Any of you who have visited the Tubbo Site before (which is anyone reading this) know that we like to make about 1 or 2 posts a week, which is understandable because we know that everyone would just go crazy if they couldn’t read a new Tubbo post for multiple weeks at a time. Although we’d like to watch the world go crazy on account of our laziness, we’ve never stopped making posts… Until lately.
We know that a lot of you have probably noticed that we haven’t written a new Tubbo post in over ten days, and considering how your pitiful lives revolve around us, you must have been pretty worried. Well, we’re sorry to report your worries weren’t baseless. We were in trouble. We were trapped in a Mexican Prison (speaking of which, why didn’t any of you show up to break us out? You’re supposed to be our accomplices!).
So about 10 days ago, we flew out to Mexico without adult supervision (Bill was off on one of his cases- he’s a lawyer in case you haven’t read the auto-biography we published a while ago). Now, you may wonder even at this early part of the story why we Tubbo’s would want to leave the easy-going life of our Australian Mansion. Now, we don’t wanna give out too much information because the Mafia wouldn’t like that… Oops. But seriously, we’ll give you a hint. It rhymes with… Ah, screw that! Cartels, alright? And if that clue confuses you, you’re too young to be on the Internet. Please go up to your mom/dad (or parent/guardian, because heaven’s knows we can’t offend anyone over the small things like parenting terms) and tell them that they’ve been a bad parent and that you need more discipline. Thanks.
For the first week in Mexico, we were just chill-axing at a resort. A “week in the sun”, as we told Bill. We even got started on a new Tubbo post (which never got published, and you’ll read the reasons soon enough). Nothing illegal. Speaking of which, we think that that one-week stretch may have been the longest time we’ve ever gone without breaking the law. It was kinda scary actually. But as Mexico is one of the most lax countries in the world about crime, the temptation was great. We didn’t need any tempting in the first place, and we’re sure that anyone with an IQ over 80 (which probably just wiped out a good 75% of our fans) knows that this is where the cartel business comes in.
We had just gotten a hot tip that the warehouse across the street from our hotel room housed the best people to make some not-so-legit “deals” with if we knew what we were doing. And we knew what we were doing (if there was a way to wink across the Internet without looking hopelessly nerdy, imagine it right here). We went over to the warehouse, and although the machine-gunned-armed guards weren’t too eager to allow two four-year-old hippos into the building, we mentioned a name they couldn’t ignore. We were in.
Gosh, this is like a thriller movie isn’t it?
We walked over to the Boss of the cartel (who was easy to spot because of the long slashes across his face that were shaped oddly like tiger claws) carrying the “merchandise” in our black suitcases. We had just finished telling the Boss our proposition when the crack of machine gun fire told us that we had either overstayed our welcome (which we had previously thought impossible mainly because of the sophisticated conversation we upheld and our classy charm) or the guards were gone and the police were on there way. The guns fired again, this time shattering a window. Then the doors burst open, allowing us to see the carcass’s of the guards who had been slain. Blood gushed everywhere, and brains spilled out. Innards rushed from the stomachs. Yep, know we’re just trying to make you all sick. But seriously, now the police were inside, and there was little chance they’d miss when they fired again.
They fired again. Obviously their orders were to take down the boss and anyone affiliated with him which was us. We did the only thing we could do in a situation like that one that allowed us to keep our honor and our standing with the cartel. We punched the boss in the face, tied him up, and brought him to the police. We thought maybe we could pull the whole “we were on your side the whole time” gag.
It didn’t work. They handcuffed us and the Boss and brought us into a jail cell where we spent the night. They didn’t even thank us for capturing the Boss! What a ripoff! We should sue Mexico… Of course, the prisoners (our inmates) took notice to the fact that we were only four years old and tried to bully us, but they didn’t get very far. By the time we were finished with them, one of them sat in a corner mumbling something about “scary hippos” to himself, one just lay on floor the rest of the night, and the other never bothered us again. And we had all of the shoes, which is a mark of status in prison. We love shoes.
In the morning, Bill came to bail us out. He wasn’t very happy about flying out to Mexico to break his kids out of jail and grounded us for a week, but we managed to slim the grounding down to about three days before we even boarded the plane home. In the end, it turned out pretty well for everyone, unless, of course, you count the cartel Boss. We wanted Bill to bail him out too, but Bill said no even though we offered to keep him in our room and take good care of him. As a matter of fact, we haven’t heard from him since we got back home. We should call him… Just to check up…
There are actually two morals to this story. 1. Making deals with the Mafia and Mexican cartels are ok as long as the guards don’t get gunned down, and 2. The law doesn’t matter if you have enough cash.