Try as I might, I could not find away around the multiple audio tracks of last nights daily show. I found my mind bent into an insanitine arc as John Stewart’s voice danced, taunting, inside my brain. I cried out aloud as the sounds pulled me deeper into the depths of darkest madness. Even now, my eyes widen in profound disturbaciousness slash nervicworriment.
Did anyone else come across any problems?
what if mon-day were actually day-mon, you know like a pokemon that was also a day and would use moves on people like “hangover” and say things like “mon mon mon mon mon… day?” that would be crazy, right? hahahahahahaha
every sunday ra is like, “i’m the sun god, so everyone should totally be worshiping me today.”
but then, all these christian people in the bible belt are like, “no way dude, you don’t even exist and we like God better, or Jesus, or the holy ghost or whoever.”
the ra is like, “am too real, this sucks.”
the the flying spaghetti monster is like, “ha, people it as many pounds of my holy flesh on sunday as the eat of jesus wafers because i don’t take long to cook. i am the most awesome and tasty imaginary deity of all. iyf!”
Remember putting batteries in your mouth when you were a kid?
No?
…
Oh…
Well, I do.
…
It was great!
A Crocodile Dundee type and a Jeeves type sit at a white round table, in a light gray room, in a dark black ship, in space. There are alien heads mounted on the walls of varying size and freaky deakyness.
“With all do respect, Lord Deftross, sir, hunting on Galafax is unthinkably dangerous and illegal! I’m afraid there might not be a great deal of hunting to be done during life imprisonment on Tarnor VIII.”
“You’re not going to tattle on me are you Heebes? You know how I feel about tattle tales. How do I feel about them again Mr. Heebes?”
“You mount the tails of tattle tales above your plasma fire place, sir. and by tales you mean their damn tattle asses…”
“Heh, that’s right Heebes. Verbatim! Now take me to Galafax! Pronto!”
“As you wish, sir. I will ‘make it so’ post haste…”
—
Lord Deftross laughs heartily as Mr. Heebes attempts to lift a massive three eyed insectile head onto a retrieval bot’s spoon-lift.
“What’s left on my lift Heebes?”
“Just a wagglenork and a trigar, sir.”
“Bawlin, ay Heebes?”
“Quite ‘balling,’ indeed, sir…”
There is a load wa wumph sounds a burst of bright red energy. Heebes is on the ground with a gaping hole in his chest.
“I hope you are happy, sir. I am now surely deceased.”
Lord Deftross crouches down next to his butler.
“Wow, they really fucked you epicly, didn’t they, Heebes?”
“An understatement, sir. Farewell, sir.”
“Sayonara, buddy.”
Lord Deftross takes cover behind the retrieval bot and the severed E.T. head. A robotic reservation ranger approaches.
“Please return all poached flora, fauna, seeds, or fecal matter immediately. Please disarm and surrender. Lethal force authorized.”
“So, you want to do a little Rambo versus Robocop action do you? Unfortunately for you I’ve seen that movie about 200 times! You’re in for!”
Pa Pew.
“What the fuck, man! I!”
Wa wumph.
Lord Deftross has been shot through the retrieval bot. Once in the stomach and once in the chest. The robo-ranger picks up Lord Deftrosses head and returns to the ranger station where he mounts the head next to the others, just above the plasma fire place.
^_^ — And it was here that the knights of ni was founded.
>.< — Say what?
*_^ — And that’s why everyone who lives here is named Courtney!
what are your favorite news sources?
i am curious.
also, my posts may be brief for a while as i am working on a couple of other projects at present.
The Lunar Fox Press 