Category Archives: Fairy Tales

These are stories written in a fairy tale fashion.

Stories, Fairy Tales

Sunken Queen Mary (By Aliens)

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In July 2022, maintenance of the Queen Mary fell behind.  Retrofitting of the 50 caliber artillery rail guns was behind schedule.  This was the tactical advantage the aliens needed to destroy The Queen.

In the midst of battle an ancient civilization, named the Risk and Insurance Management Joint Officiants Bond (aka RIMJOB), rose from the aftermath to challenge the aliens and reclaim what is rightfully theirs, the Workers’ Compensation industry.

Their leader, Grand Imperialist Sobby Mardon was soon hit with fraudulent longshore claims due to the sinking of the Queen Mary.  Eventually, Sobby Mardon employed the services of WeSuckAt Investigations to investigate these claims and was immediately regretful.  They sucked.

Moral: If you’re going to hire someone to investigate fraud, hire a good company.

Stories, Fairy Tales

The Coffee Fires

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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.

Stories, Fairy Tales

What Do You Know About Killumbus?

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Killumbus was in his castle, counting his stacks of money.  Scholars have asked each other, “what do you know about Killumbus?” and their answers have always been “not much.”

What they do know, is unconfirmed at best.

What they do know is the following:

  • He might live in that big castle over there.
  • He might have lots of money.
  • He might have killed lots of people to get it.

Killumbus was once an explorer of nations.  He took his fleet of ships through the seas and found new people to kill.  He kept a room of massacred bones from magical peoples, living in self-imposed exile.  As his name might imply, he couldn’t stop killing.  Everyone.

Killumbus’ weapon of choice was the fan of knives.  He would throw knives up to 250 yards with deadly (that’s a pun) accuracy.  Once when he had visited the Exiled Land of Juziviel, Killumbus had already stuck a knife in 40% of the island’s population from the assaulting rowboats.  The massacre took only three days, and once the dead bodies had been deboned, they put them on the barges and shipped them to the next target on their map.

Killumbus’ Magical Map was a map that allowed them to find magical and mystical places that were hidden from the normal explorers of the world who did not want to kill everyone they saw.  Killumbus’ greatest conquest came in the form of the country of Debrine.

Debrine was a fantastical country full of prosperity and equality.  The culture of Debrine had evolved over centuries to become one of valuing your community and promoting self-worth.  As a result, Debrine’s streets were always clean and there was never any traffic.  Yes, life was good in Debrine, until its streets were full of blood.

Killumbus rode in on the coattails of the night, when many of the guard towers of Debrine had begun their transitional period of turning the lights on.  But since they didn’t have timers in their lighthouses, they always had to judge whether it was a good time to turn on the lights once the sun had begun to lose its light.  Killumbus and his elite squad of bad asses rowed in right underneath their noses, climbed up the infiltrated guard tower and chewed up the guard beyond recognition.

The country of Debrine was as big as a large metropolitan city, and to eliminate a city full of hundreds of thousands of people was going to take a long time.  Killumbus established the Guard Tower as his base of operations and renamed the beach into Killumbus’ Landing.  The Guard Tower was also expanded into a proper castle, in which Killumbus now resides.

The government officials of Debrine did not understand how an outsider was able to find their land, considering a magical sorcerer had enchanted their land with a hiding spell.  When one of the ambassadors came to open negotiations with the hostile force, he had met Killumbus in his base of operations – well before the castle had been created.

Not much has been publically released to Debrine as to what had transpired.  But this is what happened:

  • The ambassador of Debrine was led into Killumbus’ tent.
  • The ambassador of Debrine was instantly stabbed and began spewing blood.
  • The ambassador of Debrine had his intenstines removed.
  • The ambassador of Debrine was then choked with his own intestine.
  • The ambassador of Debrine’s lifeless body was hung outside on a pole for all to see.

Needless to say, Killumbus was one sadistic a-hole.

While the government of Debrine deliberated what they should do to repel the intruders, Killumbus and his crew fortified their position and eventually he built his castle.

Why was Killumbus such a sadistic bad ass?  Well, let’s start at the beginning.

It was recess in Kindergarten at Joy Flower Elementary school in Las Vegas, Nevada.  Killumbus’ original name was Christopher Kohlrhombus and he liked to watch cartoons.  His mother was a businessman and his dad was a female stripper.  Before you ask why you are so confused about the way the genders are referenced, maybe you should ask yourself why you are so gender-biased and re-evaluate the way you live your life.

One day at Kindergarten class, Mrs. Gallagher played the piano, signaling that it was time to stop having fun and start being real.  On their way in, Christopher and his friend Christopher put away their imaginary swords after re-enacting an episode of their favorite TV show Pensacoli Wily Weasel Fighters.  They always had fun running around fighting each other and they were good friends.  Poor Christopher Kohlrhombus never saw this friend again after that day, because when they graduated from Kindergarten they went to different first grade classes that never interacted with each other.  Christopher had built this relationship over the course of a year only to have it thrown away by society’s bureaucracy.  He might not have cared as much if some loser from 2nd grade said that going into 1st grade wasn’t that scary because he still got to hang out with all of his same friends from Kindergarten.  Why did he have to lie?  Instead of having the same friends he had NO friends because he didn’t see the same people he used to go to school with.  It’s not like his mother let him go anywhere during the weekdays, so the friends he did have stopped wanting to hang out with him.

Anyway, Christopher was in the backyard of his apartment building, digging at the ground because he had nothing else better to do.  He lived in an apartment complex and for some awful reason they planted two ugly trees behind the building.  A wizard by the name of Magister Buy1Get1Free was growing senile and had decided that very week to hide his map full of magical secrets between these two ugly trees because he thought the map would grow a more beautiful tree.  Don’t ask me why he thought that, he is senile for a reason.

Christopher spent all day digging, since he had no hobbies at the time, and found the map.  At first the little boy thought he had found a treasure map!   But really what it was is a map to a map.  And it was also a map to all the coin-operated laundromats in the city.

Not five minutes after having found the map, the asshole boy Fookfase The Asshole Kid started throwing ice cubes at Christopher!!  He pelted him pretty good this time because he caught Christopher off guard.  Christopher had to run home with ice scratches forming on his arms and legs.

Christopher, with map in hand, ran to get his baseball glove to run back outside to catch the ice cubes being thrown at him and throw them back.  But his mom asked him what he was doing.

“I’m going to go catch ice cubes and throw them back at that guy throwing them at me.”

“Oh no, you’re not.  That’s too dangerous and I don’t want you getting into trouble.  That’s why I took you out of tee-ball, I don’t want you getting hit by baseballs or ice cubes, for that matter!”

So, bored and shamed Christopher was confined to his room for the rest of the day playing video games and rubbing his scratches instead of taking revenge on the bully he had seen only once before.  Christopher looked at his map – it showed the path to a secret room in the apartment complex that may have been interesting.

Under the guise of night (at 7 pm), after his parents had gone to sleep, Christopher left with his map and started walking through the apartment complex.  He approximated the directions of the map and he came to a room which he had only seen once or twice before.  In reality, it was the senile wizard, Magister Buy1Get1Free’s apartment.  He pays 350 dollars a month on average for the room because half the time he’s able to make it disappear and make everyone forget about it, but since he’s getting older he forgets to hide his apartment from people’s minds on rent day.

Christopher touched the doorknob with his hand at which point the door disintegrated into magical dust and a dark room appeared before him.  There, on a couch sitting and staring into the dark room in front of him was Magister Buy1Get1Free.  His apartment was strangely decorated – there was two of everything; two TVs, two couches, two lamps, two dining room tables, and two microwaves among other things.

“So, you’ve found my map, have you?”

“Y-y-y-yes, sir.”  The young boy replied.

“That map you have holds special power, my young friend…  it allows you to see what is not there.”

Christopher looked with amazement at what he held in his hands.  The treasure was not what was ON the map, the treasure WAS the map!

“Let me tell you, young friend.  I am getting old.  I am not as sensible as I once was.  My years of extreme couponing and buying one item to get one free have taken its toll on me.  And my sanity.  Too much free stuff goes against free enterprise and the economic system we have in place, and as a result I have grown senile with guilt of taking advantage of those multi-million dollar corporations.”  Magister Buy1Get1Free rambled on.

Christopher didn’t understand anything the guy was talking about.  He was like 6 years old.

“I can grant you a power to destroy those whom you call your adversaries.  With that map in hand, you will have the power to end all of those bullies and assholes *I* encountered during my journeys.  I will use you to exact my vengeance…!”

With that statement, Magister Buy1Get1Free got off of his plastic-protected couch and waved his arm around.  Two staves flew into his hands and he waved them around.

“Young boy whom I do not know the name of…!!  You will now be a bloodthirsty maniac of the high seas and destroy the most sacred secrets this world has to offer, one by one!”

Christopher floated in the air and he began to shout as his thoughts became pure bloodlust.  Senile magic created a monster that would one day kill millions of magical peoples and destroy their civilizations.  He had created Killumbus.

Killumbus was given his magical Buy1Get1Free Fan of Knives set that allowed him to spawn two knives for every one thrown.  Hundreds of knives were at his disposal, and each were recoverable by encanting his retrieval spell.  Killumbus was one of the forefront killing machines ever created.

To set sail on his journey, he would need to acquire a crew of the most sadistic homicidal maniacs ever known.  Fookfase The Asshole Kid, with his special ice cube throwing skills, was immediately abducted and magically (literally) convinced to accompany Killumbus.  Other punk kids from the neighborhood, like Mark the Indian Burner, Carlo the Shark Biter, Stephen the Pincher, and Joy Love the Biker Bitch made up the core of Killumbus’ crew.  Their normal identities were erased from memory and Magister Buy1Get1Free conjured up ships for each of his core crew to command.  The Magister hid in the deep bowels of Killumbus’ Rhombus Destroyer.  The other ships were named The Friction Conviction, The Big Biter, The Ouchy Pincher, and Hell’s Envoy.  For the next 15 years, these ships had tracked down and destroyed one civilization after another and ended up on the shore of Debrine in the year 2012.

The Debrine campaign has just begun.

To be continued…?

Stories, Fairy Tales

The Cranes and the Masking Tape

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One day there was a family of cranes nesting happily below a huge fountain at an amusement park.  There were six cranes in all, happily living life, feeding from the crumbs dropped by the forever-eating patrons of the amusement park.

There was the mother, Sealee, and her beautiful husband, Archibald, who had four wonderful crane children.  The two oldest were twins, String Bean 1 and String Bean 2 (also known as The Twins String Bean collectively), followed by their sister Celithrulith and lastly, but certainly not least, came beautiful baby Stotch.

Stotch was only a few months old but was already showing great signs of growing up into a prestigious adult male.  He was the crown jewel of the family, because he was really pretty, cause he was a male, and males are pretty, and the only thing Sealee and Archibald would talk about to the other cranes they met while flying around the amusement park at night when all the a-hole tourists are gone.  However, because they were not as important as the new baby, the three sisters secretly met in the one place their parents would never think to look —  the bathroom — in order to find a way to get rid of “stupid baby Stotch.”

“We could strangle him!” the Twins String Bean shouted in the refracting walls of the bathroom.

“NOT SO LOUD!” Celi, short for Celithrulith, screeched at the twins.  “Strangling MIGHT be the best option, since us cranes have fragile necks….!”

The Twins String Bean started laughing in unison.

“But what should we strangle him with?!?” 1 said.

2 said, “Rope?”

1 said, “String?”

2 said, “A sweater?”

1 said, “A bowling ball?”

1 and 2 started rattling off random objects for about two minutes when Celi finally came to an epiphany.

“Masking tape…!”

All three cranes started squawking in excitement!  Masking tape was the worst feeling in the world for their feathers.  It stuck to it like no other adhesive and when you took it off, it took some feathers with it!

It was three weeks since the death of Stotch…  and the investigation was going nowhere!  Due to the chains of bureaucracy in the town of Beauracracy, also the fact that Tax-Free Furniture Week has been going on for three weeks no one gave a shit about the murder of a lowly no-tax-paying crane.  Sealee and Archibald had been crying ever since they found young Stotch strangled behind the river rapids depot, with the feathers around his neck ripped off.  His poor, fragile, neck had to been bent in an awkward direction.  As the tide came in at the river rapids, his body had traveled from where the murder had actually taken place, which still has yet to be found.

Sealee and Archibald spent the coming weeks in the company of their religious community, with Father Snewrug holding a ceremony for Stotch’s burial.  The three sisters, silently happy that all has been going according to plan, played along with the proceedings, no one the wiser that the murderers were with them the whole time.

Stotch’s spirit roamed the grounds of the amusement park for hundreds of years, as the Stotch the Crane Spirit became a theme during the Halloween event.  Eventually the park, renamed Stotch’s Scary Crane Park could not sustain on ghost stories alone.  It was closed down, and Stotch was truly alone, the images of his murder playing in his mind over and over.  Globs of masking tape littered the abandoned amusement park like tumbleweed, blowing across the landscape.

Stotch’s colors were very beautiful, even for a ghost.  It was what made him so noticeable when he appeared to people squawking in their faces.  Occasionally he would have been seen staring at people with his mouth wide open as he “watched” people going to the bathroom.  The things you can get away with as a ghost!

Stotch was feeling particularly even more alone than usual once the amusement park had been closed down.  It seemed like no one really cared about him, and there weren’t even any ghost-themed investigation reality TV shows coming to see find him anymore.

The abandoned amusement park was once again occupied when a sect of the human race, known scientifically as “Hipsters” began moving in.  They thought it would be so cool to live in an abandoned amusement park where no one would be able to criticize their tight jeans and hipster-sounding music.  They would have movie nights where they could watch all the classics, like Gone With the Windie Rock Festival, and The Fantastic Mr. Anti-Establishment Tight Jean Designer.

Ah, yes, life was grand in the old spooky haunted abandoned amusement park full of hipsters.  That was, until Stotch had enough of the hipster crap and Hot Topic receipts littering his home!  One by one, Stotch squawked very loudly in the face of each hipster, appearing and disappearing in a blinding flash.  Not only was he assaulting their senses, but he was ruining their movie nights and their mini-musical festivals that hipsters always like to say they attend.

Hipster-Honcho Jake Guldinthal, leader of the Hipsters proclaimed that all of his friends (also known as “subjects” in non-hipster lingo) should perform a séance to rid themselves of their ghostly companion.  His squawking ruined the best scene in Clearance-Priced Wedding, where the Princess of Bargain Bin Town finally said “I DO” to the Prince of Upscale Department Store Town and had a 50 minute-long lovemaking scene in which there was no nudity, and only money being used to touch each other.  It had something to do with using money for not-its-intended-purposes or something like that.  The movie ended with a wad of sweaty cash being thrown into the trash can.  Stotch’s fifty-one minute squawk would probably be a world record.  But, alas, the Hipster Congregation’s Hipster Council met in the Merry Go-Round to discuss their ghost infestation.  The only solution was to summon the bird into the open and shoo him away for good.

The cheapest psychic in the area, Jorge Yulonzagonez, a half Chinese, half Mexican, half Japanese man was hired to get rid of the ghost.  Now, you might be asking why this man is three halves of a person.  That’s because he is a conjoined “twin” with two heads, but both heads have the same consciousness.  Don’t ask why, but both brains work in unison with each other and when he speaks, both heads speak at the same time.  Sometimes he’s able to make one of them not say anything, if he’s making a joke, though.

Jorge Yulonzagonez came by in his station wagon, and the hipsters were all in a large circle around the bathroom building – the place where most of the activity seems to originate.  Jorge’s two heads spoke in unison, “Hello, my friends .  We are here today to exterminate this ghost of the day… this ghost of the night… this ghost that has been ruining your hipster musical festivals!  How dare this ghost ruin movie night and make your sensitive man leggings stretch further than they are meant to stretch!”

At that moment, Jimmy Santiago broke down and began to cry into his hands.  Those around him comforted him.

Jorge pointed towards Jimmy.  “It will be alright, my friend!  This puta will pay for the crimes he has committed!  Just because he’s a ghost, doesn’t give him free reign on being a jerk!”

Jimmy Santiago agreed with the empowering words and patted his comforting friends on the shoulder, thanking them for their support.

“Now, let us join hands and begin the expunging of this fowl ghost!”  Jorge got on top of a random box and began waving his hands around like a bird.

“CAW… CAW CAW!!!  SHOO GHOST!  SHOO!   LEAVE THIS PLACE!!” Jorge squawked like a bird.

Stotch screeched a howling screech that made all of the hipsters start dancing.  It sounded just like one of those bands they had at their last indie music festival, that they didn’t realize that it was actually a ghost!

Stotch manifested in front of Jorge, unable to disappear.  He stood in place and flapped his wings in an aggressive fashion.

Jorge pointed to Stotch.  “YOU!  GHOST!!!  LEAVE THIS PLACE IMMEADIATELY!”

Stotch fluttered his feathers.  “Who are you to tell me to leave this place?  I’ve lived here for a very long time and if you think some two-headed jerk can make me leave after what I’ve endured these years, you’ve got another thing coming, sir.  I was murdered in a bathroom and dumped into an amusement park water ride by my own jealous sisters!”

The hipsters all started crying.  It was like the plot from their favorite sappy movie that they never knew existed.  The only thing missing was a flight jacket and some ripped tight jeans with some shaggy hair cut.

Just then, a fleet of Versikons, a flying human species that is known to be a Hipster’s predator, swooped in on the crowd of crying hipsters.  They all dispersed and ran away crying into the distance as a few of them were lifted into the air and had their musical tastes demeaned by the Versikons.  Soon the Hipsters left the amusement park entirely, and only Jorge and Stotch remained.

“I didn’t see that coming.”  Jorge said from both of his heads.

Stotch agreed.

“Well, onto the next abandoned amusement park, eh Stotch?”  Jorge continued.

 

Jorge hopped onto Stotch and rode off into the sunset.  As they rode away, three female crane ghosts fluttered in the air.  On each neck hung shreds of masking tape…!

 

The End.

Stories, Fairy Tales

Max the Lovelorn Bear

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There once was a bear named Max.  He was a hopeless romantic who spent his days smelling flowers and eating bark off of trees for the cleanliness of his teeth.  He would always try to find the perfect flower to give to one of his many potential mates.

Natasha the Big Brown Bear was the skankiest bear in all of The NeighborWood, also known as “The Wood.”  She would climb trees and then eat the acorns out of their shells and then spit them at other bears.  She was so annoying.  This one time she spat an acorn shell on the mayor of The Wood, Mayor Hunstingson.  She was kicked out of the city for three days and had to direct traffic from the neighboring city ForesTown to and fro.  Traffic duty is pretty much the worst duty you could do in The Wood since everyone is an idiot and doesn’t know how to drive their cars.

Max found a Red Mistberry Flower growing in a ravine north of the NeighborWood Nuclear Factory.  He thought it smelled so good that he picked it and decided to give it to Natasha as a gesture of affection.  He thought since Natasha would be all alone on the Bearway Pass between NeighborWood and ForesTown, he could make his move.

It was an unfortunate misplacing of romantic intentions for Max.  Natasha had the IQ of a baboon, and the brain of one, too.  That’s why she’s so stupid.  Because she isn’t a bear, she is a baboon in the body of a bear.  Too bad for Max because she had a booty like DANGGGG!!!!!  Natasha ate his Red Mistberry Flower and spat the seeds at him when he presented it to her.

All spat on, heartbroken, and no one to love, Max went back to his den made out of bricks.  It was a nice den, but watch out if he wanted to fart because IT’S MADE OF BRICKS!!!!!  You may not get it, but sure.

The next week, Max found a flower called the Junior Talap Wishmaker.  It was the perfect type of flower to give to Allison the Green Bear.  Why was she green?  Because she is soooooo cool.  That’s why!  She’s like one of those chicks you see on BizarroBook who is friends with someone you know but sticks out like a sore thumb in their friends list.  So, Allison the Green Bear was at the local record store Bear-cords, smelling the guitar tablature books.  She liked the very minor temporary high the glue gave her.  Max came in, holding the large flower between his teeth, trotting down the aisle in a triumphant fashion.  Allison looked over to see Max presenting her with the flower.  She smelled it, but it did not give her even the slightest amusement.  Her swollen red eyes watered as the flowers pungent smell filled her sinuses.  She stood up on two legs and sneezed right onto Max’s face.  Max dropped the flower in astonishment and suddenly he was teleported back to his brick den.  The Junior Talap Wishmaker would grant one wish to anyone who sneezed on the face of the person that had picked (aka murdered) the flower.  In this case, Allison wished for Max to go away.

For two weeks, Max was again depressed and lacking in the macking.  He searched high and low for the next flower that would really impress his new love, Calista the Model Bear.  Calista spent most of her days at the NeighborWood Hidden Lake Resort, poolside, tanning in the moonlight.  The moonlight tanning fad had become a mandated regiment by the bear modeling agency known as Bear-It-All, and was forcing all of their famous bear models to take part in the tanning procedure which consisted of placing a huge amplification telescope above the tanner and focus the beam onto them until they became glowing with moon radiation.

Max was able to catch a spaceship to the Moon and picked a Moonflower for Calista since she seemed to like the Moon and he thought if he got this rare and special Moonflower which you could be arrested for if you picked it because there’s only like three of them left, so it makes it even MORE romantic because he committed a crime to show his love and chicks fall over for that stuff like a domino in a hurricane.

Max was seen by the Moonflower Security Response Team and for the next three days he was in the middle of a Western-Sci-Fi-style laser gunfight and spaceship dogfight campaign to get the flower back to the Earth.  Needless to say, and really the point I’m trying to make, is that Max did a lot to get this flower and it was a lot of effort.

After killing 67 members of the security team, they finally let him go.  Max gained the nickname the Moonflower Assassin for his cunning flower picking skills and being able to elude all of the security around the illustrious Moonflower.

Max , dressed in his space fighter leather jacket, with 67 tally marks on his right shoulder and “Moonflower Assassin” written in capital letters across his back, journeyed up the mountain to the Hidden Lake Resort.  Standing on two legs, he presented the Moonflower to Calista.

“Ugh, what is that?  I don’t even LIKE flowers… harrumph!”  Calista put the cucumbers back on her eyes and began to ignore Max again.

Max fell backward and the Moonflower, encased in its little forcefield blasted off towards the moon, to return to its nest.

Later next week, Max was escorted to the Emergency Sex Change Room.  He had absolutely no luck with women so he decided he wanted to try being one so that he could learn how to make one like him.

He hated flowers forever.

The end.

Moral of the story:  If you only have two minutes to think up a moral to explain your story, you’re doing it wrong.

Stories, Fairy Tales

The Magnificent Mr. Jharraque

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There once was a lad, named Mr. Jharraque.  He wasn’t always always named this, but he was named it for the greater percentage of his life, to the point where if you were rounding up or down, you would be rounding up and it would be 100%.

Mr. Jharraque was born a man of 300 pounds.  When he was born, he was so large, his mother had been assimilated into this man and no longer existed.  Mother Jharraque may still live on in Mr. Jharraque, but since he is a freak of nature, its unknown.  Once Mr. Jharraque was released from the hospital’s baby ward, he was given a suit and a briefcase by the hospital staff who pooled their own money together to buy the items for him.  They wanted him to seem like a professional and find a job in the Commerce District of the Rubunthium Sector of the Januthliyu Bar and Grill Space Station and so that he may stark out on a life on his own.

It wasn’t easy for a three day old who had just naturally taken over his mother’s body like a parasite and eaten her from the inside, but after a tough learning process, he finally got a job at a drug store whose primary funds were to sell fad diet solutions.  Mr. Jharraque was not a normal employee of the establishment, but more of a “live model” of how any number of their fad diets may work.  They pumped so many different diet supplements into the poor man’s body that he lost 150 pounds in 2 days.  He ate nothing but dry chemical powder straight out of the bag with a large wooden spoon, chewing on diet pills non-stop, and ate “energy” gum to burn off whatever extra calories he might have had flying around in his blood after the other chemicals did their worst.

At 150 pounds, and almost no speech skills developed, Mr. Jharraque was depressed.  Mostly because of all the different chemicals floating around in his unnatural existence, he began to pine for something better.  Something better would not come for Mr. Jharraque, but something worse did.  Even though the labels on each of the diet products specifically said to not combine their diet products with other diet solutions, such as exercise, eating right, and the other products on the market, the non-discriminatory treatment of life by the Finhoogle and Nagle Drug Store destroyed Mr. Jharraque’s body and life with no remorse from the higher levels of the corporation, Mr. Jharraque was fired for crying.

“If Mr. Jharraque wants to cry, he can cry on his own time!”  Monty Finhoogle slammed his fist on the desk as Ken Nagle laughed at a picture of Mr. Jharraque in one of the promotional pictures they had forced him to be in with many of the different diet products they sold.

“If this fat 150 pound, 7 foot tall slob wants to have his emotions he can have no job!” Monty Finhoogle continued in his tirade.  Ken Nagle just kept laughing.

Later, in the backstreet alleyway behind the drug store, a jobless Mr. Jharraque pointed at things and grunted as he drank a lot of beer.  He pointed at a box and grunted again… and then a laser shot out of his finger and the cardboard box disappeared!  But not only did it disappear, Mr. Jharraque could FEEL the cardboard box be a part of him.

Mr. Jharraque was amazed at what had happened, he stared at his finger as he sat down.  He pointed his finger at another cardboard box and that box disappeared to!  He now felt what the life of an 8 x 12 inch cardboard box had.  Just then, the voice of his mother entered his brain.

“Jerry, you have finally discovered your hidden powers.  You have realized what it is like to be two different cardboard boxes with all of their unique experiences of having things being put in and taken out of them.  You are my son and I have awakened inside of you.  You now have the knowledge of a thousand eons of information and have the power to assimilate all that is around you.”

The Magnificent Mr. Jharraque had finally realized his true potential.

The back office of the Finhoogle and Nagle Drug Store lay quiet as Monty and Ken took a nap from their excessive amount of bellowing and fist-to-table pounding.  Mr. Jharraque stepped through the wall like a ghost and watched the two corporate fiends slumber.

Mother Jharraque’s voice emanated again.  “These men are responsible for kicking you out on the street, my dear.  It is time you taught them a lesson about what it is like to be human.  Break their fragile necks and show them that they are weak, worthless scum!”

Mr. Jharraque pointed his hands at Monty Finhoogle as he stepped closer and closer, aiming for his neck.  Monty woke up just before his neck became compressed between the large hands.

Monty grabbed his sharp stiletto letter opener and tried to fend off the attacker, but Monty’s soul was soon drained from his body and became a part of Mr. Jharraque.  Mr. Jharraque’s eyes began to glow and he picked up the shell of what was once Monty and threw it to the floor.

Ken Nagle had woken up during the assault and began to drink copious amounts of whiskey, knowing his end would soon come as well.  Ken threw five shot glasses as the monstrous Mr. Jharraque lumbered his way over to Ken.

“STAY AWAY, YOU MONSTER!”  Ken screamed as he backed up against the wall and tried to open the random cabinetry to find more things to throw at Mr. Jharraque.  Each of the shot glasses filled with whiskey sunk into Mr. Jharraque and each of the stories of the shot glasses became one with Mr. Jharraque.  Like, this one time Harry the Shot Glass was in the dishwasher and had an affair with July the Plastic Bowl.  Alfred the Spoon witnessed the foul acts occurring just above and while that was supposed to be a vacation, it was not fun getting all the dirty soap dropped on him from above.

Harry the Shot Glass was sued by his ex-wife, Mildred the Shot Glass and was forced to pay alimony of five molecules of dishwasher detergent every Sunday before seeing the kids.  He didn’t see why he had to pay to see his own kids, it’s not like they weren’t crafted in the glass factory from his own superheated sand.

Ken Nagle took a punch in the gut as he was flung across the room and into the door.  He busted through the door and as the splintered door pieces flew everywhere around him he began to crawl away, in pain.

Ken yelled to his secretary, Somya Fridaray, “CALL THE POLICE!  THIS MANIACAL DIET SUPPLEMENT ADDICT KILLED MONTY AND HE’S GOING TO KILL ME!”

Somya Fridaray stood up and opened her drawer and took out a smoke grenade.  She knew it would come in handy one of these days after she found it dropped by one of those ex-military men canoodling through the aisles of the drug store thinking they can just walk around wherever they want.

Somya threw the smoke grenade into the air and it began to fill up the small room with ease.  Mr. Jharraque couldn’t see anything anymore!  Oh, if he ever found that confounding secretary he was going to assimilate her like those cardboard boxes!  She has the wits of a rabid squirrel looking for a large acorn to satiate his thirst for blood, but realizing that acorns were no replacement for blood.

Ken Nagle and Somya Fridaray stumbled into the greeting card aisle outside of the office.

“Oh, it is so horrible, Somya!  He stole all of our shot glasses and made me drink all of my whiskey!  He would have pounded my face into a fine silicate dust if you hadn’t saved me!”  Ken Nagle confided to Somya.

Somya replied, “Do not worry sir, that is what I am here for—-“ and in the next instant a large red aura surrounded Somya and she disappeared!  Enveloped into the Magnificent Mr. Jharraque, she was.

Ken Nagle scrambled to his feet as he grabbed greeting cards as a defense weapon against  Mr. Jharraque.  Each progressively thrown greeting card sunk into his body and all of the corny stupid jokes became part of his vocabulary.

Mr. Jharraque shouted at Ken Nagle, “HAPPY 41ST BIRTHDAY!” and stomped on the ground with such force that made Ken lose his balance and fall to the floor.

“GET WELL SOON!”  Mr. Jharraque stomped again and Ken bounced up and down on the floor as he kept crawling away and into the Diaper/Beer aisle.

“Will someone please call the police!!”  Ken yelled at the diapers falling on top of him.  In a frantic panic, he opened as many beers as he could and tried to drink them all.  Sucking down fifteen bottles of beer empowered Ken Nagle to become Super Diet Man, who had the power of making non-lethal things into lethal things, such as diapers!

The diapers in all of the packages flew out and began to encircle Mr. Jharraque.  The flying diapers confused him, as he was only 5 days old at this point, and he had never worn a diaper in his life.

“Time to take out the used diapers, Mr. Jharraque!” Super Diet Man announced in a drunken delivery.

“HAPPY GRADUATION!!!” Mr. Jharraque jumped so high he jumped over the wall of flying diapers and grabbed onto the air conditioning duct hanging off of the ceiling.  Mr. Jharraque all of a sudden became sick and he fell to the floor and started puking.

Super Diet man stood laughing at Mr. Jharraque, and they became friends.

Moral:  Liquor before beer, you’re in the clear – beer before liquor, never been sicker.

Stories, Fairy Tales

Hooty McHoothoot and the Ducks of Doom

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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.

Stories, Fairy Tales

Local Exchange: An Eruption of Stupidity

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Based off the following post:

https://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.

Stories, Fairy Tales

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

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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.

Stories, Fairy Tales

The Love Pentagram

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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.

Stories, Fairy Tales

The Bipolar Bear and the Water Skiing Buffalo

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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.

Stories, Fairy Tales

Oopsy Daisy!

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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.

Stories, Fairy Tales

Marshmallow Cosby

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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

Stories, Fairy Tales

The Prefect Candy Bar

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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.

Stories, Fairy Tales

The Wise Tennis Ball

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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.