After weeks of constant battle, with all their armies depleted, and standing on the wreckage of the war, just the six of them, facing an army of evil that was so jive. They run, screaming a battle cry, holding up a YMCA flag, into the face of their enemies, outnumbered a hundred to one. The enemy army charges, meeting them head on. They cut through the forces, killing near-dozens at a time, but start to get over-run. They give it everything they have. Indian Chief gets shot in the shoulder, but continues to battle, until another shot lands in the center of his chest and he falls. Construction worker gets a spear thrown through his leg and his tackled by the opposing forces. They continue to drop, one by one, until it’s just the police officer, wounded, surrounded. The king of the opposing nation approaches, to finish the last of the resistance off himself. Police officer stands, unarmed, in front of the king. “Have you anything to say, rebel?” he says with a cruel smile as the police officer spits blood on the ground and looks up.


“I’m a Macho Man, Bitch” he says as he pulls a small revolver from his pocket and shoots the king dead, as the rest of the forces panic and close in around him. He smiles, however, knowing that the army couldn’t continue without a leader, and love, peace, and funk would ultimately win. He accepts death, knowing he was the real winner of the war.