Aztec Death Whistle
Jesus Christ! Danny blew this Aztec Death Whistle, and it summoned the murderous spirit of an ancient Huitzilopochtli priest!"
“Bro, I know.”
“And then that priest ripped Danny’s heart out! Right here! Right in front of us!”
“Bro, I know. Danny got blood all over my limited edition A Minecraft Movie t-shirt.”
“Oh damn.”
“Fucking dick…”
“That’s Limited Edition?”
“Yeah, bro. Signed by Jack Black 𝘢𝘵 the movie theater.”
“Shiiiiit, you met Minecraft Steve?”
“Haha, yeah bro!”
“𝑻𝑯𝑬 Minecraft Steve.”
“I’ve never washed this shit, man.”
“Psh, I wouldn’t either.”
“So what are we gonna do?”
“…about what?”
“About wha—About the Aztec Death Whistle that summons a Homo-Popo murder priest!”
“Huitzilopochtli.”
“Yeah, that. Bro, how do you know that?”
“Chinese Aztec Gacha game.”
“Ah.”
“In the proper mythology, Huitzilopochtli is the male sun god of war who wields the fire serpent Xiuhcoatl.”
“Right, right.”
“But in the game, he’s a caked-up cocoa cutie with her ass cheeks hanging out of a grass mini-skirt. And the serpent is wrapped around her chest, relentlessly squeezing her triple D honkers for all eternity.”
“As one does, bro. So about the whistle-”
“Well, I’ll tell you what I’m 𝙣𝙤𝙩 gonna do with it.”
“What’s that?”
“Blow on it.”
“No shit.”
“Can you imagine?”
“I’d have so much more blood on this shirt, bro. I’d be so pissed.”
“Honestly, I’m surprised at your composure. You’re handling this shirt thing very well.”
“I’m seething on the inside, bro. I’m so mad.”
“Hey, didn’t Mr. McGarity hate the Minecraft movie?”
“The Vice Principal? What’d he say?”
“He said the Minecraft movie constitutes a post-ludic palimpsest wherein procedural generation supplants authorial intent, foregrounding the ontological crisis of agency in our increasingly Algorithmically-driven, AI-mediated reality.”
“Cringe, bro. So cringe.”
“And he said Jason Momoa can’t act for shit.”
“Hey, let’s make him blow the whistle!”
“Haha, bet.”