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PHILCORE RANTS
READING RAINBOW WITH LAVAR BURTON
(Also catch Lavar on star-trek no win synidication on the WB)
*annoying music at the start...you know that take a look its in a book shit anyways camera starts to roll and lavar chucks his cigarette and throws back a pint of cheap malt 'ale'
-lavar-'hello there welcome to this weeks episode of star trek (*belch comes from the depths of lavars stomach)'i mean reading rainbow...*mumbles...no one watches fucking public broadcasting anyways bunch of cocksuckin...uhh yes hello there today we are going to be talking with Sandy Powalchuck from the san diego zoo where they enslave animals for human ammusement then when they are finished with them they make wallets...penguins yield the most wallets of all...10!'
-sandy-'umm yes well lavar today we will be looking at different species of donkies or 'ass' ateehee'
-lavar-'i'de like to get me some of that ass sandy....bhahhhbhahhb'
-sandy-(*swallows hard and looks to producer as if to say is lavar okay). 'yes well umm heres the donkey'
-lavar-'keep in mind kids this donkey will one day be sold to an arabian fishing man in the form of glue or even to a high priced lawyer in sweden as a wallet'
-sandy-'actually lavar that is completley false, now i dont know where your information is coming from but here at the san diego wallet facto...umm zoo we do no such thing'
-lavar-'ya well you know what i think?...i think your a godamned filthy klingon!'(*double fisted star trek punch to sandy's back).
-lavar-'tell the captain to seal off main engineering and tell data to reconfigure the data stream impulse engines for maximum shield efficiency'(*camera man puts down whiskey and glares with look of pity at former star trek mogul now convention wannabe star).
-producer-'my god lavar you've killed sandy...have you any idea the countless hours of paper work this will cause!'
-lavar-*flees to trailer and reaches for bottle of max bull beer (max bull cheap efficient and ass kickin metal beer).
-lavar-'i the saint of the unholy cross of satan!...hail satan!' (*drives broken max bull beer bottle through chest and carves pentagram with obscure latin words meaning "buy max bull beer" carved in the pentagram)
-producer-'christ lavar got into the max bull...bring me my gardening spade...'(*surley stage hand brings out rusty gardening spade and spiderman costume to producer)
-producer-'what i dont need this damn costume'(*throw spidey's costume on ground)
-stagehand-'no one will find out my secret...bunch of unpures anyways'(*all whilst shaving his head).
-producer-'eat my wifes best gardening spade you son of a bitch cocksucker!' (*rams spade into lavars area just under chin and comes up through bridge of nose and eyes spuying muckus and blood about)
-lavar-'worf...you were the traitor all along...'
-producer (worf in disguise)- 'yes jordy i was...bhahaha the enterprise is mine at last i can have sex with that doctor chick and the one with the stupid accent at once!...the day is mine!!' (*beams away leaving behind only condom wrappers and an issure of gigantic asses)
-stagehand #2-'wow now i've seen everything except that new spider man movie...with electro and snoop dogg and that fag jack from will and grace' (*walks into sunset carrying case of maxbull and head of once pseudo-actro lavar burton)
-narrator(snoop dogg)-'and everyone lived happily ever after,worf had his way with them human bitches and...snoops even got himself one of them penguin wallets).
*note this is the controversial crossover between star trek and reading rainbow from early 1990 that never got to air do to its obscene dialogue and referances to max bull beer.
SPIDER MAN AND THE MIGHTY ELECTRO
-*spidey swings through city with classic spidey music playing (1of 3 instrumental spidey tunes)
-spidey -'looks like trouble' *shoots web making annoying sounds and lands down with a noise thats like plubop or something
-electro-'so spiderman you have come to play have you! well play with this!' *points his hands at spidey in attempt to shoot electricity at him(that for some reason is yellow?!?)but nothing comes out
-electro-in a belowing angry voice 'FUCK!'
-spidey-'looks like you blue a fuse electro ha ha ha fucking dickhead'
-electro-'damn you spiderman looks like you win again'
-spidey-'good will always win over evil electro and you have a stupid faggot mask ha ha ha' *says this all while makes repetitive motion with his hand in crotch area of tights.
-electro-'yes well spiderman it looks like yo...what the hell are you doing???' *electro scratches his head and his henchmen walk in the room
-henchmen-'should we get em boss? we can clobber him good, i wi...whats he doing to himself?'
-spidey-'can't you see i'm deprived? godamned j.jonnajjameson on my friggin back all the time, people always fucking with me in silly costumes, i cant fucking take it man, i need to get away from this...!'
-electro-*makes side to side eye movements to his henchmen and begins to walk backwards ever so slowly. 'he um he, yes well we will let you deal with your problems there um spider man we have um to get the fuck out of here and shit'
-spidey-' no please stay hold me...'
-electro-'i don't really bat for that team spiderman i'm more in into woman...uhhh with huge asses' *points to bumper sticker on 72' impala that says 'i like big butts and i cannot lie'...i even kind of wrote a song about it...but its okay to be homosexual'
-henchmen-*look at each other as if to say 'what the fuck?!?'
-spidey-'woooo woooo i didn't say i was a fucking faggot' *pulls hands out of pants and stands like he just had 5 pitchers at the local tavern and someone said they are a better mill worker/mechanic than he is.
-electro-'well no i didn't really me..'*spidey beats electro's fag loving ass down with his bare irish fist.
-spidey-'now you gonna get it mother fucker' *spidey says in new york accent and begins to curb stomp electro's pansy ass
-electro-'must get message to that gay guy from will and grace...to help mee...eeehh...'*spidey backs da fuck up from electro's smashed up carcass and heaves it into the east river stupid yellow and green costume and all.
-spidey-'its all in a days work for your friendly neighborhood aryan nat...ummmm spider man hehe'*spidey says to onlookers as he swings away
-that jack guy from will and grace (you know you watch it)-'hold it right there mister bad man' *in lispy stereotyped gay accent.
-spidey-'who the fuck are you and where did you get those fantastic shoes!?!'
-jack-'well i got them from a place called mo...' *spidey hits jack in teeth with a blackjack shattering his lowerjaw and imploding his face in a bloody pulp.
-spidey-'man i fucked you up faggot' *spidey again makes millworker/drunk mechanic pose.
-jack-'dhafh fukgn sfhf face fahhf SNOOP D-O double Guzee!'
-spidey-'what is this fag talk? what are you like spanish or something...you dont look very white to me...'*spidey checks eye colour of jack.
-snoop dogg-*in very monotone almost toddish really baked voice 'wusup jack who dis nigga?.Dis be nuttin but a g thang' *snoop does a back flip behind electro's pimpadelicized impala and starts busting caps.
-spidey-'godammit i hate you snoop dogg always foiling my plans and stealing my weed' *spidey rushes snoop dogg and tries to give him a star trek double handed back punch.
-snoop dogg-'dis dog aint got no colar bitch!' *snoop busts cap in spidey's head rendering him unconcious.
-jack- 'bhahfa you killed him haahl'
-snoop dogg-'no dis bitch just needs a little my greenery you know im saying?' *jack looks at snoop dogg as if to imply no i don't because you dont speak english.*snoop blows smoke in spide's face.
-spidey-*wakes up with eye hole noticably smaller 'he..ehhe..eh man ..haha im fucked upahaaha..haha'*electro climb out of water and lights up a j.
-snoop dogg- 'now we all smoked up lets go fo a cruise in you impala electro my man' *they all jump into electro's impala and blast snoops latest album 'hell bent for leather'
-spidey- 'bhah..man...ahha..well kids remember..tee hee...never hurt the ones you love and like don...hahah fuck man i forget ahha...im just fucked'
-snoop dogg-'aint we all bitch? aint wees all?'
-narrator-'the four of them drive into the night' *moon winks at our heros and eyes become noticably smaller.
*note: with was the original episode but was considered to 'racy' for 1970's tv and the use of time travel devices to get people like snoop dogg and jack from will and grace were not yet invented.
PHILCORE STUDIES 'THE LANGUAGE OF CARNIES
Uhh yes the language of carnies. It was originaly a series of grunts and the word 'fuck' which was used by early man to describe everything from a tree to a body of water to a fowl tasting liquid known as 'max bull'...anyways the carnie language or 'carnspeak' as norms call it. In carnspeak there is the word fuck in place of describing words such as 'high, low, big , small' and to place in front of names or to call someone...or pretty much anything for example 'hey ye fuckin fuckoff toss me a frickin beer ay ye frickin gomer'. Other words used by carnies are words such as 'ay' which means hello or good day sir...some popular phrases used by carnies are 'toss me a frickin beer'and 'lets do some lines at the fucking horse' and there is the ever popular 'lets go fuck around with my 'new' 1989 ford f-150'yes the carnie language is truely one of mystery and profound ignorance, a language that can only be further studied by putting carnies in coliseum type settings to battle fierce beasts from the world round!!! come out and cheer on the reighning champion!!! MOLSONIS MAXIMUS COCAINICUS!!!
-A few new definitions for you (translated carnspeak)
gomer-a dumbass or someone who has cheated you at a friendly game of drunken poker
ex. 'you frickin gomer i'll kill ya!' *shoots him in the stomach so he dies slowly
jagool-again a dumbass or someone who was having sex at the iron horse with your less than attractive wife/cousin
ex. 'you frickin jagool, that's my less than attractive cousin/wife your sticking yer cack in' * snorts a line and forgets what he was doing
-philcore on 'the drug habits of carnies; 'thats there's high octane boat gas!'
Drugs are a big part of a carnies life...mostly due to the fact that he stacks and/or unstacks items for roughly 8-12 hours a day...your average carny will consume a flat of beer or 8-10 'max bulls' nightly accompanied usually by a joint or 2, on the weekend is where a carnies drugs habits really come into play...first a carnie will go to the 'horse' and pound back a few beers then the local guy with 'the shit' will appear and offer some powerdered cocaine to the carnies that abound...the carnies will go to the bathroom and snort the cocaine...it is usually a few minutes before they realize that the shady character was actually one of our human spied and it was actually ajax or comet...but the carnie is indifferent as long as he is feeling as though he is stupider than he is he's fine with it...after the carnie runs out of money and its 3 am he makes a run to BK (bigs props for s sanderson)where he slurs that he would like a 'big mac' and 'a taco bell taco supreme'...when the window person says they dont sell those items the carnie becomes enraged and tries to beat upon the window person, but if the window person is female and under the age of 18 the carnies will try and talk smooth...after they recieve some less than mediocre food they hit the local gas station for some boat gas...one of them goes inside and his friend starts to pump..while he waits he may have a bag of 'cheetos'. after his friend is done he asks for a pack of smokes then he leaves and they flee...little do they know that they have been filmed...later that evening they will end up in the jail for a night with there other carnie buddies...they shoot the shit and eventually all go home to there less than attractive wives/cousins...and the cycle starts again for the next week...now if you want to be an ameatur carnologist you may want to look for sure signs of carnyism ie. foam mesh hats,boots,sweat pants/tight ripped jeans, wife beaters,trucks,beer shirts, case of beer, something that says beer on it, no teeth, black teeth, green teeth, one tooth, shopping at canadian tire, being a resident in region above hope and below the yukon. i hope my carnie study guides help us to further understand these pseudo-humans and there behaviors.
THE TRIALS AND TRIBULATIONS OF BEING A TIREDSOME TABOO DRUG USER
Why hello there friends...you startled me (*turns away from trunk of car with what appears to be human leg, aged 13 years sticking out). So i see you have discovered my little secret, well not really discovered more like i blatantly told you yes I am a taboo drug abuser. To understand what taboo drug abuser is you must first understand what 'taboo' is, at first you may think 'taboo' is that sound in the back of someones throat just before you ram a gardening spade through it, but you would be wrong. 'Taboo' is something that is excluded or forbidden from use, approach, or mention: a taboo subject. Now that we have that ugliness out of the way (*points to carcass in trunk with spade in throat) we can move onto what a taboo drug abuer really is...ME!...what i do is look up zany often 'crazy' ideas that i sometimes stumble onto when i cant get my usual hit of boat gas (big ups for s. sanderson on that one works on so many levels)and with prices the way they are i realize i can't go on getting off on boat gas all the time so what i did was found a little something called gravol, a rather inconvienient high not unlike having the flu but allot more deeply into your mind, one slowly realizes that there world is nothing more then a big weight, if you understand that at all but you don't so we will move on...uhhhhh yes smoking bananas (if you want the recipe look it up) now this doesn't really work i don't believe seems how the 2 times i did it i was a. hung over or b. it was 3 am and i was drunk...so we can toss this one away like yesterdays ground up 13 year old chunks. So one day i'm looking up on the internet and discover a little thing called DXM no no not DMX the gangster rap star from philly (big ups to philly! philly in da house!) but the drug diomexiconi hydfdldrja or some shit but anyways turns out it comes in cough medicine...hmmmm some cough medicines can but your liver into shock so i had to be carefull about this one and test all the brands on the friendly neighborhood spider man...but of course not before i dawned the name 'ELECTRO!!!' but that is a different story. Anyways the dxm worked on that spiderman....always foiling my plans for world domination, maybe if all my scheems didn't some way have to do with electricity and using electricity to do evil, maybe if i just shot him you know like with a gun, no no that would be to easy i will trap him with a sort of electro web !!bhahhahahaah genius!!! bhahhh...BAHBHHA. Anyways now that that is over with i can get back to the real story, the dxm...uhh yes everyone knows the story already so i won't tell it in great detail all i can say is that i am johnny depp from fear and loathing and e. hofmann no no thats to obvious erik. h (aka doctor octupus) was johnny depps lawyer from fear and loathing and i walked like a goose...and thats pretty much it for dxm. The final and most ridiculous drug i have tried would have to be peanut skins just recently with nothing to do and being drunk as usual and wanting weed/mushrooms but not able to find them i resorted to eating 1/2 pound of peanuts then saving the skins and smoking them out of a pilsner 'strong' can that i had recently finished drinking in some bushes not to far off from my house...not unlike a scragily crack head you see wondering the street not knowing where he is just knowing he needs to get there...anyways the peanuts seemed to work a bit but i was already drunk...and i decided i needed to smoke something else so i went to the local 7-11 and purchased a pom pom...good stuff indeed luckily i didn't turn to much of a yellowish hue and puke i managed to make it home and fall asleep...uhhh sleep if only some drug could put me in a sort of sedation for days and i could wake up in mysterious places like a bus station bathroom...but anyways that is another story of my days with 'iron priest'...in the magical land of narnia...*falls over in crack-peanut skin induced stupor...
ERIK's RANTS
Now, because i am, for all intents and purposes, the smartest man alive with no job i believe i am the correct source to hit up for the invaluable information on the bane of mans existence: the mullet, or not so much that but the attitude and attire that go along with it. as the owner of this site and several others know, i am moving in the coming week to the greener pastures of calgary to be a manual labour slave and other various horrible jobs.Anyways i was having doubts about moving like any other would, i'd miss my friends and all those nights drinking in the fields. i was having serious doubts until one day i ventured into a local department store to humour my mom and to get some free shit out of it, anyways upon venturing to the mens department i discovered,no wait,unearthed the not-so-elusive stone-washed jeans buying mullet sporter. usually that wouldnt be so bad, but the guy was buying the nearly white jeans that went out of style in like 85' and he was wearing a greasy grey sweater wife beater with the old canucks symbol on it. i swear this guy dragged that shirt through various viscosities of oil while dipping it in egg whites and ketchup.his mullet,although haggard,was at its greasiest and you could tell he had pride in it;alas that was not the clincher for me, it was, in fact the kid he had in tow. i could tell in about five or six years this kid would be in jail or at the party shack consorting with the other carnie under-age kids that visit that fine establisment. anyways this kid,if you can call him that(i thought along the lines of mongoloid). anyways this kid had the spiked hair on top and at first i only saw him from the front and thought of him as a somewhat respectable kid,unlike his father,buy alas when he turned around he proved to me that the apple truly does not fall far from the tree. this kid sported the hugest mullet this side of joe dirt and i could tell that he made his father proud and that they were probably going to go home to polish their guns and work on their dodge aries/plymouth reliant, then afterwards 1,000 brushes of the mullet. that and only that was the deciding factor in the moving of erik. thank you
ONE GOOD RANT DESERVES ANOTHER
TAKING GAME AT THE TRUCK SHOW
it was like any other day in prince george, mullet capital of canada. the sun,seemingly in the middle of the sky beat down unrelenting on the poor hapless pasty white folk who trudged through the depths of the murky downtown. At the civic centre the annual truck show is being held,one could not attend unless they could show they belonged to the local truck/gun chapter. the mullet concentration here was astounding, you even had foreign mullets parading about talking about gear ratios on the big,lifted trucks that were being paraded about. all seemed to be as usual but little did the mentally challenged trucksters know that something dark and sinister was brewing. A man, in his late 30's, climbs out of the jet-black BMW and confidently strides through the courtyard; with him is a black guitar case,its contents known by no one but the man. he carefully sifts through the throngs of inebriated carnies and makes his way to the ominous clock tower. now the designers manufactured the clock tower with the rungs 20ft. in the air so no one would be able to get up there with any ease, but what the engineers didnt take into consideration was the availability of grappling hooks, with a swift flick of his wrist the hooks quickly flies up forty feet and snags on a cross beam with a clank. Now usually a man climbing up a clock tower would be about as incospicous as three midget hookers, but alas due to the mental deficiency of truck show attendees he goes unnoticed, making his way up to the post-modern,neo-classical clock the man opens his soft guitar case revealing a carbine-powered,semi-automatic armillaide ar-10 rifle with super scope and silencer. he reaches deftly into his pocket and pulls out his trusty aviators.the gold-framed,coke bottle tinted glasses glint as though they are precious metals.he puts them on and he feels the familiar squeeze of the nose piece, the world has now come into a clearer,more understanding glaze. he knows what he has to do and will stop at nothing.as he sets up to shoot his first mulleted victim the sun hits his aviators at a weird angle sending a flash of light down to the heathens below. one of the more mentally astute buggers sees this and looks up to the sky just as the man pulls the trigger, blowing him,and his mullet to pieces, this alerts the rest to run around like stupid creatures they are. mullets are running into mullets, people are sacrificing their kids so they can bound to safety. three more shots, three less mullets populate the earth. the shooting has stopped and the mullets,being gullible, leave the safety of their truck cabs and look outside, only to be bombarded by a sound which can only be described as the atmosphere being ripped apart and a large helicopter drops from the sky to pick up its believed hero.he quickly jumps in and looks back,a smile crosses his normally reserved face and his eyes squint behind his coke bottle aviators, which the reflection from show the true carnage he has commited.
Sean's Note: Nice work with the rant Erik but remember... we can't just go around killing carnies and mullets. We have to study them so we can find out what nutrients to extract for our own personal use. If everyone went around killing these specimans the world would be a gong show.
"I'VE BEEN LIFTING WEIGHTS AND DOING COCAINE ALL DAY... I'M READY TO FACE ANOTHER GROUP OF SODOMITICAL BASTARDS" (Sorry Erik, I just had to add this title)
I've seen some fucked up people in my life. The dastardly demon wenches whose devious plots to devolve Man into whimpering wussbags with just a thought,or a shake of the hips;damn them. The mulleted makeshift man whose mustache and goatee make him look tough...if he didnt weigh 13 pounds. Actually, I could go on at length about these moronic fuckoffs who walk in to somewhere like they are 6'2", 300 lbs; everyone know who these people are, they walk with their arms away from their body to make themselves look bigger, or they are trying (unsuccessfully) to hide their angel wings (shout outs to dogma).
The fucker that wanted to fight like nine of us at the bowling alley, man that guy was a fuckoff, and wouldnt you know it, in the coming weeks we had to go do volunteer work with the fucker. Or that carnie that lives on my street who would forget his own name if it wasnt written on his ankle beeper. Or that other fuckoff on my street who was trying to sell his bronco, and after my friend test drove it around and accidentely left his flat of beer in there... well, leave it too carnie logic to throw a party with said persons beer, now if that isn't low enough, how about the grade 14'er who attends high school partys only to steal beer, hit on teeners, and looking for fights with more respectable people. Now that guy can go burn in hell, although I'm pretty sure coke will ravage his brain moreso in the coming months to the point of him being nothing but a docile sponge-like creature. Or the coked-out whore who runs in front of your truck only to have her split in two; due to the fact that she has no blood in her body to feed her muscles,bones and ligaments...well at least cleanup is easy. people say they have a problem with homeless people asking them for change, I say fuck that, I have a problem giving cashiers my change at zellers... greedy buggers. Or the fucking person, who after a dine and dash decides with her newfound fucking morals to go back to some fucking faceless corporation and pay. I'm sorry people, this may be news but you cant just pick and choose your morals when they seem to be advantageous to you. That's why i have no morals, other than to treat people with respect until they fuck with me...hence why I have no respect for anyone that drives. thank you and i needed to get that off my chest before I moved.
(Sean's note: You're scaring me Erik)
RECENT CARNIE STUDIES
In a recent study performed by medical students at UBC, they found vast similarities between various Prince George residents. The study began when one med. student opened up the brain cavity of a Prince George mill worker who had dies when a roll of pulp fell off its support and crushed him to death. the med student found that the mill workers brain was mostly smooth, proving below-average intelligence, the most wrinkled part of the brain however was the medulla oblongata, which controls the limbs and movement. When the medulla was stimulated in certain places, the cadaver displayed certain ingrained movements. one movement seemed so deeply ingrained that when even remotely stimulated the corpse would perform what could only be called the "stacking action". when the student stimulated other parts of the medulla he was perplexed by the movements until another student suggested that they prop him up, by doing this the students could easily define the actions performed by the mill worker. the first action was correctly defined as the "beer cracking" action in which the corpse would hold a tall guy beer, then with a flicking action of his other finger and thumb open the tab and bring can to mouth. the other action was harder to define until they put a marijuana cigarette in the cadavers fingers in which the action was then defined as "joint smoking action". the cadaver would only perform this action when outfitted with a joint and not a cigartette. with newfound curiousity the med students wanted to perform the tests on other residents of prince george but couldnt find any corpses with their brains intact, so they started offing all the mill workers and mechanics they could find. the results were astounding, not only were the brain size and wrinkliness of the brain the same in all test corpses but also the actions performed by the subjects. some startling discoveries though, in some of the more lifetime mill workers and mechanics they found the brain had been replaced by a hamster running on a wheel trying to obtain a hanging food pellet, further testing is being performed.
Tales from George Street
by
Chris Holmes
This is my first entry to Sean's Page. While I may not be as grizzled and bitter as Mr. Hoffmann, or as distrubingly graphic and vulgar as Ryan (No Mr. infront of his name), I do think I have a few worth while stories to tell. So enough chatting.
I have work at the Ramada on George Street for 4 years now, and in that time, I have had some good lauhgs and disturbing run ins. One of the oddest things that has ever happen, began last year around mid july.
I was on my regular 4-8pm shift when a white hummer pulls up, with the lisence plate that said "rockstar". The gentleman who got out claimed to be the Drummer from Matchbox "pussy faggots" 20. I being a drummer knew this to be total bullshit cause the guy was a grizzly looking 40 year old with a bad american accent. In order not to create any tension, I neglected to mention this to any of my co workers. They were all in total awe of this gentlemen until he gave his address as "beverly Hills, 90210". Who is that stupid. Well we all had a laugh.
That night (I was no longer their), two girls aged 15 and 17 ( minors) came downstairs. One began yelling at the other about her saying the others life from that "craddle robbing fat fucker". The two started to fight in the lobby, so the police were called. When the police arrived, the girls told them that our "rockstar" tried to make kiddy porn with them. The police decided to arrest Mr. Craddle robber.
After they searched his humvee and he spent 2 days in jail, (rumor has it he is wanted for other crimes) he was released and came back to the hotel. He was angry about us "sicking are cop friends" on him, and he wanted a free room. We denied it to him where at this time he stormed out and said no rockband would ever come here again.
Well it turns out that he gave us an invalid credit card, so when Brigette phone her husband(a polica officer) and told him about him not paying his 2.15 phone bill, the fuzz went after the stupid fuck.
Next time I will tell you about the time when a bat flew into the lobby and some pimps helped us get it down.
Old Man S. Examines What it's like To Be a common resident of this fine village.
Looking around at all the full grown men with nothing more to show for themselves than a grade 3 education, a bottle of Wisers, and not an ounce of self respect to their name, one begins to ask himself where they went wrong. Old Man S. checks his IQ at the door and journeys into the pawn shop establishment which was often the subject of ridicule amongst those damn kids. The shop occupants don't understand the simplest rules of semantics because their minds have been poisoined with shows which are arch- nemesis to learning and common sense, such as, COPS, and wrestling. The only words they understand are: "fuck, beer, sweet, big blocks, and stumpage fees" thus limiting their vocabulary to telegraphic speech. Example "Big Block's Sweet", or, "fuck stumpage fees". The callow owner of the store is the proud recipient of a grade 3 education which is again reflected by the infamous sign "Tapes 2 dollars each or 5 for 10." The owner and his sidekick, with a face so jagged you could cut a roast on, converse amongst themselves about how ridiculous they are. Old man S. diverts their attention outside for a moment... "Last one to the post outside where that Pakistani girl fell through the ice after coming to North America to receive treatment for her severely burned face after the man she refused to marry dumped sulphuric acid on her wins." The sidekick and the owner bolt outside in hopes to "win". Sanderson chloroforms them both and prods them into the trunk of his car with a broomstick. Old man takes his wise cracking leprachan friend with him into the store to divert more attention. The Leprachan asks a non self respecting patron, "Excuse me sir... do you have a dollar? I'm a little SHORT." The patron scratches his head and old man rams a funnel and some antifreeze down his throat. The operation was underway. "Lucky?" Old Man calls his leprachan friend..."If you take any shit from these hate mongers take a cue from me and shove this broomstick up his peehole." These people aren't human like me or yo...what the hell are you anyways, more of a dwarf really ....anyways you can treat them like doormats, and not the fancy kind you buy at the pottery barn with the frills and gimmicks." Just as they were about to venture back into the store Lucky hears some scraping coming from the trunk. "Boss they're not done, I think they're eating throught the metal". The owner emerges and Sean hits him to the ground with a shovel." "Awwww christ I didn't mean to kill him....uhhhhh.....Lucky go get the medical dictionary and look up skull and spade shovel, time is of the essence here!!" editors noteAccording to recent polls shovels are the number one hand to hand weapon in close quarter combat. There were still more shifty buggers gallavanting about, who had to be taken care of before sundown, so they couldn't roam the streets without fear of being charred by the suns ultraviolet rays *they are vampires in case you didn't get the idea* "Lucky grab those wooden stakes and that garlic....shhhhhh no questions." "Time to bust up this bitch like a highschool kegger!" They kick in the windows because the front door was for pussies. Lucky does a backflip for no reason and jams some garlic down one of the patrons throat. "Uhhhh lucky, he's not a vampire, he's just a freak." The patron runs out into the street smelling of Italian food. Sean assembles some of the tape cases and old boots and fashions a bomb that would make Macgyver proud.
Stirring Other People's Drinks With Your Wookie
it was a beautiful friday afternoon and i was for all intents and purposes happily sitting at home on the couch watching porn, while the two other working class slaves were off at their jobs...i had taken the day from work three weeks in advance because i needed to take a friday off....time to get drunk and be lazy. maybe have a couple of casuals..as i slowly fall into an insulin-deprived coma due to the fact that ive been drinking and eating chocolate and fruit loops since nine o clock in the morning the phone screams like a banshee from hell. i know i shouldnt pick it up, the caller id says red lobster, i hesitate, what if its my friends whos just calling to say that we should go to the bar and try to hook up with some floozies,? my hesitation was all ready considered by the insidious manager from hell and quickly calls back, knowing full well that im just lying around....called into work....yes kiddies you too can microwave steaks for 10 bucks an hour, you can also burn the shit out of a lobster and sell it for thirty bucks to some fucking moron who thinks hes getting cuisine food, and im a certified chef, that isnt covered in blood,marinade,seasoning,grease from all the shit that i touch without washing my hands in between, latex gloves? what the fuck are those. ill grab a chicken breast and fuck with it for awhile in my hands while i grease the all ready contaminated grill then ill grab a steak, handling it with the same grossly contaminated hands....speed is what counts, not following the safety guide, that isnt hanging up in the staff room. my hands are glowing red while i haphazardly reach into the broiler over that tops out at 650 degrees, burns only hurt for a second, just as blood from using dull ass knives leaks onto the steak/chicken/shrimp for just a second....no time for band-aids...they dont work either with the cuts we get, they get quickly cauterized anyways...after your done getting your ass handed to you for five hours you are then quickly expected to clean and stock everything and then get the fuck out due to labour hours, then you sit at the bars listening to the fucking servers tell you how horrible the kitchen is while you sit and drink your 16th beer of the night, no fucking respect, story of my fucking life as a half-assed line cook. anyways take this as you will kiddies, think of me as a grizzled old/ex friend whos telling you stories that for the most part shouldnt be uttered due to the fact that we are the people that are cooking your meals earls,keg,olive garden,moxies they are all people like me, unshaven, wearing dirty contaminated clothes that havent been washed for ages doing shit to your food that you would think impossible for any person who has morals...too bad they dont exist on line, throw the steak against the wall and let it drop on the plate. that is all
p.s. this is the first writing ive done since september so tell me if its anywhere near where i was or was going beforehand.....or if i can hold a candle to my brethern of compadres sir sean (proprietor of site) and sir ryan, whom needs no introduction...
Why Some People Should Not Be Able To Breathe... Sean's Note: Props to erik for using the word "prologue" successfully in a daily sentence.
this conversation happened awhile back when i worked at an office supply place for a week, i cannot remember, for the life of me, the exact conversation but i believe i have it almost completely quoted correctely.this was my last day on the job. i decided to write it like a play due to the fact that its easier to write short descriptive sentences instead of paragraphs.
(enter your hero,me, 7:00 in morning and still half asleep)
*note ill be referred to as E from now on due to laziness.*
carny 1: hey erik, hows it going?
e: all right i guess,little tired
carny 1: huhuh, me too i was up all night doing coke with my friends sister
e:oh yeah, thats good to hear, how old is she?
c1:12, but man is she hot
e: right.....
c1 have you ever fucked a chick in the ass?
e: (while walking away and ignoring him)wha? you fuck goats? you sick fuck
(enter vast warehouse with infinite racks of shitty office furniture)
carny 2: hmmm, erik, today im going to have you put together some shelves, cause we need to put these damaged chairs somewhere instead of just throwing them out.
e: yeah ok that sounds like a great idea?? (shaking head)
c2: but first of all we need to cut them so we'll get carny 3 to cut them.
(what carny 2 doesnt know is that carny3 is probably dyslexic and high on coke, making easy tasks such as this hard to do)
( carny3 stumbles into warehouse, obviously high on something and possibly drunk, there is a wet stain on his crotch from when he pissed on himself because he doesnt have any motor skills and his central nervous system is horribly fried from years of coke abuse)
carny2 to carny3: hey, fuck eh, i need you to cut some fucking lumber eh, for row 35, so get to it ya fucker!
(now im not too sure but i think that was a motivational speech somewhere along the lines of the infamous AIR BUD speech, but in carnispeak)
carny3: hey erik what the fuck is going on?
e: (shaking head in disgust) not much, just waking up.
carny3: no kidding eh, fuck i was up all night watching porn and drinking fucking whiskey eh, then i got into a fight with my dad.that stupid fucker wants me to fucking cut some fucking shelves eh, fuck, what a stupid fucking job eh, fuck i should be working drywall or something,fuck this.
(once again this speech was meant to do something but all motivation is lost due to low intelligence)
e:yeah, fuck this(look of disgust)whens break anyways?
carny3: i dont fucking know, i loose all track of time when im here, i usually just go off into the stacks and sleep off last nights hangover.
e:yeah i suppose that would be fun?? (gives the "who the fuck is this guy look" to noone in particular"
carny3: oh fuck i almost fucking forgot eh, i got a couple of rails of coke, you want to do a couple, i got a joint for lunch too.?
e: ehhhh, thats ok im not really big on drugs.
carny3: (angrily)oh, so your one of those healthy people?
e: something like that.
c3 eh (he seems to forget what he was talking about and busies himself with the hard task of selecting a 2x4 out of a bunch of, surprise 2x4's which were all identical in length and press.
c3: eh fuck this looks like a good fucking piece of wood. (pulls out warped,rotten piece of shit)
e: yeah, i guess so, im sure im needed elsewhere ill check back on what your doing in about four hours, by then you should have a couple of pieces cut.
c3: (to noone in particular) hmmm i should take some of this wood so i can make myself a shed for my tools.
*break happens at about ten*
e walks into crew room to see what can only be described as a walking,living scarecrow eating boiled eggs and prunes.
e walks back out to the coat room so he can have some piece and quiet
c1: hey FUCKER, you want to come out for a smoke?
e: hmmm i guess, that way i dont have to sit in the crew room.
*break ends, everyone grumbles about going back to work*
not much happens until about 12:00 and everyone wants to break for lunch. c1 and c3 disapear for 20 minutes until the lunch bell goes, they come back sniffing and chuckling about something.
c3: (to e) fuck man, we just snorted those rails of coke and smoked that chonger, i think my dealer laced it with something man, im fucked,fuck, that was fucking good fucking shit(slaps c1 on shoulder and they both laugh)
e:thats great, im going home.
e walks out in anger and disgust and finds manager
e: hey, head carny i quit, i expect my paycheck to be mailed to me cause im not coming back.
head carny: excuse me?
e: this job sucks, and the people i work with put me in danger, i quit, as of right now.
e takes crew shirt off hands,soiled, to boss and grabs belongings and walks out.never to work at shitty office supply place ever again
prologue: i know these events seem far-fetched and quite ridiculus, but believe me they did happen, maybe things werent said exactly like they were but they were pretty damn close, and im sure they swore more often, but due to artistic integrity i edited some out, the actions of the cretins i worked with did happen and were quite stupid and annoying, anyways remember watch out for carnies.
Old Man H. Returns
The slight haze of the early morning fog clinged to the cold streets of the small town, coating the commute with an interesting test for the morning drivers jacked up on coffee and cocaine. Old man Hofmann, the grizzled history teacher, with the destroyed, forlorn face of time, staring into the mirror, recollecting the time he was handsome,lifting the folded flaps of skin to reveal pink, new skin instead of the grey,necrotic skin which covers his gaunt,jaundiced body, beaten down by the years and years of alcohol and tobacco abuse. he dresses in his usual garb of his old grey and green plaid sweater vest and his eggshell coloured dress shirt which he got from Arnold Van Hellemond in the summer of '89 for a birthday present. he slips on his light brown khakis, passed down from generation to generation of Hofmanns' he has worn them for at least 30 years and his dad the same before him, these tattered, disgusting khakis hanging off his disgusting body like an old public phonebook alomost egging students and teachers alike to make fun of him as they blew in the breeze. he looks outside, laughing at the cat who are licking his pie tin full of beer for the slugs, little do they know they contain enough rat poison to kill even his iron liver, he can see it now, these, horrible, snivelling cats, rolling around in pain,dying slowly as the poison shuts down their immune system, their nervous system, making them immobile as their last moments of life reach them, their deathcall happens and they die, in front of their mother in all their disgusting,pathetic glory. He opens a cupbard grabbing the wheaties from the top shelf, then he looks in the fridge, knowing that he has no milk and yet alomost out of habit from the two weeks he was married to his mail-ordered bride ,mariko, from the southern part of japan, he liked how she collected his slippers because late at night after many beers he tended to throw them around the house, sometimes to prove a point but mostly just for the fun in the morning when,hungover he went looking for them;the best was when he had to climb the fence to the neighbours yard to collect them.
Old man Hofmann pulled into the parking lot of the decrepit twenty year old school, cursing loudly at the retarded crossing guard who, while quite down syndrome and hobbling with a broken leg, was trying to do a valiant job with coercing the parents of the methamphetamine jacked kids into the pre-planned parking stalls. He rammed into the dumpster with such force as to leave remnants of his bumper on the puke green steel, kicking the tire of his rust coloured, degrading dodge aries, with the kick he hears something collapse underneath the hood and sees the rear view mirror fall off and disappear into a cloud of rust. "oh my fucking god you fucking heathen car, i wish the gods would strike down you and all your ilk" Old Man yells to no one in particular, with surrounding students laughing and parents trying to pretend that they didnt hear the horrible cursing..
Later in class sporting a mean vodka drunk Old Man tries to explain the finer points of making fertilizer bombs instead of buying them from some fuck-off russian mafioso. "what happens is" he says " is that these fuckers not only take your money for the bombs, but they also take your foreskin, just to show you they mean business. i would watch out for these people, they are a terrible and scary bunch, and do not give them any vodka for chrissakes!!"
unperturbed he goes on, forgetting what he said, mere seconds ago, he falls against his desk in a pathetic attempt to act like julius ceasar seducing cleopatra into sodomy, underlying this whole facade he is trying to seduce Jenny, the teener in the front row, knowing that her promiscius fortitude will help out his chances of scoring with that tight, perfect, unblemished body of her nubile seventeen years. Trying not to act to much out of his usual bitterness he quickly takes a reassuring swig of his rotgut rye, which brings tears to his eyes and almost makes him vomit. "fuck i need to install a cooler in this fucking drawer, for fucks sake, hopefully i wont need any more help to tolerate these fucking imbeciles"
"Uhh sir, you say we can't swear in the class, and yet you swear all you want, almost to excess" says one bright student.
"Well fucknut, once you've seen your brother die then you can fucking swear you fucking antifreeze-chugging moron" he says
"But, I, I"
"Goddammit, if you dont shut up im going to give you the damn terrible strap all right!!!!"
The young boy fell silent with the fear of beaing whipped, even though he knew that Old man Hofmann could probably not even lift a pencil let alone a whole leather strap or even a pressboard ruler, so siliently he snickered while the rest of the students sat, terrified and fearing this pathetic man.
"Well class, you will see the rapid decline of pumpkin consumption right around November first, could anyone postulate on why that is??" he asked this in all stupidity because he had forgotten the lesson plan that he learned all those years ago, and without his guide book, which sat so closely and yet unable to reach with a single, simple motion he left, due to his drunkeness and in security as a human being and teacher. He decided to go for it with one fell swoop and like everything in his life failed miserably and fell right directly on his atrophied, twisted face. A twinge of laughter erupted from the class, but then the bell rung and the students stopped more inclined to talk about his ridiculousness instead of laugh at it, as he lie there, back popped out, in immense pain and yet no one wanted to help him, alone and terrified in his existence he lied there and tried to reach for that bottle of gin he had in his deak drawer.....
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