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Monday, July 18th, 2005
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12:15 am - The Friendly Restaurant
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This afternoon I had a sudden craving for an ice cream sundae, so I stopped in at the local Friendly's restaurant to get my "hot fudge fix." When the waitress came to my table, I told her "Boy, I would kill for a hot fudge sundae right now!" in the friendliest way possible. (After all, I was at Friendly's). She just chuckled and wrote down my order. I didn't see what was so damn funny.
Five minutes later, I was still at my table, no sundae in site -- and that stupid waitress was across the restaurant making small talk at another table. What audacity! Talk about poor customer service! Apparently she didn't understand what I meant when I told her I'd kill for that ice cream. I figured I'd better show her.
I walked up behind the waitress, cracked her skull open against a dinner table, and dragged her into the kitchen by the pony tail. She started kicking and screaming on the way in, so I decided I'd take care of her kicking and screaming -- for good. I shoved both of her legs into the meat grinder and started grinding out some fresh Collosal Burgers (plus some bone fragments and marrow of course :-) ). Man, you should have seen the look on her face when I pressed up a hamburger patty and shoved it down her throat! (Now that's what I call service with a smile!) Plus it got her to stop screaming long enough for me to rip out her vocal cord with the rusty meat thermometer I found laying on the counter. No more screaming for that waitress -- and I bet now she'd have quite a tough time kicking anything with her new bluddy stubs!
By that time, I wasn't really in the mood for an ice cream sundae anymore. I realized what I really wanted was a burger! I fixed myself one right there on the spot. Before long I was chowing down on a triple patty "waitress thigh burger" with vocal cord "bacon" garnish supermelted right on top. Yum yum! I always did love eating out!
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| Saturday, July 2nd, 2005
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11:18 am - Open Heart Surgery
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I've always lived my life by the old Boy Scout slogan "Do a good turn daily." Every day I make sure that I volunteer a little of my time to helping out the other people around me. It makes my life a whole lot more fulfilling, and knowing that I'm helping other people sure does give me a real sense of community involvement and pride!
For example, the other day I was walking by the hospital emergency room when I decided that I would stop in and see if they needed any help. I've always considered myself to be an expert surgeon (even though I have no formal training whatsoever), so I decided to volunteer my skills to help out someone in need. It's just my little way of giving back to the community.
I walked into the emergency room (through the back entrance so that I wouldn't have to deal with those pesky security guards), and began looking for a place where I could lend a helping hand. My search didn't take very long though -- the very first room I walked by needed my assistance!
Laying on a bed in the first room I passed was a guy who had just had his arm put in a sling. I couldn't believe my eyes. In my career as an expert medical practitioner, I had never seen such blatant malpractice! Just one look, and I had him diagnosed: this guy clearly had internal hemorrhaging in the left atrium. He exhibited all the tell-tale symptoms. And some quack doctor had misdiagnosed his illness as a hairline fracture in his "Ulna" arm bone. I mean, come on. Who's even heard of the "Ulna"? That isn't even a real word!
I knew I had to act fast, because this patient's life was in danger. He needed open heart surgery -- and pronto!
I pulled out my swiss army knife (I've found it to be a much more precise surgical tool than a scalpal), and began chopping away at the guy's chest. Blood started spraying everywhere, and little fragments of tissue flew all over the floor. Within a matter of seconds, I was sawing through ribs and ripping through the outer membranes of his heart.
The patient wasn't too happy though, probably because he was still convinced by the quack doctor's claim that he had a hairline fracture in his arm. He screamed stuff like "FOR THE LOVE OF GOD, STOP!!!!" and "JESUS CHRIST, HE'S STABBING ME TO DEATH!!!!!" You know, typical things that you hear during every surgery. I assured him that I was an expert surgeon, and that I was only doing what was best for him. He didn't believe me and kept on struggling and screaming. Silly patient! But a little while later, he finally gave up the act and calmed down. He got all quiet and stiff and stopped breathing. I guess he figured it would be easier for both of us if he shut up and let me operate in peace.
I made my final slices on the guy's heart and finished by sealing off that pesky growth that quack doctors call the "aorta". (I myself call it "a giant gaping leak in the heart." But I mean, what would I know? I'm only an *expert*.)
Anyway, it was another flawless surgery by yours truly! This patient would thank me when he got healthy again. I left the guy's bloody, gushing chest open and moved on (I figured that the nurse could clean up the mess and sew him back together). My expertise was better off being used somewhere else.
That day, I did open heart surgery on twelve other people in the emergency room. It sure was quite a coincidence that all of them had internal hemorrhaging of the left atrium. It must be going around. Luckily I was there to save the day!
I would have helped out some more, but the hospital security guards decided that they didn't need me any longer. (Probably too much of a good thing!) I finally left when the security guards gave me a seven gun salute. I was glad to see that they appreciated my work. (For some reason though, they were shooting the bullets at me instead of up in the air...next time I guess I'll have to go over that with them.)
All in all, I'd say it was a successful day of volunteering. I just love to do my part, and help make the world a better place -- one open heart surgery at a time!
current music: "Sunshine Lollipops And Rainbows" by Lesley Gore
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| Monday, June 13th, 2005
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11:29 pm - The Little "Pooper" Hero
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I was walking through suburbia the other day when I saw a little kid playing Superman on his front lawn. The scrawny little bugger had a bath towel wrapped around his neck that he was pretending to be a "cape" and he was excitedly reciting Superman's motto: Faster than a speeding bullet, more powerful than a locomotive, able to leap tall buildings with a single bound! Obviously this kid thought he was the real deal.
But I wasn't just gonna let this kid get away with that kind of extraordinary statement. Being the scientific, inquisitive guy that I am, I decided to test out the boy's claims. After all, "The unexamined life isn't worth living", right? (Some famous philosopher said that... I think it was Benito Mussolini or maybe Emperor Palpatine.)
So I said to the kid: "All right, let's see if you really are faster than a speeding bullet!" Then I pulled out my 12 Guage and pointed it at our fearless hero. The little boy froze for a second and got this real scared look on his face (probably some kind of diversionary tactic). As I looked down to load a bullet into my rifle, he spun around and started running. Since he was just a young chap and I'm a nice guy, I decided to give him a little bit of a head start before I found out if he could really outrun a speeding bullet. Well, to make a long story short, the answer was NO. This little scoundrel was a complete fraud. He wasn't just a little slower than a speeding bullet. This kid ran at about a hundredth of the speed of my shot -- and that's with a head start! I mean, literally a split second after I fired, my bullet had ripped through the back of his skull and exploded out the other side in a cloud of bone, blood and brains. Pretty pathetic performance for a "super" hero, if I do say so myself. In fact, I'd say he performed more like a "pooper" hero (ha ha)!
I was pretty pleased with myself after this great scientific discovery. I definitely had set the record straight -- that kid certainly wasn't gonna get away with another bald-faced lie like that again! But being a rational, scientific guy that I am, I decided to test his two other statements ("more powerful than a locomotive" and "able to leap tall buldings with a single bound") just to be thorough. Unfortunately, my experiment had to be cut short with the locomotive test. After the kid's body got minced to pieces by that train, there wasn't much hope of him jumping over any tall buildings any time soon!
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10:37 pm - One eventful year!
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Hello again my wonderful readers! It's been a long time (exactly on year to the day) -- but I'm ready to get crackin' again...cracking skulls, that is!
But where exactly have I been for the past year? Well, I've been around, let's put it that way. When I wasn't in the slammer, I was taking care of business.
Here's just a taste of what I've been up to in the last year: I wasted some old Polish dude with a little "something" -- (aka bubonic plague) -- that I slipped into his food. I finally pulled the plug on some braindead retard that I gave a heart attack back in 1990 (everyone knew she had it coming). Same deal with this other cripple, and it didn't even take an ounce of kryptonite! Oh, and I framed my buddy Scott for a double homicide I did a while back, took out that old bag Julia, and *almost* got this guy Michael locked up. All of that plus a couple hundred more casualties here and there, and I'd say it was a pretty productive year.
Sorry for not keeping you updated on the latest additions to my victim list this past year. I just figured CNN, ABC, NBC, CBS, Fox, The New York Times and the Associated Press would do that for me! (Personally, I think they did a fine job.)
This next year, I'm gonna keep a lower profile and get back to my regular schedule. Check back here for the latest whenever the body count rises!
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| Sunday, June 13th, 2004
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10:18 am - The Cereal Bowl
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This morning I was about to eat a nice big bowl of Frosted Flakes for breakfast when I realized that I didn't have any clean bowls. I wasn't about to do a load of dishes that early in the morning, so I started searching around my house for something that could serve as a replacement. While I was looking, I noticed our local mailman delivering mail to my next door neighbor. I wasn't seeing anything else in my house that could act as a good cereal bowl, so I figured he was my best option.
I ran out and kicked the mailman in the groin, then I grabbed him by the neck and dragged him into my house. He was kicking and screaming quite a bit, so I had to tie him down onto my kitchen table, just so he wouldn't get away. Then I went into the other room and grabbed my machete. Back in the kitchen, I raised it high above my head and chopped down with a mighty swing right on the middle of his face. The machete cut about a half-inch deep right at his eye level. Both of his eyes cut cut right in half, and that made him scream bloody murder, even louder than before. I took another swing in the same spot and got the cut a little bit deeper. I had to swing really hard to get through his skull bone, and blood was flying everywhere. I kept on hacking and hacking--I had to get all the way through the head, otherwise this wasn't going to work. The dumb mailman just screamed in extreme pain and swung about violently. He kept clawing at me with his bloody hand and I told him to stop because I had a sharp knife in my hand and I didn't want to cut myself. But that selfish bastard wouldn't even take my personaly safety into consideration! He just kept on clawing at me and screaming to stop. So I chopped off his arm so he couldn't reach me anymore. (Boy, that arm was quite a squirter! I told him to stop bleeding all over my table, but once again, he wouldn't listen. I mean, you invite someone into your house as a guest, the least they could do is try to keep it a little bit clean.)
I kept on hacking on his skull, and eventually I got to the brain. Little bits and pieces of mashed brain flew all over as I got deeper and deeper through his head. Eventually, he stopped kicking and thrashing about. Now he was just twitching a bit. I kept chopping and chopping. Finally the top half of his head broke free and rolled off the table. I went and picked it up and grabbed my spoon. Carefully, I scooped the brain out of the skull, and since I didn't want to waste the tasty brain, I ate it. It was surprisingly good, kind of like a cross between jello and chicken (with a touch of paprika).
When the top of the skull was empty and I could see just bone on the inside, I got my Frosted Flakes and poured myself a bowl. My makeshift cereal bowl worked so well, and I kind of liked how there was still skin and hair on the outside. It made the bowl easier to grip, really. I poured myself another bowl and another. The milk ended up a little red and bloody because of the bleeding scalp, and some leftover pieces of brain floated to the top every once in a while, but I have to admit, it added a nice extra flavor. It was so good I almost finished the entire box in one sitting!
I'm thinking about going into business selling my new brand of cereal bowl. I'm sure they would be a hot seller. I already have a name for my product-- Serial Bowls! (You know, like Serial Killer bowls? Cool, right!?) If you'd like to order a Serial Bowl, just drop me an email!
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8:51 am - The Delicious Cookies
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I was hanging out at the local funeral parlor the other day at a funeral for some teenage kid who got killed in a car crash. Apparently he was just driving along, minding his own business, when some drunken Canadian banana trucker crashed into him and sent his car rolling off a cliff. Pssssh. I can't believe he died from that! What a pussy! This kid's got to grow a pair.
So anyway, there were all these crying losers standing there, comforting each other. The classmates were sobbing in each others' arms, the two younger sisters were breaking down, the extended family was all there, saying things like "He was so young!" and "Why didn't they take me instead of him?!" And the mother--she was bawling here eyes out. It made me sick. So I headed to the back of the funeral home to peruse the refreshments that the mourning family had provided for the guests.
That's when I happened to eat the most delicious cookie I had ever tasted! They were these triple decker chocolate whammies...one bite and you were in heaven, man. Seriously, think of the best cookie you have ever tasted and multiply it by a million. That's how good these cookies were. They were like friggin' ambrosia!
So I just stood there shoveling cookie after cookie down my throat, eating as many as I possibly could. (I wasn't sharing these mammas with anybody!) Eventually I decided just take the entire pan with me and leave. That's what they get for giving them out for free! Hah!
Later that night after I finished all of the cookies, I was sitting there in withdrawel. I just couldn't get enough...and I needed more. I mean, I was breaking down.
I started thinking of how I could get more. That's when it hit me that the dead kid's family at the funeral had TWO more younger daughters! That means that they could have TWO more funerals and there would be TWO more batches of cookies! (I just had to do 'em in, and those cookies would be MINE!)
So, this morning rolls around and I headed to the local high school to track down the dead dude's oldest sister. I found her car in the parking lot--I could tell it was hers because she had decorated it with a bunch of pictures of her dead brother and all these signs that said "Stop D.W.I." I just waited there in my pick-up truck, chugging my Jack Daniels until school was out.
Finally, the sister came out and got in her car to go home. I followed her out of the school and through town until we got to the same cliff her brother died at. That's when I slammed on the gas and rear-ended her little coupe with my huge gas guzzling all-American truck with a huge steel grill on the front. I was ramming her full-speed toward the cliff, smashing her into the guard rail with sparks flying everywhere. But she definitely put up a fight. That obstinate little girl put on her breaks and tried to steer out of the way. I don't know why she didn't want to cooperate. Instead she decided to make it hard for the both of us. People these days! Some people just don't have any manners.
Finally, I put on my brake. She frantically tried to turn and drive away from the cliff. When she finally got moving--surprise! (You really think I was gonna make it that easy on her?) I sped forward and slammed her on the driver's side door. The whole side of the car caved in, and the car rolled over the guard rail. She went tumbling off the cliff and landed on the sharp rocks way below. Easy enough! Chalk up one more for me!
Now I'm waiting for the funeral so I can get my cookies. I just can't get the thought of them out of my head--it's driving me bonkers! At least I have a little bit of comfort in the fact that there's one more daugher left in that family! That means no matter what, I'm guaranteed at least one more mouthwatering batch of those succulent cookies!
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| Friday, June 4th, 2004
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11:21 am - The Whoopie Cushion
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The other day I was at the movie theater when I noticed an old highschool buddy of mine sitting a few seats back. I turned, smiled and nodded at him, and then he waved back. It sure was nice to see him after all these years. I remember back in the day we always used to play little pranks on each other all day long until one of us got sent to the principal's office. Mrs. Ripley always hated when we would give each other wedgies in the middle of Chemistry class! Oh, those were the days!
Soon after, the lights in the theater went out. Part way through the previews, I figured I might as well go and get some popcorn. On the way out I tapped my old buddy on his right shoulder and walked by really fast on the left, so that he turned his head in the wrong direction. Hah! I can't belive he fell for that! That's the oldest trick in the book! I had myself a good chuckle after that one. It was just like old times!
On my way back from the snack counter, I noticed my buddy had his head turned and he was snickering about something. I didn't think anything of it, and made my way to my seat. But just as I sat, a loud farting noise burst out from my seat. A few people turned to see where the sound came from. I knew in an instant what had happened--my old friend had snuck a whoopie cushion into my seat while I was out! Man, did I feel dumb, falling for that prank! I knew I had to get him back later on.
I waited until about three quarters of the way through the movie for my buddy to go out to the bathroom. As soon as I saw him round the corner, I charged out of the theater to the parking lot. I knew I had to one-up him after that whoopie cushion prank, so I fumbled through my pickup truck looking for something to trick him with. At last I saw something-- a rusty old paint can wedged behind my seat with a bunch of used hypodermic needles in it. (I stole those from a bunch of AIDS-infected Heroin addicts on the street corner the other day--good thing I was thinking ahead!)
Back in the theater, I planted three or four of the needles point up on the cushion of my buddy's seat. I made it to my seat just as my old friend came back into the theatre. I sat there, glancing backwards, trying to hold back laughs as I waited for his reaction.
A second later, I heard a loud yelp come from my friend's direction. He yelled "Ow! What the fuck!?" then he looked down and saw what had happened. He cursed a few more times, then he stood and pulled the needles out of his legs. I saw my friend hobble out the back of the theater, swearing up a storm.
That's when I burst out laughing! My practical joke worked out perfectly. I followed after him and shouted "Gotcha!" with a big grin on my face. I explained to him that those were used needles from AIDS-infected drug addicts between chuckles. But he didn't seem to get the joke. He just stopped dead in his tracks and said "For the love of God...." Then he tried to turn around and punch me in the face, but I knew it was coming. Just as he turned to swing, I dodged and put out my foot to trip him. He came crashing down on the floor, flat on his face. Surprise! That's two in a row for me, buddy! Man, I always was good at practical jokes!
By now, my buddy's face was all red, and he was really angry. I knew what was best for me, so I just hopped in my truck and drove away. I know what it's like to lose in a practical joke contest, especially if you lose big time like he did. I figure I'll wait for him to cool off before we have our next prank war.
In a few months I'm going to pull my next big trick on him--I'm going to send him a bomb in the mail! I'll draw a bunch of hearts on it and make it look like it's from his girlfriend, then when he opens it--Surprise!! After all, everyone likes a good practical joke every once in a while!
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| Thursday, May 27th, 2004
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10:06 pm - The Eating Contest
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The other day I saw some kids hanging outside the local Junior High with nothing better to do, so I figured I'd be a nice guy and challenge them to a contest.
"I bet you can't eat this Twinkie faster than me!" I said. I've always been a pro at eating contests, whether it's a pie or a baby. I knew I could beat these kids blindfolded with two arms tied behind my back. It would be like taking candy from a baby.
All the kids laughed at my proposition, then one kid, probably about 12 years old, said "Yeah right. You can't beat me!" I said "You're on!" and handed him a Twinkie. I told another one of the kids to give us a countdown. On 3, we both unwrapped our Twinkies as fast as we could and stuffed them in our faces. It was a close match, but sure enough, the darn kid beat me! I didn't know what to say.
All I knew was I wasn't gonna give up that easy. I pulled two Family Size bottles of Aspirin out of my pocket and challenged the kid to a rematch. Well, to make a long story short, I discovered that I'm no good at swallowing pills. I only managed to swallow four. That kid I was against, though-- hoo boy! He downed that entire bottle in two or three gulps. All 150 tablets! I have to admit that even I was impressed (and this is coming from an eating contest champion)!!
I went to congratulate him, but that smug bastard didn't even want to shake my hand. He was just rolling around on the ground, holding his stomach and groaning. He had white foam running out of his mouth and his eyes were all blood-shot. Come on, kid, have some manners! The only thing worse than a sore loser is a sore winner! I stood there trying to congratulate him for a few minutes, but all he did was stop breathing and start coughing blood. Meanwhile, his supposed "friends" all ran away yelling something about "murderer!" Hey, the kid did beat me, I admit, but I don't think it's fair to say he *murdered* me. I mean, it was kind of close!
I just got fed up and left that kid writhing in the dirt. I wasn't going to just stand there while this kid went on his ego trip. Winning is one thing, but being a complete jerk to the loser is something completely different.
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| Tuesday, May 11th, 2004
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7:48 pm - The Pillow Fight
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I was driving through suburbia one evening when I noticed some balloons tied onto a mailbox. Ahhhh, yes, the universal sign for a party. Upon closer inspection, I noticed a sign saying "Timmy's Birthday Party!" I couldn't believe it--Timmy was having a birthday party and I wasn't even invited!? I have been watching this kid through binoculars and secretly taking pictures of him for years! I probably know him better than his parents do! I'm sure it was just an oversight that I wasn't invited.
I parked my van and walked up to the house, where I noticed a group of little boys having a pillow fight in an upstairs bedroom. I knew that bedroom--that's where Timmy sleeps every night! (I usually videotape while his parents tuck him in.)
I saw Timmy run by the window, swinging around his Ninja Turtles pillow. A few other kids were running, laughing and hitting each other with their pillows, having a great time! So I figured I'd better get in on the fun before it was over.
The only problem was I didn't have a pillow. But I'm a resourceful guy--I'm not gonna let that stop me! I grabbed a burlap sack I happened to have in my van and filled it with some bricks. Talk about a good pillow--Now I was ready for a pillow fight!
I went back to Timmy's house and climbed up the gutter to the second floor window, then I smashed through it with my sack of bricks. The best part was that I killed two birds with one stone--I broke the window so I could get in and I happened to hit one kid who was standing in front of the window right smack dab on the back of the head! (I know from years of experience that sneak attacks always work the best.) That kid didn't take the impact very well though. I mean, it's just a pillow fight. You're supposed to get knocked over, have a good laugh, then come up swinging! You're not supposed to have your skull shatter and get glass shards imbedded in your skin! Come on, kid, play by the rules!
I hopped in the window, and all the kids were really surprised to see me. A few of them stopped dead in their tracks and even dropped their pillows. I figured I'd better remind them what was going on, so I yelled "PILLOW FIGHT!!!" and started swinging. That first swing I took out three kids in a row and they all landed in a nice little pile, on top of their pillows. (If it wasn't for the blood, you could have sworn they were just sleeping!) One kid started running away, so I chased after him. I hit him with a quick down-stroke right on the small of his back, and he just crumpled right onto the floor screaming. I knew what he was doing...he still had his pillow in his hand, just ready to hit me with it. I told him "You can't fool me that easily!" and then I gave him a good five or ten more swings, right on the face and the back until he stopped his act and dropped the pillow. One thing's for sure--when it comes to pillow fights, I know all the tricks!
Then I noticed Timmy just standing there with his lip quivering. His pillow was on the ground and he was just staring at me with a scared expression. Jeez, that one's the oldest trick in the book! You just make it look like you're done playing and get all serious, then THWACK! they grab their pillow and hit you right in the back of the head!
I said "Hey Timmy, all right. You win. The pillow fight's over" and I started walking away. I could hear Timmy start crying (fake crying, I'm sure--this kid's good). All of a sudden I spun around and heaved my brick "pillow" full speed at his head. It landed right in the middle of his nose and he just got crushed under the sack. A pool of blood collected around Timmy's head and I could hear a gurgling noise coming from him his mouth. I think that was him admitting defeat. Haha! Who's the best pillow fighter now, Timmy!?
After the pillow fight was over, I said "Hey, anyone wanna play me in a game of Twister?" but no one responded. I guess everybody fell asleep. That's the problem with little boys--they get tired way too fast. Well, at least they had one last fun pillow fight before bedtime at Timmy's birthday sleepover!!
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| Sunday, April 25th, 2004
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3:48 pm - The Tom Selleck Encounter
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The other day I was on my way home from a hard night of grave robbing at the local cemetery when I just happened to see a guy walking down the street who looked just like Tom Selleck. I mean, he had the mustache, he had the bushy eyebrows, he had that unruly but strangely attractive head of curly hair--and he even had the smooth Tom Selleck walk that only the star of Magnum P.I. could have. I was absolutely sure this guy was the real thing.
So I pulled my pick-up truck up next to him and said "Hey Tom Selleck! I like your TV show!" But all that guy did was look at me weird and keep on walking. So I said it again. The guy just turned back to me and said "I think you're mistaken--my name is Barry Richards." And he kept on walking away.
How rude! What a stuck up prick that Tom Selleck is! You get to Hollywood and make millions of dollars, and all of a sudden you get all high and mighty. He could have at least had the decency to say "Thank you." What a jerk!
So I drove up to him again and said "Hey, Tom Selleck! Why don't you get some manners?" Tom Selleck just shook his head and kept on walking. That was the last straw. So I revved up the engine and slammed on the gas.
Tom Selleck tried to run away, but he couldn't compete with my truck. I smashed right into "Mr. Thomas Magnum" and I heard his kneecaps pop upon the impact. Then he rolled underneath the truck and tumbled along the asphalt for a while. Hey Tom, you're not so tough without Hollywood special effects, are you? Hah!
So I looked back and there was Tom Selleck, flopping around in the gravel on the side of the road. His legs were both dangling loosely from his torso. I guess they got shattered by the impact. Serves him right! That guy's got to learn to respect his fans!
You know what the worst part is? Tom Selleck is so stuck up that he won't even admit who he really is! He even carries a wallet with a whole bunch of fake cards that say "Barry Richards" like he's some kind of spy with a secret identity! Man, talk about being full of yourself!
Right now I've got Tom gagged and tied to a tree in my backyard. It sure is funny to watch him try to struggle, especially with those two bum legs! They just flop around in the wind and spray blood whenever he tries to move. I sit out there in my lawn chair and watch him screaming for help for hours. Tom Selleck sure can put up an act-- and it's a whole lot of fun to watch! No matter what they say about Tom Selleck, one thing's for sure--he is quite an entertainer!
current music: Magnum P.I. Soundtrack
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| Friday, April 9th, 2004
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10:21 am - The Rollerskate Girl
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Today I saw a cute little girl rollerskating on the sidewalk, so I pulled up beside her and said "Hey, little girl, do you want to learn how to skate SUPER FAST?" I made sure the invitation sounded really exciting. (I know, it's a gift. I'm just a really good people-person, that's all.) When she heard me, she looked up and then quickly turned around and started frantically skating away. She didn't say anything, but I knew what she meant. So I took that as a "yes."
I ran up behind her and picked her up, then ran to the back of my van and got out a big old coil of rope. I said "This is your harness--this is what will make you go SUPER FAST!" But she didn't seem to convinced--she was squirming and screaming something about a "stranger" and "kidnapped." I wasn't sure who she was talking about. I'm not a stranger, I'm her rollerskating instructor! I figured I'd better just hook her up and show her what it's like to skate SUPER FAST.
So I took the rope and wrapped it around her waist, then tied it off with a nice firm slip-knot. Then I tied the other end of the rope to my back muffler. The girl started skating away, but when she got to the end of the rope the sudden tension made her flip over and land on her back. She started crying, I think because she misunderstood me on what it means to go SUPER FAST. So I stood her back up and hopped in the driver's seat. I yelled back "All right, here goes! Now you'll see what it's like to go SUPER FAST!" Then I slammed on the gas and accelerated 0-60 in about ten seconds. My old tinted-window van sure can fly, let me tell you! And talk about going SUPER FAST--that girl was going just as fast as the van was! The only problem was that she somehow fell over and the rope had somehow slipped off her waist and tighted up around her neck. And she wasn't skating anymore, she was just dragging along on the asphalt. Little bits and pieces of her legs and arms were grinding right off into the street, and there was a blood trail going back for a few hundred feet.
Well, I knew what to do--I had to go back and stand the little girl back up! So I slammed on the breaks and came to a dead stop. But the girl just kept on coming, full speed, and when she reached the van, she slammed right into the back door. That little girl sure was going SUPER FAST though, because she left a bloody indent about 3-inches deep!
I said "Are you enjoying the rollerskating?" but she didn't answer. I think she was too caught up in the moment to respond. I figured I should just keep on driving her around until she got tired. So for the rest of the day I dragged that rollerskating girl around town, over gravel roads and bumps and on the Interstate, and she never seemed to get enough of it! She was having a jolly old time back there, and she really seemed to be enjoying some newfangled rollerskating technique where you lay down and drag instead of stand up and skate!
Eventually, after a full day of driving, I looked back and there was no girl to be seen. She must have finally gotten tired and decided to skate home. Too bad she didn't ask for a ride--her legs must have been tired after all that skating!
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10:02 am - The Homesick Kindergartner
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The other day I was hanging around the local elementary school's playground when I saw a little boy sitting all alone, crying. So I put down my sniper rifle and walked over the kid and said "Hey, what's the problem? Why are you sad?" Between sobs, the kid managed to say "I miss my mommy." Well, if there's one thing I can't stand it's a crying kid, so I said "Don't worry, I'll get your mommy for you!" I asked the kid where his mother worked and what she looked like, then I hopped in my pickup truck and drove off. I was on a mission...to dry this kid's tears!
When I got to the mother's office at a law firm downtown, I told her that her little son was sad because he couldn't see her. But that mean old woman just plain wouldn't listen. She said "Who are you and what were you doing with my son!?!?" and then told me "Get out of here! I'm calling the school...and the cops!" I kept on trying to tell her how sad her son was, but all she did was call me a "freak" and a "stalker." Well maybe I am, lady, but what does this have to do with your son?
I could tell that this mother wasn't a very nice person. Definitely a negligent parent if I've ever seen one, so I came up with a great idea--I would become the little boy's new mother! And I would do everything in my power to look and act just like his old mom (minus the meanness) so he wouldn't have to adjust to a new mother. The kid wouldn't even know the difference if my plan worked!
So I covered up the woman's mouth and tied her to a chair. Then I took the butt end of my gun and smashed it over the woman's head a good 200 times until she was good and dead. After that I took out my butcher's knife and carefully cut off her skin, piece by piece, from her entire body. Once it was all off, I carefully laid it piece-by-piece over top of my own skin. Then sewed it back together the best I could--kind of like a custom-made body suit! I never was that great at sewing, when I was finished, I looked just like the kid's mom, I have to admit...just with some extra blood, gashes and random stitch lines all over my body. A job well done if I do say so myself. Then I put on the woman's clothes and took her purse. I walked right out of her office, past the other people in the building and out the door. They were shouting things like "Oh my God! What happened to Martha!?" and "Zombie!!!" but I just laughed it off. They were just pulling my leg, I think, because I did such a good job nobody could tell the difference.
When I got back to the elementary school, the kid was playing superheroes with another group of boys. I guess he got over his homesickness all by himself. Well, anyway, I ran on over to him and all the other kids started screaming and running away. The little kid just stopped dead in his tracks and stared at me. Then he started crying. I said, in my best woman's voice, "Never fear, your mother is here!" and then I ran over to him. As I ran, a big sheet of the real mother's skin peeled off my leg and fell on the ground. Also, blood squirted out of the seams with every step. When I got to the boy, I said "Hello son! Come with mommy to market!" and I picked up the little boy, tossed him over my shoulder and walked away with him. I knew he was happy to see his mother, even if he did get a little blood on him.
I took the kid home, pretending to be all nice and motherly to him. I said things like "Would you like mommy to cook you some macaroni and cheese for dinner?" and "Do you want to go to hunting with mommy?" but the little kid wouldn't answer. All he did was cry and scream. Whenever I tried to touch him, he would kick me and bite me. What a little brat! Now I know why this ungrateful kid's mother was so mean in the first place!
Right now the kid's tied up in my basement. I still haven't decided what I'm going to do with him yet. Man, you try to do a good deed and nobody ever appreciates it these days. It's a real shame, let me tell you.
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| Tuesday, April 6th, 2004
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3:41 pm - The Schoolbus
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This afternoon I thought it would be fun to photograph some Elementary School kids boarding their buses after school, you know, for my personal collection. But when I was snapping a picture of a pretty little Kindergarten girl getting on the bus, I noticed that the bus driver was nowhere to be seen! Slacking off on the job...I couldn't belive it! These kids were depending on that lazy driver to take them home! It's a good thing I was there to save the day.
I ran over and hopped in the driver's seat just as the real bus driver started coming back. She yelled "Hey! Stop! That's my bus!" Too bad, lady. You should have thought of that before! First come, first serve--that's the rule!
So I turned to the kids and said "Never fear, your bus driver's here!" and slammed on the gas. We zoomed right out of the parking lot, full speed ahead. I think I hit a kid on the way out (because of all the blood on the windshield), but it was his fault, not mine. I had the right of way.
I speeded all the way across town through all the traffic lights and stop signs...these kids were on a tight schedule--I was just doing what any good bus driver would. One of the kids said "Hey mister, you're not following the right bus route!" What a dumb kid. He should learn a little something about transportation efficiency. I told him "Shut up! I'm taking a shortcut!" Then I pulled onto the Interstate and sped up as fast as the bus would go. All the kids started yelling things and making hand gestures out the windows, probably because they were happy we were so far ahead of schedule.
That's when some stupid cops decided to come and spoil the party. They started chasing after me and flashing their lights all over the road. Didn't they know I had to get these kids home on time? Three police cars came up behind me, so I figured I'd better cut them off. I slammed on the break and turned the wheel all the way to the left, and guess what? Two of the police cars slammed right into the bus and flipped over! One officer smashed through the windshield and skidded on his face for about fifty feet down the highway before the other car rolled over his body. Whoopsedaisy! No more policeman after that one! (Cops are so cute when they get try to chase you down.)
I tried to cut off the other police car, but somehow I managed to turn the bus on its side and we started rolling. I said "Hey, just like a roller coaster!" and all the kids screamed, just like when you go over the big hill at a theme park. Too bad they weren't wearing seatbelts, because all of a sudden all the kids fell out of their seats and slammed their heads into the roof of the bus. Then the bus rolled again, and they got all got slammed against the side wall like rag dolls! When they hit, they made the cutest little sound--it was a satisfying thwock like when a watermelon smashes on concrete...only it wasn't a watermelon, it was their heads! Man, that sure brought back memories of family picnics from when I was a kid. Actually, it made me a little bit hungry to tell you the truth. That's why I decided to take a few bites from one kid's cracked-open skull when we stopped rolling. I must confess, it was pretty good--almost as tasty as a real watermelon!
A few minutes later, a bunch of police and paramedics drove up and started giving me lip, so I was forced to mow 'em down with my M-16. Jeez, you try to do a good deed and everyone does everything they can to stop you. I mean, even if I did kill all forty kids plus a few cops--it's the thought that counts!
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12:06 am - The Postal Service
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Man, the Postal Service sure is raising a stink these days about all those pipe bombs I keep sending through the mail. I mean, it's not like I intended for them to explode in transit or anything. Besides, they only killed a few dozen postal workers. It's their own dumb fault anyway--they must have shaken the box too hard or something. It's about time these guys learn some manners and stop manhandling my packages!
current music: "What the World Needs Now is Love Sweet Love"
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| Monday, April 5th, 2004
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6:23 pm - The Pet Store
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I sure hate it when businesses sell a shoddy product, especially when they won't even let you test it out in the store before you buy it. That damn Pet Store down on Main Street is exactly the kind of business I hate. What kind of scam are they trying to run, anyway?
I mean, I went in there the other day to buy a new puppy for my taxidermist (his birthday is coming up), and they got all pissy when I wanted to test out the product in the store before dropping my hard-earned cash. I went to the puppy pen and started feeling up the puppies to make sure they had a stirdy build, a good tail and strong bones--like any good consumer would do--but they yelled at me whenever I found a fault in their merchandise. The mean salesclerk kept yelling things like "Oh my God! You just ripped off that poor puppy's tail!" or "Stop, sir! You're crushing his head! He's in pain! Stop!" Come on man, quit trying cover up the flaws in your junky, second-rate product! We customers have the right to know!
Anyway, these puppies were a seriously crappy product--their ears would rip right off, their eyes would pop out if you squeezed their heads too hard, their ribs would crack if you gave them a good stirdy kick, their tails came off with just one little tug, their skulls would split right in half if you hit them with a rock--you name a problem, the puppies had it. And also those stupid mongrels would yowl and howler over the slightest little thing, like punching them in the nose or kicking them in the stomach. Definitely an inferior product.
I went through all 17 puppies at the store and found defects in all of them! It was an outrage! There was not one good puppy in the whole bunch! I don't know what kind of scam this pet store is trying to pull, but you better believe it, they just lost a customer! That's the last time I let some fatcat pet store owner mess with me!
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6:15 pm - The Cops and Robbers
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Today I saw a bunch of neighborhood boys playing a game of "Cops and Robbers" out in the street. I watched them play from my van for quite some time until I realized that they had made a big mistake: instead of using real guns, they were accidentally using neon green toy guns!
So I got out of my van and went up to one of the "cops" and said "Hey, did you know you're not using a real gun?" But the dumb kid just said "Yes I am!" and pointed the squirt gun at me. I said "Okay then, shoot me!" So the boy said "Freeze, crook!" and aimed the gun right at my face. He pulled the trigger and shouted "Bang, bang! You're dead! Now you have to lie down!"
I laughed, and decided to play along with his little game. I said "I think you missed, Mr. Policeman!" Then I pulled out my Smith & Wesson. The little boy got pretty scared and started to run away (just like real cops--I know from experience), so I shot him once in the calf and then three times in the back. Then I walked over to his body and shot him two more times right through the skull. That kid's brain sure did squirt a lot of blood, let me tell you! I joked to the other "Robber" kids "this kid's squirtin' just like Old Faithful!"...but they didn't get it. All they did was run away--I'm not sure why, because we were on the same team. They were probably tracking down the other Cops.
I played for little bit longer, until I took out the other two "Cops." One I shot right through the eye. The other one was a feisty little critter! It took three gut shots before he finally fell. But the Robber team came out victorious in the end!
When I was done, I searched for the Secret Robber Hide-Out so us "Robbers" could divide up all the stolen loot--but I couldn't find it. I guess there was some kind of miscommunication.
At least our team won in the end...and I got to leave with the satisfaction of a job well done! All I can say is kids sure do know how to have fun!
current music: "Give Peace a Chance" by John Lennon
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12:45 am - The Pirahna Tank
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This morning my friend Stu and I got in a big argument over whether piranhas are freshwater or saltwater fish. Stu said they were freshwater, but I was sure that they lived in saltwater. We argued back and forth for a while until we decided to go to the aquarium to find out for sure.
Well, we got to the aquarium and sure enough, Stu was right-- "technically." He started mouthing off about how I should have believed him in the first place, but I told him "Maybe some Piranhas like to live in saltwater instead." He said "No way" and made up some lie about how it was physically impossible and something about the "wrong ecosystem." So I pushed him in the piranha tank. Stu started thrashing about as the Piranhas bit him into pieces. He yelled for me to help him, but I said "only if you admit you're wrong!" But all that jerk Stu would do was scream for help. So I got a big bag of salt and dumped it into the tank. Just as I expected, the Piranhas kept biting Stu like nothing even happened. Who was right after all!? But stupid Stu still wouldn't say he was wrong. All he did was thrash in the water and scream something about "salt in his wounds." Man, Stu, have some consideration. I mean, at least have the decency to admit when you're wrong!
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| Sunday, April 4th, 2004
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2:22 pm - The Lumber Mill
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I went to the local lumber mill yesterday to ask about buying some saw blades to cut through meat and bones. When I asked the guy at the desk if they had any they could sell us, he got real snippy and said "No, the saws we have here are for cutting wood. You should ask a butcher about buying meat saws." What a jerk! I told him that my truck was full of dead bodies that I had to cut up right away, and that I really needed him to sell me a saw. He said "Listen buddy, I don't know what you're talking about, but we sell wood saws. They're no good for cutting through flesh and bone." That got me pretty mad, so I decided to prove him wrong.
I grabbed ahold of him by the neck and dragged him back into the wood shop, where I put his hand down on the table saw and cut off four of his fingers. He started screaming, probably because he was surprised that wood saws can also cut through bone. I asked him "Now will you sell me a saw?" but all he did was scream and bleed all over the floor. I figured that he still wasn't convinced, so I put his leg up on the table saw and sawed it off right across the knee. But after that, the guy still wouldn't sell me the saw. All he did was lay there bleeding and scream something about calling an ambulance for him.
What a self-centered jerk! Why can't he have a little bit of courtesy for other people?! I mean, he wouldn't even give me a price point on the saw for comparison shopping! That's when I decided to just take the saw and leave. As soon as I'm done with cutting up all these dead bodies in my truck, I'm going to head right over to the Better Business Bureau and file a complaint. Maybe that will teach him to have a little bit of respect for his customers!
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2:10 pm - The Beach
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I was at the beach a few days ago, when I saw a paraplegic relaxing on the sand. I asked him if he would like me to bring him closer to the water, and he said "Sure, that would be nice!" So I picked him up and carried him down to the water's edge, where I took a rope and tied him to the edge of the pier. He sat down there and enjoyed himself for a few hours--then the tide started coming in. That's when he started screaming "Help! Help! For the love of God, untie me!!" I don't think he was very happy when the water got above his head. But hey, it's not my fault. The stupid gimp should have learned to walk! (Or at least hold his breath!)
current music: "What A Wonderful World" - Louis Armstrong
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1:54 pm - The Guy in the Wheelchair
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The other day I was feeding rice to some pigeons in the park when I noticed a guy in a wheelchair, minding his own business. I thought "Hey, fun--this guy probably wants to get pushed around!" so I ran up behind him and started pushing him full-speed through the park. He started screaming, probably because he was having fun. I kept running with him until we were going really fast, then I gave him a final push and let him go on his own. He kept on screaming, having a jolly old time I think, until he rolled straight into the middle of the highway and got run over by a bus. Silly wheelchair man. Why didn't he know enough to stop?
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