Hooty McHoothoot and the Ducks of Doom

Hooty McHoothoot was sitting on his branch in front of a flock of pigeons.

“What do you get when you cross an owl and a mouse?”

The pigeons all looked at each other, anticipating the answer.

“I don’t know, but I sure wouldn’t want to eat it!  That’d be like eating my brother!”

The pigeons all looked at each other, not really understanding.

Hooty McHoothoot fluffed his feathers and expanded his wings.  “Whoohaaa!!  That was hilarious!!”

* * *

It was a cold black night in the middle of Hinjojeseph City, Maine.  In an old, abandoned bread factory once run by the Doomsday Bread Corporation, several innocent ducks found their way in.  This group of ducks had heard stories of the plentiful bread crumbs that could be located in the old bread factory, and the opportunity had presented itself to find their way in.

Dally, Yabigail, Paulty, Rowry, Arolu, and Muhduriug were so excited to have finally found their way into the abandoned warehouse, they began to gorge themselves on the bread that had seemingly not lost any of its flavor even though it had been abandoned for a few years.  What the poor, innocent ducks did not know was that the bread made at the Doomsday Bread Factory was demonic bread made with the demonic spices of Turnevil and Meanolasses, to name a couple.  The bread was so good in fact that it was too good.  Too good in fact that it was sinful.  So sinful in fact that it would make whoever ate the bread in large quantities into evil maniacal beings bent on destruction.

Dally Duck and Yabigail Duck were the first to turn during the night.  Their feathers turned dark red and their wings began to grow claws on the ends.  Their feathers became more like scales than feathers and their beaks turned black and pointed.

The rest of the ducks turned by the morning and soon they were in one of the back offices of the factory, colluding, about what nefarious deeds they should undertake.

The ducks all stood in a circle — all of them scheming about what destruction they would bring about.  But, first they had to name themselves.

“What about Red Bi-pedal Ducks of the Impending Not-So-Far-Off Apocalypse?”  Muhduriug Duck suggested.

“No!  Too corporate!  If the Doomsday Bread Factory catches wind of any money-making empire we make down the line they may sue us for trademark violation!” Arolu Duck threw up his wings into the air.

“How about Doomsday Ducks?” Rowry Duck suggested.

“I KNOW!  DUCKS OF DOOM!”  Paulty yelled.

“You’re a genius, Paulty!” Yabigail clapped her feet together on the floor in excitement.

“Yes, good going Paulty!”  “You’re the best Paulty!”

All of the ducks loved their new name as they quacked and danced around.

* * *

Hooty McHoothoot was perched on a pier in front of a flock of sea gulls smacking their stupid feet on the wood boards in front of them.

“Knock knock!” Hooty announced to his “audience.”

The sea gulls slapped their feet against the floor some more.

“Who’s there?” Hooty filled in for his audience.

“Who.

Who who?

Hoohoohoo I’m an owl!”

Hooty waited for a response but the sea gulls just slapped their stupid feet on the wood boards in front of them.

Hooty McHoothoot fluffed his feathers and expanded his wings.  “Whoohaaa!!  That was hilarious!!”

* * *

The Ducks of Doom were in the Collusion Room of the Doomsday Bread Factory writing stuff on paper.  Their writings consisted of diabolical and oh-so-mean plans to fit their group name of “Ducks of Doom.”

“How about we replace all of the water with liquid Einsteinium?” Muhduriug Duck suggested.

“Impossible!  How would we ever be able to transport all of that Einsteinium and where would we put all the water???” Arolu Duck threw up his wings into the air.

“How about evaporating all of the water?” Rowry Duck added.

“I KNOW!  WHY DON’T WE PUT THE EINSTEINIUM INSIDE THE WATER!” Paulty yelled.

“You’re a genius, Paulty!” Yabigail clapped her feet together on the floor in excitement.

“Yes, good going Paulty!”  “You’re the best Paulty!”

All of the ducks loved their new doomsday plan as they quacked and danced around.

* * *

Hooty McHoothoot was sitting in a branch of the United States government called Congress.

“What do you get when an owl gets elected as a member of the government?”  Hooty asked Congress.

The members of the US Congress were slapping their stupid feet on the floor and looked at each other in anticipation of the answer.

“I don’t know, but he wouldn’t be MY friend!”  Hooty delivered the “punchline.”

The members of the US Congress continued slapping their stupid feet on the floor and looked at each other, not really understanding.

Hooty McHoothoot fluffed his feathers and expanded his wings.  “Whoohaaa!!  That was hilarious!!”

* * *

Muhduriug Duck was driving a semi-truck and backing a large tank of Einsteinium towards the ocean.

Arolu Duck was motioning the truck back more and more as it came upon the beach.

Rowry Duck, Yabigail Duck and Dally Duck placed wooden boards underneath truck as it got ever-closer to the ocean.

Paulty ran across the beach and yelled something incoherent.

All of the ducks stopped what they were doing and looked at Paulty.

“QUACK QUACK QUACK QUACK QUACK QUACK QUACK!!!”

Muhduriug Duck adjusted his trucker hat and looked out the window and spit on the ground.  “WHAT?”

Paulty finally caught his breath and announced to the Ducks of Doom:

“We’ve been foiled!  Congress has done something worse than we could have done!  They passed a health care bill!  That means our Einsteinium poisoning of the ocean will be negligible because everyone will be healed!”

All of the Ducks of Doom lowered their heads and quacked off into the distance as they went back to the Doomsday Bread Factory.

The semi-truck full of Einsteinium stayed neglected.

That was until Hooty McHoothoot flew over and landed on the semi-truck.

“Hm, I wonder what this stuff is?”  Hooty McHoothoot took out a straw and took a big swig of what was inside.

Poor Hooty McHoothoot began to glow and all of the color in his feathers disappeared!  He was all white, and not only that but his eyes turned into glistening diamonds surrounded by a gold trim.  His beak became solid metal as well as his talons.  His eyebrows went out of control and grew into his moustache and down the sides of his cheeks.  His eyebrows pointed off and became horns.

Hooty McHoothoot squawked as his diamond eyes blew a hole into the atmosphere, degrading the O-zone layer.

Hooty McHoothoot fluffed his feathers and expanded his wings.  “Whoohaaa!!  That was hilarious!!”

 

Moral of the Story:  Clean up after yourself.

 

Local Exchange: An Eruption of Stupidity

Based off the following post:

http://squackle.com/22567/screwed-up-chronicles/daves-kingdom/scam-call-from-local-exchange/

Harry Brown and Mildred Jacklesmith once had a great idea.

“Why don’t we scam people?” Harry Brown said.

Mildred, obviously in agreement, shouted at the top of her lungs.  “YESSSS!!!!!”

And so a company was born.  It was named Local Exchange and it was in San Dimas, California.  Or maybe it was in Villaverde.  Is that even a city?  To tell you the truth no one really knows what city it actually is in.  Not that it matters because absolutely all of their business would be conducted over the phone.

Local Exchange invested in a phone number that provided unlimited calling and texting.  Obviously, to scam people you need to call them unlimitedly and text them non-stop.  Otherwise, the whole scam thing doesn’t really seem very scammish!

The first order of business was to create the scam.  The scam of all scams.  A scam that everyone would believe but only the smart people would question and only the smart people would see it was a scam.  People who were smarter than them, even.  But that’s not the target market, now, is it?

The scam had been planned out in a matter of days.  First, they would call a random number and ask to speak to the “owner of the phone” to make it sound official.  Once they had the owner of the phone, they would tell them about the grand prize they had won and how everyone knows them locally but to get notoriety in different parts of the country, they were expanding their random 6-day cruise prize to different areas of California.

Once the person had given them their credit card information and social security number, they would hang up and begin to apply for credit cards and home loans with their information and take out cash advances.  And then they would invest that money into online payment systems.

Yes, life was grand in the most successful scamming company of all time.  Local Exchange posted huge profits and Harry and Mildred bought huge mansions once owned by drug dealers who fell victim to the scams.  Poor drug dealers lost their drug dens, but they weren’t the only victims to the grandest scam of all time.

I will now tell you about a lady who was down on her luck.  She thought she was the luckiest person in the world and won a free 6-day cruise to New York from California.  Oh, what a joyous occasion it was.  And all she had to give them was her name, address, social security number, and driver’s license number.  Overnight, this wonderful, nice lady had transformed into a blathering hobo asking for change at bus stop benches.  The day before she had been a worker at McDonald’s but when it came about that another Emelia Prancasa applied for a job at Burger King across the street with the same information as “Our” Emelia, that’s when McDonald’s fired her.  They couldn’t have a worker working at two fast food restaurants at the same time.  That would be espionage in the making!

Poor Emelia.  She can no longer work at any fast food restaurant because she became the most notorious fast food restaurant quadruple agent ever to be known.  Too bad she wasn’t hot cause she was quite ugly and not very attractive to boot.  Sometimes ugly people can be attractive, but sometimes they are just stupid.  Like Emelia.  Because she thought she won a 6-day cruise when in fact she won nothing and lost it all.

The end.

Moral:  Don’t give away your private information to random people who call you on the phone telling you you won a 6-day cruise.

 

The Secrecy of Knowing Nothing: The Destruction of Cal State Emptierton

There once was a man who knew literally nothing.  He would go to work, sit in his chair, stare at the wall for 8 hours, and then go back home and stare at the wall for another 16 hours.  He didn’t sleep because he can’t dream because he has nothing to dream about because he knows nothing, like I said earlier.

He was literally paid to stare at a wall and make sure it did not fall down.  There wasn’t even any paint to watch peel off or dry because it was literally just a wall.  This man, named Gabriel Nosenovich, was good at his job, as dumb as it may seem to you.  He did do other things, though.  He had a desk, with a phone, and a pad of paper.

He would receive work orders from other parts of the campus and write down what was requested to be done at the school.  This school, known as Cal State Emptierton , employed a large workforce of idiotic manual labor workers who created a huge bureaucracy for the purpose of inflating payroll.  When a light bulb or something like that blew up, they would call Gabriel and tell him that it was broken.  Gabriel would then write it on a piece of paper and then give said paper to another person who would evaluate the cost of said project which would then go to another team to go investigate and see if the prior estimate was valid.  Then this new estimate would be re-evaluated by another department which would then be reviewed by the initial estimate and the process would repeat itself until a number that everyone decided on was agreed to.  Considering it took forever and a half to get a light bulb fixed, what would come next would be surprising on more than one level.

One day, he got a call from a disgruntled bookstore manager.  The Emptierton College Bookstore just fired one of their book managers and he thought he might play a trick.  He requested a work order to demolish the bookstore.

Gabriel, obviously knowing nothing about anything, wrote the work order request as normal and handed it over to the next department.  Obviously no one in the Construction Ward had been notified that the bookstore manager had been fired, so no one questioned the intent.  After the whole bureaucracy of deciding how much it would cost to demolish the bookstore, it soon happened.

There was outrage from all corners of the campus.

“How could you have demolished the bookstore?” the President of the college, President Tasyst had asked.

“There was a work order.  You can’t question a work order,” the head of the Construction Ward, William Vable stood firm in the policies created by the Construction Ward of Cal State Emptierton.

The next day, another three requests came in to destroy other buildings on the campus, and soon there were no buildings left on the campus other than the Construction Ward.

Finally, one last call was given and someone had put a work order in to destroy the Construction Ward itself.

It took no less than a day to destroy the Construction Ward, and there wasn’t even much deliberation over whether or not they should do it.  There was a work order, after all.

Moral:  Don’t hire maintenance people who are idiots.

 

The Love Pentagram

There once were five roommates who lived together.  They all were each other’s boyfriends and girlfriends, but with a twist.  They loved two people, but one of the two people they loved did not love them.  Hence, “The Love Pentagram” was formed.

That was until they all blew up!  Someone stole 42 dollars from the community jar for grocery shopping and someone didn’t like that, we don’t know who, but they turned on the stove and then lit a match and it went kablooey.

When all the dust settled, the remains of the five roommates were arranged in a pentagram floating above the rubble.  The firefighters and police officers were astounded at the floating dead bodies and the weird laser beams pointing connecting to each other.

The firefighters blasted the five floating bodies with water, but nothing happened.  The police officers blasted the bodies with bullets, and then tasers, and then rubber band balls, and then doughnuts.  Water, metal, electricity, rubber, and even sugar didn’t break the demonic magic that held the five bodies in place.

Four days and three nights passed, as bureaucratic excuses and decisions were given to the cityfolk as to the new disturbance that was causing traffic on all the edges of the city of Bookhaven.  This was worse than the time they were fixing the sewers.  Everything was backed up then, even toilets!

That was when they called in the heavy artillery.  Rhyluf Gufgilo, Civil Engineer Extraordinaire, was called in to alleviate the situation and make everything flow smoothly again as the oddly transfixed demonic Love Pentagram showed no signs of change after four days.  Over the next 37 days, a large apparatus was installed underneath the city to rotate the city in such a way that no one would have to drive to get to where they wanted to go!  Everyone on the east side of town would get to the western side without very much effort at all!  All it took was a button press at one’s behest and they would make the city rotate.

It was only after the apparatus was installed that people realized this did very little to solve the problem.  Everyone who wanted to go east now had to go west, and the people who needed to go west had to go east, and the people who had to go north had to go south, and the people who wanted to go south had to go north!  It was all very confusing, and it made things even more confusing, like this sentence.  Sometimes people who wanted to go west, had to go north!  Sometimes people who wanted to go north, had to go north!  It’s ridiculous!!!

The Love Pentagram began to change as a result of the constant rotating that had been going on.  The Love Pentagram began to constantly rotate back and forth and then began to spin rapidly in an oscillating motion, like a washing machine.  The citizens of Bookhaven became concerned and a large group began to gather around as people had begun to abandon their cars and started to walk wherever they needed to go in town.

Without warning, in the middle of the day, 5 days after the rotating apparatus was installed underneath the city, it began to collapse into the center of the Love Pentagram!  More than just collapsing, though – it seemed like it was flushing down a toilet into the hole and all of Bookhaven was being sucked into the center of the hole.  People were screaming as they tried to run away from the power of the Love Pentagram.  No one could escape it when they saw it happening, and no one knew what would happen when they fell into it.

In less than three hours, the city of Bookhaven had been eradicated, leaving only the Love Pentagram left.  The Ruins of Bookhaven, as the area is now called, had only a sewer system to show for it and it all lead into the center.

Where did all of Bookhaven go, you may ask?  A new subterranean city was established underneath Bookhaven, called Bookhell.  All of the trapped citizens of Bookhaven and their buildings, houses, and cars were there, forever.

Moral: Don’t shit where you sleep.

 

The Bipolar Bear and the Water Skiing Buffalo

One day there was a polar bear.  He had issues.  He had a sister who always overreacted about everything ever that ever happened.  His mom wasn’t that much better.  Unfortunately for this polar bear, he became nicknamed the Bipolar Bear due to his inherent illnesses contracted by the social oppression created by his familial situation.

When the Bipolar Bear was old enough to move out of his house, he moved to sunny California.  He had to get a roommate because he didn’t have enough money for his own room, so he had to post a lot of advertisements on telephone poles and traffic signs.  A couple of his signs actually caused some accidents because they flew away after the tape had eroded and flew into the open-windowed cars, causing paper cuts of a severe nature that killed almost instantly.  It was a windy day.

It was the worst of times.  It was the best of times.  The Water Skiing Buffalo was doing so many chicks he couldn’t count them.  He was soooo cool.  That was until the economy fell and he couldn’t pay for his buffahoes anymore.  His full-time job of being the only water skiing buffalo, hence his name, became commoditized with a sudden influx of foreign sea gulls learning how to drive boats, allowing for multitudes of different animals who have no business being on the water, on the water, resulting in a rapid loss of money.  Broken, shamed, and nowhere else to go, the Water Skiing Buffalo headed to California because that’s where everyone goes when they want to feel like they’re better than they are.  He thought if he could get on a couple of movie sets and show them what he’s got, they’d hire him to do some water skiing in front of a camera, since he was pretty good looking.

Anyway, to make a long, boring interlude short, the Water Skiing Buffalo and the Bipolar Bear somehow ended up living together.  They became sorta good friends, but they don’t really hang out a lot.  Only like three days out of the week do they even see each other, and they live together!  That’s crazy!  Right?!?!  I don’t even KNOW what they’re doing!

So, one day, as the Water Skiing Buffalo and the Bipolar Bear hiked down Sunset Avenue, they met a lady with a booming voice who was talking about a lot of religious malarkey.  She was shouting about how she repented and used to be a sinner and used to be the enemy of God.  How this witch of a lady could go around and just yell random nonsense without anyone telling her to shut up because of her uncanny ability to make her voice travel through the dimensions of space, time, and jelly, was beyond them.

The Enemy of God, who really was a witch, had a sick obsession with jelly, and to a higher exponential form, preserves.  She saw the water buffalo and the polar bear and conceived a diabolical plot to acquire all of their jelly!  The two roommates just moved in like three months ago and they don’t usually eat peanut butter and jelly sandwiches so they had like two jars of unopened jelly just waiting to have the life sucked out of them by The Enemy of God.

The Enemy of God called her rich friend President Hagen.  He was in charge of a local college and was going to be ousted soon due to an impeachment process.  He was being impeached because he ordered 600 computers and drove them to Alaska.  He wasn’t even USING them for the school!  He was going to build a large server house and sell Canadian money to Americans over the Internet, and make a 50% profit.  Depending on when you read this story, it might make sense or it might not make sense.  This story was written future-proof, just in case American money becomes more expensive than Canadian money again.

President Hagen picked up the phone and he was in the Jacuzzi.  He was throwing darts at the staff members who reported him to his bosses.  He kept like a bushel of these pictures in random places so that he can always do something lewd toward them, like wipe his arm pit sweat, waft his fart, or blow his burp at them.  Once he bought a Thank You card, and wrote a derogatory word that did not actually describe said person after “Thank You” inside the card.  Needless to say, he did not put a return address on there.  This man was as rude as they came.  How he greased the palms of everyone during his road to the presidency is an undocumented and probably illegal ordeal, on account of him being a grade A number 1 doodoo rag.

President Hagen, holed up in his Alaskan server complex had his 600 Computers working in tandem to serve his needs and his online business.  He had one computer just to control his Jacuzzi, that’s how many computers he had.  He got a call over the popular internet voice calling program TalkToMyFaceCauseTheHandsAin’tTypin or THAT for short from his friend, The Enemy of God. The Enemy of God yelled through her phone and conveyed to President Hagen her plans.  Not that it mattered too much since he wasn’t even listening and was playing minesweeper on his computer.

After he hung up with The Enemy of God, President Hagen got out of the Jacuzzi and put a towel on.  He walked into his quarter million dollar bathroom with heated AND cooling toilet seats (also managed by a computer) and began typing on a pull out computer while he was doing his doo-dy on the toilet.  His secondary server complex located in Nevada, the aptly named Hagen Dessert Server Complex (the Alaskan one was named the Hagen Iced Latte Server Complex) was running a little hot, and he adjusted the air conditioner.

“No melting ice cream, today, Nevada…”  The President said in between farts.

The President finished up, and wiped his ass with a picture of Juniper Rodriguez, a senior staff member at Hoodywoody College.

“You like the taste of that, Juniper?”

The President got up and put his towel back on.  He then grabbed a picture of Daniel Torres, another senior staff member, lit it on fire and dropped it in the toilet.

“BURN, DANIEL, BURN!!”

An hour or two later, President Hagen was passed out on his couch and snoring very loudly.  Oliver 6800, the boy robot slave President Hagen constructed from the innards of five computers, trembled in front of his master, as he wanted to ask him for more hard drive space.

“Please, sir, may I have some more?” Oliver 6800 chirped.

President Hagen awoke and yelled, “MOOOOOORREEEEEEEEE??????”

President Hagen then beat Oliver 6800… at Hearts.

The next day…

“Have you seen my mommy??”  Oliver 6800 asked President Hagen.

“Mommy????????????????????????” President Hagen threw his hands into the air.

President Hagen then beat Oliver 6800… at Monopoly.  It was a five hour ordeal and pretty gruesome.

Then child services came and acquired Oliver 6800 from President Hagen because he was abusing his robotic child.

Back to the Enemy of God, she was arrested later that evening for knowingly aiding a child abuser, even though the child abuser himself would not be charged and would be allowed to continue in his weird abuse of technology for some time to come.  She was also arrested for stealing a pallet of jelly from a grocery store that kept tens of thousands of dollars of jelly in their store room.

As for the oddly paired Bipolar Bear and Water Skiing Buffalo, they lived together for 7 years, decided it was in their best interests to apply for Common Law Marriage for the tax breaks and then cheated the system out of food stamps for years to come.  Those stamps sure did taste good, the glue was flavored!

Moral:  Don’t take more than you need.

 

A Crusty Evening

“This is a sad day indeed!” I’ll always remember those words.

It was a hot summer day and the carnival was in town once again. Nevermind the silly little rides that the majority of the youth would waste their time with. I was there for one reason: the event that made yokels from miles ’round gather to witness. The challenge of the champions, the fight of the fatsos, the battle of the bulge! That’s right, the famed pie-eating contest.

This was the time of year all of the wives of the manly men of the town would spend many a night concocting an alluring assortment of delightfully delicious delicacies that dwelled in the darkest dreams of the obese competitors even weeks before the event. One of these wives, Mary Anne Truckstop, was the loving wife of Darryl Truckstop, the longest reigning pie eating champion in all of town. Each year Mary Anne would try to create a new, innovative kind of pie. One year she made a lard, apple, and aloe pie, but no one liked it! Another year she made a pot pie, except it really was made of pieces of broken pots, and no one liked it either! One year she thought she had really hit the spot. She didn’t hit the spot, though, but at least she made a spot on the livers of all who ate the pies.

This year Darryl was really pressuring Mary Anne to make the most fantastic pie recipe the town, and possibly the county, had ever known. Whenever she resisted he denied her of her rocking chair privileges and sent her to bed without dinner, so she started experimenting with every possible ingredient she could find to impress the public and, most of all, her precious Darryl.

On the day of the contest, as I was on my way to the carnival in my Geo Metro Convertible Custom, the DJ interrupted my favorite song to announce that Mary Anne would not be attending the fair. My heart sank, my blood boiled, my timing belt snapped. Thankfully I had just arrived at the Carnival. I listened to the rest of Blue Man Group’s “Drumbone,” then headed to the event with sour lips and sour expectations.

As I stood, waiting for the event to start, an angry and disappointed Darryl took a seat behind the pie table. He was the last to arrive. Others at the competition were “Big” Bill Owens, “Plopping” Harley Banks, and Don Reed aka “Popsicle Eyebrows.” The gentlemen cracked their knuckles and adjusted their belts accordingly. It was obvious that the men hadn’t eaten in a while, as the sound of their rumble was overwhelming to the point of deafening if you didn’t have your mouth open. At last, the contest began! The wives of most of the men participating slid their pies across the table. The men grabbed the pies and started devouring with no hesitation. Something strange was happening: Darryl was in last place! No matter how much pie he shoved into his mouth with his meaty hooks, he was still a crust behind. “This is a sad day indeed!” shouted my just-arriving dad whom I’d forgotten to bring with me.

It was down to the last ten seconds. Darryl had drifted further and further behind. At the eight second mark, all of the viewers saw something for the first time. Darryl just stopped chewing. He closed his eyes and began to cry, the pie filling foaming out of his mouth. At the three second mark, four brown and gray pies slid across the table. Darryl decided to give it one last shot and began to consume the pie. Metal crunched, twigs snapped, and paint ran inside the mouths of the men. All of the men except Darryl began to puke hard, spilling a rainbow of different colored filling. Darryl stood strong, stuffing all of the remaining pies down his throat.

The time was up. It was time to make the big decision. As the judges finished their tallies, it was come to the decision that Darryl had still only come in second. The winner was Bill Owens. The crowd booed loudly and started throwing their money until they realized what they were doing. Bill Owens waddled over to the man holding the trophy and raised it high. The sudden change of elevation from standing up began to take its toll on Bill. He threw the trophy to the ground and began hurling into the gas tank of a John Deere nearby. The judges re-tallied how many pies Bill had actually digested and ruled Darryl as the winner once again! The crowd roared with applause and cheerful laughter. Darryl knew that the only reason he won was because of the terrible pies that were given to them near the end. He had always had an iron stomach because of his wife’s cooking. He picked up the trophy and glanced over to see Mary Anne clapping for him. He handed her the trophy. “Here you go, honey…you deserve to hold it until we get home” he admitted. The two hugged and all was good.

This town doesn’t have much of a history, but one memory that will always live on is the legend of Darryl and Mary Anne Truckstop. Even though he got lost traveling to an out-of-county tree sale next week and was never heard of again, the track record of Darryl will never be forgotten.

THE END

 

Oopsy Daisy!

Little Daisy is trying to make her first cake. What a cute adventure into womanhood! But sadness sweeps over her as she realizes she left out everything but the eggs and the icing. Her eyes start to rain down big salty tears, because her cake is no good. She’s just about to run to her room when a warm, calming hand touches her shoulder.

“Grandpa!” she yelps, surprised, trying to hide her tears. “Now, now, no need to cover your face, I know you’re ugly.” Grandpa says jokingly. This didn’t seem to help the situation at all, as she starts to cry louder. “Stop the water works now, my little princess. Let me tell you a little something. Sit down here.” Grandpa pulls out a chair for Daisy and she sits down. He thinks of trying another ugly joke, but is afraid she’ll start crying again.

“A long time ago, I was a little girl just like you,” Grandpa says. “Really?” Daisy asks, no longer crying. “Yes,” Grandpa continues, “You should’ve seen my room, it was beautiful. I had Marilyn Monroe wallpaper, an Elvis bedspread, a Dick Clark record player, and a Steve Carell make-up case.” “Wow!” Daisy exclaims. “You ain’t just whistlin’ Dixie!” Grandpa replies.

“I remember one time, when I was about your age, I got into my parents’ special cabinet. That’s what led to your grampy’s eventual incarceration, but that’s a different story. Anyway, my father, your great grandpa, caught me. That’s when he brought out his most expensive belt, which he called the ‘Cat of Ninetails from Hell.’ He laid a beating on me that went on for hours. He carved me up like a Halloween jackolantern.” Grandpa chuckles.

“That’s terrible!” Daisy shouts. “I thought so, too.” Grandpa says. “But looking back, he was only doing it to show he loves me, so I’ll always treasure it.” “I want treasure!” Daisy responded. “Well shiver me timbers then, matey!” Grandpa says in a gruff tone. ‘Set sail for beatdown! Go get your grampy’s 2×4, the one with the nails. Do you have your tetanus shot?” “What’s tetanus?” Daisy asks. “Good!” Shouts Grandpa with a smile.

The high pitched squeals fill the house for the next two days. Daisy will always remember the cake accident. But she will know, in her mind and in her heart, that Grandpa almost killed her with a board to show her how much he loves her.

 

Marshmallow Cosby

You know it, I know it, everyone knows it. By now it is only common sense that Bill Cosby loves marshmallows. From their milky white texture to the way they feel like toxic sludge when you put them in your mouth, marshmallows are incomparable to any other food in the world. Even spaghetti, believe it or not. But I bet you haven’t heard of the escapades Bill has been through involving the fluffy, tasty creations.

The year was 1994 AD. Bill’s ego was riding high from the incredible, overwhelming sucess of The Cosby Mysteries. He was taking his daily jog through the park, listening to Fats Domino on his new TalkBoy. His head bob-a-dob-dobbed and his knees rat-a-tat-tatted rhythmically to the quick tumpa-tumpa of his heartbeat.

I know what you’re thinking: “This isn’t your ordinary run-of-the-mill slow paced yet healthy jog for Mr. Cosby!” Well, you’re right! Bill had marshmallows on the mind, and after the stroll he headed straight for the supermarket. Holding his basket out like a collection plate, he swept all of the bags of marshmallows he could find in, even the generic brands.

Before he could make his way to the counter, he was grabbed from behind and pulled into the employee restroom. “Get your hands off the Cosb!” shouted Bill, but this didn’t stop the assailant from sitting Bill in the sink and gluing his arms to the mirror with a hot glue gun that must’ve been conveniently placed in the bathroom. Bill hadn’t been in this much trouble since Malcolm Jamal-Warner caught him eating his crescent rolls.

“Mr. Cosby, with all due respect, if you keep eating those marshmallows by the fistful, you’ll be too large for TV!” Bill’s reply to this was his trademark rolling of the eyes, complete with laugh track. “Now see here,” Bill said. “It’s not like I’m eating delicious Jello Puddin’ Pops, they’re harmless little tufts of puff! Please, please, PLEASE feed me some, right now!” Bill opened his mouth wide and wiggled his tongue around, waiting to be treated. He was treated to a hard slap in the face. Bill looked at the man angrily. “Hey hey hey!” he roared in an enraged Fat Albert voice.

Their bickering eventually led to the signing of a pact; Bill was not allowed to eat marshmallows ever again. Bill did not jog home that day, he walked. His head did not bob-a-dob-dob and his knees did not rat-a-tat-tat. His TalkBoy ate his Fats Domino tape, but he didn’t care.

The first couple of weeks under the rule went surprisingly well, almost to the point of Bill forgetting about the snack he once treasured. But one day on his way to the flea market, he saw something that would forever change his life: the Hosebush Marshmallow Company was trying to create the world’s largest Marshmallow in the park he regularly jogged in. Bill immediately fell to his knees and starting bowing, claiming it as his new god.

The man who had made him sign the pact was there, however. He knew this was going to happen. “Listen to me, Bill. Don’t do anything you’ll regret, your career is on the line!” he begged. Bill grabbed the pact out of his hands and shoved it in his mouth. He chewed on it loudly and spit it back in the man’s face. The man started bawling into his hands and ran off, screaming “This is the end of Cosby as we know it!” “It’s MINE!” Bill shouted. He started pushing and elbowing people out of his way, growling with excitement.

He grabbed the side of the giant marshmallow and began clawing his way up. The people that had worked so hard making the marshmallow were running around, yelling at each other in frustration. Bill reached the top and ripped off his shirt. He slapped his belly a few times for good measure and dove down head first into the concoction. He started to tunnel his way down the center, using only his mouth and perfect set of choppers. “There go his canines,” thought the local dentist worriedly as he looked on.

In mere minutes, the entire marshmallow was devoured. Bill was so full, he couldn’t move. He was so big that when he rolled his eyes, it sounded like thunder. TV executives rushed in and handcuffed him, then hauled him off to be locked away in the NBC Fat Camp for two years.

During the years he spent trying to work off his fat, Bill was replaced on television by none other than Ray Romano, who covered himself with black ash to conceal his identity. If you look closely at footage from those years, you can faintly make out his Jewish chin. Ray also later played the role of Darlene on the series finale of “Roseanne.”

At last, in the spring of 1996, Bill was back and better than ever! Although the thought of another marshmallow binge was very tempting for him, he knew what it would do if it happened again. To this very day, every time Bill sees a bag of them, he grimaces in a way that makes him look sort of like a cross between GW Bush and Robert De Niro, with maybe a hint of Queen Elizabeth. This is a very ugly sight and Bill knows it, so he tries his best to stay away from the tempting morsels.

America loves Bill, and I’m sure you have your hand on your heart right now, saluting that he had the strength and willpower to fight his deadly addiction. I hope you have learned a lesson, and that you yourself do not become a “Marshmallow Cosby.”

THE END

 

The Prefect Candy Bar

Alone in an alley, the mayor of Candybarrio in Foodland, Cassius Candybar was strolling through.  It wasn’t exactly the safest of places to take a brisk walk, considering the last five high profile homicides had taken place here, in which all of the victims were mutilated to the point of being called a different food.  No one knew what a Tomato Chocolate Smoothie was until last week when Clive Tomato and Sandy Chocandy were murdered and blended together.

“What kind of murderous, Foodlandish person would be able to exist?” the local news stations explored that question to no avail and received higher ratings than ever before.  Conspiracy theorists even started to believe the news stations themselves were propagating this uptake in mutilation-type violence — or even hiring people to commit them so there would be more news coverage!

The sad truth of the matter was, that it was not that simple… Cassius knew more than he had let on in his myriad of interviews.  To cut the mystery short, it was Cassius who had murdered the the five Foodlandish in the alley.  He was using the publicity of the murders to propel himself to the forefront of the minds of Foodlandish in the upcoming elections.

And his plan was working.

That was, until a copycat murderer decided to open his killing spree with a high-profile target.  Banana-Face the Orange had trained with his knife skills for like three hours before he came to the alley behind Roger and Jefferson’s Waffle House and Croissant Bakery.

It didn’t take too much effort to slice the ligaments in Cassisus’ legs… and before Cassius could do anything, a six-inch fruit peeler was jutted into his back.  Banana-Face twisted the fruit peeler slowly as the caramel began to ooze out of Cassius.  In his screams came more and more pain.  The nougat began to ooze out along with the caramel and Banana-Face’s Relentless Fruit Peeler began to dig at Cassius’ peanuts.  Once the hole was big enough, Banana-Face thrust his hand into Cassius and grabbed a peanut, ripping it from his nougaty center.

Cassius did everything he could to crawl away but it was to no avail.  Banana-Face enraged and began to rapidly stab Cassius in his back.  He began to bash Cassius’ head with his own peanut and caramel began to ooze from the back of his head.  Cassius’ last ditch effort was to get his Battery-Powered Blender Knife from his right pocket.  He reached for it and turned it on.

Banana-Face was in the middle of another Stab-and-Twist when Cassius flipped over, causing him to lose his balance.   Cassius raised the whirring Blender Knife into the air and came into Banana-Face’s lower extremities.  Banana-Face screamed louder than Cassius had, and orange juice sprayed onto Cassius’ face as he laughed maniacally, exacting his painful revenge on the orange.  Orange pulp began to spray, as the knife got closer to Banana-Face’s core.

Cassius removed the Blending Knife and readied his thrust again.  In that instant, Banana-Face reached and grabbed the fruit peeler in Cassius’ back and used it as a handle to get closer to Cassius before his next thrust.  Cassius screamed in pain, but that didn’t do much to offset his balance as the blending knife came from the right and into Banana-Face’s side.  They both screamed at the top of their lungs in their weird hug-like stance.

The alley was full of orange caramel juice.  It flowed like a miniature river as it ended up into a grate on the floor.  Banana-Face’s life force drained away and he eventually fell limp.  Cassius fell to the ground as well, but in victory.  He was relieved he had survived the ordeal, but little did he know, a new threat loomed beneath the alley — a fire-breathing Drah-Gun!

Shunookle the Drah-Gun was on a vacation from Nikpan and thought the sewer system in Foodland would provide for a nice respite from the hustle and bustle of Dragon Town.  Unfortunately for her, this was the sixth extremely loud murder to occur within the last week, and it was pissing her off!  She burst out of the alley’s asphalt and flew into the air, throwing asphalt all over the place and flying away.

Cassius Candybar was ultimately known for killing all tourism in Candybarrio once Shunookle the Drah-Gun posted on BizarroBook, the world’s most popular social network that Candybarrio was a very loud and unsafe place to visit.

Moral of the story: Considering the consequences of your actions is prudent in matters of politics.

 

The Wise Tennis Ball

Tenny the Tennis Ball has been stuck in the same fence for 15 years.  Oh, the stories he could tell you about Rochestor Elementary School.  Tenny wasn’t always in a fence, though.  At one point, he was used as a tool for mass infliction of pain!

But, ever since he was thrown into the very top rung of the fence, Tenny observed the school and all of the events that transpired below.

Unbeknownst to anyone, Tenny is a romantic.  He longed for the days when he was trapped between two other tennis balls to whom he could have constant contact with in the metal tube he came from.  He is into the multi-racial thing, too, as one was green and the other was orange.

It isn’t easy being stuck in a fence at a lowly school in Missouri.  No one ever says, “Hi,” to him and when the seasons change, he weathers the weather without so much as a glimpse from a 5th grader.

There Tenny stayed stuck in a fence, never minded upon, simply unnoticed, always observing.

That is, until an electrical storm forced an alien spaceship into the atmosphere!  They were planning an attack on a K-Mart building that had gained sentience and was threatening to collect on the layaways the aliens had at the store.  The Layawaliens’ plans were foiled when the K-Mart Building #1335 created an electrical storm to foil them.

The immense radiation blast that came from the Layawaliens’ ship was focused solely at Tenny the Tennis Ball.  His simple existence of being stuck in a fence had instantly become something more… and as the Layawaliens tried to restabalize and exit the atmosphere, a second large burst of radiation hit Tenny and he sprouted legs, and arms, and a brain, and a head, and a kidney… two even!  He had become what he only knew… and elementary school kid.  A 5th grader, to be exact.

But he was still stuck in a fence, body organs hanging out every which way because there was no room for him to grow “naturally.”  There he groaned and lamented in pain as his tennis-ball-fur-covered organs hung and bounced around as he tried to free himself to no avail.

How he longed even more for the days of being a normal tennis ball!  This being a half-human-half-tennis-ball thing got old after about ten minutes of having two swinging kidneys.

There he stayed over the weekend until the children went out to recess.  It’s sort of hard to not notice this weird human hybrid monster thing hanging at the top of the fence.  Some children started to throw rocks and insults at Tenny for no reason.  He hated being “human” and hated humans, too!

Just then, the K-Mart Building #1335 developed space flight capability and empathically felt Tenny’s pain.  If K-Mart Building #1335 wanted a life-hating space captain, Tenny was it.

As the K-Mart building lifted off it made a tractor beam shoot out and rip off the piece of the fence that Tenny was stuck in and levitated it into its roll-up doors and exited the atmosphere.  Tenny the Tennis Ball was given a chair that fit the contours of his new body perfectly.  Even though he was still stuck in afence, he was able to integrate his thoughts with the space-bound building.

First order of business, was a volley of phasers and rockets and contact solution as well as several types of canned goods at Rochester Elementary.  There were tons of screaming children as they were splashed with exploding cases of contact solution and pelted with canned cucumbers and peaches.  The phasers targeted the handball and four-square courts to the children would never get to play at recess again.  This would lead to diabetes in 3/4 of the children and they wouldn’t be able to eat any fun food for the rest of their lives.

The K-Mart building communicated to Tenny that it was going to follow the damaged Layawalien ship back to its home planet and collect on its layaways in full, even if that means taking over their planet.

The Layawaliens ship finally made its way back to its home planet of Layaway Planet, where everything on the planet took a decade to pay for, so it was all old-looking shit.  The defensive capabilities of the planet were no match for K-Mart Building #1335, and soon it landed on the planet, creating a fortress around itself and infecting the population with a derivative of salmonella from its sliced Turkey products that the Layawaliens foolishly took it out on layaway from the store.

Three weeks after the fortress had been completed and 90% of the Layawalien population had food poisoning and stomachaches, Tenny declared Layaway Planet the property of K-Mart Building #1335.  The Layawaliens were forced to sign a treaty agreeing to this fact, so that they would be able to get antacids and cures for the salmonella poisoning that threatened their race.

Tenny thought back to his simpler days of being stuck in a fence as a normal tennis ball.  Look how far he had come, in such a short time.

Moral:  When your life is changed drastically, think of the consequences it has on others as well.

 

Who Found the Staplers’ Hats?

A conspiracy was afoot.

In The Pencil Box, a coup was forming.  The Staplers, a sect of the Stationeries, have been the prevalent political party and their merciful political power is regulated only by their hats.  Without their hats, they are naked — exposed.

The Staplers use a valuable resource known as staples.  In the staple mines of Swingline Town, the ever-important node of the staple commodity, a nuclear bomb was set off by a renegade faction of pens called the Terrorist Pens.  This had effectively wiped out 34% of the total staple industry in The Pencil Box, resulting in a diminished power in the Staplers.  A staple drought was declared as Staplers went through the dredges of the Office Desk Canyons of The Pencil Box trying to find new suitable mines to replace what had been lost.

It was during this strategic opportunity in which the Stapler population was spread thin that the Terrorist Pens struck again — this time with a large wind burst that blew off all of the Stapler’s hats.  The Stapler’s hats is the prominent difference that Staplers have from one another.  Now they are all the same, and equal.  But that’s not how society works, so in one fell swoop the Staplers started to kill each other for no reason other than the fact that they all looked the same and it freaked each other out.

One spiritual Stapler by the name of John Stapler found himself in lonely cave, away from the ones he loved.  He yearned back for the days (sometime last week) where there was order in The Pencil Box, and it hadn’t been shaken up due to terrible design of its compartments.  It was then that John Stapler had realized he was not actually in a lonely cave, but the holiest and most important of locations to the Staplers in all of The Pencil Box, rediscovered only by John Stapler in a time of need.  John Stapler went deeper into the cave and found a monument that had the following words inscribed:

“In a time of need

You shall see

Not what is important, such as individuality

But what isn’t important, such as unique hats that set a fashion trend no one cares about”

The words meant something, I’m not exactly sure what since I’m not a Stapler, to John Stapler.  As he read the inscription on the monument, it began to glow, and time was reset to before the nuclear bomb in Swingline Town.

John Stapler had been given a chance to set things right before they go wrong!  Not only that, but he had a cool new hat that made him ultra-powerful.  Don’t ask me how, but Swingline Town was saved!  The Terrorist Pens had their nuclear bomb blow up in their faces, if you can call them faces, and the Terrorist Pens were no more, as their base of operations, a chemical plant in the Ink Hills, turned into a crater.

Anarchy would avoid The Pencil Box…

at least for now.

 

The Triumphant Lion and the Arrogant Jy-Raffs

Once there was a rap group in the Sahara Desert called the Jy-Raffs.  It was a group of giraffes that loved to sing and rap.  They sang about eating leaves off trees and making sexual innuendos about those sexy giraffe bitches drinking from the watering holes.

One day an exuberantly manly lion named ReggIster Stupenstein published his first reggae/rap album.  He sang songs about legitimate love with his lioness pride without any baby killing beforehand.  He sang of lounging in the shade and eating yesterday’s zebra carcass with no hassle form the vulture community.

In essence, it was everything the Jy-Raffs were not and all the random lifeforms living in the Sahara Desert raved about the album.  This made the Jy-Raffs so jealous because deep down inside they were depressed that they were forced to sing about partying and smoking trees and looking at giraffe buttholes all day.  Most of them didn’t even like buttholes — they were mostly all about that tongue-action.

The Jy-Raffs decided to kill ReggIster Stupenstein because there was only enough room in the “politically correct reggae rap” niche for one successful artist.

Little did they know, this would be their demise.  As they were plotting their revenge in the cramped corridors of a secret underground cave, a genie’s lamp accidentally fell out of an encased tomb of sap that could only be unlocked by uttering the words “lion,” “reggae,” “kill,” “masturbate,” and “grind his liver between three calculus books” in the predicate of a 356-word-long run-on sentence with no correct punctuation.  They were rappers, after all…!

Anyhow, the genie, named Jardan Maura, didn’t come out of his lamp and grant the giraffes three wishes like you would expect.

Instead, the genie was a rebel genie who banished his victims to do irregular to insane monotonous tasks in a sweat shop in China that he owns.

The Jy-Raffs were fucked.  Instead of having to decide four different jobs for the giraffes to do, he combined them into one super giraffe — a four-headed, 16-legged monstrosity of a giraffe, doomed to forever lick closed 0% APR credit card applications sent to random people for the rest of their unnatural lives.

Moral of the story:  Appreciate the hard work that goes into mass-produced junk mail!

 

The Unloved Manatees vs. The Child Molester Penguins

In the North Pole, there were two rival gangs.  The Unloved Manatees “ruled the seas” and the Child Molester Penguins “ruled the ice.”

In reality, all this takes place on a little iceberg island independent of Santa Claus’ tyrannical reign called The Peninsula of the Eye.  It wasn’t even a peninsula and nothing about its geological or geographical features suggested it was an eye.

Gang war after gang war was fought and many-a-manatee’s blood soiled the seas, and many-a-child-molester-penguin soiled the ice.

What these warring factions didn’t know was there was a horror trapped beneath The Peninsula of the Eye that needed just the right amount of manatee blood, penguin blood, ice, sea water, and eel droppings to regain its ultimate power.

It was Santa Claus’ secret weapon, the Electrosucker!  Except he wanted to keep it a secret and didn’t think that the right concoction of ingredients would ever unintentionally be in the vicinity of the weapon.

So, it created a lot of explosions.  The Peninsula of the Eye sunk into the sea.  The Peninsula of the Eye was the entrance to this secret weapon and it would be really inconvenient to get into without it.

So, Santa Claus’ electricity bills went up really high and Santa Claus was really pissed off that he was stupid enough to hook up his secret energy draining machine into his own power grid.

Moral of the story:  Buy energy-saving secret doomsday weapons.

 

The Attractive Mother-In-Law Temptation

I was happy. My girlfriend and I were dating for over a year, and so we decided to get married. My parents helped us in every way, my friends encouraged me, and my girlfriend? She was a dream!

There was only one thing bothering me and that was my mother-in-law to be. She was a career woman, smart, but most of all beautiful and sexy, who sometimes flirted with me, which made me feel uncomfortable.

One day she called me and asked me to come over to check the wedding invitations. So I went. She was alone, and when I arrived, she whispered to me, that soon I was to be married, and she had feelings and desires for me that she couldn’t overcome. So before I got married and committed life to her daughter, she wanted to make love to me just once.

What could I say? I was in total shock, and couldn’t say a word.

So, she said, “I’ll go to the bedroom, and if you are up for it, just come and get me.” I just watched her delicious behind as she went up the stairs. I stood there for a moment, and then turned around and went to the front door… I opened it, and stepped out of the house.

Her husband was standing outside, and with tears in his eyes, hugged me and said, we are very happy and pleased, you have passed our little test. We couldn’t have asked for a better man for our daughter. Welcome to the family.

Moral of the story: Always keep your condoms in the car!