Tuesday, September 30, 2014

Sammy's Great Vomit Affair

Squeamish Sammy squeaked his fingernail on an unpleasant surface and it made a noise that did not appeal to him. It sent a chill through his arm, up his shoulder, and into his heart. Simultaneously the icky squeak noise rattled down his ear and connected to an abstract image and feeling of sickness that existed in his brain. This combination caused him to throw up on his hand.
"Barf!" he said, as he barfed with his eyes shut tight.

He finished his barfing and opened his eyes. Obviously he didn't like the sight he saw of his throw up hand. He immediately imagined his throw up was acidic and eating away at the flesh on his hand, arm, and around his lips. He knew it wasn't actually, but the mental image disturbed him so that he began to vomit more.

Friendly Franny walked in.
"Boy you're really having a barf time aren't you, Sammy?" said Franny.
"Don't look at me you'll vomit everywhere like me." warned Sammy as he vomited more.
"Don't worry," said Franny, "vomit doesn't bother me at all. Vomit all you want."

Sammy thought of being a person that wasn't so grossed out by so many things. He didn't have the stomach for gory movies or rap songs with explicit lyrics. He thought about the calm and peace that would come from being a person who wasn't so squeamish. And then he vomited again, because in order to think about being a person not bothered by that stuff, he still had to think of the stuff.

He continued to barf. Then he would stop. Then he'd think of an image he didn't like again and continue barfing. Friendly Franny just stood there watching him barf for a while. She took a seat and watched quietly.

"You see I keep making associations with images that make me throw up." said Sammy.
"You're making barf associations?" said Friendly Franny.
"Yes." said a quivering Sammy.
"A Barf Association sounds like a place where people who have strong opinions about barf meet!" said Friendly Franny. They both laughed and Sammy vomit-laughed.

"Why don't you tell me some of the images you're thinking of when you barf? Maybe I'll barf too!" said Friendly Franny. Sammy told her a few things. Nothing worked.
"Snails." said a barfing Sammy.
"Nope." said a not afraid Franny.
"Mice." said a barfing Sammy.
"Nope." said a not afraid Franny.
"Dirty hair." said a barfing Sammy.
"Nope." said a not afraid Franny."
"Dirty hair in your food." said a barfing Sammy.
"Nope." said a not afraid Franny.
"A mouth full of someone's body hair." said a heaving gagging Sammy.
"Nope." said a not afraid Franny.

There was a pause. They looked at each other.
"Gosh you're so nice. I really like you." said Sammy. Then he barfed.
"What'd you think of just then?" asked Franny.
"Oh... " he puked a little more, "Well... just that how I said I liked you. Then I thought, what if you liked me? Then I thought of us kissing. And I imagined you kissing me, and then getting some of the mouth vomit from my mouth on your mouth. Then I imagined me being you, doing that to me with my vomit mouth and I thought it was disgusting. Then I barfed again."

Franny just looked at Sammy.
"I told you, barf doesn't bother me." she said in a nonjudgmental voice.
"What?" said Sammy.

Friendly Franny got up, walked slowly over to Sammy, being careful not to slip in his vomit puddles. She leaned in and kissed him on the mouth. Sammy was shocked. There was a stark tension in the room. They looked at each other, vomit on their mouths.

"I can't believe you kissed me on the vomit mouth!" exclaimed Sammy. "You're gross." he said and ran out of the room, as he vomited.

"It sounds like he took his judgement of himself out on you." said Franny's therapist after Franny told her about it all, "also that is pretty gross, you shouldn't kiss someone with vomit chunks on their mouth. It sounds like you could stand to be a bit more judgmental, Franny."

Kirk Baggum Waxes That Baby

Kirk Baggum got himself a new car. It wasn't a car just for practical driving around. He got it because it looked damn sweet. He liked the way it looked. He liked the way he felt when he drove it. He liked how it looked parked on his driveway. It was red.
"Damn, lookit that ride." he said about it, as he watched it sit in his driveway.

Kirk loved his sweet red car. He wanted it to treat it real nice. He wanted all the folks to be jealous of it. He liked runnin' his finger across it. One day it rained. The rain stopped and quickly dried up, but that doesn't mean it didn't leave rain spots on Kirk's sweet ass ride. Kirk was pissed. Pissed, but determined. Determined to clean the sucker.

He got himself some car wax. He waxed that baby up. Oh mama, did he give his ride a sweet smooth wax. It squeaked and it shined. He wore his jeans and no shirt when he waxed it. He waxed it and moved his hips as he worked a hard groove onto the paint of the sweet ride. He got a therapeutic high from giving his car a wax job. He loved waxing it hard.
"Damn, lookit that shine." he said to no one but himself, as he waxed the car.

Kirk waxed his car regularly. He began to keep it waxed and smooth, as a daily habit.

"Kirk you always out here waxin' that thing." said Dana, Kirk's hot bimbo big boobed babe girlfriend.
"Baby, I'm workin' aright?!" said Kirk.
"Want me to spray it with a hose?"
"No baby I did that already, you can't spray after waxing and I just waxed." said Kirk.

Kirk didn't know if that was even true but it sounded true enough to get his girlfriend off his case. Dana was sad. She was a feathery haired blonde bimbo and all kinds of guys would kill to have a crack at her, meanwhile Kirk's too preoccupied with waxing.

But boy did he love waxing. He loved to listen to music with saxophone solos and wax his car. His jeans seemed to get shorter the more he waxed. Kirk also began to get more preoccupied with his waxed red car than anything else.
"I wax you good, don't I?" he whispered to the car.
The more beautiful he saw his car, the more ugly his reflection became. He liked to lick his car. One day he tried to have sex with his car somehow. It was at night time so all the stories about it are inaccurate because it was hard to see in the dark, but legend has it he rubbed his genitals on the car to try to have sex with it.

His bimbo girlfriend Dana left him. Kirk moved into his car. His car was all he cared about. It didn't matter. As long as he could wax and wax. One day Kirk put his bare rear buns on his waxy car and moved his muscly bottom around on it, getting aroused. He was arrested for indecent exposure.
"Dang, that ain't far." said Kirk.

Sunday, September 28, 2014

Buzzy the Bear

Buzzy the Bear was a big fuzzy bear who lived deep in the forest. He was so big and cuddly you just wanted to hug him. One day he woke up and was hungry.
"Leaves and sticks everywhere. I don't want to eat those!"
Buzzy walked around a sniffin' everything in sight, including the air, which was not in sight. So he walked around sniffing just plain everything. What a sniffer!

From about a mile away he detected a yummy scent, so he followed his smart nose to it. His nose took him to a friendly camper named Sara Martin. She had set up a tent and was having a nice time camping, cooking, and reading. Buzzy the Bear ate her. It was a grisly awful scene you wouldn't wish on your least favorite person. Sara Martin screamed and screamed and did not see it coming at all.

Buzzy continued walking around. After a few hours his fuzzy fur on his face and paws had crusted from the blood of his meal. His big funny fluffy bear tushie waddled from side to side when he walked.

"Hey you!" said Whippy the Bunny!
"Who me?" said Buzzy the Bear.
"You can't eat me!" said Whippy.
"I like to eat so I am gonna try." said Buzzy. Buzzy was fast but Whippy was faster. Buzzy ran through the forest. His big bear torso crashed through and knocked over many small branches and trees. He didn't catch Whippy.

A few weeks later Buzzy was walking around a sniffing.
"Whap!" said a tranquilizer dart that hit him in his funny butt.
"We believe that is the bear, stay back." said a man from a search party seeking a missing Sara Martin.
"Whap! Whap!" said more darts that hit Buzzy. Buzzy got real tired and his vision got blurry. He took a hard nap.

Buzzy woke up and he was in a cage that he could not eat.
"I can't believe this is the animal that ate the woman I was going to marry," said Steve, a sorrowful man, looking at Buzzy. "I shouldn't have let her go and I shouldn't have yelled at her before she left." said Steve as he began to cry.

Though he tried, Buzzy could not piece together the backstory of Sara Martin and Steve's relationship, based off the few things he heard Steve say. Steve would go on to have relationship troubles for years, because he was very possessive toward women. He was not possessive for typical jealousy reasons though, he was possessive because his fiance once got eaten by a bear.

John Dump Takes a Race

John Dump was a fatso schlubbo dumpo lazy schmo, he didn't do nothin' but sit on his fat ass and watch cable TV. He loved watching his reruns channel and his cooking show channel.
"Hey John Dump you big fat loser, why don't you do something?!" said a guy who saw him.
"Hey you shut up!" said John Dump.
"It's true!" said the guy.

John Dump was mad that that guy said that. John went back to his place and sulked about it. What did he have to prove to that a-hole? He went around for a few days thinking of ways to change his ways. He didn't know of any and couldn't think of any.

One day Leo at the shop said "Hey John Dump, ya hear the big race is coming to town?"
"Huh what's a race?" said John Dump.
"Yah know when they run and try to win," said Leo, "you gonna run it?"
"Hmmm...." said John Dump. "Yes!"

John Dump figured he'd show that guy who was boss and run that race. The day of the race came and John Dump had entered but hadn't done any training or work to ready himself. He was still a schlubbo dumpo.

"Bang!" said the race gun.

All the racers took off running. John Dump did too. He was exhausted a couple of minutes into it. The racers ran fast, John Dump ran slow. He was a sweaty troubled mess.

When the racers were half way through, John Dump was taking a sit break. He pulled a cheese sandwich in a plastic bag from his pocket and ate it. Someone splashed some refreshing water on him. This gave him energy to give it a go again.

"Yay we are winning!" said the other racers.
"I just want to finish!" said John Dump. That was his big goal. If he could do that he could prove to the world in his mind that he wasn't the biggest piece of human krap alive.

Racers passed the finish line one by one. John Dump had to take breaks. He took another cheese sandwich break. This time there was jelly in the sandwich instead of cheese. It was smart of him to put the sandwiches in his pocket for the race, but his sweaty thighs really flattened the sandwiches out. He ate them anyway.

All the racers except him had finished the race. He kept moving slowly.
"Wait for me!" he shouted from a far.

The race coordinators packed up the race equipment. They didn't know he was still trying to finish. He still kept at it. Spectators went home, racers celebrated, John Dump continued his race.

He finally made it to the end and cheered for himself!
"I won!" he shouted, once he made it to the end.
"Actually you came in last place. You lost the most of any of them." said the obsessive compulsive spectator who remained until the final racer completed the race.
"No you're wrong, guy. I was racing with a different set of goals than the other racers." said John Dump.
"Oh," said the spectator, "well then congratulations."
"Thanks." said John Dump.

John Dump went and celebrated his victory by eating a large chain pizza, a soda, a bag of flamin' hot flavored crunchers, and piece of cake. He watched a good rerun show too.

Friday, September 26, 2014

Moe's Mom's Mush

Moe had a bowl of mush. He ate it one spoonful at a time.

"Yum good mush, mom." said Moe.
Moe's mom was very old. She slaved over his mush every day.
"You want mush again tomorrow?" she said.

The next day for ten years she made the mush and he ate it, he continued to live with his mother.
"Hey, want mush tomorrow?"
"Okay." he said.
The next day he ate the mush and his mom asked if he wanted mush the next day.
"Hmm... maybe something else if you got it."
His mom was so shocked she had a heart attack and died.

Moe was sad. He didn't know what to do. He met himself a nice girl named Dot and they got married. He felt guilty for trying to change his mush routine. He felt like he killed his mother. He asked his wife if she'd make him mush.

"Um I can try." said Dot.
Dot made Moe mush like mom would make. Moe ate Dot's mush.
"This isn't good like mom's mush." he said.
Dot was offended.
"I'm sorry, I know you miss your mother, but maybe you should try a change of mush."
"A change of mush is what killed my mother!"
"Are you trying to make me into your mother?"
"Yes." he confessed.
"You have mommy issues."
"No I don't, woman. You do what I say!" yelled Moe.
"Okay whatever you say." said Dot.
She had daddy issues. That is why she caved so quickly.

They bottled up their issues and had a kid named Hop. Hop had a hard time functioning because he had mom and dad issues. He went through a phase where he wore make up and pierced a lot of parts of his body.

Moe always resented Dot because she wouldn't make his mom's mush. So their son Hop resented any woman who didn't make his dad's mom's mush. Which was every woman. He also inherited his mom's dad issues so he had his own dad issues.
"This food ain't good enough." he said to women.
One day a woman responded with "Make your own goddamn food! Figure out how you want it!"
"Whoa." said Hop. This rocked his world. He'd never been stood up to like that and he was cured of the shackles of his parental mush issues.

Thursday, September 25, 2014

Gross Little Ruthie

Little Ruthie kept picking her arms.
"It's a gross nervous habit!" said Ruthie's Granny.
Ruthie was tiny and nervous and couldn't help it.
"Ya not gonna find nothing under them arms, so ya better stop pickin'!" said Granny.
If only Little Ruthie had something to make her feel stable so she could not be so nervous. Picking at her arms was the only thing that helped.

One day Little Ruthie was at work. Tough Man came up to the counter and said,
"Gimme your best stuff please!" He said please because his mom taught him to be polite as a youngster. Little Ruthie went into the back of work for the stuff. She picked out the best stuff. She brought him the stuff.
"This is the best stuff you got?" said Tough Man, with great incredulity. Little Ruthie's lip trembled and she went straight to picking at her arms.
"Ew! You can't just start pickin' your arms right here!" said Tough Man. Ruthie kept at it with the arms.
"Hey! I said I wanted the good stuff. The good stuff ain't in those arms, I'm sure of that." said Tough Man. Tough Man stormed out.

Ruthie eased up on her arms when he left. John Boss came over.
"Hey Ruthie. You know Tough Man is a very good customer, we rely on him for our sales of the good stuff."
Ruthie went back to picking at her arms.
"Ew, Ruthie. Work is not the place to pick at those arms."
John Boss had to let Little Ruthie go.

Little Ruthie fantasized about proving everyone wrong. She wondered if there were a way to make what they all said not true. Arm picking was the only thing that gave her relief. Maybe there could be a way for her arm picking to not be gross to people. Maybe she would find something if she kept picking. Maybe she'd strike gold or oil, and her arms would be a national resource of important elements. People would be begging her to pick at her arms. She would have lots of money, could live a lavish lifestyle, and be happy with the money and freedom that came all from picking her arms. She'd pick her arms and long and freely as she pleased, free from judgement.
"Wow, I'd drive a nice car if that happened." She thought.

It did not occur to her to channel her energy elsewhere for the same relief she found from her arms, but she set about to change the way people saw arm picking, so she could continue to pick her arms.

She made signs. "Arm Picking Isn't Gross!" She made more signs. "Other Gross Things Aren't Gross!", "We Want Our Gross!", "Gross? Good!"

She tried thinking of other things that people thought were gross. She made signs about those things.

"Dirty Fingers Aren't Gross!", "Slugs Aren't Gross.", "Underwear Is Not Gross.", "Food On Floor Not Gross." She didn't have room on the sign to write all of what she meant about the food but hoped people would understand.

Ruthie was a little unsure if she was doing the right thing, because some of the things she wrote about not being gross she actually thought were gross. The anxiety from this caused her to pick her arm more. She felt better.

Gary Crud and Smudgy Doris caught wind of her lone gross campaign. They were both gross and thought it would be good to join her.
"Ruthie I'm always gettin' called gross." said Gary Crud, as crumbs and droplets crumbled and dribbled off him.
"I like butts." said Smudgy Doris.
"We would like to elect you as head of the Gross Organization." said Gary.

Little Ruthie was honored. She picked her arms both in celebration and nerves for the responsibility to come. Little Ruthie didn't want to let these people who believed in her down, so she put her nose to the gross grind and got to organizing. Gross people who came out in droves.
"I love anchovies in my cereal!" said one guy.
"I have snot hair!" said a lady.
"I'm an adult baby and want a mommy." said a man in a diaper.
The organization made a gross name for itself.

People still thought they were gross, but the big fish impact, and the daily mania surrounding them in their small dirty pond made them believe they were making a perception change. More funding was donated and Little Ruthie was even able to afford a nice car based off a non-profit salary.

Ruthie kept very busy and had much responsibility for the community. Her confidence grew.

One day she realized she couldn't remember the last time she'd picked her arms. She no longer had the urge. She looked around while speaking at a big gross rally, all these gross faces hanging on her every word for inspiration and guidance. Suddenly she could not relate. She spoke in rhetoric, and pandered for cheers.
"Gross is great!" she said. "I want to see if it's nasty." she continued. They cheered. She didn't know if she meant it anymore though. The thing that made her gross she no longer needed. Where did she belong in this community she created? If they found out she wasn't gross would they be accept or would they crucify her?

Ruthie got off stage at the rally and looked at the mirror in the green room.  Gross people crowded, drank, smelled, and patted her on the back. It was lonely at the top.

Wednesday, September 24, 2014

A Dramatic Tale of Youth

One day Conor, was kickin' it with Trent. All the sudden Jensen pulls up in his truck, jumps out.
"Bro," Jensen said to both of them, "Dustin got in a fight with Paige, now he needs a place to crash."
"Oh shit!" said Conor.
"Damn." said Trent.
"He can crash with me!" said Conor.
"Sweet," said Jensen.
"Oh snap, wait." said Conor.
"What is it?" said Jensen.
"I told my boy Corbin he could crash with me." said Conor.

They were screwed. What was Dustin going to do? 
"Wait a second!" said Jensen.
"What?!" said Conor.
"He could crash with Trent!"
"Nah, bro. I already told my boy Chase he could crash with me." said Trent.
"Dang," said Jensen, "tell Chase I said what up."

They were so close to figuring out a solution. Damn. All the sudden again, Dustin pulls up in his truck. He jumped out, clearly agitated.

"Bros, Paige and I got in a fight!" said Dustin.
"We heard!"
"She hooked up with Mason." said Dustin.
"Oh damn. You want me to beat his ass?" asked Trent.
"Skyler already said he was gonna beat his ass." said Dustin.

Just then, Cole rolled up in his new truck and jumped out with news.
"Bros. Did you hear? Skyler did too much X last night and got wasted." 
"Oh shit, Skyler was supposed to beat Mason's ass for me. Now what am I gonna do?" said Dustin.
"Who was he with?" asked Conor.
"He was with Mackenzie." said Cole.
"Damn, Mackenzie's hot." said Conor.
"I can still beat Mason's ass for you." said Trent.
"Oh sweet, thanks bro." said Dustin.
"Why you gonna beat Mason's ass, Trent?" asked Cole, because he hadn't heard the news about Paige.
"Mason's girl Becca is so fuckin' hot." said Jensen.
"I hooked up with Becca," said Dustin, "Paige found out. That's why she hooked up with Mason."
"What a bitch, bro." said Cole.
"Well I'm glad I got someone to beat Mason's ass," said Dustin, "but I still don't have a place to crash."
"You can crash with me Bro!" said Cole.
"Sweet!" said Dustin and Jensen.

Everything seemed okay, until, "Oh shit, wait." said Cole.
"What?" said Dustin.
"Damn I just remembered I got my girl Chantal comin' over tonight."
"Damn. That's cool, bro I understand." said Dustin.
"I can't have you there when I got my girl over, bro." said Cole.
"Chantal is fuckin' hot." said Conor.

All of a sudden the stock market crashed, and they didn't notice.
"Dude, once at a party, my boy Chase saw Chantal makin' out with Bianca." said Trent.
"No shit, bro, I was there." said Cole.
"Sweet." said Trent.
"Tell Chase I said what up." said Cole.

Mark Perkins Takes a Risk

Mark Perkins was a plain man. He wore a shirt that buttoned up. He had sandy blonde hair. He had khaki pants. Sometimes he'd change the pants up and wear navy blue, to let people know he was going to get real wild.

One day Mark decided to shake things up in his plain life by doing something he hadn't done before.
"Are you going to go to the Grand Canyon?" asked Joan Mulkey.
"Are you going to see the pyramids?" asked Robert Cushing.
"Maybe you should do a spontaneous road trip." suggested Andrea Washington.
"Skydive and bungee jump!" said Todd Hoskins.

Mark thought those were all good suggestions, but between those choices, and the choices already in his head, he had a difficult time choosing. He decided to do eeny-meeny-miney-moe, but he lost count because he did it in his head and didn't write the ideas down. 

Mark Perkins was frugal so he didn't want to spend too much money. That was a helpful factor in deciding. Finally he settled on going in his closet and standing in there for a long while. He had never done that before, so it was sure to be a great way to try something he'd never done. He opened his closet door, walked in, and closed the door. 

At first it felt rather crowded, then it pretty much stayed crowded feeling. He had a lot of suit jackets hanging, and a couple of winter and fall coats. One of the coats was puffy, so it took up a lot of space and breathing room. He wasn't concerned about running out of air. He was concerned about whether the puffy coat was a wasteful investment though.

He didn't have much stand room. There were rows of loafers and old sneakers he stood on. They didn't smell terrible, but they definitely smelled like shoes. 

"It sure is dark in here." Mark said out loud, then wondered why he said that out loud rather than just saying it to himself in his head. 

He supposed it was to keep himself company. He'd been in there for a while at this point.

Mark wondered what would happen when he had to go to the bathroom or get a glass of water. Though he didn't set any rules so he really could do what ever he wanted. 

He waited till he wanted a glass of water. Sure enough it happened. But Mark worried that if he left the closet for a glass of water it might some how break whatever he was doing. What was he doing?
"Am I meditating?" he thought.
"Am I protesting?" he wondered.
"Am I playing a game?" he said out loud.
"Do I have a social disorder?" he said to himself, and worried that maybe God or an imaginary roommate would hear him and judge him for his thought. He really couldn't figure it out.

"I can do whatever I want!" he said with assurance. He then thought it was strange again he'd said that out loud, but also felt liberated because he was allowed to. No rules!

He reached for the closet door to go get some water. Suddenly a sense of guilt tugged at Mark. Like he was breaking a fast. If he opened the door he would somehow be disrespecting all the time he'd spent in the dark closet. What would the point of having done it be? What was the point of doing it? Just to do something he hadn't done before? He wanted this to have more meaning than that. Were there rules or no rules?! He couldn't decide, dammit.

"Krap!" said Mark Perkins as he realized he had no goal for this thing. No plan. No endpoint. This wasn't some thing he could just go with the flow about. He began to feel lost and aimless. He backed himself into a corner. Literally. The closet was in the corner of his house.

He stood there for a while longer, hoping something would happen. A sign. 

"Ring! Ring!" said the phone outside the closet door. He thought that phone call might be important. He opened the door and answered the phone.

"Hi Mark, it's your mother, is everything okay? We haven't heard from you."
"Hi Mom, thanks for calling, I was just being adventurous." Mark felt relieved his mommy called to save him. He had a nice mother who loved him.

Monday, September 22, 2014

The Respectful Meal

Hungry Lou had dinner one night with Frank Tapadasta. Lou was head of the Mopadopa family. They went to Wolododi's Ristorante. They had good food there. Hungry Lou got his name because he loved being hungry. That meant he got to eat.

The Mopadopa Family was the big family who ran stuff. The Tapadasta Family was a lesser known family coming up in the ranks. They were meeting to make sure everything was okay between families.

"I like the bread here." said Frank.
"Me too," said Hungry Lou, "did you try it with some oil?"
"Oh yeah that's my favorite." said Frank.

Frank had suggested the restaurant, and as a gesture of kindness, Lou met him there. Hungry Lou was usually quite picky about where he ate. They ate their food and talked about business. It seemed they reached a healthy agreement where both families could benefit from what they had set in place. Both parties smiled and nodded. Frank and Lou took the final bites of their entrees.

"Ah, this was such delicious pasta and sauce that I'm almost not hungry!" joked Lou.
"Who would you be if you weren't Hungry Lou?!" responded Frank. They both laughed.
"How about a dessert?" asked Frank.
"Okay, you twist a my arm. I want a cookie." said Hungry Lou.
"Excellent choice. Gino, bring him a the best cookie in the house."

Gino Bambino, the waiter, ran to the kitchen to prepare it. The men waited politely and patiently.

"Here comes a great cookie for you!" said Gino Bambino as he brought out a big cookie on a plate.
"I love cookies! I'm gonna eat a that cookie." said Hungry Lou.

Hungry Lou picked up the big cookie with two hands. Gino and Frank and the rest of the restaurant watched with excitement for Hungry Lou to eat his cookie. Hungry Lou took a big bite.

"CRUNCH!" said the cookie. Hungry Lou's eyes went wide. The restaurant's mouth agape. Complete silence. Hungry Lou put the cookie on the plate, put his hands together, his eyes down and spoke.

"...You invite me to your territory, request my assistance to make a deal with you, break bread with me, then ask me to cleanse my palate... with a crunchy cookie?"

The restaurant was so silent you could hear a crumb drop.
"I have never been so insulted in my life!" Hungry Lou stood up in a rage. From the back, Marco Bopadina of the Tapadasta Family came running out, with a cloth restaurant napkin to wrap around Lou's neck, to strangle him.

Frank Tapadasta stood up.
"The crunchy cookie was a gift to you from my grandfather Frank Tapapini! Whose famous soft cookie recipe burned to ash when you torched he and his house to the ground!" shouted Frank. Frank grabbed the rest of the crunchy cookie from the plate, "Because of you, my family only eats crunchy cookies. So please... enjoy this final cookie, as a last respect to my late grandfather."

Frank began to jab and jam the crunchy cookie into Hungry Lou's mouth. It crushed and crumbled in Frank's hands and on Lou's face. Crunchy scratchy crumbs everywhere. It was not a pretty sight. Gino Bambino had to look away.

"Eh! Eh! Ew! Cough!" said a choking Hungry Lou.

Hungry Lou gave one final cough of air, bouncing a few crumbs out of his mouth. Justice had been served. The Tapadasta family never had to eat another crunchy cookie again.

Erotic Best Friend Hair Friction

Hairy Michael was so hairy he left hair everywhere he went. He never sent back food with hair in his food because he assumed it was his. He had hairs of every different color and texture too, red, black, grey, curly, straight, coarse, blonde, thick, thinning, so any hair could be his.

He was best friends with Alopecia Felicia, who didn't have any hair. She was real skinny too, and strangely sensual looking. Hairy Michael looked like a monster and Alopecia Felicia looked like an alien. They were quite a pair. They'd known each other since school. He liked her a lot but was scared to tell her or make a move.
"We are such great friends." said Felicia.

Everyone thought they were a couple anyway, because they seemed like a compatible pair. Everyone also thought they were weirdos. They were. But not because of their hair issues, Hairy Michael was a picky eater. And Alopecia Felicia saved every catalogue she got in the mail. He was a real pain to choose a place to eat with and what was she going to do with all those catalogues?

Hairy Michael would shock people when he'd touch them because his hair would always rub against carpeting and there'd be static electricity. Because her skin was so smooth, static electricity would always cause things to get stuck to Felicia, like her dress, saran wrap and other hair. 

One night Hairy Michael and Felicia had a fling, it was an accident that just happened. Hairy Michael was glad about it. Felicia was feeling lonely.
"Did you have a bad time?" asked Hairy Michael in his hairiest voice.
"No, I can't believe that happened. I'm unsure of my feelings. And there's so much hair in my bed now." She seemed to avoid any serious discussion.
"I have a vacuum cleaner in my car."
He helped her vacuum the bed but the vacuum cleaner got clogged and broke.
"I can fix it, I swear." said a nervous Hairy Michael. He really wanted her approval and hoped this meant more romantic time together.

Hairy Michael got hair all over Felicia's home. 
"Oh I'm sorry. I'm so embarrassed."
"You know what, don't worry, watch this I got an idea." she said.

Alopecia Felicia proceeded to roll around all over the floor, bed, wood panels, tile and curtain. All the loose hair from Michael clung to Felicia because of that static thing I mentioned before. She stood up.
"Wow!" said Michael, "I need you around me all the time- I mean, ehem." He worried about how that came out, he didn't want to completely expose his emotional hand. 

She was covered from head to toe in Michael's excess hair. Michael loved Felicia even more.
"I should shower this off." said Felicia.
Felicia looked like a skinny and mini-Hairy Michael.
"Wait," said Hairy Michael, "you'll clog the shower, trust me it happens to me a lot."

They went into the backyard to hose Michael's hair off Felicia, then put the wet hair wads in a dustpan, then into the garbage. While hosing Felicia, the water glistened on her hairless scalp, brow and body. Her neighbor Doug Hicks gawked over the gate.
"Man ya'll two is like a couple sexy ugly monsters or somethin', no offense." said Doug Hicks.

Felicia got frightened and jumped into Hairy Michael's arms. Because she was wet, more hair attached to her wet body, covering her completely again. They looked like two sasquatch lovers. Michael was feeling pretty good and hopeful about it all. 

Saturday, September 20, 2014

Gunnar's Void Inside

Gunnar went to the monster truck show at the town convention center to see big trucks crash real big.
"Hell yeah." he said.
He went by himself. He liked to go. Usually he went with his woman Tanya. She had a cough that day. He never asked her if she liked the show but he took her and she went. He was sitting in his metal bleacher spot watching the big truck smash the little car,
"Hell yeah, man. This is cool." when he realized something wasn't right.
"Hmm." he said.

He looked around at other people enjoying themselves. He thought about the other times he was there and what was different about it. What was missing? Was it Tanya? Gunnar quickly imagined what it would be like if Tanya were with him at the show. It still seemed like something was missing.

"Here comes the next big truck!" shouted the monster truck show announcer on the PA. Gunnar got happy by that announcement. But immediately went back to confusion about what was missing.

"Vroom-Rattle-Rattle!" said the big truck as it readied to crush a car.
"Oh hell yeah, man." he said with volume and sincerity. Though sincere for his enthusiasm about the truck, he knew there was still a discomfort for this vacancy he felt inside. He hoped no one would identify the slight lacking quality in his cheer.
"Smash!" said the big truck as it crushed a car.
"Woo!" said the crowd a bunch of times.

The truck revved it's engine again, accelerated hard, and smash! It hit Gunnar like a ton of bricks made of monster trucks. He didn't have any nachos. That's what was missing. Normally Tanya would hold the seats and he would get the nachos, or vice versa. This time there was no Tanya. Unreliable woman. What would he do? Then he got an idea. Gunnar leaned over to the man next to him.
"Say brother, could you make sure no one takes my seat? I gotta go get some nachos." asked Gunnar.
"You got it." said the man next to him. The seats were preassigned, but Gunnar was always nervous someone would try to take them anyway.

Gunnar quickly ran out to the concessions to get nachos. The line was not too bad because the show was in progress. There were a few slow people, though. He thought about what he'd ask for during his wait time. He wanted to get jalapenos. He worried about if they'd give him enough cheese, so decided he would ask for extra.

"Cheer!" said the crowd real loud. Something badass must have happened. Gunnar missed it.
"Dang it." said Gunnar, with growing anxiety. It was Tanya's fault that he missed it.

Finally he got his nachos and ran back to his seat which was not taken. He ate his nachos and watched the trucks smash and crush other cars.
"Hell yeah." he said as he ate nachos and watched a car catch on fire. He had a good time, when the big show was over, he thought about how excited he was for the next one.

Friday, September 19, 2014

The Eager Little Talking Balloon

Jeremy the cutesy-ootsy-hooty-tooty little balloon sat in a bag full of balloons.
"Someone please blow air in me! That's all a balloon really wants!"
"I want someone to blow air in ME!" said Ron, an adjacent balloon.
"I want someone to put water in me!" said Brett the balloon.
"I want someone to put drugs in me." said Sally the balloon.

Like the most balloons, little Jeremy's dream was to be pumped full of air.
"Blow me up real big, someone, please." he said. No one but other balloons were around to hear him, though. The whimpering and whining of other eager balloons drowned out his whimpers and pleas.

"I need it! I can't stop thinking about it, my mind is racing, it's like I need that air to breathe!" said Jeremy. He really was obsessing.

Then a set of giant, to them, but tiny to the rest of the world, kid fingers reached in the balloon bag and rifled around.
"Pick me! Pick me!" said Jeremy.
Jeremy got picked. What a victory he felt.
"Oh thank you so kindly!" said Jeremy.
"I got balloon!" said the grubby kid who picked him.

The kid yanked, pulled, and stretched Jeremy all around.
"Ooh! Oh! Eee! Ow!" said Jeremy.
Then the kid put the balloon blowhole on his slobbery filthy kid mouth.
"Yes that's right..." said Jeremy.
The dirtkid took a deep breath.
"Here it comes..."
The little brat held onto the breath to give it more blow power...
"Come on already!"
The snotnose's forehead and cheeks started to turn red from holding.
"Blow!" screamed Jeremy.
And the little brat expelled every particle of air he had with all his might. But it wasn't enough. He was one of those dirty chubby grubby kids who didn't have the lung force yet to fill a balloon with air.

"This balloon ain't work!" said the cruddy little pudgeboy.
Little bitty cutie Jeremy was devastated, I'd say deflated but he'd have to inflate first! Am I right? Poor little cutie talking balloon...

Then all the sudden, a hero for the ages stepped in.
"Gimme that, boy," It was Dale, the dirty pee-pee boy's trash mouth daddy.
"I'll show ya hower's done!"
"Oh boy, oh boy, oh boy, oh boy..." said Jeremy.
Dale filled the balloon with seemingly no effort because he was a tough crusty dude who could blow easy.
"Wuhhhh??" thought Jeremy as he expanded to the point of slow mental function, "I'm so full I can't think." he thought.
"There ya go, kid." said Dale, as he released Jeremy in the air without tying the blowhole.

Rather than flying through the air like a helium balloon, Jeremy fell to the ground and sputtered out with a lame pffft.. He sat there for a few hours feeling unfulfilled. His expectations were maybe too high of how great it'd be to be filled up. Suddenly he heard a loud pop and the remains of Sally, fell to his side.
"Hey." said Jeremy.
"Hi..." said a sheepish Sally.
"This stinks." said Jeremy.
"I didn't get filled with drugs." said Sally.

They chatted for a while and fell in love. Luckily the city had a recycling program where they hired people to sift through the garbage. So when Jeremy and Sally finally got disposed of they were recycled and turned into a single balloon. They were together. Until someone else at a local business retirement party popped them. They they got recycled with this balloon girl Trish and turned into sneaker soles. Then they got walked on, worn out, and degraded on city sidewalks and on dirty mountain hikes.

Thursday, September 18, 2014

Absolute Ice Cream Corrupts

Mud was big mopey guy looking for a thing make him feel good. He saw sign on a big piece of paper taped to a thing by sidewalk. Sign said "Go get ice cream it real good. You feel good." An arrow pointed to a ice cream shop, he go there.

"Hey you go make me feel good? How?"
"Here have ice cream." said ice cream store.
"Thank." say Mud.
Mud eated ice cream, it worked, he feels good.

He walk back to the sign taped to the place.
"Hey thank to you sign, I come back tomorrow." say Mud at the sign.

Mud go back next day and then a feel good again. He go back with ugly girl who he think is pretty. She feel good too. They like each other now. They keep going back and like each other for a long time. Until she go there with different guy. Then Mud feel bad. Then he go back to ice cream and feel good again. Thank god for ice cream.

Many day after all those day, more of sign start to pop up over town, to make people go to ice cream to feel good. Ice cream house get very busy.
"Wow lot of people here to feel good." said Mud out loud.
"It sure crowded here." said the whole crowd.

Mud don't mind that everyone want to feel good at place he go to feel good. Funny thing happen though. He start to see more sign for different thing telling him to feel good.
"Sneaker shoes make me feel good? Hmm..." he said at shoe sign.
"Skin cream make a me feel good? Hmm..." he said at skin sign.
"Hmm, money to house where god live make me feel good?" he ask sign for the churchagogue.
"I don't want to buy big drive box!" he say to car sign.

Mud get confused by too many sign. Any time he try them he don't feel good. One thing for sure. Ice cream make him feel good. Reliable. Too many sign telling him to feel good actually make him feel bad. He try to look away when he see sign. No more sign please.

Every day he escape sign. Doing pretty good job at it, actually. Things going well. Hide in popular ice cream house, feel good inside.

Then one day bad thing happen.
"Hi give me the ice cream please." he say to cream store.
Cream store give him his ice cone. Usually when he eat ice cream he close his both eye to give himself big reveal of cone in hand, first he feel anticipation of seeing it, then surprise feeling when he see it, then the eat-it feeling. All make perfect equation for good feeling.

This time equation don't go as plan. He open his eyes, what first thing he see? A big sign!
"Buy cool hairspray feel cool!" say paper sign on his cone.
He look up at scoop on cone it have sign swirled in scoop too!
"Buy new song by popular music star." it say in fancy cursive swirl on scoop.

Mud get so mad he throw his ice cream scoop at store counter.
"You never allow back again!" say ice cream store.
"What am I pawn in sign big scheme!?" he yell.
"Go away." say store.

Mud sit down on bench with sign on it, don't know what to do.

Wednesday, September 17, 2014

The Most Magnificent Lovemake

Wallace was the type of man who used public bathroom stalls and did not lock or even close the door. Judith was the type of woman who thought she had spiritual connections with people and plants, she would often take long sniffs of air while half closing her eyes. They were a married couple.

Judith and Wallace made the most magnificent love one night. The following week Judith told her friends Cynthia and Fern about it.

"Oh." said Cynthia.
"Yes, isn't that marvelous, the rivers just flowed." said Judith.
"I see." said Fern.

Judith sensed something was wrong, but just could not understand why they didn't want to hear about her and Wallace making powerful, magnificent love. Wallace had similar trouble when telling his friends about their lovemaking.

"Well... um, sounds healthy." said Donald the friend.
"Yes, it was like birds singing." said Wallace.
"Judith seems like a nice wife." said Ted the friend.

Wallace also seemed perplexed about his friends not being enthusiastic for his lovemaking story. The couple had never noticed their behavior had made people uncomfortable until now.

Judith and Wallace made love that night and it wasn't as good. They both were nervous after not being congratulated for their magnificent lovemaking. Their friends' discomfort and indifference got into their head. Wallace tried to solve it by being open with Judith, Judith tried to solve it by spiritually connecting with Wallace.

It didn't work. A reverse Pandora's Box had been opened. Their marriage became flooded with insecurity and shame.
"Why don't we just go to bed tonight?" said Wallace the next night.
"Yes. I feel very tired." said Judith.

Wallace began locking bathroom doors. Judith began quietly listening to people she met, rather than trying to feel their auras. Their insecurity ballooned, fueling a need to be liked by others. They watched their mouths carefully. Even around each other. It continued like this for a long time.

"Hello dear." said Wallace.
"Hi honey." said Judith.
They shook hands.
"Let's eat some food together." they said each night.
They ate food together in silence, swimming in fear of what friends and people thought.

One day Ted and Donald were talking.
"Hey you know who seems like a pretty okay guy?" said Ted.
"Who?" said Donald.
"Wallace." said Ted.
"Ah yeah he does." said Donald.

Tuesday, September 16, 2014

Midge the Criminal

Midge was a puny creep lady street thug with a switchblade who trolled the wet streets at night lookin' for people to stick up!
"Gimme ya money!" she said to a couple walking down the street.
"Oh no just don't hurt us, take the money."
She came from the wrong side of the tracks so that's why she did that. Tough upbringing.

Happie was a fast walkin' high sassin' hair stylist, who walked the same route every night. He sassed his way out of everything. 
"You act different from us!" teased a kid in his childhood.
"Us ain't nothin' ta ack like!" spat back young Happie, defeating the kids.

"You need to focus on your school work." said a lousy teacher.
"You need to stop makin' it blurry!" responded Happie, defeating the teacher.

So back to now time. Happie was walking his route home after work from the salon. Just as he made his a left turn on Table Street, little Midge jumped from the shadows, shiny blade in hand.

"Gimme ya money!" she hissed.
"You betta spend it on a new pair of shoes, cuz those ain't workin', honey!" said Happie.

Midge ran off with the money. She sat home later that night counting her earnings, but couldn't get Happie's burn out of her mind. She looked at her shoes sorrowfully. She knew Happie was right. Her shoes really were an embarrassment. The burn started to spread and she began to evaluate her whole appearance, her hair, the clothes she wore.

She'd had enough stolen money that she could afford a little makeup for cheap. The next week she decided to put on some lipstick, eyeliner and do her hair up, just to experiment.  She went on her usual street troll, waiting for a victim to startle for cash. She waited quietly in the shadows as a set of sidewalk clomps advanced. She made her usual move.

"Gimme da money!" she snarled.
It was Happie again. They locked eyes. She recognized him right away. A look of vulnerability and need for approval came over Midge's face. She hoped Happie might observe the effort of her appearance. 
"I ain't know the circus was in town!" said Happie.

Midge left burned. She looked silly in the makeup. Midge walked into Happie's salon the next day wearing her dumpy oversized hooded sweatshirt.
"Is it my time ta go, cuz you look like the Grim Reaper?!" said Happie. 

Happie gave her a makeover and she felt pretty. Later that night Midge robbed Happie confidently. He was proud of his work though. Midge felt more confident but still needed some rehabilitation from her criminal upbringing.

Monday, September 15, 2014

Mickey Streets

Mickey Streets was a real underdog. Everybody said he ain't gonna amount to nothin'. One day Mickey Streets woke up in his meager third story tenement apartment.
"Hey I really wanna banana for breakfast!" He said.

He went into his kitchen. He ain't have no banana.
"I gotta find a way ta get a banana."
"Mickey Streets you're a bum! You ain't gonna get no banana!" shouted a guy from outside the window down below.

Mickey was a bum, but he had a dream of having a banana for breakfast that day. He went to the market. They din't have no banana.
"Mickey the odds are stacked against you today! Give up on this banana dream uh yours." said the market owner.
"Hey look, I ain't never done much, but I know I could have a banana for breakfast today. I know it."

He started askin' people on da streets if they knew where he could get a banana for breakfast.
"We all agree, there ain't no banana for you today. Give up!" said the people of the street.

He started jogging down the streets lookin' for bananas.
"You're a bum!"
"Banana breakfast reject!"
"You're dumb!"
"Go back to cereal!"
"Who does this guy think he is?" shouted people in the streets, as he passed by. Mickey was really starting to break a sweat.

He had a sweet young lady who loved him despite knowing better. Her name was Ralphie. She was a high school librarian. Even she was weary, though supportive anyway.
"Mickey I'm really worried you're gonna be disappointed if ya keep goin' down this road." she said.

Mickey went to da zoo to see if da monkeys had a banana he could borrow.
"Hey maybe I ain't so dumb after all, I figured out this plan to get a banana for breakfast."
He knocked on the zoo gate.
"Hey I was wonderin' if I could borrow a banana from da monkeys for breakfast."
"We got bananas, but even though you look like you belong in a zoo, there ain't no way you're gettin' our zoo food! Beat it, ya dumb gorilla!"

Mickey was gettin' real beat down, but kept perseverin'. He decided to give the big grocery store, Stetson's, a try. He walked into Stetson's. "You got bananas?"
"In the produce, ya good-for-nothin!"

Mickey Streets got a banana from the produce. He bought it and ate it. But it was too late. Breakfast time had passed. It was 4:42 in the afternoon.
"Yo Ralphie, I still got a banana, maybe I ain't a bum after all!"

Sunday, September 14, 2014

Anxious Anita vs. Relaxed Rita

Anxious Anita and Relaxed Rita grew up together and were friends. Relaxed Rita got real popular and successful and Anxious Anita was like "Mmm, I hate Rita, she stinks." Relaxed Rita was so popular she didn't hear Anxious Anita say that.

One day Relaxed Rita saw Anita.
"Oh hi Anita." said Relaxed Rita.
"Rita? Is that you?" said Anxious Anita even though she knew it was Relaxed Rita.
"Yep." said Relaxed Rita.
"It's been so long what the hell you been up to?" said Anxious Anita, even though Anita knew what Rita had been up to.
"You know, just doing my thing. You?"
"Me? Been so busy workin' on a thing. Working on other things too. You wouldn't believe it. Lot of projects." said Anxious Anita, in her most convincing cadence.
"Great to hear." said Relaxed Rita.
"Tell me more. Did I hear you were working with Important Terry?"
"Yeah, yeah, Terry and I worked on a thing." said Relaxed Rita.
Anxious Anita was a big admirer of Important Terry and was very interested in everything she made.
"Ah, well Important Terry is kind of old news right?" said Anxious Anita.
"No, Important Terry is actually about to have a big thing happen. She asked me if I wanted to help, but I'm workin' on this thing of my own so I said no." said Relaxed Rita.
"Oh." said Anita.

Anita held a blank face on her face. She thought about how she wished Terry had asked her to help. Anxiety, jealousy and rage boiled in a hot crockpot behind Anxious Anita's face. A tiny furious vein on Anxious Anita's eyelid pulsated. If you were looking at her eyelid you might notice.

"Well Anita, great to see you, I have to go leave now."
"Oh yes of course! So wonderful to see you, Rita, my old pal!" overcompensated Anita.

Relaxed Rita walked far down the street. She was almost completely out of earshot from Anita.

"I always felt like you screwed me over!" exhaled Anxious Anita.
Rita kept walking.
"Why are you so goddamned relaxed?!" shouted Anita.
Rita began to disappear in the distance.
"Hey we should work on something together sometime, huh?"
Rita was a blurry blob almost out of sight.
"Will you be my maid of honor at my wedding?!"
Rita was gone.

Anxious Anita stood there defeated. She was getting married, but Relaxed Rita made her so anxious she didn't even think to mention it.

Saturday, September 13, 2014

Baby on Board

Glenn had one of those signs on his car that said "Baby On Board", hanging in the corner of his back windshield of his car. You know those signs? Except he didn't have a baby. No one thought too much of it though. He could have just had it for fun, in the way that people have ironic or cutesy bumper stickers, or collect buttons that say "I like Ike!" But no. That's not why he had it.

The real reason was because he was one of those adult baby people who liked to dress up in a diaper and act like a baby in the privacy of his home. That's a thing, if you don't already know about it you're probably sheltered or ignorant. Glenn wanted his sign to be a secret signal to the world that he was the baby on board. Not some goddamn baby given birth to by a mate or something.

"I need that file by tomorrow, Ted." said Glenn at work in his office.
"Yes sir, right away sir, tomorrow." said Ted.
"Actually I need it even sooner, damnit! Hurry."
"Yes sir." said Ted.
"Thank you. And Carol, make sure my three o'clock tomorrow knows to be on time."
"You got it Glenn." said Carol.
"I'm going to go home now." said Glenn.

"Wahhh! Wahhh!" said Glenn as soon as he got home and changed into his diaper, "Where my ma-mah!?" he asked his empty house. He wattled around his house with his hairy adult belly hanging out over his diaper asking the corners of his house baby questions.
"I want my rattle! Where baby rattle?" he said to the crevice between the fridge and the wall.
"Where my pacifier!" he said to the fireplace.
"Change my di-dee!" he told the closet doorknob in his hallway.

Nothing responded.

He crawled to the telephone, picked up the receiver and started dialing on his landline.
"I want my ma-mah! I sucking my tumb!" he said to the other end of the telephone, while sucking his thumb.

"Chay my di-dee!" he said to the hooker, from the special service, he had just called.
"Okaay. But if you don't stop poopying your die-die you're going to get a spanking." she said in a motherly tone, devoid of judgement.
"Nooo me no want spankyy!"

The hooker checked his diaper, and saw there was a little adult baby poopy in there.
"Gasp! Baby Glenn! You're a bad baby. Now you're gonna get a spanking!"

The hooker began to spank Glenn and Glenn cried like a man pretending to be a baby. Big Lyle, the parcel delivery man, caught a glimpse of this display through the window, as he delivered a parcel to the porch.

"I pride myself in thinking I'm an open minded feller," said Big Lyle to himself, the world, and you, "yet I just can't help but think to myself that that guy is a real weirdo." Big Lyle stepped off the porch, disappointed with himself.

Glenn never grew up.


Friday, September 12, 2014

Kackrates the Philosopher was Deep

"You should work your whole life to go to heaven just to give God hell! Heheheh." said Kackrates, one of the greatest philosophers.

Kackrates inspired so many people because he was so deep. One day a college guy was talking to a college girl trying to impress her,
"You know what Kackrates said about that right?"
"Oh, of course." said the girl, even though she didn't, but because she was college age she was scared to have another person think she didn't know something.
"Cool, I won't bore you with repeating it," said the guy. He actually didn't know either he was just trying to impress her, "it's real deep though, huh?"
"Yeah." she said.

It worked. Then they started kissing.

The college guy grew up to be a college man who was no longer in college. Before he did that though he would go around in his youth and talk about really deep stuff. He loved deep talk. He'd start to quote his favorite philosophers, but didn't actually know the quotes. Luckily he hung around a lot of people who lied and said they knew, so no one would ever get to the quotes because they'd say "Oh yeah of course I know that quote." He tried to quote Kackrates, Moccolini, Guggo, Tantrini, and Smubby. Smubby was a good philosopher.

It's really too bad the college man didn't pay better attention to his philosophy books, they could have given him a greater perspective on existence. He really felt like a true phony his whole life. He wouldn't have just pretended to know about our planet's greatest philosophers, he'd actually know about them.

The college guy was pretty shamed by how he felt. Trapped. Not even his phony college wife could console his shame. She didn't really know either. The college guy felt there was no point in living if living was about living in this prison of shame and pretend. So he fell asleep on the ledge of a tall building and the wind blew him off. That way it wasn't suicide. He was a fidgety sleeper too.

"A damn shame," said one of the cops at the scene of his death.
"You said it," said the other.
"You know what Smubby said about killing yourself?"
"Oh, of course." said the other cop.

The good news is aside from feeling shameful and phony his whole life, he never really did anything wrong, so he made it all the way to that great heaven in the sky. There he met God. Then he really gave God hell! Heheheh. Kackrates was proud.

Thursday, September 11, 2014

A Fuss Come to Talky Town

John Sturdy was a stoic man who held in his emotions. Questionable to many whether he had emotions, but I tell you he did. Why, he saw some of the rottenest things any man has seen, yet he remained stoic. His Ma got half-eaten by a rabid horse, she lived, but he saw it. He saw a thing catch on fire and kill a man. Once as a child, he saw a hungry kid not get any food... when he looked in the mirror! John Sturdy also stepped on spiders. He must've had his reasons. Hard to tell exactly what triggered him into the type of stoicism he displayed. Some even say that John Sturdy once wronged a man. But no one could ever confirm.

John Sturdy was the quiet man in the talky town of Talky Town. In Talky Town, word flew and talk traveled.

"Didja hear about yippity yap!?"
"Did I hear? Why, I fingle fangle on the dingle dangle!"
"Ya don't say? Well soupy-doupy-do!"
"Gasp! A gibba da gabba da!" said the people of Talky Town.

One day in Talky Town, the talk had strangely slowed to a mere chit chat. A drought, you might say. John Sturdy strode past the people of Talky Town on this particularly talk light day.
"Say, John Sturdy! Howsa boutsa zibba zabba?!" said the Talky Town folk.
"Nope." said John Sturdy, as he continued on his way to go sit somewhere and stare off.

The Talky Town folk didn't much care for that response. 
"Nope?! A mumble grumble!" they grumbled.

By the time John Sturdy got to his spot to stare off, with the sunlight hitting him just perfectly so that he looked very stoic, the talk in Talky Town was a simmerin' hot. 

"John Sturdy says a sassafras!" whispered one Talky Town.
"I hear he hetsom ketsom!" declared another.
"Well we don't need that kinda wobble gobble!" announced another.
"I hear he once wronged a man." 

And with that, a phonograph scratch echoed throughout the talky town, causing a moment of disbelieving silence.

The wind blew. Dust tap-danced. And Talky Town Man #1 spoke clearly. His words not to be mistaken.

"He better run."

Talky Town flooded the streets of Talky Town. Everyone had something to say. The drought was cured and spreading to wherever John Sturdy sought refuge, it was talk-mania. There was even talk that the talk might turn to action.

Ol' Deaf Albert was John Sturdy's only friend, they'd sit in silence now and then. Word traveled to Deaf Albert, he saw it only fit to warn John Sturdy of the talk wave comin' his way.

John Sturdy answered his door. Ol' Deaf Albert spoke,
"John Sturdy they're talkin' aboutcha."
"Mm." said John Sturdy, which was his way of asking what they were saying.
"They're sayin'... that you wronged a man!"
"Thank ya."

With that, John Sturdy closed the door. Turned around. And shed one single tear from his eye.

That was the time John Sturdy shown an emotion.

Wednesday, September 10, 2014

The Story of Pizza Sandwich

Barry was makin' a pizza sandwich. He was happy he was making it. It made him happy he was so good at it.

Barry would sit at home thinking about how everyone would react to his pizza sandwich.
"Pizza sandwich is so different from pizza and sandwich but still good like both!" he'd imagine them saying.

Barry would go outside. "Wait til you try my pizza sandwich, everyone." Barry'd say to everyone.

He wanted to get The Mayor to endorse it because he knew a guy who knew The Mayor. Then he also wanted to have Tall Tom who everyone looked up to help advertise it. He went to grade school with Tall Tom, maybe Tall Tom would help. He just kept thinking of things he was gonna do once that pizza sandwich was ready.

Days later he was at a place and saw a guy.
"What you workin' on Barry?" said that guy.
"I'm making a pizza sandwich!"

Barry ran into another fellow he hadn't run into in a while.
"I got this pizza sandwich thing I'm workin' on. I'm just workin on it, feels like night and day, can't wait! Lots of heavy movement on that. That's why I've been missing in action."
"Oh." said the fellow.
"I'm thinkin' The Mayor could endorse it, as well as Tall Tom, maybe even Gary the Boxman could design the box for it." Barry continued.

Barry always talked about the pizza sandwich whether folks wanted to hear or not. Three years went by and people did not see the pizza sandwich. How long could it take to come up with this pizza sandwich?

"Oh, yeah just you wait, I'm waitin to get it perfect. You know I'm thinkin' of gettin The Mayor to endorse it and Tall Tom?" he'd say.

Tragedy struck one day. Tall Tom died in his sleep due to an enlarged heart. His heart was too tall. Then tragedy struck another day, The Mayor had a scandal and got kicked out of office. His credibility was smeared.

Barry was screwed. He hadn't made any progress on his pizza sandwich in a couple of years because he was so caught up in what he'd do once it was ready. He walked down the street in worry.

Fanny the Loser came up to him, "Hey Barry how's that pizza sandwich comin'?!" he asked. Fanny the Loser was about the only person who took interest in Barry's pizza sandwich.
"Shut up! You shut up! Shut up, Fanny the Loser!"

Barry started hitting Fanny with his hat. A couple of townsmen ran up and said "Hey you can't hit Fanny the Loser like that! Shouldn't you be making your pizza sandwich, anyway?"
"Leave me alone! I'm workin' on it!" Barry screamed as he ran off. "I'm workin' on it!"
"A pizza sandwich?" said Larry the townsman. "What a good idea. I'm gonna go home and whip that together."

And that's how Larry's Pizza Sandwiches came to be our country's favorite and only food.

Tuesday, September 9, 2014

Dobie the Dunce's Hero

"I love Ranger Mike!!!" cheered Dobie the Dunce. Dobie was probably Ranger Mike's biggest fan. "One day I'm gonna meet Ranger Mike! It's going to exceed all expectations! Ranger Mike is my hero."

Dobie went to the Range Convention where Ranger Mike was scheduled to make an appearance.

"I'm excited to be here! Gotta meet Ranger Mike! Gotta meet Ranger Mike! I can't wait!" said Dobie to the noisy convention center.  Dobie had a potbelly.  He did not wear a propeller hat or anything that doofy looking though.

Dobie knew all the best trivia about Ranger Mike. "One time Ranger Mike rode a horse. Ranger Mike became a Ranger after Ranger Charles. Ranger Mike loves mayonnaise!"

"We are sorry to inform all you Ranger fans, here to see Ranger Mike, that Ranger Mike will be unable to attend our Range Convention today." said an announcement over the convention speakers.

"I'm sad," said Dobie the Dunce. "I wanted to meet Ranger Mike."

Dobie fantasized about meeting Ranger Mike, what it would be like and stuff:

"Why Dobie, how would I carry on as a Ranger, without your devoted fanship?" Mike would say.
"Well it's no small feat, but it's what I do."
"It really is a miracle that I have a fan like you. You're doing the Lord's work."
"I know, but it's what I love."
"I love you, Dobie. You're my favorite fan."
"Oh I almost forgot," Dobie reaches into his purse and pulls out,
"A mayonnaise popsicle?!" exclaims the elated Ranger Mike, "you must have really done your research on me to know I love mayonnaise."
"I did. Thank you for noticing my work."

Dobie would cook up scenarios like this many times during every day.

One day Dobie went to buy a bag of chips. While he was waiting in line he saw Ranger Mike in front of him buying a bag of different chips. Dobie got real excited to talk to Mike.  But then just as he was about to speak to Ranger Mike he noticed that Mike had a different bag of chips than Dobie. Uh Oh. This was a scenario that Dobie had not prepared for. There's no way in hell Dobie was going be seen with a different chip brand than Ranger Mike. He wouldn't be able to open with "Hey we have the same chips." How would they have a connection over different chip brands?!

Fully aware that his window was closing to meet Ranger Mike, Dobie improvised.
"Ranger Mike I am a big fan of yours and wanted to meet you!"
"Buzz off, Dunce." said Mike, and walked away.

Dobie cursed the brand of chip he held. How could he be so stupid as to pick that chip brand? He never ate that brand of chips again, but not before sinking into a very deep depression.

Monday, September 8, 2014

Burk's Big Worry

"Who's there!?" said Burk, the local paranoid guy, as he walked from one room to another and heard a creak from his floor boards. "Hey I can hear you, stop playin' tricks," he yelled, as he knelt to the ground to see if he could hear another squeak. "Ah forget it," he said as he got back on his two legs to walk again. "But I'll be listenin' for you!" he added, as he spun around with a finger extended, to warn the floorboards once more. "I'm gonna go get coffee!" He announced to his empty house, but hoped his possible floorboard sneak would hear.

Burk was a retired newspaper carrier with goofy framed glasses, and gray hair that stood up and looked fuzzy and translucent when backlit, in case you were wondering what he looked like. He used to leave notes in the newspapers he carried with messages to the people reading that said things like "Don't believe the things they print in this!!" and "I know where you live in case you're gonna try something funny at me!"

"Did you poison this??!" Burk said to the lady at the diner who gave him some coffee.
"Nope." said the lady.
"Okay... Well everyone here should know that if something happens to me, like poison, I had my coffee here!"
"Sounds good, we don't have any poison here."

Burk took a walk down the street holding the newspaper in his hand.
"I don't believe any of this stuff! You're tryin' to trick me with it!" He yelled at his newspaper.

Burk walked to the park and yelled at the trees, "If there any assassins in these trees, I'm thinkin' about you." He waited to see if any shots rang out. "So you won't get me by surprise!" He didn't get shot this time.

Burk kept walking and heard a siren, "That's them comin' for me, isn't it?!" He shouted. The siren faded and they didn't come. "Hmm... well not this time." Burk said that every time a siren passed.

One time Burk was asleep at night. He's usually a light sleeper but this time he thought no big deal he'll have a deeper sleep. Too bad because they were waiting for him to deep sleep and they came and got him.

"Help! Help! They got me!" He yelled.
"No one can hear you." They said.
"I've been on to you. I've told everyone about you my whole life!"
"Who did you tell?"
"Everyone! Everyone who ever encountered me!"
"Give us names."
"Never! But it's everyone who's ever encountered me!" Burk yelled more.

Burk disappeared and was never heard from again. But not before he told them that he'd told everyone about them, and that they were coming. Now they're after everyone, including you.

Sunday, September 7, 2014

Jerry the Chicken

Jerry the Chicken was sitting with a ton of chickens all crammed in there in the chicken place, then he was like,
"Ooh ooh ooh I laid an egg!"
"Hey me too how cool that you laid an egg!" Said another chicken.
"Hey I laid a bunch more!" said Jerry.
"Cool good for you." said the other chicken.
"Oh wait. I made a mistake I can't lay eggs. These eggs belong to some fuckin' hen."
"Oh whoops me too. Oh well no big deal."
"Yeah I guess you're right." said Jerry.

Then the big tall man came in and took all the eggs away. Then Jerry the Chicken got taken into another place and was like, "Would have been cool if I laid an egg, huh?" 

Then Jerry the Chicken got his head cut off and his feathers all plucked out. Then his carcass got carted off to a grocery store in a cold box and they crammed him on a stick with some other guys and slowly spun him around until his skin got tighter and crustier.
"This is pretty nuts," Jerry the Chicken said.

Jerry got yanked off the metal rod, placed in a little plastic snap case and put under a heat lamp with more chickens. People would reach in sometimes, remove a chicken, take it home and eat it. Some chickens sat there for a while. Jerry was one that sat there a while not getting bought. He sat there so long that, according to some "chicken department" guy who worked at the grocery store, he went bad. That meant that Jerry and a couple of other chickens didn't get eaten. Chicken sales were down. I guess people just didn't want as many chickens that particular week. So they threw the chickens away.
"Now I'm in a trash dumpster." said Jerry.

Jerry didn't lay an egg, didn't get sold, didn't get eaten, and was dead. 

But his spirit lived on. One day while his spirit was there living on, there was a man named Ron and Ron's son Kyle. 
"I love you, Dad." 
"Thanks Kyle, you're a good son."
"You're an even better dad." said Kyle.

That whole exchange happened while Jerry the Chicken's spirit was there living on. Kyle and his dad were pretty stupid for not noticing, really. They were basically inhabiting the same space. They didn't feel it or anything. They didn't even listen quietly in the night to hear any whispered clucks about laying eggs, just too wrapped up in their love for each other to consider that Jerry the Chicken's spirit was there. That was quite a life Jerry got to experience, though.

Saturday, September 6, 2014

Support Group

Way off in a plain old metropolitan everytown, probably not too different from yours, there's a support group of people with stupid and unbelievable conditions. These conditions were so magical and beautiful that they really made you think about life and even made some people cry from having feelings when they'd hear about the ailments.

There was Ivan Bogwell, who had this dumb unbelievable condition where if he changed his mood he would... die. That's right. He was only able to have one feeling. Just one. So because it was easier for him to be mad all the time than happy he was always mad and he wasn't allowed to be happy or he'd die. Isn't that poetic? Are you gonna cry?

Suzy Honk ran the group, she had the same condition as Ivan, yet she chose to be happy about everything. Even sad stuff, so she had to be happy when friends died and war and stuff. So sad right? Are you gonna cry?

Smope Bensington, who had a rare condition that really exists, where if he lied someone he loves will die. He always found himself in wacky hijinks because he wanted to lie. Doesn't that pique your curiosity about him? I've got to see what kind of situations Smope has gotten himself into.

Sparky, who owned a family bus built by his grandfather and if the bus went over 50 mph Sparky's heart would stop. Pretty easy fix, he just made sure not to drive the bus. But I can't help but wonder what would happen if the bus were to get stolen, eh?

Magpie Butskin, a young lady who at the age of 58 was gonna turn into a baby and start all over. Wow what a beautiful condition. Are you gonna cry?

There were other people in the group too with wacky and heartwarming conditions. One week at the meeting there was a new anxious looking new guy in the group.

"What's your name and what is your ailment, fella?" asked Suzy in her chipper tone.

"Me? Well... My name is John... Blah. Yeah. I have a bad bad condition where I get sick if I talk too much... I better be quiet now. Oh, also I heard my fingers will fall off if I indulge my compulsion to steal!"
"Well we know our wallets are safe around you, at least!" said Ivan.
"Exactly." Said the new guy.
"Well John Blah," Magpie said to the new guy, "it's fine with us if you stay as long as you like."
"Great." said John.

Obviously the new guy was a big liar and up to something, but these support group people were too wrapped up in their conditions to pay any attention. Turns out he was a failed Hollywood script writer who didn't have any ideas, but found his way to this support group meeting to steal these peoples beautiful troubled lives and turn them into premises for beloved movies.

He was responsible for such celebrated works as "Emotional Spotlight of the Singular Feeling", "The Distinct Situation of Bogwell's Mood", "Liar Die-er", "Charlie Snowflake", "The Belly Button of Magpie's Baby" and "Jenny Sparkles Water Park of Wonder".

One guy from the group, Charlie Snowflake tried to express his frustration by writing poetry but somehow he wound up stuck inside of his poem for all of eternity. So sad.

The screenwriter stole all their sad and beautiful life stories and made a fortune. They were mad about it, but what could they do? One of them, Bronstone Meriwether, tried to take revenge but his head exploded as soon as he got the idea to take revenge. That was his ailment that he couldn't take revenge on people without that happening. Pretty beautiful, huh?

Friday, September 5, 2014

The Story of Chris

Chris was a boring guy but he cared about a thing. The thing he cared about was real boring too. No one cared. Who cares!? He wasn't interesting and he had a couple of friends who weren't interesting either. If you went to eat at the place then you'd see them, but your eyes would basically just glaze right through them. They talked about who the hell knows, it's not worth asking about.

"Bla bla bla," said Chris.
"Oh that's neat." said Friend.
"My name is Chris."
"Me too." said Friend of Chris.

The original boring Chris lost his job one day. And that thing he cared about like broke or stopped working or something. Also his friend, other Chris, who was part of a big group of boring friends, turned on him, stopped being his friend, and got his other boring friends to stop being his friends too.
"Why'd all that happen today?" thought boring Chris.

Then later that day Chris got his hand blown off because of a malfunction at a gas station. Also he was a witness to a bank robbery that had a connection to a serial killer who killed someone, splattering blood everywhere and it splattered a little into Chris's mouth, and people were mean to him. So yeah he saw murder, lost a hand and witnessed crime and abuse and his favorite thing broke. Real hard stuff. He was troubled by it all. This immediately made Chris very interesting. People from all over were interested in Chris and what happened.

"Chris, can you tell me what happened that day that all that crazy stuff happened?" They'd ask.
"It's hard to talk about, I'll try though." He'd say sometimes.

He was very unhappy and troubled by all this stuff. It really affected his day to day life and he would say some strange stuff about how he was feeling inside. Some people who had gone through other things related.
"I lost a family member." said a guy.
"I am a war veteran and killed someone." said a lady.

Chris went to a therapist to try to get help with this interesting stuff.
"I'm really hurting from all that stuff I saw that one traumatic day."
"You sure are interesting," said his therapist.
This therapist was really a good judge of who is interesting.

Chris met a dysfunctional woman who had some problems and was mean to him. They got married because Chris couldn't be sexually aroused unless he felt like he was trapped and in danger. They are happy and in love even though she is so mean and unpredictable.

Thursday, September 4, 2014

The Niceguymen

It was the 60s. We were young. We were bad. And we ruled these streets. We had our own tight knit group with a set of dreams. Some of us were older. The older guys ran the show. And we followed suit. They called us the "Niceguymen". It's cuz we were nice guys but we were men, and you know how men are. Boys will be boys. That means us men caused trouble. And every now and then we had to be not so nice. Things got ugly. But we ruled the streets. So there was no one to answer to but us. By the end of the 60s we were in big trouble because it went to our head and we got power happy from being power hungry and we ate too much of that power. I guess it went to our stomachs too.

It was fall of 1966 and we were planning what would be the biggest score of our careers. The other guys had the goods and we had to figure out how to get em. Boy did we want those goods. These were the goods that were gonna set us for life. Get us out of the business, sever all ties, and have us living comfortably. But first we had to figure out how to do it.

There was me, Denny. I was young and eager to learn.
"I'll do whatever it takes." I used to say.

There was Fat Boppo. He was the tubby guy of the group,
"Gimme a sandwich!" he'd say at every meetin'.

There was Sinch. He was the complainer of the group who thought everything was difficult.
"I don't know, how do we dooiiit?!"

There was Marv who was in his early 20s and had liver spots on his head. That was about the only thing interesting about him. Why'd he age so quickly?

There was Long John Johnson. He was tall and big and loved to play the game basketball. He had dreams to play someday on a court.
"Pass the hoops!" He said.

There was Sal the Gal, he kinda ran the show and dressed like a woman but was a guy named Sal.
"Does this dress make my hips look ok?" he asked.

Then there was Quiet Frank. He was the ideas man. Wasn't a plan he couldn't crack and an idea he didn't have. He had so many ideas. That's why he was the idea man. We were real keen on figuring out exactly how to get the goods from this score so naturally we turned to Frank for ideas.

"I don't have any ideas." said Frank.
"...Oh hmm. What should we do?" said Sal.
"Should we give up?" asked Sinch.
"What if we ask Frank for more ideas?" I suggested.
"Good idea. Frank, can you think of any ideas?" asked Sal.
"Hmm no, got no ideas."
"Damn. Does anyone else have any ideas...?"
"Cannoli!" said Fat Boppo.

We all thought Cannoli was a good idea but weren't sure how it was gonna help us get the goods that we wanted.

Then Long John Johnson suggested we watch him play a game of "courtball goes in the basket". And that might help us get the goods if he were to win. It was to be the big game that he would hope someone would watch him play to discover him as a big ticket to the big time. This plan, we were excited by.

"Do it!" we all cheered to Long John Johnson, as he played his game. He was so good. He could dribble the ball and everything. He dribbled the ball up and down the court between goals. Then as he was about to make his big effort at the hoop, Billy Cranko, who used to be part of our group but we meanly kicked him out without thinking there'd be any consequence, showed up wearing a big hat and gun in his hand. He fired his gun shooting Long John Johnson dead.

"That's what happens when you do things mean." said Cranko as he ran off.

We all held John Johnson in our arms as he died, he was supposed to go to Vietnam and make it big the following week too. He was gonna be our ticket to the big time. We were all real sad.

Our group really did suck. We were in denial about how great we were, as well about how great those times were. The 60s were pretty hard, there was a lot going on. We were pretty poorly educated too. Our neighborhood was not very resourceful. I was trying to oversell us earlier when I said we ran the streets. It just wasn't a very bright group coming out of our particular hood at that time.

Wednesday, September 3, 2014

The Sensitive Story of Little Pip

Little Pip was kind of a tubby little squishy guy that if you got close to him you'd wanna give him a hug. He was real sensitive awwwww. Isn't that so sweet that he was so sensitive? Awww. He worried about what people thought of him. Awww how gentle. If someone said an insult to another person, Little Pip would feel bad for both the person being insulted, "I hope you aren't feeling bad," and the person who made the insult "If you need to talk some things out I'll listen." Everyone was hurting. Awww so sensitive, right?

Little Pip worried about what people thought because he's sensitive awww, but then he punched at a lady, hey isn't that mean? He didn't hit the lady though so maybe he got lucky and redeemed himself because of that. Instead of being a guy who punched a lady he was a guy who tried to punch a lady. I can't decide whether you're supposed to like him more because he got lucky and missed the lady, or not like him because of his intention to hit her. Is one worse than the other? Life is full of tough decisions and I gotta say it's no exception being this narrator, I've got a lot of problems, man.

I just manipulated your heart strings by telling you how gentle Little Pip was so you'd feel pity on him but then feel conflicted when I told you he tried punch a woman. I feel guilty playing with you and asking these hard ethical questions. Should I feel like a jerk about this? See how hard it is for me?

And I'll let you in on another secret: I have a narrator. You can't hear him, but he's making me out to be way worse than I am, to another group of people, than I'm making myself out to you. This guy's just out there talkin' about me! How am I supposed to deal with that?

"How am I supposed to deal with that!?" I shouted to the sky.

Little Pip just sat there waiting for me to continue telling his story.

"I don't feel like going on with it..." I said to the world.
"You have to!" Interjected my personal narrator, that I was telling you about earlier.
"Hey you're not allowed to interact here you're supposed to be telling this somewhere else!" I told him.
"Technically this isn't your story either, you're holding it up, it's Little Pip's."
"I don't mind," said Pip.

He was probably lying, that Pip. You know how sensitive the guy is and you also know he can't be trusted. He did swing at a lady once, remember?

This really pushed a button on Little Pip, when I said that. He started beating the pulp out of me. He had buried rage issues and said I was abusing my narrating privileges.  He beat me to death, or at least to where I was incapacitated for a while. I couldn't continue narrating his story.

"Hey this is the other narrator from before," the New Narrator said.
"I'll be finishing up the rest of the story from here." said me, the New Narrator.

I'm really sorry the initial narrator had to interfere so much because truth be told he really affected the  outcome of where our squishy hero was headed. Little Pip was on a road to personal recovery after he threw a punch at that woman, who frankly, kind of deserved it, I won't get into that part, but after bludgeoning the initial narrator so badly Little Pip is incarcerated. The initial narrator really should not have been so judgmental toward Pip, he also had a drinking problem, you know? I guess I'm judging him too a little.

Tuesday, September 2, 2014

Dirty Mouth Ricardo's Dream!

Dirty Mouth Ricardo was a bad boy but so lovable that you couldn't ignore him. He loved to do this little twinkle toes dance shuffle. His twinkle toes dance was his pride and joy. They called him Dirty Mouth because that's his name and also he's got a real dirty mouth if you give it a good close look.

One time he was really wanting his twinkle toes dance to get some attention because he was so good at it and put his heart and soul into it. You could say it was almost his life's work. Like it would be hard to deny that he cared about this twinkle toes dance. He'd do the dance and your eyes would just ping pong between watching his toes twinkle to his hips shimmy-shaking to his pleased-with-himself facial expression and then back to this twinkly toes. Pretty cool. He also was a messy guy and had a pee-pee stain in his underwear often but don't judge him for that, because probably more people have that than you'd even guess, like the President, or a doctor, you know? They didn't call him "Pee-Pee Undies Ricardo", because they might as well have just called him "Ricardo" if they were gonna call him that, because that's nothing of note. But his Dirty Mouth was of note. It was all grimy and you just get a look at it and you know it's dirty, understand? Like little stringies from lip to lip, and dark foamies at the mouth corners.

So listen, Dirty Mouth Ricardo heard there was a position opening for the one and only twinkle toe dancer at the new dance station so he went and knocked on the door and told Greg, the guy there, he'd like an appointment to talk about wanting the job as the twinkle toes dancer.

Greg was like, "Hey I'm Greg I'm the guy who is in charge of picking the twinkle toes dancer. Maybe we can meet the Monday after next Monday?" Dirty Mouth was like, "Geez okay is there a sooner time?" Greg was like "No." Then Greg rescheduled it to even later in the day before the meeting.

Dirty Mouth Ricardo finally got to meet Greg to say he wanted to dance, and made his pitch, "I definitely think I am the best twinkle toes dancer you're gonna find and I am certain you won't find a better twinkle toes dancer."
Greg tapped his feet on the ground, rubbed his hands together and took a big breath through his nose.
"Here's the thing Dirty Mouth Ricardo, I am thinking of giving this position to a person that you think is not as good at twinkle toeing."

Not ready to take no for an answer Ricardo responded,
"But I am the better choice. I know I am!"
"Yes I know, but instead I think I will give it to someone less deserving. You know? It's a tricky decision, you know?"
"But I want it!"
"Sorry you probably can't have it."
"Is it because I have a dirty mouth? Because that cannot be helped. I was born with a dirty mouth and cannot change it, it does not reflect my ability to twinkle."
"No, definitely not because of your dirty mouth. My advice to you is either find another way to be satisfied doing what you love or quit forever."
"Motherspitballs!!" dirtied Dirty Mouth.
"Hey watch your mouth, Dirty Mouth! There's children in here!"
Dirty Mouth looked over to see there was a kid on the couch.
"I believe in you, Dirty Mouth Ricardo, I'm a wise but impressionable young child."
"You be quiet little boy," said Greg, "now please excuse yourself Dirty Mouth. I have to go and sit here the rest of the day."

Years later the little kid grew up to be just like Greg because he spent too much time with Greg. And no one knows if Dirty Mouth Ricardo quit twinkle toe dancing forever or pursued his dream. What do you think he should have done?

Regardless, though hundreds of years later archaeologists discovered Greg's remains and were able to determine that he was a real worthless shitty guy. So that's kind of cool, right?