One day in his mobile crib, Shankplank was drinking orange juice and petting Woojoo the Bird while rotating his M9 in front of the TV analyzing how best to hold it in a fight when, to his dismay, the cable went out. "GAWAHWWRRR" scowled Shankplank, who began slapping the side of his old box. The nerve of that cable company, shutting him down! He was only 11 payments behind, this was racism was what this was.
The phone rang. Probably a bill collector. Or some enemy trying to scare him on his turf. Well, Shankplank wasn't messed with much thanks to his "capabilities," so the second was a rare occurrence. Grumbling, he grasped the phone as the wire barely stretched to his couch, and brought the speaker to his mouth with a scratchy and growling voice of: "What."
Shankplank's good eye opened real wide. Looked like he got himself a ticket to some game show, where these old people in dresses would use magic to teleport him in and, if he won, he'd get his cable paid off forever, and free orange juice. They didn't need to tell Shankplank twice, as he placed his trusty trademark shank in his jeans' pocket, gave Woojoo some bananas, and got ready to set sail for some serious hurt-wishing on anyone he met.
"..Some strange little man ran by and screamed at me in some gibberish, then shot at one of our minions and missed horribly. I.. I'm scared." ~Heimerdinger after first witnessing Shankplank.
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