey! You better watch it! You’ve been giving me shit all day. And I’m fucking tired of it.
T: I’ve been giving YOU a hard time. Every time I’m told to do something you give me tons of extra crap and make me feel like an idiot. Now just shut up and hand me the refill.
FD: I said that you’d better watch what you say Mr. T!
T: Why? I’m not afraid of you. You couldn’t lay a hand on me.
FD: Oh yeah! I have seniority over you. So just shut up and do whatever the hell I say.
T: No, how about you shut up and refill the pop yourself ‘cause you’re a douche-bag! Just ‘cause you’ve worked a couple of more weeks than I have doesn’t mean anything to me, and I’m not about to take such orders from the like of you, tubs!
FD: …
T: Have fun!
The only other conflict we had was when we had some extra time on a slow day and all of the employees were standing around. FD came up to me and said out of the blue: “If I was ever in a fight, I would never kick. They are just stupid.” Me, a practitioner of martial arts, specifically Tae Kwon Do, for those of you who understand, was like a big slap in the face. The urge to kick him upside his fat head was immense, so I pulled the kick right in front of his face. He didn’t even have time to blink. He was surprised, but didn’t express it verbally and tried to hide it and be a wise gut by grabbing my foot. Before he could think twice I slammed my foot on the ground and FD hit the deck. He doesn’t talk about fighting with me anymore.
FD was fired sometime later and I quit after I got to see a free showing of The Lord of the Rings. Nice! Our paths rarely cross, but I never give up the chance to insult him. There’re few things better than insulting someone who would love to beat your ass when they know they can’t.
Ratings:
Technical Approach at Insulting Phat Diddy
Fatness: 5/10
He’s actually regular size now, but when I first met him he was quite porky and short. He now towers over me, but I can still rock him in a fight so I never go without calling him tubs or sausage fingers.
Fun Factor: 7/10
He mostly pisses me off, but there are times when he may say something funny and it’s always fun to see someone put in 5 bucks to get their butt kicked at Tekken.
Graphics: 3/10
Fat face and dorky haircut teamed up with annoying personality give you quite an eyesore. He gets a 3 rather than a 1 ‘cause it’s funny to watch him lose.
Sound: 1/10
Can’t control the volume of his voice and says things like “gay” all the time. Constant flow of immature, cliché, and unoriginal comments don’t go below zero ‘cause it’s fun to hear his reactions when you call him lunch box.
Grave Dancibility: 75/100
Very easy to dance on this wimp’s grave and it would be very enjoyable. Raiden may show up to do it personally. But the only personality that would definitely show up for the event would be Paul and Mr. T ‘cause he loses so much with Paul and he makes me so friggin’ mad.
From the desk (top) of Shane: If I know Phat Diddy, and I do, he won't take this lightly! I would expect a rebutal from him
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