Die Hard Ending

   Officer Elmore drew his gun and aimed it at us. We were very calm. Officer Elmore pulled out his walkie-talkie and mumbled something in German into it. "Well done, cowboyz," he stylishly rolled off of his tounge, in a German accent. "But," he continued, "the game is ovuh. Out of the cah. Now."

     Colebot and I stepped out of the car.

     "WHEY-yuh arre my detonators?" Officer Elmore asked.

     "What?" I asked.

     "Don't play stoopit with me," he hissed.

     "Oh, he's not playing," Colebot pointed out. "He's always this way."

     "Officer Elmore," I mumbled wonderingly. "So, you're Hans, eh? ...Uglier than I pictured."

     "The feahless cowboy routine may get you the chiks, but it will do no gud on me," Hans growled.

     "Who the f*ck said he was trying to pick you up?!" Colebot asked. "He called you ugly, you dumb bastard."

     "I'm telling you, your attempts to arowse me arre failing."

     I slapped Hans in his goofy-ass face. He glowed red, and in anger, pulled the trigger. Click.

     "Oops," I said, snatching his gun away. "No more bullets. What, Hans...Did you think they'd actually give bullets to a D.A.R.E. officer? They'll give the janitor bullets before you get any."

     "Hell, my sister can get bullets when she goes trick-or-treating."

     I noticed Hans glance away for a split second. I glanced in the rear-view mirror and saw the Rocking Chair Chick running up behind us, waving her chair over her head. I spun around and punched the Rocking Chair Chick in her damned German redneck face. "Eat American justice, German chick!" I cried. Her chair flew over my head, and into Hans, knocking him down. Colebot lept over the car, fists swinging.

     He landed on top of me, and we both went down. Hans and the RCC got up and ran for the moving house. I threw Colebot off of me and chased after the two Germans.

     "You didn't want me on top of you because I'm black, right?" Colebot asked.

     "Dammit, Colebot! For the last time, you're not black!" I yelled at him.

     "Oh, so now, it's reverse discrimination?"

     Samuel L. Jackson opened up a rift through the space/time continuum, grabbed Colebot by the collar, and angrily muttered, "Cracker, if you don't cut that shit out right now, I'm gonna carve "bitch-ass" all over you with my dick. You got me?"

     Colebot eagerly nodded.

     Samuel L. Jackson smiled and gently let go of Colebot. "Gooood...Now, go get that German-cookie mutha-f*cka!" Samuel L. Jackson grinned widely and gave us the thumbs up from inside his glowing space/time rift. "Alright," he nodded. We gave him the thumbs up and raced off to kick some German-cookie ass. Samuel L. Jackson slipped back through his space/time rift and faded away.

     We eventually made it to the house. By that time, Hans had thought he'd lost us, so he was relaxed on the couch, watching "Nash Bridges" on the TV. Colebot and I slowly crept across the floor behind him. We didn't know RCC was behind us until it was too late. She swiped her chair at us and with that one, daft blow, Colebot and I were sprawled across the floor. She raised the chair above her head and brought it down at Colebot. He dodged it at the last second. The leg of the chair buried itself into the shag carpeting.

     Hans, still on the couch, absently called out, "Keep it down. Crockett's about to reunite with his ex-wife..."

     RCC tugged violently at the chair, trying to remove it. I flipped up onto my feet, then roundhoused the bitch out the window and under the tires. The following bump knocked the TV over, breaking it. Hans snapped out of his catatoma, then just plain snapped.

     "All right! He was about to kiss her, and now I missed it, and I. AM. PISSED. DIIIIIEEEE!!" Hans flung himself at Colebot.

     "F*cking Hasselhoff cookie!!" Colebot screamed, and smacked his elbow into Hans' eyeball. Hans screamed like a little bitch. Colebot grabbed Hans by the skull and dug his teeth into his scalp. Hans screamed again, then flipped Colebot over his shoulder. Hans kicked Colebot in the back, knocking him into the wall.

     Colebot groaned, "By the POWER OF BADASS! I AM...SAMUEL L. JACKSON!!!" Colebot rolled electricity off of his skin like water, then, just like that, Colebot was Samuel L. Jackson.

     "Come here, you punk. Samuel L. Jackson says come here." Samuel L. Jackson grabbed Hans by the lapels of his coat and slammed him against every wall in the house and twice against every door, screaming variations on "cracker bitch," "cookie-ass," and "cracker cracker." He dropped Hans, saying, "I'm gonna let you off easy, cracker-ass cookie bitch. If you weren't Alan Rickman, I'd have hurt you into pieces, you little shit-on-a-cracker cracker."

     Samuel L. Jackson changed back into Colebot, but we could hear him saying, "All right, now, whitebread. Finish him off." We looked up at the ceiling and gave a thumbs-up at the celestial visage of Samuel L. Jackson. Samuel L. Jackson's Celestial Visage smiled, looked at Hans, then frowned, lifted his fist, and punched Hans until he gave the thumbs-up back at Samuel L. Jackson's Celestial Visage. Samuel L. Jackson gave the thumbs-up again (which we all returned) and faded away, saying "Alright."

     Colebot, smiling, shouted, "You da man!"

     Samuel L. Jackson replied, "No, you da man."

     Colebot repeated him, "No, you da man."

     Samuel L. Jackson warned, "Don't make me say it again, cracker. I told you once."

     Hans pushed Colebot out the window. I dove after Colebot, caught him by the ankle, but was pushed out the window right after. I lost hold of Colebot, who bounced on the road behind us, while I caught the side of a fuel tank on the side of the truck. I headbutted the tank until it began a steady leak. I fell off the side with a hell of a headache. As I lay there, I pulled out my lighter, and muttered, "Yippie-ki-yay, mother-cracker." I dropped the lighter onto the fuel line, which caught up to the truck's fuel tank in a matter of seconds. The tank exploded, flinging Hans about 200 feet straight into the air. On his decent, he fell into the blades of a police helicopter, watching us from overhead.

     Colebot wearily made his way over to me. As Hans' blood and flesh gently misted down upon us like rain, we looked to the sky and saw a 300-foot tall Samuel L. Jackson across the stars. "I told you you were da man," Samuel L. Jackson said, giving us the thumbs-up. "Alright."

     We gave Samuel L. Jackson the thumbs-up right back.