the limit | ✔

untitled part

          A few days had passed since Jimmy, AKA Mr Beast, and Michael came to an agreement to help each other. Jimmy was still trying to brainstorm ideas and ways to incorporate Michael into a video or two to promote Pewdiepie. He wanted to utilize Michael in every possible way while he still had him, but he needed to make sure whatever they did was going to bang. Michael and Jimmy spent several hours sitting in Jimmy's office with a legal pad bouncing ideas off of one another, and while they did come up with some bomb ass ideas, nothing really stuck for either of them. Meanwhile, Jimmy had two of his finest idiots, Chandler and Garret, working on deciphering the instructions to George's time machine. He would have had Chris help, but Chris was too smart for that sort of thing. Chris had a couple of college degrees in computer tech and had bags of knowledge stored in his brain. Jimmy decided to use him as a last resort in case they needed to make some technical modifications to the machine to get it to work if Chandler and Garret couldn't figure out the instructions. It probably would have been easier, quicker, and more practical to use Chris from the beginning, but Jimmy didn't want to play all of his cards just yet because he wanted to keep Michael around for as long as he could. It wasn't everyday that someone could get the King of Pop to promote the King of YouTube, and he was going to take full advantage of it... for the sake of Pewdiepie, of course.

          Michael and Jimmy were sitting in Jimmy's office, brainstorming ideas for the fourth day in a row, and Michael was mildly distressed that no progress had been made on figuring out George's weird mole people language and was getting overwhelmed by all of the advanced technology surrounding him. He felt faint frustration building up in his throat and making its way behind his ears and into his mouth. He snatched the legal pad out of Jimmy's hands aggressively but sat it on the computer desk gently with a mildly amused and slightly annoyed smile on his lips. He crossed his legs and folded his hands over his knee. He made eye contact with the innocent-looking and possibly faintly frightened Jimmy. "You have yet to explain anything to me," Michael said passive-aggressively, trying his best to hold back his brewing anger but his efforts were futile. "WHAT THE fUcK IS A PEWDIEPIE??"

          Jimmy's eyes widened. "Ooooooh shit, yeah I forgot to explain all that stuff to you, didn't I?" he asked as he pushed his index finger into his face next to his nose, causing his upper lip to lift up slightly, revealing his pretty OK teeth. "Well, I guess we should start with YouTube because when you get down to the meat of the situation, that's really what all of this is about." He took a moment to explain the concept of the internet and websites first so Michael could grasp a better understanding of what YouTube is. He even showed him some examples and got a little lost and bit carried away introducing Michael to meme culture which scarred the poor man forever. "Pewdiepie is a Swedish man named Felix Kjellberg and is currently the most subscribed to person on YouTube. T-Series is a massive Indian music corporation that posts like twenty videos per day. Recently, internet has become more easily accessible to people in India, so T-Series is gaining subs like crazy especially since India has like a bajillion people living there."

          Michael cocked a brow and shrugged his shoulders. "Why would it be such a big deal if Pewdiepie got passed?" he asked, genuinely perplexed.

          For the first time since Michael got there, the seemingly sweet, calm, level-headed, genuinely nice guy Jimmy lost his temper. He stood abruptly and slammed his sasquatch hands furiously down on the desk, and his voice raised a couple notches in volume. "PEWDIEPIE IS THE BEST YOUTUBER. HE IS OUR KING, HE IS OUR GOD. HE CANNOT BE PASSED!" he yelled. 

          Petrified by the man several inches taller than him with considerably more muscle mass that could probably crush his tiny dancing bones to dust if used at maximum strength in a fit of rage, Michael channeled his child-like innocence into his big, doe eyes to hopefully soften the enraged Jimmy as they made contact with his now cold hazel glare. "Jimmy, you're scaring me," he said softly. Much to his surprise, his tactic worked.