And with him came an army the likes of which the world had never seen before, to cast divine retribution upon those who had strayed from the path. Too long had their decadent furry orgies and meme sacrifices to the false idol known as “Recs” gone unpunished, too long had they unabashedly mocked He Whose Name Rhymes With Mon Soulofood, too long had they consumed libations of sinful nature and used the most cursed or words with reckless abandon. Tonight their reckoning would come, and he would make them see the wickedness of their ways with the last fleeting light in their dying eyes.

The denizens of the valley had grown weak in their time away from Coach; they took for granted the great gifts that had been bestowed upon them and were woefully unprepared as the horde of Owens filled their vision and their torches turned the Sun a blood red hue. All that now stood between the community and their most assured destruction was a small river betwixt the two enemies. In desperation, they burned the bridges over the gently flowing, moderately deep river, knowing that surely this would only buy them a day or two at the most.

It was at this time that Coach exclaimed that boats were “for pussies” and rallied his troops with the battle cry “let’s wade this bitch”. Unfortunately, due to the unneccessarily heavy weapons with which he had equipped his troops, the entirety of his force drowned in 4 feet of water. And there was much rejoicing.

Fin.