Wednesday, January 31, 2007
On a bustling, well-lit stretch of cobblestoned street in one of the nicer parts of Nougat City, a prominent candy factory owner, his wife and their 11-year-old son emerge from an all-night bakery and candy shop. To call the man and his wife portly would be to redefine the parameters of the word “portly.” The child was well on his way – a chubby lad with a nice orange tuxedo and a short blond Mohawk.
Clearly, they have all come from a night at the theater, or perhaps an elegant, all-you-can-eat formal banquet. The man wears a dapper, if overstuffed, tuxedo. His top hat and pointed, swirled mustache give him the appearance of the Monopoly guy after he really let himself go. The wife’s appearance was a grotesque reinterpretation of formal elegance. For her outward appearance, the only reaction she ever provoked among those to lay eyes on her for the first time was the concept that the human male can be remarkably inventive and flexible when procreation is at hand.
In any event, the trio spills down the steps, smiling at each other. The father carries a grocery bag stuffed full of pastries, doughnuts, doughnut holes, doughnut perimeters, bricks of chocolate, etc. The boy happily lumbers along, taking the occasional bite out of his cotton candy in the left hand, and his three corn dogs in the right. They all exude total happiness.
The man, checking his watch, motions for the family to take a short cut down the dark alley immediately to their left. Through the gap in the alley, way down on the next brightly lit avenue, a single neon sign can be seen flashing: Chuck’s All-Nite Deep Fried Food Bucket. The family all gazes at each other, smiles, and lurches down the alley.
A pair of shiny shoes begins to echo on the slab of the alley floor. The father turns slightly, noticing. He turns back, shoulders his bag, and tries to hurry his family along. The footsteps gain speed and intensity. The father hands a box of doughnuts to the mother, in the hope of lightening the load. The footsteps grow ever closer and ever quicker.
Finally, a hand reaches out from behind the mother. Reaching out, it grabs the mother’s necklace, one of those candy-necklaces-on-a-string. The mother cries out, the father begins to turn; all while candies that popped loose are crashing into puddles at their feet. All of this is looked on in growing fear and horror by the boy. The struggle continues, the father getting jostled, pastries flying every which way, and the mother slowly screaming as she tries to keep the assailant away from the box of donuts. Mounting horror. Finally, a SHOT rings out, but it’s actually not a gunshot, it’s just the sound of the man’s hand plunging swiftly into the brown paper bag that the father is holding. More shot-like crumple sounds ensue, as the hand reaches deep into the bag.
The mother cries out in pain and faints dead away. The father lets out a prolonged scream of “Nooooo!” The child’s horror and shock are now all-consuming.
The hand emerges from the bag with a tube, clearly labeled “Ron Chestnut’s Good-Time Raw Cookie Dough (Now With Bacon!).” The father tries to hang on to the tube for dear life. Eventually, both his hands slip off and he drops with an anguished, drawn out primal noise to the pavement.
The child is struck numb with fear and panic; looking first at his downed parents and then back to the shadowy assailant. The dark figure seems to regard the child for a moment, and then raises the tube of cookie dough like a pistol.
“Hey kid,” he says, stepping forward into less shadow to reveal a pudgy face hidden under a hat brim, “You ever dance with the Devil Dogs by the pale moonlight?”
The figure runs off, leaving the child staring wide-eyed into the night, scarred forever by his parents’ screams.
Friday, January 26, 2007
Dear BWF Management,
As the above heading suggests, I am writing to complain. I have been a dedicated cartoon wrestling fan my whole life and I spend roughly $1,200 a month on various BWF products. However, I am simply outraged at the way we female wrestling fans are consistently overlooked. For example, there is not a single ladies room in the entire BWF Enormodome (capacity 115,000). When I asked an usher which facilities I should use, he merely shrugged and suggested I “hold it”.
Furthermore, I am tired of how every commercial during your otherwise fine Slam Your Face Off program is geared towards men and men alone. In last week's hour-long episode, I decided to take note. There were four commercials for Crotty Beer, three for men’s deodorant, six for Viagra, and eight for men’s beard trimmers. But what about my beard?
If you do not change your policies, I will have no choice but to compose a follow-up letter. Sincerely,
Sunday, January 21, 2007
Friday, January 19, 2007
In a staggering turn of events, what can only be described as "an unpredictable, but not really" ambush, jovial fan favorite Pineapple Pete interrupted an in depth interview with Heftyweight Champion Bulldozer and publicly accused him of stuffing his tights with rocks during the Battle Royal weigh-in, in order to increase his mass. Long story short – words were exchanged, and Dozer was taken out in a stretcher after Pineapple assaulted him with a coconut, threw a couch at him and sat on his face for a while.
This is not the first time their deep friendship has erupted in cartoonish violence. Below is a brief timeline of these behemoths' stormy relationship.
1995 – Bulldozer takes up-and-coming Kid Coconut under his wing. He trains and feeds him.
1997 – Kid Coconut outweighs Dozer for the first time at 442 lbs., becomes Pineapple Pete.
1998 – At the first and only Pleasantries in Pawtucket pay-per-view, Pineapple eats Dozer's Krunch Bar prior to the 'Best Friends Forever' contract signing. What later became known as "The Crunch Heard Around the World" ignites a vicious feud that carries them through six continents, culminating in a Portugese Fire Match. Said Dozer of the incident – "He ate more than my Krunch Bar. He ate my faith in mankind."
2001 – The fans forgive Pineapple after a public apology. He sends Bulldozer a box of donuts with hot dogs in the holes as a peace offering. The world breathes a sigh of relief.
2002 – Dozer & Pete become embark on a 6 month long tag-team title reign.
2003 – Pete steals Dozer's winning candy wrapper and cashes it in for 1.2 million. He returns to the BWF as "The Fat Millionaire." Another heated feud is unleashed.
2004- After a 7 hour session at Therapy in Thames III, Dozer and Pete once again set aside their differences and begin their friendship anew. Pineapple ditches the tuxedo.
2005 – Pineapple has the Dozer family over for Thanksgiving dinner.
Bulldozer is reportedly past the denial stage and is officially "extremely pissed off". Hopefully some sort of resolution will occur at the big Heftyweight Battle Royal.
Sunday, January 14, 2007
Friday, January 05, 2007
Wednesday, January 03, 2007
That's right. I'm sick and tired of getting no proper attention. I've been working hard on my skills AND image and now I might finally start getting some respect around duh.
And if you don't believe me then you're only asking for a beating - on your face!