When I started this a year and a half ago, I didn't expect this to be so popular. Apparently I did something right, because this fic just blew up beyond my expectations, becoming my most popular fic by far. Well, it's been fun, but all good things have to come to an end. Many thanks to those of you who've faved, alerted, reviewed, or just plain read this story. Apologies to those who suggested ideas that I didn't get around to; by all means write 'em up and message me telling me that you did. RE's got plenty to laugh about.



Final Outtake: Party All Up in this Bitch

The chopper swooped above the massive volcano, dropping off several people into the bowels of a massive volcano.

"This Chris' new joint? I almost prefer Wesker's mansion of a whorehouse already," a gruff voice said.

"Oh, can it, Barry. This reunion party should go pretty well, I think," Rebecca replied.

Barry pounded at the gate. "Hey! Anyone home?"

All of a sudden, the ground began to tremble. They could hear the clanking of chains…it was a giant red Executioner coming towards them! With one sweep of his axe he crashed down the doors.

"Oh shit! It's one of those creeps again!" shouted Josh as he pumped shotgun shells frantically into the monster.

"Whoa, whoa, WHOA!" Barry yelled at Josh as he downed the monstrosity with every piece of buckshot in his shotgun. "You don't know Chris like I do; he's gonna be mad pissed at you!"

Sure enough, Mr. Chris Redfield, pimp extraordinaire, came running down the steps just as the body of the Executioner exploded in a cloud of blood and gibs.

"What the fuck man? Why the fuck did you that? YOU KILLED MY BOUNCER!"

"Oh, just forgive him, Chris. He came because he wanted to get some of your high-n-mighty wisdom and experience. Not his fault he's a noob at pimping."

"Whoa, Barry, Rebecca! Glad you got here in time. Shit, it's been what, ten years now? Still looking pretty hardass, Barry. Ol' Cougar still got some strength in him? And Rebecca, damn girl, you still look barely legal! Come on in!"

They went through the big facility that was Chris' domain, making their way to the top where all the goods were waiting for them. In the meanwhile, Chris gave them a tour of sorts.

"Yeah, place used to be a prison, but now that I bought it Imma make this the pimpingest crib you ever saw! Don't mind all those black folk; they're just helping with the construction."

One of the Majini workers suddenly tossed his pickaxe at them and lunged for Rebecca, but Chris punched that bastard like a real boss.

"Hey! What the hell man, you see I got some guests here? And damned if I'm wasting any of my bitches on you guys again. Last time I did that you guys went into that tentacle shit with her! You want that tentacle shit, go to Wesker!"

"I never knew you could use Plaga to make them work for you?"

"Plaga? Hell no, I got something better. I got the F-virus. Fanboy virus. That shit is wild; they don't even need food or anything, they just live off the sight of our glistening abs and the thought of me giving Wesker a "Handcannon," if you know what I mean."

He received a multitude of nods in reply.

"Yeah, that's not actually lava down there. That's a 5 million gallon heated pool with red lights and pyrotechnics. Took a lotta pimping and gold farming, but it was worth it."

Finally, they made it to the top. Chris' old friends gasped in surprise: On a table there was weed in every color you could dream of: green, red, blue, yellow, purple, orange, pink, brown, even some psychedelically rainbow colored herbs, so many colors.

"WHAT? WHAT IS THIS?" Barry shouted, ready to spring upon all this fresh herb like a fangirl in a doujinshi shop.

"Fuck Skittles, now this is what I call Experiencing the Rainbow!" Rebecca had grabbed a yellow plant and was just about to chew that shit up when Chris grabbed the two of them.

"Whoa, whoa, Barry! Hold your horses. Just lemme show you my bitches. You guys all know Jill, of course. This here's my new one, Sheva. Why don't you fetch us some drinks, Sheva?"

"Yes, daddy."

"Was a stubborn one at first…just couldn't get it into her head to call me daddy. Took a couple of good backhands to get her straight."

"Hey Barry," Jill said coyly. "I've been working on my Jill Sandwich…if you know what I mean."

"Oh hell yes. You aren't the Master of 'Lockpicking' for no reason."

"You see that, Josh," Chris said to him. "You gotta find yourself a good head ho, a good madam to help you run the joint. She's gotta aim to please and be pleased to aim, if you know what I mean. I'd give you Sheva, but she's got a ways to go before she can be trusted."

"How come?"

"Can trust a woman, but can't trust no bitches. Bitches ain't nothing but hos and tricks."

Sheva just returned with the drinks, dressed in her outlandish waitress costume, consisting of an absurdly short and frilly minidress with a red hood.

"Thank you, Sheva. Mmm…a mighty good gin and tonic. So, who's up for some herb? It's all African fresh, promise it's just as good as the Racoon City junk."

Several hours later…

"…You know where the weed is good? Antarctica. Yeah, that shit grows there son, I'm not kidding you. Strong as fuck. Thing about Africa is that it doesn't have any blue herb around here; had to import it over."

No one was listening to Chris' ramblings. Everyone was totally baked.

Even more hours later…

"So apparently Wesker wasn't actually moving balls fast; it was just every time he did it he put some trippy junk in my drink. I shoulda caught on to that, prick could never dance anyway."

Chris looked at his watch.

"Damn it…why isn't he here? Should have been here by now…"

Some footsteps seemed to boom up the stairs. Chris tottered to his feet to greet the new arrival.

"Man, great to see you again, Leon."

"Cool times. Got some dapper guys around, huh, ya cake-eater?"

Leon was from the Chicago underground, a true gangster known to blaze away with his Tommy gun.

"Brought any bitches with ya?"

"Yeah, I got my dolls with me. This one with the nice gams is Ada, that dumb broad over there is Angela, that other dumb broad is Ashley, and that one…"

"YOU FUCKING ASSHOLE! THAT'S MY GODDAMN SISTER!"

He struck a punch at Leon, but instantly his own sister gave him a roundhouse kick to the face, dropping him down into a stupor.

"Eh," she remarked casually to the pimp and other hookers. "Just the way to deal with annoying brothers. All brawn, no brains. Now who's up for some herb?"


Don't worry, I'm not outta this RE comedy bitch for good. Stay tuned for the new series where we follow the escapades of Leon, Wesker, and of course, our lovable Chris Redfield, titled Resident Evil: Pimp Daddy Chronicles.