Rolls of Justice

INT. Apartment-type room.

PORTER RODELL fumbles around with the camera as he sets it up.

PORTER
Fucking tripod, I don’t understand this shit.

Porter leaves the camera alone and walks back a little bit.

PORTER
Okay I’ve had enough of this shit man. Nick and his supertanker of an ass seemingly use up all the toilet paper in the house, constantly. That shit is expensive. And he’s a fucking—

The video cuts, and in Porter’s place we see NICK STALWHART, Porter’s roommate.

NICK
I’d just like to say that Porter has got it all wrong. I don’t know what Porter uses all of his toilet paper on, he still smells like he doesn’t wipe his ass.

PORTER (Off-screen)
2 squares bitch! That’s all you need! 3-ply Quilted goodness filleting my taint!

NICK
Man, you’re gross!

Video cuts again and Nick and Porter are in front of the camera.

NICK
Alright, let it be known that starting today, we will monitor both of our toilet paper usage on video.

PORTER
And we’ll finally prove that you’re trying to destroy our toilet with your massive shits.

NICK
Man, shut up!

PORTER
You’re always in there for thirty minutes, at least!

NICK
I like to watch videos.

PORTER
What the fuck?

Nick stands up and turns off the camera while Porter looks at him in astonishment.

Cut to Nick holding the camera and recording two new rolls of toilet paper. Nick’s name is on one roll and Porter’s is on the other.

NICK
To test our hypothesis, we have two new rolls of toilet paper. All previous rolls of toilet paper have been burned as to prevent any cheating. These rolls will be used until gone. When one is used up all the way, we will compare to the other roll to see how much is left.

Nick moves the camera to look at Porter.

NICK
Say hi to the camera Porter!

PORTER
Man, FUCK YOU!

PORTER smacks NICK but you only see PORTER’s hand go off-screen.

Cut to Porter holding the camera and walking around the house to a closed door.

PORTER
The time is now 7:05 pm. Nick has been in here since six FORTY FIVE.

NICK (Behind door)
HEY! What the hell are you doing out there Porter?

PORTER
Nothing Nick! Nothing at all!

NICK (Behind door)
You’re a fucking liar!

PORTER
HEY FUCK YOU

NICK
EAT ME!

PORTER
OH YOU SON OF A BITCH

PORTER fumbles with the camera and it turns off.

Cut to Nick holding the camera and looking down at the rolls of toilet paper.

NICK
After one day, we are about even. For reference we have another new roll of toilet paper.  About 1/8 of an inch has been used off each of the respective rolls.

PORTER
Respective? I hate that word! Why do you use it? You’re such a lamer!

NICK
It’s not lame to be sophisticated!

PORTER
And it’s sophisticated to have a good vocabulary?

NICK
Actually, yes.

PORTER
Then I’m glad I’m not sophisticated because I don’t want to be a sour gummy bear!

NICK
A what?

PORTER
That’s my word for being the ultimate form of stupid! See, I can be sophisticated too, with my extreme mastery of the English language!

NICK
Fucking Porter.

Cut to Nick holding the camera.

NICK
There has to be some way of disproving Porter’s 2-Square Law. It’s impractical, and I know he’s lying. I must go to the source. I have been able to trap a flush of Porter’s… “business” by rigging the plumbing to dump into a basket outside. As I do not want to get the camera dirty, I will investigate and report back in due time.

Cut to Nick gasping.

NICK
Oh god, I dug through his shit for like 20 minutes. I couldn’t find ANY toilet paper at ALL. I am now of the persuasion that this man does not use any toilet paper at all! No wonder he always smells like fecal matter!

Cut to Nick holding the camera as he goes toward Porter on the couch.

NICK
Ah-ha! There you are! You’re a goddamn louse – a cheater at the very least!

PORTER
What the fuck are you talking about?

NICK
You sick fuck! I trapped one of your toilet flushes in a basket outside. There was no toilet paper at all!

PORTER
Wh-wh-what the fuck did you just say?

NICK
YOU DON’T USE TP!

PORTER (breaking down)
I-i-its true…I don’t use toilet paper at all. I’m allergic to it, my legs chafe after I use it. I have to…use my hands!

NICK
WHAT THE FUCK!

PORTER
But it was to my benefit! I would have won this raspberry-filled chocolate of a contest!

NICK
But wait a second, that doesn’t make any sense. If you don’t use toilet paper, then how come your toilet paper roll has been steadily decreasing?

PORTER (shrugging)
I dunno…

NICK
There is a saboteur in our midst! There is only one person that can be behind it! Or two.

Camera style changes from this point on. Becomes more like a normal movie.

Nick and Porter walk slowly to a closed door with no lights on behind it.

Nick and Porter look at each other. Nick gulps and then knocks on the door. As he knocks on the door, the door creaks open, obviously not shut all the way. The room is dark.

NICK
Um…hey uhh…Alan? Are you…are you there?

PORTER (whispering)
He’s not here let’s go, let’s just drop it.

NICK
Shut up! I heard something!

A growling noise is heard.

ALAN
Grrrrrrr…

Nick and Porter take a step back.

ALAN
Who the FUCK is that?

NICK
Ummm hey Alan, it’s Nick!

PORTER
And Porter!

ALAN
I know who it is! What the fuck do you want, you dweebs?

NICK
Uh well…Alan I was wondering…

PORTER
We were wondering if you knew how much we owe you for electricity!

NICK
No, actually, Alan…

PORTER
Shut up, I don’t want to ask him anymore!

Alan peers out through the cracks of the door.

ALAN
What……is it……!?

NICK
Well, you see Alan, Porter and I, you see…

ALAN
That’s the most intelligent thing you’ve said.  “I see.” — I DO see. I see two stupid mother fuckers wasting my god damn time. Do you know how that makes me feel?

PORTER
HAVE YOU BEEN STEALING MY TOILET PAPER??

ALAN
Oh God. What the hell is this shit?

PORTER
Have you been stealing my toilet paper?

ALAN
………YES, its true! Oh I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean for any of this to happen. I only put up this macho man appearance so that you would be scared to ask me about your toilet paper disappearing.

Alan opens the door wide and grovels at Porter and Nick’s feet.

ALAN
I’m soooo sorry…I can’t make excuses for what I’ve done in the past. The only thing I ask of you is to please not punish me too badly for what I’ve done!

NICK
I don’t believe this.

PORTER
Me neither.

ALAN
Its not like you’re using it anyway, I figured what would be the problem, you know. I wish I could scoop it all out with my hands but I’m not that kind of person. I’m not, however much I try. I come from the slums of Burbank, you know? We don’t have luxuries like Toilet Paper or CD players or air for that matter!

NICK (whispering to Porter)
What the fuck is he talking about?

PORTER (whispering back)
I don’t know, I thought he was your friend?

NICK (whispering)
He is, but we grew up in Anaheim…

Porter shrugs.

ALAN
And then there was the time I went to the bowling alley and played Revolution X until my ears bled from too much Aerosmith.

Nick picks up Alan and shoves him back into his dark room.

NICK
That’s why we don’t give you any light bulbs Alan! I’m afraid of what you might do if you could actually see what’s around you!

PORTER
That kid’s fucked up.

NICK
It’s not like Alan to make decisions on his own. He was put up to it by someone else…

Nick and Porter appear in front of another door.

NICK
I’m sure he was the one that made Alan steal our toilet paper.

PORTER
Are you sure you want to confront him? It’s only been 7 days since he’s tried to foul up our Cranium game.

NICK
Cranium is a different matter. This is Toilet Paper!

Nick and Porter enter the room without knocking and are face-to-face with their enemy.

NICK
Nathaniel.

A sinister-looking man stands in front of his window, facing Nick and Porter.

NATHANIEL
The infamous Nick and Porter. Your shenanigans have become tiresome in this household. I have brought it upon myself to bring you down.

PORTER
Downstairs?

NATHANIEL
No.

NICK
But we’re upstairs.

NATHANIEL
Shut up.

PORTER
I don’t get it. This is kinda Almond Joy-ish.

NATHANIEL
Almond Joy what?

PORTER
Perplexing.

NATHANIEL
What the fuck are you talking about?

PORTER
Almond Joy-ish. It means perplexing.

NATHANIEL
What the fuck?

NICK
A myriad of vehement staplers are on their way to crush your impotent dreams of grandeur, Nathaniel!

NATHANIEL
Ok, I’m so fucking lost right now.  You two are fucking idiots. Just leave my room. I’ll give you the rent check later.

Cut to Nick and Porter outside Nathaniel’s room and the door shuts behind them.

NICK
Well, that was easy.

PORTER
Milky Way.

NICK
Would you stop that shit?

PORTER
I can’t, it’s the different things I call my creations as I scoop my ass.

NICK
Oh god.

NATHANIEL (off screen)
WHY IS THERE A BASKET OF SHIT UNDER MY WINDOW OH GOD IT SMELLS SO BAD!! I’LL GET YOU NICK AND PORTER!

NARRATOR
And the conspiracy to bring down the emperors of 307A had been demolished. Nick and Porter went on to become CEOs of AIG and Lehman Brothers at the same time, while Alan became CEO of Washington Mutual. Nathaniel stayed at home with his mom after college and worked at the local bookstore until he was forty as a cashier. Being fuddled by Nick and Porter had taken its toll on him and he lost all reason for living. He now has 50 max-level characters on World of Warcraft and sells gold to friends around town.

Moral of the story is: If you shit in a toilet, wipe up.

 

The Coffee Fires

There once was a man who became an arsonist.  Orson the Arson was a coffee-drinking fiend and would take caffeine pills by the handful before going to work in the morning.  He worked at a coffee shop in Los Angeles.  The traffic in the morning was pretty boring to sit through, as you could imagine, and for every five minutes he was stuck, he would take an extra caffeine pill.  All in all, he pretty much ingested 100 caffeine pills a day before going into work and drinking The Canoe of Coffee, the specialty drink of the coffee shop Canoe Coffee.  It was literally a canoe filled with coffee.

At Canoe Coffee, there were many other caffeine addicts who lazed about all day, drinking a Canoe of Coffee.  When a caffeine spike kicked in, the customers were regulated into the Rumpus Room where they could swing from trees, canoe down a fake river, and battle mechanical tigers and lions.  There was one time when Tiger 89 malfunctioned and almost gnawed off a customer’s leg, but since they signed a waiver saying anything that may happen in the Rumpus Room stays in the Rumpus Room, they were trapped in the Rumpus Room forever!!!  It was like a jail, but everyone got to point and laugh at the delegged customer who was renamed Deleggy the Legs.

Deleggy the Legs was given a desk and a computer so that she may browse the internet.  She had a wireless mouse and it wouldn’t work so she called the front desk and asked for a corded mouse.  Unluckily for her, it was Orson the Arson who picked up the phone.

“DELEGGY, I DON’T KNOW WHAT A CORDED MOUSE IS, LEAVE ME ALONE.  I DO NOT KNOW ANYTHING ABOUT TECHNOLOGY I BARELY KNOW HOW TO USE THIS PHONE.” Orson screamed at Deleggy.

Orson hung up the phone, and that was that.

Across the street, Canoe Coffee’s competitor Kayak Coffee served the Kayak of Coffee, which was literally a kayak full of coffee.  They were having their “buy one for the price of three sale.”  Kayak Coffee’s marketing of their event was pounding Canoe Coffee’s sales the whole week and they were falling behind, as they do every year around this time.

Stan Jinjam, the owner of Canoe Coffee, devised a plan to take care of Kayak Coffee once and for all.  He would replace all the coffee at Canoe Coffee with Green Tea!  Green Tea was super disgusting and no one likes it.  Canoe Coffee would go out of business in a day!

It was around that time that Jenny Sanzdfit, owner of Kayak Coffee, devised her own plan to put Kayak Coffee out of business – replacing all of their coffee with melted butter.  Canoe Coffee would go out of business in less than 3 hours!

Orson the Arson had other plans, though.  He couldn’t work somewhere for very long without burning it down, since he was insane like that.  Canoe Coffee and Kayak Coffee would both be good targets considering they would probably blame each other for the mess he created.  It was the perfect plan, especially since they were both planning on destroying the others’ business to begin with.

That was the day when The Three Leaf Clover Gang made their move into the coffee industry.  The Three Leaf Clover Gang was pushed out of the hard drug business by rising prices on gasoline, and they just couldn’t afford to keep their cocaine supply chain AND pay for gas for all their cronies.

In the middle of the night, behind Kayak Coffee, Orson was dumping gas on the persimmon trees that would start the fire.  On the other side of the building, Jake “Kidney Stone” Marauder was placing explosives.  He had already wired Canoe Coffee and was planning on blowing them both up at the same time.  Little did either know of the other’s plans until they bumped their backs into each other.

“Who are you!?” Jake yelled as he placed his hand on his pistol.

“Who am I?  WHO ARE YOU??” Orson screeched in his high-pitched caffeine voice.  Orson was waving his gas can around in the air.

“What are you doing with that can of gas?”

“What are YOU doing with those explosives?”

“I’m burning this joint down, I’m an arsonist!”

“I’m blowing this joint up, I’m a mobster!”

Orson was very confused.  “A mobster?  Look buddy, this is my score.  I need to see something burn, and soon, and your explosives are going to get in the way of my basking in the heat of fire.”

“Your score?  This is our turf, we’re moving in, buddy!  If anyone’s going to destroy these coffee places it’s gonna be us!  We need to make a statement!” Jake poked Orson with his finger.

Orson flipped out when Jake poked him and grabbed it in his hand and then bit it.

“AHHHH!  YOU BIT ME YOU SON OF A MOTHER!!!”  Jake screamed.

Orson hissed at Jake and ran around behind the tree, swallowing even more caffeine pills.

Jake pulled out his gun and started blasting away at the tree.  Persimmon juice started splattering everywhere as the tree was riddled with gunshots.

Orson reached into one of his pockets and began to throw caffeine pills at Jake while swallowing another handful.

“What the hell is this stuff!?” Jake smacked as many of the random raining pills away as he could.  Orson quickly jumped into the tree, came down onto Jake, and began scratching him after they both crash-landed on the floor.  They were showered with persimmon juice and caffeine pills as and rolling around on the ground.

“I’ll show you why they call me ‘Kidney Stone,’ you freak!” Jake grunted during the exchange.

Jake grabbed a stone off the ground and started smashing it into Orson’s kidneys.

“WAAAHHHHH!!!” Orson winced in pain as packages of caffeine pills exploded out of his pockets after being hit in the kidneys a couple of times.

“HOW MANY PILLS DO YOU HAVE???  THIS IS RIDICULOUS!!!” Jake got up and backed away from Orson.

Orson crawled on the ground towards one of the loose bottles of caffeine pills.  He was eating pills along the way as fast as he could.

Jake took out the detonator and started to back up again towards the persimmon tree.  “Ok, kiddo.  I didn’t want to kill anybody, but I’m going to put you out of your misery.  Your caffeine addiction is absolutely ridiculous.”

“I can quit if I want to.”  Orson slowly said as his real plan was coming to fruition.

“Yeah, that’s what they all say, but we all know that…” Jake began, but was interrupted by being lit on fire.

While Orson was behind the persimmon tree, he placed a fuse on the ground which lit up the persimmon tree — and Jake “Kidney Stone” Marauder.

A good five minutes of burning corpse later, Orson was still picking up caffeine pills off the floor, swallowing one for every three he picked up.

The Twin Brothers McGee, Lefty “Left” McGee and Righty “Other Left” McGee came out of the car to see what was holding up Jake.  To their astonishment, they saw Jake; dead and burned to a crisp with the detonator still in his hand, and Orson on the ground picking up large white pills that were littered all over the ground.

Lefty and Righty looked at each other and stared at Jake and Orson in equal amounts.  Orson paid no attention to the mobsters and kept picking up his pills in frantic fashion.

Lefty pointed to Orson.  “Did this guy burn Jake?”

Righty pointed to Jake.  “Well he wouldn’t burn himself!  …would he?”

Lefty went over and grabbed Orson by the collar.  “Hey man, who are you, what are you—“

Before Lefty could finish his stereotypically inquisitive line of questioning given the situation, Orson freaked out and began throwing caffeine pills into his mouth and then threw some at Lefty.

“HEY MAN!  CALM DOWN, WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU?!”

A swift kick to the balls from Orson was all that was needed to subdue Lefty and have him release his collar.  Lefty yelled, “MY LEFTY!” and fell to the ground and passing out.

Righty, equipped his trademarked Left-Handed brass knuckle (his brother, Lefty, had a Right-Handed brass knuckle and was right-handed, too, as opposed to Righty who was left-handed) and swung at Orson the Arson.

Orson’s face got smashed and he fell to the ground into a pile of caffeine pills.  Orson’s mouth became a vacuum and he sucked them all up.

Righty was getting ready to beat Orson a little bit more, and maybe marinate him for cooking, when Orson got a caffeine spike.  When Orson gets a caffeine spike, he begins to get crazy.  If you thought he was crazy before, you should see what happens when a crazy person goes crazy in relative terms.

Orson took a match out of his coat and took a swig from a flask full of gas.  He turned around, lit the match, and sprayed the gas onto the match, lighting up Righty.  Righty ran around and then fell to the ground after inhaling flames.  He was soon burned on the floor.  Orson removed another container of gas from his pocket and dumped it on Lefty, who was barely conscious on the floor.

Orson’s maniacally caffeinated smile filled his face as he lit another match.

Out of nowhere, from the distance, the mobster sharpshooter Langdon “The Big Sleeper” Cranson shot the match out of Orson’s hand.  It flew into the air and as Orson turned around, the match landed only a couple inches away from Lefty.

Orson was caught off guard by the gunman.  “The Big Sleeper” got his name not from being able to shoot very well but the fact that he is a fat guy and sleeps a lot.  He was a mobster, after all, not in the military or even a local police force.  He was classified as a sharpshooter because he could actually hit something when he’s shooting, unlike everyone else in the Three Leaf Clover Gang that likes to just spray bullets everywhere.

The Big Sleeper lumbered forward as he tried to make his way up the incline towards Orson and the rest of the burning bodies.  Orson spat out the caffeine pills in his mouth.  As they flooded out of his mouth in an endless stream, Orson began a high-pitched yell as he reached a psychotic high from the caffeine.  The Big Sleeper, tired from having to shuffle at a fast pace for about ten steps, stopped dead in his tracks as he saw the flood of pills coming out of Orson’s mouth.

“Oh, no.  I ain’t paid to deal with junkies no more.  We are in the coffee business, now, not doing this no more.  No more.” The Big Sleeper made a U-Turn and started shuffling away from Orson, occasionally looking back and trying to take a shot at him with his handgun with a scope on it.  However, he completely missed every time because the angle of his large body didn’t allow for him to shoot directly behind him.  Instead of shooting in the direction where Orson was, he shot to the sides, where innocent Persimmon trees became victim to bullets.

Orson jumped into the air, his hands and feet somehow lit on fire and he grabbed a hold to the back of The Big Sleeper.  The Big Sleeper yelled in pain as he fell to the ground and rolled around on the floor.  Orson didn’t hold on for long since the rotund man rolled faster and faster down the five foot incline.  Orson remained on the floor, crawling in a slithering manner towards The Big Sleeper who was laying in the middle of the road with his huge belly up.

“I have a Fascination for Fire…” Orson said as he slithered toward The Big Sleeper.

The Big Sleeper, unable to move, could only watch as the menacing arson made his slow crawl toward him.  His gun lay just out of his reach.

“AND I MUST BURNNNNN YOUUU!!!” Orson screeched as he scrounged on the ground toward The Big Sleeper.

“NOOOOOO”

Gun shots and the sound of flames erupted as the two coffee houses exploded.  The Big Sleeper’s voice echoed into the night, but was soon masked by the explosion and fires.

“YESSSSSS!!!!!” Orson rose up from the ground as the energy from the fires invigorated him.

“It has been 600 years, but I have finally burned enough coffee-related structures to return to my true form!!”  Orson’s skin began to turn to scales and large claws began to form on his hands.  In a blast of stanky air and caffeine pills, Coffee Breath the Dragon has been renewed!

At that instant, 40 more members of the Three Leaf Clover Gang trooped down the street in the middle of the burning commercial complex.  They had heard of the atrocities that happened to their special forces and came to deal with the “issue.”

Johnny “Funny Man” Toofonny unsheathed his sledgehammer from its holster and pointed it to the roaring dragon.

“This dragon killed Jake, Righty, Lefty, and Langdon!  Let’s get him!”

At the same time, all forty of the henchmen began shooting with their submachine guns at the large dragon.  Every bullet bounced off the dragon’s shiny scales as he came close to the group of henchman.  With a swipe, five henchmen flew into the air towards Canoe Coffee.   The large canoe on top of the building had been filled with melted butter, and the flying henchmen knocked it loose, spilling a flood of melted butter into the street where the other henchmen were.

Another swipe from Coffee Breath and this time henchman hit the kayak on top of Kayak Coffee.  The kayak had been filled with green tea, and came pouring down into the street along with the melted butter.

Unknown to anyone in the world before this day, the mixture of melted butter and green tea created a concoction that had more energy in it than rocket fuel, and the gun powder residue from the firing machine guns hit the fumes created by the Melted Butter Green Tea Rocket Fuel, or MBGTRF for short.  Everyone was lit on fire in a magical-looking green fire with yellow streaks.

 

All that was left of the Three Leaf Clover Gang in the area was Johnny Toofonny.  He watched in horror as all of his friends burned in the magical green fire.  Coffee Breath walked up behind him and grabbed Johnny by the head.  He crushed him with his claws, throwing away the remains into the pile of burning corpses that were once his friends.

Coffee Breath began to flap his wings, and as he gained height, the MBGTRF energy began to swirl around him.  It began to swirl fast enough that it turned Coffee Breath into the fastest dragon in the world and he disappeared in a streak of melted butter and green tea.

After the dust had settled, Deleggy the Legs emerged from the rubble.

 

“FREEDOOOOMMMM!!!”

 

The next day, both of the owners of Kayak Coffee and Canoe Coffee were sued for conspiracy of false imprisonment.  It turned out Kayak Coffee and Canoe Coffee were conspiring to create insurance fraud for sabotaging each other’s companys and forcing people to harvest coffee beans in their underground jungle lair.  Even though their buildings were blown up by gangsters and a dragon, their underground jungle lair became the only focus.

 

Moral of the story:  Don’t trust news sources, they leave out the whole story.

 

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.

 

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.

 

socacilnacilcaso

socacilnacilcaso – n. the mixture of feelings you get when you realize that there is absolutely no toilet paper for you to wipe your ass with — and you’ve already sat down and let loose.  It is a three stage process.

Stage 1 – Astonishment and/or Surprise

Stage 2 – Realization, Reflection, Accusations, and/or Paranoia about conspiracy to remove the toilet paper from the bathroom.

Stage 3 – Resolution and/or Dirty ass

 

“Is Our Health On the Line?” Breakdown

This entry is part 3 of 13 in the series Dave's Breakdown

While I’m at work, I get to read Yahoo! News.  I’ve got plenty of time to catch up on everything that’s fucked up with the world, and all this stuff with WikiLeaks is going off into this weird place with people asking for the death of the founder and all this other conspiracy-worthy nutjobbiness.

Then comes Yahoo! Health.  Every time I read one of their stupid ass articles I get angry.  I don’t get angry because of the facts they present.  I mostly get angry in the WAY they do it.  Most of their stupid articles are about how a hamburger from TGI Fridays is the equivalent to 15 large chocolate smoothies or how an extra-cheese pizza is the equivalent to 29 tofu hot dogs without the buns.

But their most recent travesty of the English language comes in the form of an article named “Is Your Health on the Line?” — and if you couldn’t get the pun in the title of the article its about CELL PHONES!!!! OMG!!!!  THE LASER BEAMS ARE SHOOTING INTO YOUR BRAIN AND INTO YOUR PELVIS AND ITS GOING TO GIVE YOU CANCER SO STOP USING YOUR CELL PHONE AS AN ALARM CLOCK AND START JUMPING OFF BUILDINGS BECAUSE YOU’RE NOT GOING TO GET AWAY FROM YOUR CELL PHONE’S LIFE-STEALING RADIATION!

So I’m going to break down the article piece by piece, mostly by the quotes that I hate.

“Unless you’ve had your cell phone permanently glued to your ear, chances are you’ve heard the recent health buzz: …”

This opening sentence just rubs me the wrong way instantaneously, and really sets the mood for the whole article.  “HAHA FUCK YOU” is what the author is saying to everyone who might fit the description.  Gross generalizational remarks such as this are part of the reason why I hate writers who try to make their sensationalist bullshit something you should care about.

“… Mobile devices may cause cancer. While it’s true that the National Cancer Institute has ruled them safe, a growing number of independent researchers disagree.”

Okay.  So… they “MAY” cause cancer.  However, the leading institute of cancer research says its safe.  Soooo…. let’s find some random people who can say otherwise, and call them “independent researchers.”  Yes, these independent researchers that you’ve never heard of, but now are making statements that can affect your life and tell you what to do.  It’s bullshit like this that makes those random idiots out there say “THEY SAY IT CAUSES CANCER.”  Who is the ever elusive “they?”  “They” are fictitious “independent researchers” (aka experts, apparently) quoted by terrible writers who nominate themselves for Pullitzers.

Now, let’s take a look at how reliable the National Cancer Institute is.  Well, look at that, they have a .gov in their URL.  http://www.cancer.gov/.  So, a fucking governmental institute that has researched cancer as the sole purpose of their existence is not reliable enough to put the issue to rest.  So let’s get all the paranoid idiots of the world hyped up about cell phones shooting dangerous radiation into our skulls since there’s nothing else better to do.

“Most phones do comply with the federal standards, but SAR monitors only thermal effects. (In other words, if the radiation from your phone isn’t cooking your brain, it’s regarded as safe.)”

Sensationalism!  YES!  :zzz:  If a cell phone doesn’t FRY YOUR BRAIN it must be safe!! :zzz: :zzz: :zzz: :zzz:   I guess if a cell phone doesn’t signal an airplane to land on your face it’s also safe.

So, apparently there are phones that don’t comply with federal standards, as proven by this article.  I would assume if this statement were actually founded, that cell phones that DIDN’T comply with federal standards should be reported.  Y’know, since that’s not exactly legal.  Or maybe it is.  In which case, where can I buy a microwave gun to shoot some people’s ovaries and testicles with so they never procreate?

“But mounting scientific evidence suggests that nonthermal radio frequency radiation (RF)—the invisible energy waves that connect cell phones to cell towers, and power numerous other everyday items—can damage our immune systems and alter our cellular makeup, even at intensities considered safe by the FCC.”

Mounting scientific evidence from the articles own, nameless independent researchers/experts?  WHO ARE THESE PEOPLE!

THE INVISIBLE ENERGY WAVES – OH NOOOOO!!  They’re invisible!  That must mean they’re bad!  Hey guess what, you fucktard.  VISIBLE ENERGY WAVES have more radiation in them than RF waves!  MIND BOGGLING!

Alter our cellular makeup, so we’re mutating right in front of ourselves?  Sweet, when do I get to turn into a puddle of water and hide behind the laundry machines?

“”The problem is that RF can transfer energy waves into your body and disrupt its normal functioning,” explains Cindy Sage, an environmental consultant in Santa Barbara, California, who has studied radiation for 28 years.”

OH LOOK!  It’s our first independent researcher.  Cindy Sage.  Hmm… Let’s see if we can find anything about her.  But before that, let’s take a look at the “RF can disrupt its normal functioning” statement.  What the fuck does she think we are?  Robots?  We don’t take signals from a cell phone tower to lift our arm, do we?  And another thing, “can” is a very interesting word to use.  It’s mostly used when you don’t know for sure one way or the other.  Meaning… YOU DON’T KNOW what the fuck you’re talking about apparently.

So, Cindy Sage.  Who are you and why do you think you’re so smart?  Let’s go look at your web site.  http://www.silcom.com/~sage/emf/index.html.  Wow.  So your web site is all about how you can decrease the intensity of electromagnetic fields… among other seemingly random things.  And you charge people for it, obviously.  So, I see a conflict of interest here.  Why wouldn’t you want people to freak out about EMF bullshit when you make money by decreasing the amount of EMF in a given area.  Let’s jump to later in the article:

“We’re going to wireless offices and living in wireless homes. Even beaches and parks are going wireless. We’re exposed everywhere.”

Because the sun never posed a threat in beaches or parks before cell phones.

“The good news is that you don’t need to ditch your gadgets. This advice will let you stay plugged in—and keep you healthy.”

Oh, good.  After seven paragraphs of saying how terrible any of these wireless “gadgets” are, you say we can keep them.  How terribly contradicting.  Yet, it soothes the minds of your readers after you’ve insulted them, because they can’t live without their high tech gizmos and gadgets.  I guess Aeriel from Little Mermaid got a brain tumor since she spent so much time with cell phones sailors dropped in the ocean.

“When your phone is on (which it probably is even as you read this) it’s constantly sending and receiving RF signals… The activity really amps up when you’re, say, driving through rural areas. Plus, within the close confines of a car, your entire core is exposed to the radiation.”

Oh no, my tumorous-causing, cancer-causing, soul-stealing cell phone is on and sending my position to the aliens!

I find it very misleading that “within the close confines of a car” you are exposed to MORE RF from your cell phone than if you aren’t in a car.  How does a cell phone’s RF signals all of a sudden expose your “entire core” to radiation as opposed to outside of your car?  It’s in the same place relative to your body.  If anything, the RF signals would be absorbed by the car around you instead of shooting into the 6 year old kid you always seem to have next to your cell phone so you can give them brain cancer.  Being in a car doesn’t do anything more than being out of a car.  In fact, having your windows closed avoids radiation from a more powerful source of energy – ULTRAVIOLET.  Yeah, remember that?  That’s actually something to be mindful of.

“The safer solution: Keep your phone off when driving until you really need it, says Carpenter.”

Well, Carpenter is an idiot.  How would we be able to desperately call for help in a car crash if our cell phone was off?  We’d have to wait 15 seconds for the cell phone to come on, and by then you could have already gone into cardiac arrest.  So, fuck that!  But, at least the bonus is you don’t have to worry about RF waves shooting into your exposed liver as your bleeding all over your face in an car turned upside down in the middle of the freeway.

“And no matter where you are, avoid holding a cell phone directly to your noggin… and use either speakerphone or a corded headset (not a wireless headset).”

So I guess if I’m in public it’s okay for people to hear both sides of the conversation, not like private information being leaked around is worse for you or anything.

“If you have a smartphone that’s loaded with games, music, and movies, turn your wireless settings off while playing or rocking out.”

I HATE PEOPLE WHO SAY “ROCKING OUT.”  FUCK YOU.  I AM NOT ROCKING OUT, IT IS A FUCKING SONG THAT I LIKE TO LISTEN TO.

“Cordless Phones

These stealth wireless threats “have become so powerful, they’re often as strong as cell phones,” says Sage.”

My God.  They’re like worse than a Stealth B-2 Nuclear Bomber, the way they write this article.  At least we can control nuclear bombs.

“Preliminary blind studies have found that, when sitting beside a DECT phone base, some people experienced arrhythmia, a troubling heartbeat irregularity that could eventually lead to stroke or coronary disease, says Sage.”

If RF signals do that by themselves, then there must also be a frequency that stops arrhythmia, too!

“If the whole body is radiated by a router’s RF emissions, the greatest concern is cancer, especially leukemia,” says Carpenter. Also, be aware of your at-home router and any plug-in wireless USB cards you often use.

So, lets get this straight.  Wireless Routers cause leukemia.  Cordless phones cause arrhythmia.  Cell phones cause brain tumors and/or cancer.  Sounds totally real yet so very unproven!

“That Ethernet technology doesn’t leak RF and is often faster and more secure.”

So bad.  They make it seem like anything that uses RF technology UNINTENTIONALLY shoots out its RF signals.  As if that’s not what it’s designed to do!

“If you just can’t give up your wireless router (e.g., if you live in a home with a handful of computer users), make sure you sit as far away from it as possible, says Crofton, and turn it off at night and whenever you’re not online.”

That defeats the purpose of a wireless router.  Sitting as far away as possible from a wireless router gets you shitty reception.  Why would you want shitty internet intentionally?

“When you hold your laptop on your lap, what you’re essentially doing is radiating your pelvis,” says Carpenter, …”

And Laptops make you sterile…

“Indeed, early studies point to a heightened risk of testicular cancer for men who keep RF-emitting devices close to their belts.”

…give you testicular cancer…

“For women, adds Carpenter, “the studies aren’t quite there yet, but I think we can say that anything that might cause cancer almost always causes birth defects, so pregnant women—or those wanting to become pregnant soon—should take extra precautions.”

…give you ovarian cancer and makes your babies downy babies.  Death to RF!  I mean, death to light!  Does that make sense?

“The safer solution: Keep your laptop off your lap (if you have to rest it there, buffer it with a sturdy pillow that’s at least six inches thick).”

Because pillows absorb RF light or something?  How is a pillow supposed to stop that if it isn’t opaque to RF light?  It could be translucent, for all we know, depending on the material your pillow is made of, and the RF waves just go right through the pillows.  Not to mention you are creating a FIRE HAZARD by putting your laptop on a pillow and having the laptop heat up and possibly start smoking and blow up and burn you and your pillow and your ovaries and your house down.  Smart people are really dumb.

“Try to use a desktop computer at home and treat your laptop as an on-the-go convenience.”

Isn’t the reason that most people have a laptop because they don’t have room for a desktop?

“One thing to keep in mind: Laptops are a high RF radiation risk only while connected to wireless Internet, so when you’re watching a DVD, fiddling around with your photos, or writing that dissertation, just disable your connection and you’ll be much safer.”

Safe from what?  The invisible cancer waves?   I guess fiddling around with your secret porn collection is just as dangerous in the end, you never know who might see you doing stuff with them, and use that as justification to murder you.  Guess you don’t have to worry about invisible threats of cancer when you’re DEAD from an abusive relationship.

“Baby monitors release more RF than cell phones do, and putting them next to a crib is very, very unwise,” says Carpenter. He points to a recent University of Utah study that shows RF radiation can penetrate almost entirely through a child’s brain, which doesn’t form completely until nearly 20 years of age. “It’s very clear from all the existing research that the younger the child is, the more vulnerable he or she is to the effects of RF radiation.”

In one temporal lobe and out the other, I always say (I don’t)!  Did all of that “existing research” also say that the younger a child is, the more vulnerable they are to BELIEVING STUPID SHITTY ARTICLES ON YAHOO HEALTH?

“The safer solution: Consider not using a baby monitor. If you absolutely must use one, place it far from your baby’s crib—at least 10 to 15 feet away.”

That way it makes it easier for you to not know if your baby is in need of help!  Or makes it easy for some random guy to come in and steal your baby!  Guess you don’t have to worry about brain tumors and cancer when you don’t have a baby anymore.  Also, if there’s nothing in between the baby and the monitor, THE LIGHT DOESN’T GET ABSORBED.  In fact, you’re making sure to shower your baby’s WHOLE BODY with RF waves, and making everything around him absorb RF light as well so they can sleep in an irradiated crib.  According to the article’s logic, anyhow.

In conclusion, there is no conclusion.  This article is full of stupid crap and is trash.  This is one of the worst articles I’ve ever read.

 

Dave’s Notes: Sylvester and the Magic Pebble

This entry is part 2 of 5 in the series Dave's Notes

There was this stupid kid named Sylvester Duncan and he had a hobby of collecting pebbles.  What a douche.  Honestly, he couldn’t figure out something better to do with his time?  Did I mention he was a donkey?  No?  I guess I spoiled the midway surprise if you read this without any pictures attached like I did.

So, anyway, this donkey liked to collect pebbles.  He found a magic pebble that was enchanted by a novice wizard who was getting used to new incantations on the hill nearby Sylvester’s home town.  This wizard was probably a gopher, and he’s not in the story at all.  But you know he’s watching…

Sylvester is so happy when he finds this pebble because he wants to be a geologist one day and he would be the first donkey geologist anyone had ever conceived for a fairy tale.  He was going to be famous!  Sort of.

Anyway, this pebble grants wishes and he wished for stupid shit to happen, mostly to do with the weather.  As he was skipping along on the way home, instead of using the pebble to travel around wherever he wanted, like a smart donkey geologist would, he encountered the hobo murderer lion that lived on Strawberry Hill — and he had an appetite for stupid donkey geologists such as Sylvester.  He just ate the giraffe seismologist and he wasn’t too filling.

So, like the dumb donkey he is, he wishes that he was a rock and loses grip of the magic pebble.  Well, now Sylvester is a rock.  I told you he was smart, now he gets to see how life is like being a rock.  The lion takes a piss on him and leaves him to die.  If only the lion knew the power of the magic pebble, he’d be a respected and unfeared member of the animal populace.  He’d also have fairy tales written about HIM.  But I guess not.

So, Sylvester fell asleep for 20 years.  During that time, his parents looked for him, but it was all for naught.  After three almost-divorces and taking the lion to court for kidnap and murder three times (there was no such thing as double jeopardy in Oatsdale, but there was something called justice and parental negligence), the Duncan Donkey parents forgot about their son and tried to live on without him — which wasn’t hard.  They turned his room into an exercise room and tossed out his shitty pebble collection.

So, one day the Duncans went for a picnic and a screw on Strawberry Hill where they started remembering about their son from 20 years ago.  They found a pebble on the ground which just happened to be the magic pebble and wished that Sylvester was there, so they could beat the shit out of him for leaving the house all those years ago for a stupid hobby.

Hark!  The rock Mr. Duncan had his ass on turned into their son and they beat the shit out of him like they wanted.  They dragged him home by his ear and locked him in a cage.  They put the magic pebble in an iron safe so that no one would wish for stupid shit anymore and because the Duncans were already rich from the Duncan vs. Oatsdale Police court case where the Duncans charged the Oatsdale Police with conspiracy for covering up the disappearance of Sylvester.

Little did they know, the lion would get a lawyer to prosecute the Duncans for defamation of character in the disappearance cases and would retain all of the Duncans’ possessions once they found out Sylvester was trapped in the Duncans’ house.  Which meant Sylvester would get put into slavery (since he became a possession) and the magic pebble would sit in a locked safe owned by a lion who didn’t know the combo.

This whole time, the gopher wizard was sitting at home watching Street Sharks on DVD and enjoying the company of his gopher prostitutes.

 

Intersections: Phenomena or Conspiracy?

Stupid intersections.

For example, you’re walking down the street, toward an intersection of 2 streets. As you walk toward it, not a car is there, but…as you get closer and you’re about to go across the street, the cars come from all ways, making your crossing all the more difficult, not to mention all the people driving the cars are usually idiots, almost running you over and such. Or if they don’t see you and cut in front of you, smiling and waving.

CROCK OF SHIT THAT’LL DO FOR YOU, THEY ALMOST RAN ME THE FUCK OVER, WHY SHOULD I BE SMILING AND WAVING BACK TO THEM? “THANKS FOR ALMOST RUNNING ME OVER, YOU GOT LUCKY THIS TIME!”

Then, as soon as you go across, they’re gone. No more cars. Its all bullshit really, its like all those people plan to go into the intersection at the same time as you.

Is it a conspiracy? Maybe.

Is it a phenomena? I don’t give a shit.

I’m just pissed off at intersections, and you should hate them too.