On his walk through the town Michael noticed that there were a few young women looking out their windows at him. He smiled and did some gun fingers and winks in the ladies' general direction. This usually made each woman quickly close their blinds. Michael decided to get some clothes, but didn't know where to go. So he kept wandering down the streets, blinds shutting everywhere he went.
Finally he saw a place with shirts in the window. A sign on the outside said Harold Muncher's Clothing Repository. Michael stumbled in through the door and felt a welcoming warm air inside. At first Michael didn't see anyone and although he does regret it now, his first thought was to steal the clothes he needed and then be on his way. Luckily for Michael's conscience someone made a noise near the back of the store causing the idea of a five fingered discount to leave Michael's head.
Moments later a little head peeked out from the large pile of clothes scattered on the floor. The head belonged to an middle aged man who was about Michael's height. "Can I help you sir," asked the man, although his expression might have been different had he first seen Michael in his undies. "I need some clothes, size extra extra large" said Michael. To his benefit, the older man, who we will now call Harold, because that is his name, did not now seem phased by the lack of clothing already on Michael."Extra, extra large?" exclaimed Harold. "I've never heard of such mesaurements." Harold motioned for Michael to come closer. "We can measure you and get you clothed right away sir." The man hobbled over to Michael and brought out a measuring tape.
He didn't seem to mind Michael being in his underwear and may have even thought it a far easier way to measure customers for clothes. In fact, several days later Harold Muncher's Clothing had a new rule posted on the front window claiming that anyone who came in with only their underwear on would receive a 5% discount.
Other than a far too casual measurement of his in-seam, Michael felt fairly comfortable. When it was finished Harold told Michael to sit down and that his new clothes would be finished shortly. Minutes later the tailor returned with some clothes that looked far different than Michael had imagined. While Michael figured the clothes would be old and possibly Amish looking, the clothese were actually bright and colorful and made for a gay man. Bright neon green pants and a stlylish pink shirt with a light red vest were staring down Michael, daring him to put them on.
Harold smiled, "Well, be a good lad and try them on, I think you'll look marvelous in them." Michael hesitantly put them on while Harold went into the back room again. When Michael saw the mirror that Harold came back with his first instinct was to close his eyes and pretend he was wearing tight denim jeans and a muscle shirt. A short cough brought Michael back to reality(if you could call a fairy world reality) and he gazed upon his extra extra large and extra extra gay clothes. "Do other people wear this type of clothing?" asked Michael, fidgeting with his pink shirt. "Oh no, not usually. In fact it was quite an odd request," replied the tailor. "But when your servant came before you and told me who you were I was quite happy to oblige," the tailor moved forward and whispered "the chosen one." "Great, another test from that fucking gnome Fattywhorebag" thought Michael, who now wished he could repunt the gnome out of the story a second time. "I don't have any money to pay you," said Michael. Harold smiled, "That's quite alright, I'm just happy to be of service to you."
Free clothes, but at a high price thought Michael. Then, realizing he still didn't know where to go Michael asked for some directions to Garthur the wizard and also asked where he could find a horse and cart. The tailor sent Michael off with instructions to find Lara Idlerow who managed one of the taverns nearby.
They began the trip towards the village quiety, Fattywhorebag leading the way. But the quiet was too much for the little gnome and he slowed down to walk side by side with Michael. They talked—well, fattywhorebag talked, for the entire trip. He told Michael all about the land, the various creatures and a few good recipes for cooking flatulent flying pigmy hippos, although the gnome had never eaten any of the recipes he mentioned.
Finally they arrived at the village. It looked surprisingly dull and lifeless and actually made Michael think he was back In Saskatchewan again. The houses were not too large and there didn't seem to be many stores open.
Fattywhorebag lead Michael to a house in the middle of town. The gnome banged on the door. No one answered so Fattywhorebag banged on the door again. This time someone opened the door. Michael could see that it was not a gnome but looked mostly human. Other than a third eye and a green tinted skin colour it actually looked a lot like Bruce McMasterston, a local bully that Michael was well acquainted with. This green-Bruce as Michael dubbed him seemed to be very agitated at the gnome knocking on his door.
Before the gnome could make introductions green Bruce grabbed Fattywhorebag and then punted the 3 foot tall gnome down the street. Michael didn't think this was the welcome that the gnome expected. Michael had turned to see the gnome's flight and rough landing and when he turned his head back towards green Bruce Michael noticed the man thing was charging at him. The enraged man-thing was screaming at the top of his lungs and hit Michael hard enough to knock him down.
Michael realized he was going to have to fight this angry green thing, he didn't know why, just that it seemed like the right thing to do instead of running away and crying. Of course, for all his determination, which was in short supply on a peacefull day, Michael was also not the best prepared fighter. While he did play many many hours of video games and computer games, Michael's physique was rather non-heroic in nature.
A 250 pound, five foot six young man was not much of a challenge for a six foot tall, three eyed green tinted Hulk immitation. Nevertheless Michael decided to attempt an attack. As he got up again Michael could see green Bruce prepared for another charge. Michael planted his feet and prepared for the onslaught. This was the one time Michael felt proud of all the times he was refered to as "Sumo Homo," although the feeling didn't last long. As green Bruce neared Michael, Michael sidestepped so that the man-thing would miss him. Thinking and doing are two very different concepts and Michael's effort only moved him partially out of the way, leaving his right shoulder in the path of green Bruce's full bulk. The hit pushed Michael back down to the ground. This time he noticed green Bruce was still nearby and walking towards Michael.
Done with the running charges, green Bruce was ready for some hand to hand combat, which was never a specialty of Michael's in FPS, he preffered the SPAS-12 shotgun most of the time. Green Bruce came up and hit Michael in the chest. The pain sensation was overwhelming and Michael thought he would pass out just from that one punch. But he didn't and the punches kept coming. Michael would have tried to say something to stop this guy from hitting him but he really couldn't think of anything at the moment, possibly due to the concussion that occurred when the man's right hook landed on Michael's forhead.
It was then that the green man-thing made its mistake. It hit Michael in the stomach. The hit was painful to Michael. But the hits started to bring up the late night snack of four pizza pops that Michael had had just before he went to bed and was transported into this world. Finally green Bruce hit what would have seemed like the barf button because everything came spewing onto the guy. For those who may not be aware of what a Pizza Pop is here is a brief summary. When a food manufacturer has run out of things to do with a carcass of some animal he takes the remains, blends them up, throws in some old cheese and pours the concoction into a breaded soft shell, that is what a Pizza Pop is. Four of those carcass filled, heartburn inducing foodstuffs came hurling out onto green Bruce's face, torso and shoes. Even food that Michael never recalled eating in his life came out and sploshed on Michael's assailant.
The initial barrage of vomit that had hit green Bruce was starting to slide its way down the rest of green Bruce's extremely angry body. And while the anger was so strong that Michael could feel it resonating off green Bruce's body, another emotion, one of disgust, started to overwhelm the green beast-man-thing. After a full minute of wallowing in vomit, green Bruche ran off, screaming and crying like a little sissy girl that had just lost her favorite barbie.
At this point Michael thought it would be a good idea to pass out onto the street and promptly did so, injuring his head further in the process. When he awoke Michael felt as if he had spent an entire week listening non-stop to Nickleback songs. When he looked around he finally saw the little gnome, Fattywhorebag, sitting in front of the house where green Bruce lived. The day still seemed light out so michael hoped that he hadn't passed out for long. He also hoped that green Bruce was gone. Fattywhorebag asweaged Michael's fears by telling him that Thorton would be gone for a long time and that they could go into his house for a while.
Michael picked himself up and staggered into the small house. He quickly found a chair and plopped down on it and there he passed out again. When awoke this time it was to some very pleasing scents. There was a warm cup of tea right by Michael's head, on a tiny table beside the chair. Michael picked it up and took a sip, it tasted like vomit, which Michael just realized was still in and around his mouth. Vomit is a nasty thing to get out of your mouth and right now Michael was really wishing for some mouthwash. He didn't see the little gnome anywhere and tried calling several times until he felt odd saying the name Fattywhorebag often enough that it became comfortable.
Michael found the kettle on top of a small wood burning stove and used some of the water in it to clean out his mouth. Then he looked for some rum. Michael was never a big drinker and had in fact drank more alcohol before he was 19 than after. But right now the only thing on Michael's mind was numbing the pain of so many wounds and bruises and a massive headache. As he looked through the cupboards Michael wondered where the gnome had run off to and more importantly, where green Bruce(Michael had already forgotten the gnome calling the guy Thorton) was. His questions dissapeared when Michael found what looked like a standard flask full of an amber liquid. Michael sniffed the tip of the flask, he wasn't sure why he did that since he really had no memory of what different alcohols taste like. It just seemed like something to do. Michael tipped the flask over and let a few drops trickle down his throat. All of a sudden Michael felt better, even better than he had before the fight. He felt stronger and more handsome, he knew that he had just drank some alcohol because he didn't care about anything anymore. He was ready to kick some ass.
Michael stormed out of the house, the flask secured in his underwear. Yes, this entire time, Michael was just in his underwear. For some reason the thought of putting on clothes or asking for clothes never dawned on Michael. And with the alcohol in his system, Michael cared even less that he was walking around nearly naked.
Suddenly Michael blanked out an awoke, it was all a dream. Michael was still in bed, hand on crotch and back to thinking of Gemma Atkinson. But then Michael snapped out of his drunkeness for one second and realized that he was still in the fairy world. Or was he? Yes he was and that will be the end of this paragraph, for now.
Michael still didn't see any sign of the gnome but he did see four dark shapes moving towards him, quickly. "Oh god, please let those not be the overused ninja cliches." But indeed they were overused ninja cliches. They came charging at Michael, jumping, kicking and acting all ninja-like. But Michael was fueled with the weird alcohol and suddenly moved very quickly and quite ninja like himself, if ever there were a 250 mostly naked ninja. It seemed much like Chris Farley's skit on Saturday Night Live where he was a stripper was mixed in with Farley's movie Beverly Hills Ninja and that Michael was the start. Only Michael was a competent ninja fighter now and didn't care to dance.
Fists flew, crotches were punched and kicked and for one second, fondled. The ninjas lay on the ground, unconcious and dreaming of pirates. Finally the little gnome Fattywhorebag returned with a large smile on his face. "You did it, you really are the chosen one." This puzzled the no longer drunk but still buzzed Michael. "What was all of that?" asked Michael. "It was my test. I couldn't be sure if you were just using me and were lying about being the chosen one. But you defeated both Thorton and the ninjas I sent after you. Bravo. Now I'll lead you to Garthur right away." With every last bit of drunken strength Michael managed to kick Fattywhorebag so hard in the nuts that the little gnome disappeared from this novel and flew into the sun. Michael laughed, then puked, then laughed some more, then puked. Finally he was mostly sober but kind of still drunk and went walking down the street, still in his underwear, which were rather dirty.
Finally the farmer came, his name was Ivan the farmer. Michael looked around the television room one last time, flipped the bird in the general direction of where he thought Eldric was and then left. This was Michael's first time out of the wizard's place and Michael realized that the cavern was up high in a mountain. Michael got on the cart that was pulled by two horses that looked quite old. They travelled down the mountain without saying a word. It was daylight outside and Michael could see the surronding area quite well from the cart.
The countryside looked much like he had imagined it would, no signs of industry, just trees and farms and large open areas that pleased Michael. And just as he was breathing in the clean crisp air, Michael found himself flying with a tingling sensation around his body. It wasn't until 5 seconds later that he realized he was falling and the tingling sensation was actually his skin burning from fire. There was an evil pigmy hippopotamus with rather large wings that had been sent out to kill the chosen one. Only the hippo and its mysterious dark master, had not gotten the memo concerning the fact that Michael was not the chosen one. The flying pigmy hippo had come crashing into the cart and knocked it off the path. As the cart flew past the hippo the hippo let rip a large fart and as no one likely knows until now, flying pigmy hippos fart fire.
The only thing Michael could think of doing was to wave his arms frantically, pee his pants a little(although the pee dried rather quickly due to the fire), and scream. The screaming was the worst idea since the flames started to go down young Michael's throat, causing him even more pain.
The fear turned to anger and Michael thought There's no fucking way I'm going to die because of some perverted wizard. Immediately the flames went out and Michael could breathe again. Soon after Michael noticed he was slowing down. By the time he was near the ground, Michael had slowed down and landed softly on the grass at the foot of the mountain.
Michael looked around and other than grass and flowers, he didn't see anything else. "Hello" said an unknown voice. This didn't come from Michael and in fact startled Michael. He looked all around and didn't see anyone. "Hello" the voice said again. Again Michael looked and again he saw nothing. Just then Michael felt something crawling up his leg. The thing, whatever it was, moved quickly enough that by the time he looked down, Michael didn't see anyone. Then he felt something on top of his shoulders, as if a kid had just jumped up on him. Two tiny hands crossed over Michael's eyes blocking his sight. "Peekaboo" said the strange voice, giggling. Michael stuggled to move the hands to no avail and then tried to pry whatever was on him off his back. Finally the thing gave up and jumped in front of Michael, landing softly on the ground.
The thing giggled again. "Hello" said the creature, as if this was the first time it had said it. "Uh hi" said Michael. "My name is Fattywhorebag, what's yours?" "Fattywhorebag?" asked Michael. "Wow, your name is the same as mine, what a coincidence" said Fattywhorebag. Michael titled his head down to look at the thing, it was about 3 feet tall, had a long white beard and a conical hat, it reminded him of something about traveling. "Uh no, no, my name is Michael. It's just that, well that's an unusual name, Fattywhorebag that is." The little thing looked at Michael a little longer and then seemed to act as if Michael hadn't insulted his name. "Did you come from Eldric's place? That wizard is really weird, one time I saw him turning the clouds into shapes. All the shapes then seemed to act all intimate with the other shapes. A big cloud orgy in the sky, weird." The thing kept on talking and talking about many trivial things and then asked. "Wait, Michael, are you a wizard? I say that because you just came from the wizard's place and you were flying and on fire and then you stopped being on fire and then stopped flying and.."
"Wait, you didn't stop me from falling?" asked Michael. "Why of course not. How could I do that? I don't know any magic. Are you tricking me, wizards seem to like tricking me, like Eldric who one time…" Michael cut Fattwhorebag off once again. "But if you didn't stop me, then who did? I don't know any magic, I'm not a wizard." Straining down to see Fattywhorebag was hurting Michael's neck so he decide to sit down.
"What are you, Fattywhorebag? What species I mean, sorry if this sounds rude, I'm new to the area" Fattywhorebags started jumping up and down. "Oh boy oh boy oh boy, you're the chosen one. I'm talking to the chosen one, oh that'll show those buggers back in the village. Can I be your loyal sidekick, all chosen ones need loyal sidekicks and I can get.."
"I'm not the chosen one" yelled out Michael, louder than he had wanted to. "But you're from the otherworld, Eldric is always calling out chosen ones to come here and vanquish evil. Although it does seem weird that the evil never stays vanquished. There's like a chosen one coming at least once a year lately. Heh, evil. If you aren't the chosen one, then who will vanquish evil?" "I don't know, why not you?"
Fattywhorebag laughed again. "hahaha me vaquish evil? I don't think so, we gnomes don't vanquish evil, we just make stuff and sell it to the highest payer." Gnome, now it made sense to Michael, Fattywhorebag looked a lot like the travelocity gnome that always found great discounts on travel. But Fattywhorebag didn't sound anything like that gnome, instead he sounded more like a child that had just taken some helium from a balloon.
It suddenly grew quiet, both Michael and Fattwhorebag seemed to have an awkward silence between themselves. This unerved Michael, having a chatterbox that never shut up suddenly shut up threw Michael off and he was left staring at his feet for a full five minutes before Fattywhorebag started talking again.
"So, chosen one, can I be your sidekick, I'll be quiet and do even the most menial tasks." Michael sighed. "I'm not the chosen one, Eldric brought me here by mistake." Fattywhorebag's eyes widened, "But, the cave in the mountain, the flames, the firey and flatulent flying hippopotamus, those all mean you are the chosen one." "I'm not. Eldric was sending me to some other wizard to send me back so that I would be rid of this damn place." Fattywhorebag's attitude rapidly changed at that moment. "Fine then, you're not the chosen one. Up yours non-chosen one. Have fun in this land you don't like and see how far you get."
Michael realized that even though the little angry gnome was an ass, Michael still need his help. "Well, just because I'm not the chosen one doesn't mean I don't need help. You could still be my sidekick." The gnome turned its back on Michael. "Sidekick to a nobody? No chance. I would be ridiculed by all the gnomes for the rest of my life. And unlike you large flesh bag humans, we gnomes live hundreds of years and I'm only 70." Michael tought hard and quick to try and think of something that could change the little gnome's mind as Fattywhorebag started to walk off.
"Wait, can you keep a secret?" asked Michael, trying his best to sound serious. Fattywhorebag stopped and turned around but still looked upset. "Of course I can keep a secret, I'm well known for my secret keeping capabilities. Why just the other day some of my friends were talking about my secret keeping." Michael forced out a smile. "Good, then maybe I can let you in on my secret, but I can only tell my secret to one other person, er, gnomeson." Now the gnome's disposition changed back into a groveling sidekick. "Yes, yes, tell me, you can trust me." michael leaned in close towards the gnome, "Alright, I can trust you, if you are my sidekick." "Yes, I'll be your sidekick, I'll do whatever you want, just tell me the secret." "OK, I really am the chosen one" said Michael. "I knew it. I knew even when you said you weren't. I wasn't walking away from you I was just scouting the area to make sure it was clear." The gnome was beaming with excitement now.
"I am the sidekick to the chosen one, now I shall be written into the history books. Fattywhorebag the brave they shall call me. Or maybe Fattywhorebag the merciful." For once, Fattywhorebag actually paid attention to Michael's face and realized he was talking too much and shut up.
Michael kept on talking in hushed tones, thankful that he was getting somewhere finally. "I need to get to Garthur the wizard." "I know Garthur, I know him really well. Well, not really well but he passed by the village once and stopped by the store next to my home. He ordered a slice of mutton. It was a Tuesday in the winter, or was it a Wednesday in the spring, it doesn't matter. I know where he lives, I can show you the way oh chosen one." "shh" chided Michael. "You mustn't tell anyone I'm the chosen one. Enemies could come for us and we don't need any more flying hippos coming after us."
Michael just realized that he didn't know what happened to the hippo after it had attacked him. And as coincidence would have it this was the same moment that the flying hippo realized that it had not been successful at killing Michael. The hippo flew overhead and began a dive with a loud roar. It was coming closer towards Michael, its ass flaring with flames. Then it promptly froze in the air and exploded, hippo meat falling all over Michael and Fattywhorebag, who quickly produced an umbrella and jumped atop Michael's shoulders to protect him from the burnt carcass pieces.
When the sky was clear from the hippo bits, Michael looked up towards the cave in the mountain. He could just make out the wizard's shape, although it did look like there was a large protusion from the midsection. Michael didn't even want to think about what that meant. When Michael looked up again the wizard and his large protusion were both gone.
"Did you do that Michael the magnificent? I added that last part myself. You blew up the hippo right?" "Uh, yeah, of course I did. Blew that fucker up good." "Fucker?" asked the gnome. "I've never heard of that word before. What does it mean?" "Um, it means, uh, enemy." Michael didn't want to waste time explaning the real meaning of the word but soon regretted it when he heard the little gnome saying "Fucker, fucker, fucker" continously for the next few minutes.
Sastisfied that he had commited the word to memory, Fattywhorebag started to lead Michael to his village. Fattywhorebag explained that they could find some transportation at his village and that would speed up the trip.
"So, what happens to me now?" asked Michael. Eldric began to pace again and now began muttering to himself. Michael tried asking again but it seemed that Eldric was too involved in whatever he was doing. Michael got up and immediately felt the pain in his crotch where the effects of falling to the floor erection first were still causing him some pain. He started walking hoping that would dim the effects but it still hurt.
It was during his walking and groaning that Michael saw something near one of the chambers walls. At first it looked like a regular lamp but as Michael approached it he began to see that it was in fact a glowing crystal. He got closer and thought about touching the crystal. "So, what's this glowing crystal do?" asked Michael, half hoping that the wizard wouldn't even hear him. But Eldric did hear him amidst his mutterings and quickly shouted "Don't touch that crystal." So, Michael didn't touch the crystal, he wasn't a complete idiot after all.
Eldric the Elongated walked swiftly over to Michael and the crystal and smacked the backside of Michael's head. "I told you not to touch that" Eldric exclaimed. "But, I didn't touch it" said Michael, rubbing his head. "Oh, you didn't, well then, my apology. I'm just very used to people touching things without asking." "So, what's that crystal do?" Eldric waved his hand and the crystal stopped glowing. He waved his hand again and the crystal began to glow again. "It's one of my reading lights, far better than candles but very expensive. Nearly every person I ever transport to this world ends up touching a reading crystal and destroying it." Eldric turned around and started walking away and Michael figured the wizard wanted him to follow. Eldric kept on talking "I was just having a conversation with another wizard I know, Garthur the Medium ranked wizard of neutral standing. He has agreed to transport you back to your world."
The two of them kept walking into a hallway that Michael hadn't noticed before. "How do we get there?" asked Michael. "We, don't get there, YOU get there" replied the wizard, as if this mistaken transport were Michael's doing. "It shall take me at least 3 months to perform another transport and I cannot delay much longer. The times are dire and the days are dark for my world unless I can summon the chosen one who is Roger Weatherby and NOT you." Michael stopped walking and turned to the wizard. "Hey dipshit, YOU'RE the one who messed up not me. You said you're a high wizard and you couldn't even get the right person, I mean you didn't even get someone from the same continent. If anything you should be getting me back and giving me one of the crystals that I didn't break to take home with me as payment for me falling on my dick."
Eldric was visibly shocked at someone standing up to him and was almost prepared to turn Michael into a four assed dog. Then Eldric realized that the boy was right. "Very well, I'll give you something for your troubles, but I still can't take you to Garthur, he lives 100 miles away from here and it will likely take at least 4 days for you to get there by foot." This did not appeal to Michael.
You see, Michael was not exactly the most fit person in the world. He was actually rather fat, and lazy. The appeal of walking 100 miles over 4 days left Michael with some stressful pains in his chest and stomach, either that or it was heartburn, on account of Michael being so fat. It appeared that Eldric had finally come to that realization as well and he paused once more to ponder. "I know, I can send for the farmer who is not far from here, he has several horses and a cart. He will be able to take you to Garthur rather quickly. I shall send him a message immediately. " They continued their walk down the hallway until the came to a room that looked very similar to an average living room, some chairs and a couch, wall decorations and a television. This puzzled Michael. "You may sit down while I go write up a message" said Eldric.
So Michael picked the couch and found a remote control. He had always thought of these fairy worlds as places where everyone and everything seemed to be like the middle ages but with magic. When he pressed the on button it wasn't what he expected. Michael figured that this would turn on some magical device that only looked like a plasma television. But instead the screen blinked for a second and then began showing a hockey game in high definition. While he was puzzled about this he forgot about it when he saw the Vancouver Canucks whistle past the defense of the Anaheim Ducks to score a goal. Michael's favorite team were the Ottawa Senators but when watching hockey, Michael always took a any-canadian-team-will do attitude when choosing who to cheer for.
30 minutes later the wizard Eldric finally returned and stood in front of the television, blocking an amazing shoot out goal that won the game for the Canucks. "Aww, come on Eldy, move your butt out of the way." Michael sighed and clicked the tv off. The old man looked down upon his chubby transported man-boy. "The message has been sent, the farmer shall arrive in an hour or two to pick you up and take you away. Feel free to watch the television." Michael remembered he wanted to ask the wizard about something. "The tv, how's it working? You said we were in another world and that you transported me here. So how do you get The Sports Network in a fairy world?" Eldric beemed at the chance to give an answer. "It's really quite simple, it's magic." "Oh Christ, that's the best answer you could come up with?" "Actually no, but I always wanted to say something like that to one of the people I transport. I usually wait for them to mention something to set me up for it but they never seem to. The tv is hooked to a cable, digital of course, and it gives me all the channels." Michael bunched up his eyes. "So, you get cable in this world?" "No" "But you just said" "It's just regular coax cable connected to a cable outlet" said Eldric, now beeming in even greater delight. "Listen, I know wizards are supposed to be eccentric, which really means that they like to be assholes to regular people but could you for just one second wipe that grin off your face and tell me."
"Very well" replied Eldric as he went to sit down in one of the chairs. "The cable is magic, it is connected to a wall outlet in Ohio I believe. Part of the cable resides there in Ohio and part of it resides behind that television. I found out quite by accident one year that cable is a tricky thing to transport, not all of it is fully transported during my summonings. And I could bore you with more details but suffice to say I used this knowledge to my advantage, got one of my subjects in your world to hold onto a plasma tv on a certain date and transported him and the tv here along with half the cable." The wizard took a deep breath. "Satisfied?" "I guess, do you get HBO?" "Of course, I get every channel, it was part of the platinum package." Michael thought of continuing this line of questioning but decided against it while the wizard turned on the tv again(but Michael had thought he had the remote in his hand but now saw it in Eldric's old hand) and put on Dancing with the Stars. Michael hoped the farmer would be early.
Halfway during the third team's mambo, Eldric fell asleep and began to snore. At least Michael thought it was snoring, there were puffs of smoke coming out of the wizard's nose and Michael just noticed that the beard of the wizard had a small area around the nose that looked rather singed. Now that he thought of it, Michael remembered a story about an Eldric who was a dragon and wondered if the two were related somehow even though the dragon was fictional. When Dancing with the Stars was over(Michael didn't want to change the channel on the wizard) the local news came on, at least local for some area in Ohio. 25 minutes of murder and economy news and 1 minute of a fluffy kitten that was raising dogs later and Eldric awoke. There was still some time to kill before the farmer arrived so Michael went back to asking questions.
"Why is your name Eldric the Elongated, I mean I get the Eldric part, but what's the Elongated stand for?" Eldric winked. "It refers to the size of my wand" he said with a wink. "You're talking about your penis aren't you?" "Of course I am, wizards don't actually need wands. Yes my name was given to me during my studies by many a fair maiden, and that one young squire who had long hair, but how was I to know, it's not like they can speak when they are under a spell?" "You had the put them under a spell? I thought you had a big dick, that should have had the ladies voluteering to jump your old bones." Eldric sighed, "Just shut up and be quiet will you." Michael chuckled and whispered "nubby" to himself.
At this point Eldric stood up. "The farmer shall be here soon, I shall say goodbye now and I suppose, good luck." Eldric the Elongated, high wizard with a small penis then left the room back to the hall where Michael originally appeared. With the wizard gone, hopefully for good thought Michael, Michael checked his crotch for signs of any lasting damage. After he moved his gut out of the way, Michael could confirm that he was still in tact down there and that he could indeed perform any sexual favor if the need arose.
Secondly, I have started the NanoWriMo competition. That's the National Novel Writing Month Competition(that doesn't actually have any real prizes other than self respect which you probably already have anyways unless you weigh 400 pounds).
The goal is to write a 50,000 word novel in one month. I'm doing it to get myself in the habit of writing 2,000 words everyday so that I could potentially either write a real novel or at least write enough stuff per day to get paid enough to live off my writing alone.
Anyways, I've written 1,000 words already and will now share them with you. I thought of all my ideas about 5 minutes before I started writing and I have no idea where this book will go from here, but that's kind of the point of NanoWrimo.
Nanowrimo Novel:So, What's this glowing crystal do?
Michael Redding had the most unusual experience. He found himself standing in a large cavernous chamber. This was odd because just a moment before, Michael was in his room laying down in his bed asleep. This posed many difficulties, the main one that a person who is laying down asleep is not usually prepared for standing and thus Michael, still asleep, found himself rapidly heading towards the floor of the chamber. The jolt both woke Michael up and made him pass out seconds later from the pain in his head and other parts of his body. I say other parts because the unconcious Michael Redding had been having a very realistic dream about model Gemma Atkinson who was wearing a tight blue bikini that Michael knew from her 2008/2009 calendar. So the fall managed to hurt Michael's head, his crotch and his hand which was unceremoniously holding his penis.
When Michael awoke several minutes later he heard a voice. "You there. Yes, you" an old voice echoed in the chamber. "Ugh" was the most articulate response Michael could form at the moment. The voice seemed to come closer and said "Young boy, are you Roger Weatherby of 542 Livingston Drive, Manchester, England?"
Michael seemed to notice a blurred figure approaching him now. The vision blurring was not due to the bump on Michael's head but rather the fact that most people who wear eyeglasses do not tend to wear them when they sleep. Michael finally heard the voice repeat itself and answered. "No, I'm not Roger Weatherby, I'm Michael Redding." The blurry man came into focus as the man moved to sit beside Michael. The now clear man seemed like the stereotypical wizard archetype which Michael, a large fan of fantasy novels, knew very well. "And you are from?" the old man asked. "Regina, Saskatchewan" replied Michael.
The wizard-looking man had a dissapointed look on his face and went back to standing. "Oh dear" he said. "It would seem that I miscalculated." Michael looked up at the man. "Wait, let me guess, you wanted to transport someone else here, didn't you?" Wizard man looked at Michael, "Yes, but how did you know that." "I read a lot of books that deal with shit like this. Are you a wizard?" The man who looked like a wizard replied "Yes I am." The wizard, all of a sudden remembering his manners towards guests that he just transported into his chamber bowed low. "My name is Eldric the Elongated, high wizard of the purple order." Purple? That's so gay thought Michael. Then Michael realized that wizards might be able to read minds and quickly started thinking about breasts.
Eldric began pacing around Michael. "This was not the plan. I was supposed to summon Roger Weatherby of 542 Livingston Drive, Manchester, England. Tell me, is this Regina, Saskatchewan, anywhere near Manchester, England?" "No, I think it's like thousands of miles away" replied Michael who quickly added. "So, are you going to send me back?" Even through the blur, Michael could see the wizard's eyebrows raise and the expression on the old man's face didn't help either. "No, that is impossible, the transportation is a one way deal. I take you, well not you, Roger, the chosen one. I take him and set him on a great task to save my world from destruction." "Bullshit!" shouted Michael. "That's a lie, every book I've ever read always has the dude who does the transporting say that because he knows that no one is going to risk their life to save some stupid fairy world unless they have no other choice. But there is always another choice because there's probably ten different ways to get back to my world so send me back now muchacho."
The muchacho word caught both the wizard and Michael by surprise. Michael wasn't sure he'd ever said something like that before. Eldric the Elongated looked like he was going to refute all the Michael had said but then thought better of it. "You are a smart one young Michael. And you are right, there are many ways back to your world. But seeing as I transported the wrong person and was thousands of miles off I do not think you would like me to send you back until I fix the problem. Michael seemed to agree with that logic. "So what's the problem? Why didn't you get the right guy for this shitass hero job?" "I don't know, but if you'll excuse me for some time I might be able to figure it out."
Eldric started to move away when Michael realized something. "Hey, Eldric, do you have any glasses I could use?" "Silly me, you must be thirsty. I'll grab you some spring water." Michael sighed. "No, not a glass of water, eyeglasses, optical orbs, spectacles." This seemed to not affect Eldric's expression at all. "Things you put on over your eyes so that you can see clearly. I need something like that because all I see are blurs." Eldric smiled, "Ah, you mean dildos. Yes I have many of those for reading."
Eldric quickly walked off in search of some reading dildos that Michael really hoped looked like regular glasses. While he waited, Michael began to hum and then softly sing. "Fuck me in the ass, gently. Fuck me in the ass so tenderly" Michael sang. He and his friends had gotten into the habit of taking real songs and replacing the real lyrics with the gayest lines they could think of. Eventually Michael started composing his own gay themed songs like the one he was singing now. His friends started hanging out with him less after that.
Eldric returned as Michael was on the third verse of Gentle ass fucker. The "dildos" in Eldric's hand looked like regular glasses and Michael just expected that this would not be the only werid word exchange between his world and wherever he was now. He put on the glasses and while they weren't a perfect match to his prescription they were close enough so that Michael figured he wouldn't get any headaches.
I've been a tad busy but I should have enough energy to write something fairly soon. It will likely be a Cracked-style article about Buddhists that will never reach the enlightened state of Nirvana.
If you're here from the tiny little link at the end of my latest article, hi. Say hello or something.
Now about the title. I have decided that I shall go to the 2010 Olympics in nearby Vancouver(I'm in Victoria). Not as an athlete of course, that would take years of training and a physique that can go up a flight of stairs without getting winded.
I'll be going as a spectator and now I need to save up thousands of dollars for the tickets and accommodations. If you'd like to help out then you can send some money my way via Paypal.
I'll be saving up my money but any donation will help bump me from the nosebleed sections of the stadiums and arenas to the more luxurious cold metal benches close to the action.
My latest article will be published on September 4th. The article is about tricks that TV shows do to keep viewers that usually backfire. Tricks like killing off main characters just for ratings(I'm looking at you 24 and LOST).
There comes a time in every male youth's life where they feel the need to belong. The smart boys join the cheerleading squad where they can "belong" with 30 teenage girls and not look like perverts. The less intelligent join the band to learn to be a musician and gain skills that will be useful for getting women later in life but far less useful for getting a decent sized apartment.
Then there's my archetype, the gang member. Whereas the male cheerleader only needs to know how to grab a girl's ass and the band member just blows on a phallic symbol , the gang member has to possess some serious smarts.
I joined a gang at the age of 14. We were known as "The Protectors," partially because we offered protection services to school kids but also because we kept our blades in our pocket protectors, nestled behind our protractors.
Some famous gangs, like the Bloods and the Crips are well known for their strength and firearms proficiency. The Protectors were known for their economically sound business model and for pioneering the geometry, of destruction.
Our protection services were in high demand from the nerds and geeks of the local high schools. This required us to deal with the neanderthal bullies on many occasions.
The interesting thing about the bullies is that they could be subdued faster with knowledge than a swift kick to the ballsack.
For instance, I'll tell you about one bully called Jeff Handleson. His name has not been changed because he's a real fucking dick. He could knock over a stack of books in your arms like no one else. His downfall was swift because one of the advantages of protecting nerds that get trapped in lockers is that they hear things no one else does.
One of our clients/informants gave us a key piece of intel just before he passed out from an atomic wedgie. It turns out Jeff had a secret weakness.
Now I'm sure you're thinking that I'm about to tell you about some clichéd secret like a bully liking stuffed animals or day time soaps but you would be dickishly wrong. You'll find out soon enough.
With this information The Protectors developed a complex and fiendishly diabolical plan to subdue poor Mr. Dickwad.
I was in charge of this operation and will tell you now how it "went down" as we like to say in the street vernacular.
During the lunch hour, Jeff shoved his way to the front of the cafeteria line to get his salisbury steak and mashed potatoes. The lunch lady smirked and asked him if he wanted some milk. He smirked back "milk is for pussies" and went to sit down.
Once he was seated, me and my other gang bangers(I'm sorry if you can't follow all the technical terms I use) approached him. The kids at the surrounding lunch tables cleared out of range. Jeff stared me down with a look that can only be described as "wanting the cock badly." That's when I pulled out my blade with my left hand. My right hand was behind my back, holding my main weapon.
Jeff had probably seen a dozen blades pointed towards him before so it didn't scare him in the least, he even started to reach for his own blade until I whipped my right hand out in front and he saw my enormous sack, of milk.
I guess it would be a good time to mention now that Jeff's secret was that he was lactose intolerant, otherwise me holding a sack of milk would seem rather stupid.
Also, the sack. For those of you not in the know, we Canadians take our milk in carton, jug and sack form. The sack is just a big plastic bag, full of milk, thus the name "sack of milk." Try to keep up.
Now Jeff looks a tad annoyed but he does a good job at hiding his horror. Then the rest of my gang whips out their sacks of milk and Jeff goes into full pants pissing mode. He cries, he bargains with us but we show him no mercy.
I take my blade and rip into the bag of milk and pour it all over him. Ideally I would have liked to have shoved the milk down his throat but I had the sack in one hand and my blade in the other. Luckily Jeff started hyperventilating which allowed far more milk to go into his throat from the sacks of the other gang bangers.
We had to move back a bit because the lactose build up in Jeff's system cause him to fart a lot. And these were not silent farts, nor were they odorless. There were full on methane explosions in Jeff's pants. He convulsed a bit, groaned and grabbed at his stomach and then lay still, dead. Or not, I don't really remember.
All I know is that he wasn't at school the next day and the day after that he was buried in St. Mary's Cemetery, or transferred to St. Mary's school for girls, either way it's not important. What is important is that The Protectors had taken down a major foe and we continued ruling the school yard until we graduated and gave up our life of crime.
Anyways, the title suggests that I was going to give you some tips to fortify your house in some way. I had really just made that title to attract viewers but I suppose I can think of something.
One downside to being a gang member is the constant threat of drive-by-shootings or eggings, depending on your relative location to Toronto or Vancouver. If you don't get hit then your loved ones might get hit. If you have a little brother it is especially devastating if he dies or gets egg on his face because he could have been recruited to join the gang.
So to fortify your house on the cheap here is what you can do.
Procure some steel. It isn't a metal that's usually just lying around so the best option is to buy some. Buying stuff is not always against gang rules especially since you can get steel extremely cheap over the internet.
Have you seen those Ginsu knife sets on eBay? There's thousands of them and they all go for 99 cents or less, plus shipping. Buy a hundred of those and you are set.
Melt down the knives(not in a microwave, trust me) and flatten them with a hammer or rolling pin and place them between the drywall of your house or apartment(be sure to add insulation at the same time to lower your energy bills).
Now you can rest easy, unless of course one of the opposing gangs ever learns that they can just bust down your door and rape you. But that shouldn't happen since it hasn't appeared in any movies lately.
There is a guy on the cracked forums that has started making his own comics, titled Daisy Owl. It's about an owl that has two human kids. It reminds me of Calvin and Hobbes which I always enjoyed as a kid. The drawing is fantastic and the dialogue is hilarious. Be sure to check it out.
About 4 years ago(maybe 5) during the summer, my now ex-brother-in-law invited me to do a little fishing north of Victoria in Cowichan river near Duncan. We never actually caught anything but we did see something that would lead me to many moments of future stupidity. We saw some people going down the river on inner tubes, drinking beer and having fun.
Several days later we went back to try this ourselves. My brother-in-law, two of his friends(one guy, one girl) and myself went on this trip. We took two cars because we were going to be smart. We would park one car at the spot where we wanted to end our trip and drive the other car farther up the road where we would get out and go into the river.
Before we got there we had to go and buy our inner tube rafts from Canadian Tire. The fact that we didn't get the tubes in advance should give you a clue as to our overall preparedness for this trip. We got the tubes and an air pump and went off for the river. We left one car at the bottom as planed and went about 2-3 miles up.
I was, in my mind, the most prepared for the trip. I brought a mini cooler with two bottles of Gatorade and some snacks. The drinks and snacks were good because the trip took a lot longer than we anticipated. The cooler however, was not such a good idea.
I expected it to be water resistant. That impression lasted about a minute after which the whole outer casing took on several pounds of water. I was also afraid of losing the cooler so I wore it around my neck. The cooler weight about 5 pounds with the extra water and it was dangling around my neck, waiting for an opportunity to strangle me. That opportunity came when I hit a fast patch of water and was facing the opposite direction of the river's current while the cooler got caught on the current and slid behind me. The weight of the cooler combined with the current created a cooler-noose that took a few moments of severe uneasiness to untangle and return myself to being an air breather. It's one thing to have a thought that you might die, it's another to know that if you died, it would be from a cooler filled with cheese and grapes. I think it only happened once but the lack of oxygen may have erased memories of other strangulations.
Along the way we saw a couple that was doing the same stupid thing as us, we passed them and went our merry way into a part of the river that was more rock than river. Unable to merely wade by, we had to stand up and walk on slippery rocks, carrying our tubes(and me with my cooler-noose) while a small amount of rushing water tried to trip us up. This was one of the few times I was happy to have a rather excessive posterior as it cushioned the numerous falls I had during my first and last portage.
Back into water that was several feet deep I could finally relax and enjoy the scenery. The water, trees and hills were rather pleasant and help dull the absolute dumbassery that followed.
With the currents everyone changed positions from front to back every now and then. Sometimes one person would be a little behind and everyone would dig their feet down or hold onto something to wait for that person to catch up.
On one such occasion I was the one in the rear and I saw everyone huddled together. Not wanting to lag behind anymore I figured I'd just happily rush past them so that I'd be in the lead. I realized far too late that they were not huddled there just to wait for me, but because they didn't know how they were going to get down from the jagged rock filled slide of death that was in front of them. It wasn't much of a drop but rather an incline with white water and large rocks that would probably give you a concussion or worse if your head happened to hit them. The others tried to catch me but instead they ended up flipping me off my tube so that when I went down this natural slide the tube was over my head and providing no assistance what so ever.
Here is a crudely drawn diagram of the event in question.
I made it through the water slide of doom without so much as a scratch or gaping head wound. I even managed to hold onto the inner tube and my noose-cooler didn't strangle me. There was a small gravel/sand area after the slide and I fought against the current to walk over there and sat down. I shouted to the others that I was OK and waited for everyone else to climb down a rocky path to meet me.
I don't remember if it was from that incident or an earlier one but I ended up losing a contact lens from one of my eyes and thus spent the rest of the day partially blind and very weary of losing the other contact.
At this point we had probably been on the water for at least 4 hours. We had anticipated the trip being 2 hours based on the fact that we wanted to do the trip in two hours. Calculations are for pussies after all. I was a bit emotionally and physically tired and decided that if there was a place that I could get to that would be easy for the rest of them to find me when they drove back up, I would get out of the water and stay there.
It may have been another hour before such a place could be found. Most of the river where we were was surrounded by 20-40 foot high cliffs, but eventually we came to a foot path that was marked by a sign saying that it was a parking lot for a provincial park. So I got out there and headed up to the dirt lot. We had guessed that we were probably no more than an hour from the end car so I expected a long wait.
Since we had expected to have a short trip we didn't get in the water until about 2pm which meant that it was around 7pm when I went up to the parking lot. There was still a lot of light out and I just sat on the inner tube, ate and drank what was left of my provisions and thought deep thoughts about which girl on girl fantasy was the best.
Time passed and a park ranger came into the parking lot and saw me. He asked me what I was doing and I told him about our little adventure and I think he thought I was partially insane or a future Darwin award winner. Seeing a fat youth wearing only swim trunks was probably more than he could handle at the time anyways.
I was greeted by another set of people, the couple we had passed in the water. They were finished and asked me where my friends were and I told them my reasons. Then I got an interesting proposition. They were going to the back of their van to smoke a joint and offered me a chance to go and share in BC's finest crop.
I haven't done any drugs before, possible reasons include the whole say-no campaign, the fact that I've seen the effects of addiction on others and mainly because I never knew where the hell to find any(And I went to a University in the pot capital of the world). I had figured that this invite could either go the way of the penthouse forums or the way of a Stephen King Novel. There was also the fact that I didn't want to miss the car if it passed me by. So I chickenshiterly declined my one and only invite for drugs.
It had no been over an hour and there was still no sign of anyone coming up the road and the sun was starting to set. I began to deflate the tube and decided to walk down the road so that I would at least be making progress towards the car.
There I was, no shirt, no shoes, one contact lens, an empty cooler around my neck and an inner tube on my arm, walking down a rocky road. After maybe 20 minutes of walking and scraping my feet in near darkness the park ranger and his car reappeared. He had to go collect the money from some campers back passed where we started our trip and offered me a ride and told me that he would drive me down to my friends afterwards.
I was too tired to even care if he was a crazy mad man pretending to be a park ranger and said yes and climbed in. We passed the car that we had left at the top of the river so I at least knew that no one had abandoned me. After the ranger picked up the camper's money we headed back down and passed everyone else in the other car. Both cars stopped and I got out and into the other car. The adventure was over. We stopped at a pay phone at a gas station to call people and tell them we were OK, it was probably at least 9pm by then.
My brother-in-law and the others had gotten out of the river when it was really dark but before they reached the car. They had ended up getting a ride to the lower car by some guy in a truck. We drove home.
What was supposed to be a relaxing cruise down a gentle river ended feeling far more like the movie Deliverance(only with less sodomy and minimal murder).
When I got home I slept for hours upon hours and hoped I would never do something like that ever again. Since I survived and didn't actually get hurt I still rate the trip as a success.
And just like Cracked.com there are performance bonuses. So if you can get one hundred thousand of your closest friends to read and Digg my articles I'll stop saying mean things to you guys behind your back, or something like that.
Then give it to me, I have lots of ideas of what to do with it.
But seriously, if you ever want to donate money because I either made you laugh or cry or some more realistic reason then go ahead and send it to my paypal account using the address jonathankimak (at) shaw (dot) ca
And once again here is a promise to eventually create some original posts in this place.
This is something that I started way back in september-october of 2007 as a potential pitch to Cracked. Since it was not based on anything real it was not a suitable article and I abandoned it. But as I have a long history of leaving things unfinished I decided to finish this article. So here it is. Then I finished it and posted it on the Cracked writers board back in March. So the beginning would need some changing since Barack Obama is the only contender now but fuck that, if it took me months to finish this and more months to post in here then there's little chance I'm going to edit it now even if such an edit would only take a minute. I'm classy like that.
Why Angelina Jolie Will Be President in 2016
Many news outlets are furiously covering the current 2008 US Presidential Election. But they need not worry about predicting the next president. Why? Because I can already tell you who will win. Neither Barrack Obama or Hilary Clinton will be president. They will soon realize that all their petty insults directed towards each other are really the result of their hidden lust for one another. They will run off and live in the Swiss Alps where the press won't bother them. Bill Clinton will say it's the happiest day of his life. Meanwhile John McCain will be p(resident) of the Shady Acres Senior Home.
So who does that leave to take the reins from George W. Bush?
Dennis Kucinich and his running mate Gimli, son of Glóin, from the Lord of the Rings trilogy. Their elf-dwarf alliance will lead the country out of chaos and create a stable, Orc-free nation until their second term expires in 2016.
And who will take over middle-earth the USA after they leave office?
Angelina Jolie, and here's why:
Her tattoos hold the secrets to victory
Angelina has 13 confirmed tattoos and has had 7 other tattoos removed or inked over. Current tattoos include a tiger and a dragon on her back, a Latin cross and the words "Quod me nutrit me destruit" (Latin for "What nourishes me also destroys me") below her navel.
Why all the tattoos? Because she's a real life Michael Fucking Scofield! Only with more hair, a nicer chest and her tats don't make her look like roided out Smurf.
Yes siree, Angelina's tattoos have secrets encoded in them that will A) Get Her elected and B) Tell her what to do while acting as the commander-in-chief.
Possible meanings of the tattoos? Since I'm not part of the Jolie-Pitt Cabal I can't say for sure but I have some clues.
For one thing she has 4 sets of coordinates written on her left shoulder, replacing the Billy Bob tattoo. Jolie claims that each coordinate corresponds with the location where each of her children were either born or adopted from.
But what do they really represent? Locations to futuristic weapons? Untold amounts of gold to finance her campaign? A re-cut edition of Sky Captain and the World of Tomorrow that doesn't suck? Or maybe they are coordinates to 4 tombs that, when all the planets are in alignment, will reveal the secret location of a.. well, you get the picture.
She hates her dad
Ever since Angelina's father, Jon Voight made a public statement saying that his daughter is bat-shit crazy the two have not been on speaking terms. Usually family is a big issue when running a campaign. Hell, even the closeted gay politicians usually have a wife and two kids that stand by their side for each drearily dull speech.
So at first this seems like a bad PR choice for Angelina. Not so! Let's say that the Prime Minister of Canada makes a death threat to Jon Voight while Angelina is in office, the US won't have to invade Canada to appease Angelina's sense of honor. Instead, Angelina can just hogtie her Dad(we hear she's good with bondage) and ship him off to Moosejaw, Saskatchewan. In return, Canada might promise to take back Pamela Anderson.
Forget about kissing babies, Angelina ups the ante by adopting them. She'd already have more kids if the orphanages offered six-pack discounts. But at 1 kid per year (either adopted or spawned) she can have 7 more before the start of her campaign in 2014. She's even having twins to speed up the process. Her next adoption won't even involve a small child. She will have evolved her strategy to bring in older kids that can be put to work on her campaign.
Remember the story months ago about Mitt Romney and his 5 sons? The sons that were so patriotic they didn't go to fight in a war, because they were doing their duty campaigning for Papa. Angelina has taken that strategy and run wild with it. Romney only has 5 kids, Jolie will have a dozen. PLUS she gets to pick what the kids look like.
Talk about a dream team for a campaign. She can have a kid for every demographic available. Asian? Check. African-american black? Check. African-African black? Check. Russian? Check. Kwik-e-mart Indian? Check. Casino Indian? Check. Hispanic? She'll take two.
Now everyone will have a race-based reason for voting for her. How can anyone criticize her for being racist when she has a kid of every ethnicity living in her own house? And when they do house work it's called “chores” instead of child labour. Bravo Ms. Jolie, bravo.
Her appeal to every demographic known to humanity(and some that haven't even been invented yet)
As an actor, Angelina has played a diverse amount of roles. In her real life she's played just as many unique roles as well. This is very effective at attracting the voters who only want to vote for "one of their own.” Angelina has no problem fitting in with whatever community she's in.
She's played a hacker and also starred as one of the hottest video game characters ever, so she's got the computer and gaming geeks at her mercy. She's been an assassin that loves guns so she'll have the NRA on her side. She's been a cop, a car thief and even a mental patient. Whatever niche voting block exists, she's played one.
In her real life she's been a lesbian, a bisexual and then a straight woman. She's been a mother, a divorcee and a S&M enthusiast. She even had a controversial kiss on the lips with her brother. That should help her carry Kentucky. Everyone in America will be able to look at an aspect of Angelina's life and say she's just like me” and her voter popularity will soar.
A sex scandal everyone would want to happen.
Sex scandals are nothing new to politics. The affairs aren't that scandalous though. The really scary thing is how ugly most of the people who have the affairs are.
Yea, sorry for that last picture. But it makes a good contrast to what an Angelina Jolie scandal would involve.
Angelina Jolie has had more sex on screen than Wendy Whoppers(Congresswoman, (D)-Nevada). It's very easy to picture her having sex. Very, easy. So easy, oh yeah oh…wait, back to the article.
If a scandal broke out that Angelina was having an affair the tabloids would be all over it like Jim McGreevy on a cabana boy. But there would not be the large amount of moral outrage usually associated with a sex scandal. Instead there would be aspirations that this sort of thing would happen all the time. Then while all the papers and TV shows talk about the affair and show every movie clip of Angelina Jolie having sex(running time 26 hours), Angelina could actually get some work done. Who needs an interview with Angelina Jolie when you can legally show sex on the news and call it serious reporting. She gets left alone and the country gets some shit done.
Maybe you haven't realized it yet, but Angelina Jolie is pretty hot. And once the first kid came in through the mail Angelina Jolie became an official MILF.
If she were president she'd become the very first President of the United States I'd Like to Fuck (or POTUSILF). Chester A. Arthur could have been the first POTUSILF but I hear he was just giving away hot dickings down at the phonograph stores. What a whore.
Gave out mustache rides for a penny.
Angelina can get millions of votes just based on her looks alone. People like to vote for attractive people. It makes the voters feel attractive. One of the main reasons George W. Bush got elected twice was because of his shapely posterior. People would see him on TV and shout “What an ass.” Clearly the voters of America like a nice looking buttocks sitting on the presidential chair.
Of course a lazy and childish writer would make mention that many people wouldn't vote for Angelina because they'd be too distracted to go to the polls. They'd then list the reasons why people were distracted and giggle like a 12 year old. They would say things like “Oh those 18 year old males will certainly be thinking of Angelina Jolie when they pull their lever, at HOME. Hey-ooh!” Or “Young men will be too busy to go to the polls because they're focused on their own pole. Hey-ooh!” They might even stoop so low as to say a crude joke like “Men like to masturbate. They certainly will be masturbating when they think of Angelina Jolie. They will then go and vote for Angelina Jolie, and then masturbate. Masturbate, masturbate, masturbate. Ooh-hey! Masturbate!” I am not such a lazy and childish writer and thus I will not make any mention of Angelina Jolie and any reference to masturbation.
With Angelina Jolie president the country will thrive, that is a certainty. So why bother talking about all the great things she'll do in her 8 years in office. Instead I'd like to briefly show you who will take over after her glorious reign as POTUSILF.
Okay I'll finally update this thing. And since a group of people at the cracked forums have started promoting each others blogs I might actually keep on updating this thing more often than monthly/yearly.
As usual I'm going to just post funny crap I wrote and/or submitted to the Cracked.com forums. Eventually I'll post some original stuff that may even be funny.
First off some shameless self-promotion. I've written 2 articles for Cracked.com
I was doodling in Paint.net and created a wonderful piece of art. It was a stick man that I named Sir Roger Portnoy. I decided to create a little scenario for him that people on the forums at Cracked could then have fun with. I assumed that my obstacles would be solved in ways unimaginable to myself. I was right. The forum members who participated made my entire week better due to their brilliance. (Click pictures for large images)
I'm a fan of Heroes and like many people I got confused as to why certain things were happening. One big one was why the company never killed Adam(aka Kensei aka that guy you last saw on Alias). So I wrote my own scene about why they would do something like that. This was written a week before the early season finale where we do get some closure on Adam.
Why the Company didn't kill Adam, a musing in 26 acts.
Scene: Large office with long conference desk and many chairs. Members of the Company all seated. People seem unsettled.
Bob: Alright everyone, settle down. As you have probably head by now, Adam Monroe attempted to steal vial 138 of the Shanti virus. That strain, if released, would have killed us all. We have Adam in custody and now we have to decide what to do with him. Any suggestions?
Kaito Nakamura: Kill that bastard and do it now, I'll get my shotgun.
Charles Deveaux: I'm with Kaito, let's kill him.
Angela Petrelli: I think Kaito and myself need to discuss this further, in my room.
All the other founders that never get mentioned: Yes, let's kill Adam.
Arthur Petrelli: No, you fools, we can't kill Adam.
Kaito: Yes we can, a shotgun to the face will kill him instantly, there's no coming back from that one.
Arthur: No Kaito, I mean.. Kaito pay attention, stop looking at MY wife. I know we "can" kill Adam. But we can't kill him because he is too integral to the plot.
Bob: What plot?
Arthur: The plot of the Television series we are all in.
Charles Deveaux: Arthur, have you gone mad? We are real people, in the real world. We just happen to have abilities akin to characters in a comic book, or a TV show based on comic books, or a miniseries idea that's dragged on to long and now has no idea where it's going. But we are REAL dammit.
Arthur: No we are not real, we are fictional characters.
Angela: Arthur dear, how can you know this?
Arthur: Because, my ability is to break the fourth wall.
Arthur: Yes, it's true. I can communicate directly with the audience that is watching us right now. All I do is turn this way. Arthur turns towards camera. And now I can talk to them and tell them things.
Kaito: Fine Arthur, you can talk to your "audience" but what does it have to do with us not killing Adam Monroe?
Arthur: If we kill Adam, then we would not have a story line that shows the consequences of time travel. And the future wouldn't have any ambiguity about who is good and who is bad. Don't you see, if we kill Adam, then everything will be far too clear for the "audience."
Bob: But the "audience", as you call them, they must be rational thinking people, right? Wouldn't they enjoy a straightforward romp through a set of predetermined challenges that slowly leads up to a climatic battle of good versus evil?
Arthur: No, they may think they want that, but my power shows me that moral ambiguity makes characters such as ourselves seem more human. And people need to identify with characters, otherwise they would realize that their emotions are being fucked with so that their brains don't think about the inconsistencies in our story.
Kaito: So what do you propose we do with Adam?
Arthur: Keep him locked up for the rest of eternity.
Bob: Won't that just give him a very long time to plan revenge and prepare for his eventual escape?
Arthur: Yes, but if we want the moral ambiguity we must realize that eventually he has to escape. For the good of the plot.
Kaito: But don't you think he will want to kill us all when he escapes?
Arthur: Well... probably. But if we die, it will make the struggles of our children seem far more important.
Angela: Fuck that. I'm out of here. Kaito come on, let's go "discuss" this further, in the backseat of your car.
Kaito: No Angela, we must be resigned to our fates. We are mere characters. We cannot think rationally like our audience. We must obey the will of Kring.
Harry Fletcher: Isn't this just fucking with the minds of the audience? Really, they will eventually realize that the will of Kring is shit. They will all ask why we didn't blow Adam's fucking head right off at this very moment. It's bullshit. Total bullshit. And if the people ever realize it, there will be anarchy.
Arthur: Harry, one more word out of you and you will die without anyone knowing who you are, what your power is, how you die or what you look like.
Harry: So what, I bet no one even knows what YOU look like Arthur.
Arthur stands up, removes gun from hidden holster and points it towards Harry. Arthur: They don't know what I look like because it adds mystery and saves the budget for more important things. Like writing plots with moral ambiguity.
Arthur shoots Harry in the head.
Arthur: Adam lives. Got it?
Everyone: Got it!
Arthur stares over the warm corpse of Harry Fletcher
Arthur: Well Harry, at least they know how you died.
Here is what I consider the first post at Cracked where I actually put some effort in to make people laugh. It was in a thread about cooking turkey for thanksgiving.
Deep Frying a Turkey is the best way to go.
Buy a Deep Frying Turkey Basin.
If you cannot afford such a device, a garbage can atop a pile of flaming leaves can be a cheap and easy substitute. Also, be sure to buy a turkey. If the price of turkey is too much, consider using free range birds, such as pigeons.
Fill the basin to the brim with oil. While engine oil does add a delightful new-car smell to the turkey, it is best to use vegetable oil. Turkeys are usually vegetable and grain fed, thus the vegetable oil gives the soul of the turkey peace in the afterlife, this increases the flavor dramatically. Be sure that the oil is at the brim, you can never have enough oil. You could even spread some oil around the ground surrounding the basin to appease the ancient god of turkey.
Find a suitable location for to set up. Ideally you should consider setting up inside. At this time of year it can be quite cold, this will only slow down the cooking process. The added heat from being inside can reduce precious minutes from your busy holiday schedule.
In addition, by cooking inside you allow the smoke to stay in the area, thus enriching the taste. Smoked and fried turkey is extremely delicious.
Don't forget to include the children. No, I'm not implying that you fry the children, that would be barbaric. But they should be involved early on. Food preparation and working around oil are two jobs that your child should learn as soon as possible, as they can then be prepared for life after school when their 4-year degree turns out to be a useless degree that will never get them a job.
Let the kids help with placing the turkey in the fryer. They are shorter and thus closer to the fryer, so less splashing of the oil will occur when they place the turkey in. If the kids are bored with the chore, spice it up by making a game out of it. Let the kids try out their basketball talents by throwing the turkey into the fryer. Practice makes perfect.
Now that the turkey is in the fryer, you can sit back and relax for a while. We live in the age of technology, so there is no need to worry about that turkey, technology will keep you safe. Cooking time should be 4 minutes per pound, which seems absurd since we're talking about a NORTH AMERICAN holiday. So it should really be 2 minutes per DOLLAR. So if you paid $30 for your turkey, then it should take 60 minutes to cook at 350 °F (175 °C for those "metric" folks). Set your watch and go drink some beer. If you don't have a watch, just use the beer as a timer. I can usually down a can of beer in 4 minutes, so after I've had 15 beers I know the turkey is done.
Removing the turkey. The oil is quite hot and so is the frying basin. So ideally you should get a large stick and tip over the frying basin. It's ok to spill the hot oil on your floors, especially if they are wooden floors. The oil will give your floor a nice shine that will improve the value of your house. All you have to do after that is pick up the turkey off the floor and put in on a plate, ready to serve.