webshite/amuse me/chapter 10

Blackbutt paused for a moment, and thought. A hard endeavor, since he was a very hardy (as in very stupid)pirate. "Wait a moment... wasn't Beeble, Donny, and Al ice already killed?" and so with that thought Beeble, Donny, and Alice froze, lo oked back, and low and behold, they HAD already died! Ah well, I suppose people can make mistakes.. "Argh! so I was right! Exclaimed Blackbutt. Then who the du mb-ass who thought that He/She was Sonic and wrote in CHAPTER 10: ?!? This perso n must be so fucking dumb that he/she must have brain cancer!" thought Blackbutt . "I hope that the person is impotent so that he/she can't breed" with that last thought, Blackbutt couldn't hold back a shudder. That would be worse then Dan Q uayle having children!

With that conflict resolved, the old characters were never to be seen again, RIGHT! Anyways, being mind dribble, was perfectly useless. Therefore, Blackbutt Jones dragged his splattered anus back to dry land.

"Arrrr...Dan Quayle having children! Id rather shove me parrot up me anus!"

To Blackbutt Jones's surprise, a tape worm, by the name of Polly, squirmed and undulated its squishy Scolex(a tapeworm's head)from Blackbutt's lower intestine up up and away! Like a ball in a pinball machine, Polly pinged and bounced of his colon, past his liver, down his bladder and up his throbbing manhood and out his Urethra to cry "Parrot up me anus! Parrot up me anus!" After completeing his task, he slowly wandered back, back into the nether regions of space known as Blackbutts gut.

Blackbutt screamed an explosion of searing pain as he clenched his groin with the ravenous fury not unlike a pack of rabid pigmy horses. "Arrr...that was odd, but kind of pleasurable." As he bled, he hobled over to a near by gopher, who abruptly grasped his crotch, for he dared not say anything, hoping never again to witness such a horrid display of bloody, gory, groinaside.

"Arrrr....You, gopher, want to see somethin?"

The gopher, brain the size of whale sperm, inched forward. With one fell manuvre Blackbutt unclamped his phallus and out leapt polly, right in the poor little gopher's face, killing the gopher immediately, and giving everyone a great laugh at it's expense. It hurt Blackbut like the dickens, but it was worth it. "Nemetode!" exclamed Scurvy. It had been a good day.

Days bled into weeks, weeks bled into months, months bled into years. Blackbutt had grown corpulant and wrinkled, face covered with stains from where mango juice had dribbled down his chin. His hair was gray and unkempt. His scabbard dangled loosely, free of purpose without a sword to carry. Over the years, Blackbutt had become king of the island, master of thousands of gophers and hamsters and ground rodents of every variety. Scurvy, just as flatulent, drooled limply by his side.

Blackbutt saw a coconut in a tree. Not a possession worth getting up for so he unzipped his fly, took aim and yelled "Arrr, Fire!" Polly shot out at high speeds, Aechoing his master's command, bouncing off of the coconut, and bringing it back to the Cap'n. This was the routine.

A fly perched on his shoulder. He licked it. It was good. He saw for the corner of his eye as he squinted a eldely woman, with several indiscernable orifaces. "Worthy of violating," he thought, but dissmissed the idea out of lethergy.

So you can see how famished and delirious Cpt. Blackbutt really was, reverting to eating flies and (gasp) coconuts.He was, in fact so delirious that he failed to notice an All-You-Can-Eat gourmet Mexican restaurant, named (appropriately) the "All-You-Can-Eat Gourmet Mexican Restaurant."

So Cpt. Blackbutt and his colleague Scurvy entered the restaurant. They were immediately welcomed inside, dressed in the finest quality sombreros, and seated at a table for two. There they ordered Estacot (the finest in Mexican gourmet snails). They wolfed this down and proceeded to engage in small talk with some of the ladies there. Cpt. Blackbutt had the best luck, he used the pick-up line that every good pirate-lovin' chick can't refuse ("Arrr, how'd ya like to see my THIRD peg-leg?").

And with that, Cpt. Blackbutt was married to a young woman named Mary. They were married in a small cave with Scurvy as the priest and a bunch of bears as the witnesses.

Mary was not too happy being married to Capt. Blackbutt. Of course, you can all probably understand why....so anyway, Mary decided she wanted to have an extramarital affair. But the hardest part was figuring out just who exactly she should bang behind Blackbutt's back. So, she thought long and hard...."hmmm, long and hard".....and finally came up with this: "I think that the best person for me would have to be BlackButt's mom."

But, of course, Cpt. Blackbutt's mom was back in Lichtenstein, so in her abscense she would have to have a substitute to keep Cpt. Blackbutt stated. She looked long and hard for a replacement, but the only available replecements were those silicon shoe thingies, so sbe asked one if they would play her part for a few months; the shoe packet accepted.

"Honey, are you ready to have a good time?" Mr. Shoe Packet said enticingly to Blackbutt. Mr. Shoe Packet was dressed in a tight little bikini. Cpt. Blackbutt was suspicious, "Um...are you just a silicon shoe packet substituting for my wife as she cheats on me with my own mother?" "Um...No, I'm you loving wife Alice..." "My wife's name is Mary..." "Oh, sorry...Mary. Your loving wife Mary." "Are you sure?" "No." "Oh. Well then, Mary, let's get down to business."

And that was how the son of God was conceived. He was to be born in a manger outside of a gourmet Mexican restaurant somewhere in the Caribbean.

Meanwhile, deep in an underwater-cave, Johnny Quest and Hadji were having some problems of their own, as Dr. No had captured Johnny's father, James Bond, and his friend Race Bannon.

Meanwhile, of in Lichenshit- or whatever- Mary found-out that Blackbutt's mom was dead. There were only one things she could do, so she did one thing. She had an affair with a different man. To be precise: Dr. No! Meanwhile, Blackbutt was stuffing his son with mexican food, forcing him to indulge in flatulence against his will. This outrage would only last until a milestone in American history struck again, in the form of the:::


Sadly, the billed failed to pass in Congress. So this author slapped on some Ajax, and then renamed the bill::


And with support from every man, woman, and child (including some sediments) the bill passed. What the bill would do is help all fruits that are mistaken for vegetables. Naturally, to link this with our earlier story, the bill had a resounding effect in the Carribean. Most noticably, "All-You-Can-Eat Gourmet Mexican Restaurant" shut down, and struck Dr. No on the head, allowing Johnny, Hadji, Dr. Bond, and Race Bannon to excape. This could not go unattended, and so it was time for:

The end of the world as we know it. That is to say: the Hawley Smoot Tariff was a complete failure, as it failed to be funny because the joke was already made in another, better book. But anyhow, with the All-You-Can-Eat Gourmet Mexican Restaurant gone, they needed another asset to the story. This asset was to be...


And so it was that an intergalactic pneumatic Mexican Resteraunt landed on the site that the old one had resided. It hopped up and down. I threw up.

As the doors for the first time opened up the entire cooking crew quit. The were anrgy about their jobs being taken by real mexican cooks. They decided to start a union.

It was up to the manager to find new cooks this time ones that would not piss in the food. (Don't you hate it when cooks do that.) So he put up his "Help Wanted." He waited, and waited, and waited, and masterbated.

But this all took about thirty seconds, and I'll be damned, but Cpt. Blackbutt couldn't wait that long. Heavens no! He had already gone off in search of fame, fortune, and...

"What the hell does 'renage' mean?" exclaimed Johnny Quest to Hadji. Suddenly Bandit, Johnny's dog, leaped up and bit his larynx so he couldn't ask stupid questions anymore. So there was only one thing to do. Namely, kill them all off. It was a lucky thing for the Wiggle that a meteor was moving towards the Earth. Really, really, fast.

But, in courageous gallantry, that is to say, stupidity, Dr. Quest and his faggy friends flew their spaceship high into the air and intercepted the comet. The explosion was huge, it illuminated the sky and caused one of Johnny's worthless testicles to land on Cpt. Blackbutt's head.

"Arrr...that must be a message from God himself. A testament ordering me to attack Spain's possesions in the New World." So said Cpt. Blackbutt. And so he set off on his Holy Quest to purge the infidels who raised God's wrath.

By himself, with a little help from his friends.

Meaning Scurvy, and the shoe packet who was masquerading as his wife. And so, wielding his holy scrotum for the greater glory of God and his righteous might, Captain Blackbutt set off toward the nearest Spanish settlement to begin the holy war that would purge the satanic Spanish from the virgin shores of the land.

So they set sail for Mexico and the nearest monetary exchange place. They found it in the Veracruz International Airport. The only problem was, they were outside the city walls, and the exchange place was inside. There was only one thing to do, request the aid of none other than: Harold the Parasite, who had finally succeeded in his objective conquest of Haiti. Cpt. Blackbutt was inspired by Johnny's other useless testicle. So he acheived his other God-given quest: entering Veracruz with the help of Harold the Parasite.

"Who are you and what business do you have here?" so said Harold the Parasite to the man with a pegleg and eyepatch. Harold the Parasite was informed that he had a proposition for the king of Haiti, that is, Harold. "The name's Blackbutt, Captain Blackbutt. My proposition is that you aid us in our quest." "What is your quest?" "To conquer all of New Spain." "And what gave you that idea?" "It all started with a divine testicle, which informed me of what I must do: start off by capturing the stronghold of Veracruz with your help, then move on to Mexico city!"

Harold the Parasite, King of Haiti, accepted the proposition, on the condition that he gets to claim all of Mars for Haiti. And so the frigate Domino, along with the Haitian armyn set sail for Mexico and the fabled land of El Dorito.

But first it was time to eat. And with that Blackbeard and Mr. Scurvy and Harold the Parasite went to the local strip bar/family Resteraunt, "Bacon and Legs." Blackbeard got the Vegatable plater with full peep show, Mr Scurvy, being the gay fag he is, got the poo poo and male ass combo. Harold the Parasite, being the king, wanted the full staff show with side item salad bar.

All of a sudden, out ofall the male stripper's brassieres came none other than: mortar cannons! To the surprise of the readers, though, a man in a tuxedo arose from the crowd and declared, "The name's Jond, Bames Jond. Stirred, not shaken." And out he drew his PP7. And so he and the strippers, who were really Janus Operatives in disguise, got into a massive gunfight, destroying yet another successful restaurant, and allowing Cpt. Blackbutt and Friends to escape unscathed. Jond followed, and caught up with them. He requested to go along with them. After heavy debate Cpt. Blackbutt allowed him to join them; on condition that he shares his babes.

"Argg me babes be my own but you may have Mr. Scuvy male bitch's and me parot to shove up your anus." Mr. Bond agreed. "Your a hard barginer Blackbutt. But I agreed if I can use the parrot right now." "Arrgg, He works best shaken not stired."

So after shaking (not stirring) the parrot, Jond did his business and they were off once again.

"Arrr, Cpt. Blackbutt, me thinks that I see land up ahead! Two miles yonder!" Scurvy yelled down from the catwalk. In fifteen minutes, Scurvy was proven right. Sort of. For the land appearred to have a reddish-yellow tint. And as they came closer, Cpt. Blackbutt knew that his prayers had been answered: for up ahead was the fabled land of El Dorito, where the streets were paved with a material so fine, so delicately beautiful, that it made gold seem like dirt in comparison: that disgusting reddish stuff which is slathered so lavishly onto Doritos.

"Arrr, men, now we're rich. The richest, most powerful men in the universe." Cpt. Blackbutt proclaimed haughtily, "I claim this land in the name of Lichtenstein!" And with that, he placed a Lichtenstinian flag into the soft, fertile Dorito-stuff.

Now, it should be asserted that Jond hadn't the slightest idea of what was happening. So I now instruct him to read Chapter 9..."Okay, ready Jond?" "Yes, lets get on with it." And with that Jond departs from the land of El Dorito to face his destiny: destroying the new pirate ship: Gold'n'High, now located in Veracruz.

"Arrgg, I change my mine Lichtenstinian suchs my parrots hot scrotum. I claim this land for me. Ha ha ha ha... whow, whow, cogh cogh... scuse me." Scurvy was scouting this new land. "This redish stuff smells like crap. What the hell is that? Ohh my god." "Argg that's stuffs nasty. Quick back to the ship. Let someone else claimed this piece of carp."

In a completely unrelated topic: There's a new invention that allows you to avoid flatulent output. This fancy product is known as Beano, and should be standard issue in all Mexican Resturants. I'm sure this piece of information would come in handy for: Sir Francis Bake'a'Cake! The lethal enemy of all Lichtenstinianianianiani-*whap* Um, sorry there.

And now for a bit on Sir Francis Bake'a'Cake: He is one of the most feared pirates on the sea, and a deadly adversary to all who happen to cross his path. The thing which puts him at such odds to Cpt. Blackbutt is the fact that he is also looking to take over New Spain. However, Blackbutt does have a certain advantage over Sir Bake'a'Cake: his mission was ordained by God and his Holy Testicle.

Elsewhere, in Hampsterland:

Polly the Tapeworm cowered, brooding in the bushes. His face was painted, and he calsped a spear in his mighty scolex. As he waited, unmoving, his eyes slowly traced the outline of his prey. He could taste blood in his mouth. In a blur, he pounced, felling the ugly warthog and encoiling him snakeishley. This was how he satisfied his bitter urges, his anger at abandonment. He had not been mentioned since his fateful coconut leap from Blackbutt's urethra way back at the begining of the chapter. And would he stand this? Would he fall back, would he put up with such insolence? No. He had trained too hard, worked too long, labored too much, and all to the "Rocky" theme song. He was a warrior now.

With a shrill whistling noise, he mounted his faithful He-slug Borzach, and held aloft his mighty proton spear (which, by the way he had "Clasped," and not "Calsped," earlier). His Ron-Co Dill Swatter©Æ was readied, mounted industrially on one side of the slug-harness, his whale gun and monkey cannon mounted on the other. He would climb blissfully through a valley of the innards of his enemies when came the day of reckoning. "Move with speed, mighty stallion!" Polly cried wrathfully, striking a stoic pose. His slug secreted some glue-like fluids and belched. "Hmph." said Polly.

And now, more hard core Blackbutt action:

Blackbutt snorted into the rigging of the beautiful frigate Domino, flagship of the great... well, er mediochre... almost... Lichtenstien empire. Lazlo, the slow but loveable lesbian galley chef tortise, busily hacked away at the limbs of the giant man-frogs she had eveloped in her thick gauzey salivary secretions. Blackbutt stayed away from the galley area.

Three green weasles fell from the sky and bounced merrily off of Scurvys cozey-soft rear end. Scurvy giggled. "Who are you, little friends?" he questioned. "We are the three green weasles!" they answered in an alto harmony. "And a gluey blue tree sloth," added a tenor tree sloth climbing onto the ship. "We are here to rescue you from the doledrums of life!" Scurvy was as giddy as a schoolgirl. He wiggled and giggled, and hopped and bopped, and danced and pranced and wet his pants. They all joined hands and skipped in a circle. Dandilions grew on whatever they touched. They sang happy songs. "And now my friend we have to go, off to thwart Fidel Castro!" Scurvy started to run, to tell everyone his wonderful story! But wait... who would believe him? "It will just have to be between me and my silly super friends!" he says to us with a wink.

Scurvy snuck past Cap'n Blackbutt. Cap'n blackbutt seemed not to notice him, even though his head turned a full 180 degrees and stared strait at him. 'Odd,' thought Scurvy with a slight grin. Scurvy climbed into his new home, a little cottage beneath the crow's nest. Looking down at Cap'n Blackbutt, he cautiously rubbed his fanny against the lamp post that he kept convieniently tucked away in a little box under the cupboard. The Captain's head spun the rest of the 360 degrees, and then another 200. With a mechanical jerk, his face sprung out, his head tilted, and his eye's gazed deep into Scurvy's. His peg leg began to twich and then made a foward thrust. KLUNK! it went. This was followed by a THUMP from his real foot. KLUNK! THUMP! KLUNK! THUMP! he was at the bottom of the mast. Scurvy began to smear treakle on his belly. KLUNK! THUMP! KLUNK! THUMP! Half staff. KLUNK! THUMP! Three-quarters there. KLUNK! THUMP! Scurvy let out a childish squeek of fear as Cap'n Blackbutt came to a full stop and his eyes sprung out on little springs. "You're acting... sTRanGeLY... today Scurvy. You aren't feeling UnwEll, are you?" asked the quazi-mechanical pirate. Scurvy trembled; with a shiver to his voice, he asked: "Unwell? Strange? Who told you that? Did the lobsters tell you that?! DID THEY!? I'll KILL them! Those lying BASTARDS!! I'll kill them ALL!..."

And during all of this, what was Bames Jond doing? Well, he's livin', twice, with a license to kill. His mission: to gain access to the Soviet stronghold of Veracruzski, and eventually, make millions of dollars with secret agent films and publicity. He's armed with his trusty PP7 and various other really nifty devices. And now he's ready to kick some hardcore Soviet ass:

Before he could finish his ploy, a strange hum came from the Blackbutt. "Hmmmmnnn..." he began, getting out a giant shrimp fork. "Hmmmmnnn..." he continued, getting out a giant soup spoon. "Hmmmmnnn..." he concluded, getting out a giant butter knife. "Hmmmnnnnnbesame'... Besame' MUCHO..." He sang with a fiendish grin on his face. Things under his skin began to twitch and wiggle... they squirmed and tore free... one by one, horrible pink crustaceans, lobsters in particular, emerged from Blackbutt's gaping maw. Scurvy's hand furiously pounded his fleshy posterior, which jiggled in terror. "øYoU wOuLd BEtrAy uS? øAFtER aLL tHIs tIme? °øYOu wOUld BetRAy uS?! °WE gaVE you CHEESE snaCks aNd °anIMal cRaCKers! °We SmeARed FecES aLL oVEr yoU'Re pIllOws! øIs THis the tHANKs we GEt?" "leave me alone!" whispered scurvy, crying, quivering, sticking bottles of soy sauce in his belly button. "°LooK aT ThE SiLLy ONe'S NaVEL! °°HA HA HA!!" They all laughed at him, surrounding him, covering him, mocking him, pouring vinnegrette dressing down his asophagus. "°gEt tHE sALAd ToNGs bOYs, We'vE gOt uS A vEGitaBle!"


Somewhere, Polly's mighty steed neared beach.

Well, I waited. I'm going to write some more about scurvy If you aren't going to do you Bames Jond crap.

Lazlo, cleaver in hand, sprang up the mast! With a few quick storks, she had delivered babies to every home in Waukegan. "Come back!" Pleaded Scurvy, who kneaded his pot belly like bread dough. The pink lobsters climbed into his ears, making squeaky noises. "Oh, Poo Poo!" exclaimed Scurvy, who immediately turned into a giant mole and began to fall the seven thousand feet down the mast. He had pincers extruding from his ears, but thid did not deter any of the new people he met during his slow plummet deckward. First was Sally the Cuddly Cucumber. She had great big teeth, and ate purple infants, and at the same time held a great big cotton swab which she would continuously plunge into her one great big ear. "Hello," said Scurvy. "What?" she asked, "I can't hear you, fo ryou see I have a cotton swab in my ear!" Scurvy giggled, and flossed his colon. When Sally removed her swab from her ear, Scurvy repeated, "I said, 'Hello, my name is Scurvy, who are you?'" "Why you said no such thing! All you said was 'Hello, ' and for that, I must hot glue earwigs to you're pituitary gland!" Scurvy giggled at this strange new sensation, and was joyous at meeting such an interesting new friend. "Goodbye!" he cheered, plummeting past her with a slight wave. "Goodbye!" she echoed, plunging here cotton swab back into her ear and disabearing into a puckered membrane that was clumsily plastered to the mast.

Next he met a Trio of Topless Tofu Teens. "Holle, elloh llohe, lehol!" Scurvy rearranged. "Silly, silly man-mole! Only the Dooga-Dooga-Tekat-Shenba may say such things!" said the third from the left. "But I thought the letters would be more aesthetically pleasing for our readers that way!" came Scurvy's pitiful response "It has been justified. What is you're nomen?" queried the teens. "I'm scurvy, Who are you?" "The call me Fourth-from-the-right. That is Half-past-the-middle, Third-from-the-left, and End. We are the Trio of Topless Tofu Teens. Someday, we hope to aspire." "Well that is a noble goal! Goodbye, friends!" said Scurvy with a merry grin.

Gage, you're wierd. Hit yourself and sleep. Drool if you must.

No, I refuse. Scurvy's third and final encounter was a dual-orbiting pair of moons. "Hello moons!" Scruvy stuffed his mouth full of mulch and grew some begonias. "Goodbye!" Negated the moons. "Grrrr... woof woof!" said a dead dog who hurtled past them at speeds beyond infinity. "How are you today?" interrogated Scurvy. "We are not," the moons continued invert and posturize, "and you?" "I think I have to restructure my bowels, but otherwise fine." "Do you have gills?" "No... do you have cattle prods?" "Well you'de better get gills... there's the ocean!" Before he knew it, the boat had completely dissappeared out from under him, and the mast just continued into the water. Forever. Endlessly. Fortunately, Scurvy was now dead. Or a fish. Or both.

derr.. continued TO invert... you'd better... grr.. donkey semen.

And Polly crept even CLOSER to the receeding shoreline.

leaving a trail of mucus. and armadillos.

Which could only mean one thing: IT WAS TIME FOR A COMMERCIAL!!!

If Scurvy is a fish, then he might be made into sushi, which you might accidentaly eat. He is a fish isn't he? Harold glanced up at the speaker, with a wolfish grin. "Raw fish is my business, for I am (theme music) HAROLD THE PARASITE!" And the donkey semen was polluting our fair seas, so it was time to use the Beano, and repress tyranical flatulance everywhere and allow all free people a chance to fart with joy.

Weird. Weird. Weird. Weird.

Speaking of Harold the Parasite, Bames Jond was frantically trying to get noticed in this god-forsaken story. He jumped and shouted, "Hey, hey!!! Notice me!", which in Russian means, "Helloski, I amski a Britishski Secret Agentski. I hateski you all. I deserveski to die, so killski me!!!" This frantic stereotyping of Russians made the Soviets of Veracruzski quite angry, so they decided to teach Jond a lessonski. They rushed out of the fortress, shooting viciously at Jond. But, as usual, Jond's enemies can't aim, so they recieved a big surprise when they saw their bullets turn around in mid-air and fly straight towards them.

And so they died.

So Jond entered Veracruzski in classic Jond style: with 15 loosely-clad, sexy women surrounding him. He claimed Veracruzski for Lichtenstein and settled down to await another mission.

And so, with Jond's allegience switched over to Lichtenstein, Britain needed a new secret agent. One much more powerful, charismatic, and stealthy than any agent that had previously existed: Pierce Brosnan. But who to send him against? The Soviet Empire had been subdued, and Dr. No out of the picture, who was he to fight against? The obvious answer: Iraq, led by their kingpin: Saddam Hussein, who is armed with a razorblade hat and a metal jaw.

Pierce Brosnan, agent 009.11, armed with a PB7 and a lisence to make movies which don't amount to shit compared to Sean Connery's. He entered the Iraqi chemical manufacturing plant, stealthily as ever, always careful not to set off any alarms, which would cause him a great amount of death.

Pierce Brosnan being the worthless peice of shit actor he is triped off on of the alarms and was killed by Saddam Husseins evil army. With this the British again needed a new agent. Someone that would be swave and cooler than all the rest. A man who was too cool to die . Yes thats right Kumquat, Bebble Kumquat. He was not armed with a wussy pistol he had 2 Colt 45 and a Tommy gun.

(Shaft music playing in background) "Who's the one who digs all those sexey monkey chicks" "BEBBLE!!!" "Damn straight" "He's a bad mother..." "Watch your mouth!" "Just talking bout Bebble...ya fat whoe"

Beeble's first mission: Kill the sissy archetypal Lichtenstinien Bond. Beeble had dawned his fourth or fifth new guise of the story: a tuxedo and dark-sunglasses get up, with wrist-based gun holsters. He had a device in the inner thigh of his pants that caused a chainsaw to burst from his groin whenever he pulled his left earlobe. sing a little groin-to-the-neck-action, he dismembered a whole bunch of people, slept with six women, swallowed a whole motorcycle in ten days, and found Jond. At this time, he dropped his pants, ripped of his sissy-boy tux, threw Jond against the wall. In several manuvres involving dull thuds, horibble gnashing noises, flesh-ripping, bone-breaking, speutem flinging and mass carnage, Jond was on the floor. His kidneys were on the cieling. All his ribs were coming out of his ears, and his face had a strange way of sticking out his anus. And Mr. British-Secret-Intellegence didn't look so tough now. Beeble courtiously excused himself from the storyline, and finally put his his origional space suit gig on again. Death-ray blasters are much more fun than .45's.

Meanwhile, Polly's slug had stuck together a few logs with it's own mucus. It was a Kon-Tiki raft. It reeked of death.

Bebble, not Beeble. Beeble, Bebbles ancestor, was dead, so it was up to Bebble to find his murderer and carry on the Kumquat tradition. Luckily Bebble was a kumquat and therefore had the support of Congress because of the Ajax Fishing Impotence Tax, which was made to help fruits mistaken for vegetables everywhere. No one knew whether a kumquat was a fruit or vegetable, but it didn't matter, because Congress is useless anyway.

Meanwhile, Polly had embarked on a voyage on his raft. He crossed the ocean and came across a dead fish. He knew this fish, from... an earlier life. Yes! This fish was none other then Scurvy! One of those notorious pirates who'd always been shoving Polly up their various orifices (or down them, as the case may be). Well lets see how Scurvy liked it! Of course, there are several reasons why people don't shove fish up orifices, and one of them is that the scales face back, so you can't remove them without severe pain. So, now Polly the parrotwithafishshoveduphisanus, continued journeying on his voyage.

AAAGGGGHHHH!!! DOES ANY ONE EVER PAY ANY ATTENTION AT ALL?!?! POLLY IS A TAPE WORM!!! GOOD GOD!! A TAPE WORM!!! NOT A DAMN PARROT!! AND BEEBLE THE KUMQUAT DESCENDENT BEBBLE IS PRETTY FUCKED UP IF HE ACTUALLY IS A KUMQUAT, BECAUSE BEEBLE WAS A MONKEY! M-O-N-K-E-Y!!! But let us assume that that when Beeble, the still-too-cool-to-be-dead Kumquat (really a monkey) excused himself from the storyline, he moved to chernoble and married a crecent-tufted rock finch, and from this unholy union came forth a mighty geyser of circus-freak mutants, including the half-oyster-half-bologni sandwich that was to be Bebble's mother/father. And Bebble was a kumquat, but he will be, if he must, be reffered to as Bebble the Notkumquat, or Bebble the Ratstomper, or Hank Fizzlebaum the fourth, or Viking Lovetoy, or perhaps even DoomGarr Bloodgush, Slaughterer of moles and tortoises. Another Point, referring to the horrible Scurvy disaster, is that for those of you who had not fathomed the all-to-obvious implication, is that Scurvy was high off red-orange Dorito dust. So if the results of this were that he actually did turn into a fish, then the whole recreational pharmacutical gig has one more notch against it on the bedpost of desire. Whatever the hell that meant. But Let us too assume that Polly, the tapeworm, has indeed abducted Scurvy, who he is keeping in his anus, not that tapeworms have anii, but Polly can be special. And Polly, mounted high atop his mighty slug, inches his way closer to the great Floss of Gnok, and then his colon shall be cleansed. So their.


Gnok Rested high on his mountain top. His mountain top was so gloobieroo, he could hardly squeegle! But He suckled his hooka and caught goldfish out of his reflecting pond with his serpintine tail. Commander Cody dissapproved, and so he violated old women.

Let's get our stories straight, okay now? BEEBLE IS DEAD. D-E-A-D!!! Dead for good, never to resurface, same with Donny and Alice! Got that, ya twits?! But anyway...

All of this was trivial and inconsequential to the fact that our NEW and utterly ORIGINAL characters are now being introduced, which is to say...

that Beeble III, Alice III, and Donny III, werelooking for their descendants. They had discovered a secret parchment in some secret archives in which their wacky and heroic adventures were described. They read these tragic adventures with awe many times, and had determined to search our their celebrity forefathers.

It had been a long and arduous journey, had taken many years of research and been really really boring, but it was worth it. For Beeble III, Alice III, and Donny III had finally specified the location of their forefathers' tombs: the earth. And so they set off to scour this land and find their anscestors. Dressed in spandex and armed with pick-axes, they began their journey.

Beeble the Second was a space baby.

Just a footnote.

In case anyone... you know... cared... or anything... um... yeah.

Itís turned to night and started to rain, a million drops, the room is dark and lit by candles, the wind has blown the south facing window screen into the room, spilling a large potted plant, and breaking the container. Rain falls from the roof past the window down into the sub level concrete porch, loud. A ceiling fan teeters precariously, whipping around in a lop sided spin, too far up to reach, there is a long string tied to it with a coat hanger hunger from the bottom, the untwisted end coated with black tar. Itís cold and the papers nearest the window are getting wet, the ink on the cheap ones bleeds and runs together, I scratch my head and think about a girl in leather pants with thick liquid running down her leg. The drone has gotten louder and has a new sound now. There is a small cluster of vegetable matter growing in the mush of papers under the window. It is an inch tall and not fully a fruiting body yet, gills remain enclosed under cap. The stem has not risen from the base, the viscid skin pungent. I was unable to classify it with the Dichotomous key, only that it belongs to the family M. Muscaria. Itís native to the pacific northwest so I canít figure out how it can be growing in Texas. "The key says that raised white spore clusters indicate fully active matrix nodes." I think out loud. "Dichotomous Hippopotamus!" Jasmine overheard me as she walked out of the room with the droning boxes. "All you do is look at book and try and figure out what that is so you wonít die when you eat it. Can we go?" Her black hair was thickly dreaded, with silver rings and sticks woven in. An unlit cigarette sat between her lips. Her small nipple poked through a tight bright yellow babydoll t-shirt with a butterfly on the front. "Is the new box working ok?" I looked in into the room and squinted at the red flashing lights by the gray buttons. "It keeps changing on itís ownÖDid you hear that new sound?" "Yeah maybe we shouldnít leave it." "Mike said he almost has it figured out. Heís pulling out all these cords and plugging them in different holes. Whatís a midi?" She stepped between me and window and pulled my head against her stomach. The skin was warm and smooth. "Ok man I got it-we just have to get some more batteries or everythingís gonna crash by tomorrow." A brown frock with graduated cylinders and beakers silk-screened on the bottom covered his gaunt frame. It had large pockets in the front filled with cords cables and bare wires.. "Youíve been kissin that things ass for the last four hours and it still creates new progressions. What the fuck is that?" I pulled myself up from a squat on the floor and stood behind Jasmine with my arms around her small trunk, my chin resting over her shoulder. Chrome needle nose vice grips were in Mikeís left hand clamped on a tiny black piece of plastic with gray metal soldered to it. Thin blue wires five or six inches long hung from small ridges on the bottom of the chip. "I donít know but when I pulled it out the BPM went from 116 to 156. Maybe I should put it back in but the wires ripped in half. Oh well, letís see if the bridge is open yet." The drone from the boxes had been saturating the whole house for almost two weeks. It overpowered the rumbling whine from the semis up shifting out of the curve on the highway outside. For the first few days we just listened soaking up the buzz in our ears and vibration in our chests. If you stayed in the room where the boxes sat you couldnít fall asleep. It was so loud that you couldnít complete a thought. Not loud like a womanís screaming that hurts your ear. Itís a thick penetrating fog horn that fills you more in your body than your ears. After being up for days I didnít even want to go to sleep. I just wasnít tired. I was starting to wonder how long I could stay awake. Then the blind people started showing up. "What the fuck! Hey you canít-Ö" The first one came to door and shoved past Jasmine tripping over large metal fan with the grill dismantled lying on the floor. She crashed back against the wall and screamed. It was still plugged in on high, the blades were sharp and moving fast. They cut his legs badly and severed his Achilles tendon so he crawled the rest of the way to room dragging the lower half of his body behind him. Tears wet his contorted face. He collapsed in front of the biggest box and curled up in the fetal position. Thatís when the noise started to change on itís own. It started out as homogenous note. When the passed out blind guy with the flayed strings of flesh was in there the pattern changed. The tone began shifting higher and lower in a strict rhythm. The man would rock back and forth on his side in time and smile. Soon others came, a small dark girl with a violin case and ribbons in her hair, an old man dragging a green metal canister of oxygen behind him in a metal basket on wheels. Tubes ran from a nozzle on top to his nose. They sat down next to bleeder and passed the oxygen back and forth, jamming the tubes into their noses and breathing deeply. Their hollow eyes staring into the air before them. "Do they like the sound?" Jasmine peeked in the room from behind large chair sitting in the middle of the pile of papers. She looked scared of the people in the room and had started crying and blowing her nose. "Does a bear shit in the woods and wipe his ass with a fluffy white rabbit?" I started laughing and picked up the patent forms from the floor, the ones that were wet I just threw away. I watched as two more people, a man with a white cane leading a woman by his elbow, shuffled past us. They made their way through the mass of papers and sat down along the wall with the new box, joining hands with the other three already in there. I gave up on the key and picked the fungus, placing it carefully in a paper bag, we probably wouldnít make it back anytime soon. I grabbed Jasmine by the arm and ran pulling her onto the front porch. There were small groups of people in various states of proximity to the house. Most were on their hands and knees, trying to feel their way towards the drone coming from inside. Their heads sagged and necks strained toward the booming vibration. I counted fifty two on the actual property inside the short chain link fence. Hundreds more were pulled up on the gravel shoulder and in the street. Empty cars left running, doors open parked in all directions. Every couple hours as a new person showed up two of us would go outside and one would get in their car and drive it twenty miles out to some land we owned. It was about forty acres of woodland with two small lakes surrounded by BLM acreage. Weíd park the new car and then drive back together in our own. Now it was to the point where we couldnít keep up anymore and had started to get scared. The nearest neighbor was a half mile away and we had assumed they would think it was just a party. The noise itself wasnít something that made you want to call the cops. That was the last thing it made you want to do. It made you want to get as close as possible to itís source and close your eyes, give your undivided attention to the auditory gyrations disturbing you ear.

fuck you all at the bcc stage crew especily gage and matt you fags


It seemed certain, then, he must take the chance and eat the mysterious fanged beast which scratched it's butt against the bars of its cage hanging from the mildewed and smelly curtains of the bordello where Madame Winky lived in decadent splendour amidst naked muscled boys who often massaged her rancid flesh and insightfully discussed their chafed appendages.

So he ate it. Tasted damn good too. Saved me a big chunk but it was way rancid because of all of the manjuice that had got all over it from the aforementioned masturbatuers. So anyway. It was all a big deal over nothing really. Really. Ok where was I? I think I was just getting to the bit about the asparagus but I am not sure, unfortunately my memory is not what it once was.

But Beeble was to cool to notice all that...

No!! No I didn't mean it! AAAAGGHHH!! Garglegrurglgmmzmp...

Polly, during this bizzare and uneventful interlude, had found Gnok, killed him in a glorious battle, flossed, and opened a lusty dental hygene facility outside of New Mexico. But you missed it because you were to busy talking about humming noises that attracted cripples! Cripples! If a certain Space monkey was still araound, he'd violate you're stupid cripples, and then have his was with a few old women! How do you like that? Huh?! Well... perhaps I am a bit to harsh... I've been gone for a while, and then I read this Gage and Matt are fags stuff... it hurt my feelings. I cried.

You are stupid cripples!! Urmph... Polly extracted teeth... He licked his nurse, and extracted some more teeth. Curling up on top of his patient, he secreted som reproductive juices, and pulled some more teeth, and removed a scimitar from his ferret.

There was a knock on the door... Polly put his hand on his giant snail to calm it down. On the other side of the door was the lovely Seniorita Lolita, dressed in mysteriously small quantities of black silk. He put his other hand on his other giant snail, if you know what I mean. "Oh, polly, I know it's wrong to come see you like this," she feverishly rambled, clenching his buttocks tight, "I mean under these conditions..." Her tongue probed every inch of the inside of his scolex. "With my husband up in Seattle and all, but... [mrmphhglargmphumm], I can't [pant, pant] help it!" "No, no, my little buttercup flower! I have many ferrets! Some being filled with scimitar, but others okay! I like foriegn/domestic trade!" he responded. Since the acciedent, his speech patterns hadn't been the same.

My cat's breath smells like cat food

...cried Lenny in a passionate frenzy as he fell back on the wall of an elevator in the space needle, torso heaving beneath the full-bossomed wieght of Ramal, the 500-pound indan kick-boxer. Lenny was never coherant in the act of love, but his thoughts were not of Lolita. "What I wouldn't do for a dermatologist!!"

Ind-I-an... sorry.

If I wanted to talk, I would have hired a hooker.

Just an idea...a simple idea which I think would make the story somewhat more coherant: TRY TO FOLLOW THW DAMN PLOT!!! Y'all understand! Quit it with the tangents, stop making notes which have nothing to do with the story!!!

Okay then...let's start this again: somebody make an attempt to start off a story, and let's try and follow it!!!

I'm waiting...

There is a time and a place when you finally realize that some things may exist outside of you. For Vlad the time was now, the place was 20,000 ft above the ground, and the thing was gravity.

He had chased the road runner up here and hadn't noticed the cliff. Now, with no earth beneath his feet, he hangs for a few seconds as the reality of his situation registers on his face. Hey! VladE-Coyote! Look into the camera, you're goin' down bay-bee.

Tired after years of having to express himself in signs, Vlad decided to concede defeat to the elusive Road-Runner, and so he said, in his upper-class British accent so seldom heard, "I'll end it, now, finally, for good..." "Good-bye cruel world!" And so ends his impassioned speech, much akin to that of Vanzetti in his trial, only...not...like that...umm... A ring-shaped cloud of dust, a crashing sound effect (not unlike those found in Chinese TV shows), and it would be all over....

But alas!!! No, impossible! Because in classic cartoon format, death is impossible, the horror, the terror! Condemned to a life of constant death and ressurection. His scrawny arms pull him out of the coyote-shaped hole. Five bluebirds fly about his head, flirtatiously chirping, tauntingly, and eerily materializing out of Vlad's impact-fevered subconscious, as a boulder lands in a futile attempt to kill this sentence, but no!, I refuse to give up, death still evades the tortured Vlad, and so begins the era of the chronically depressed coyote (don't finish the sentence!, carry on the recently-long-established the tradition!,),

do it, now!,

(but keep with the story!,),

go back