Not-So-Fast Food
Predator Press
[LOBO]
Mr. Insanity, our new fact-checker, was all Predator Press could afford thanks to all you readers' latent back subscription fees.
Ethan let me hold the $100 bill for a minute, and I kissed and hugged it tightly.
"Know what we can buy with that $100?" Ethan asked me.
"A present for 100 of our closest friends at Dollar General?" I suggested.
"No, try again," replied Ethan.
I guessed. "Two fifty-dollar hookers?"
Ethan winced.
"Fifty two-dollar hookers?" I was getting excited.
"Fact checker" he says, exhasperated.
Fiddle-fuckin-sticks.
***
So we go to Harvord, Stanford, ... hell all the Ivey-league colleges that end in "ord", but none of the prospective applicants were falling for the old "$100 bill-on-the-ground-tied-to-the-end-of-a-string" trick.
Except Mr. Insanity. He bent over and seized the thing, an holding it up to the sky, he proclaimed "HA! A STRING!" Well, that's what was going to happen, but fearing losing our string, Ethan hit 'im high and I hit him low. Soon, the 187-pound drooling, moaning, burlap-bagged bundle-o-joy was flying cargo-class home to Pianosa.
We forgot to cut air holes, but the kid's still pretty talented as far as we can tell. The main drawback is that every three or four days the kid whines for food nonstop like he was dyin or something. (You deadbeat readers should be ashamed of yourselves, as outlined in the class-action lawsuit subpoenas you will be receiving in the mail Monday.)
For example. Having eaten a leftover donut that was licked clean of icing by a dog four days ago, Mr. Insanity decides to do a story on Online Dating. He's only fourteen years old, and I'm wondering if this is some pre-pubescent curiosity manifesting ... or maybe just a side effect of eating a leftover donut that was licked clean of icing by a dog four days ago. Either way, I don't really think he's old enough for an adult story like that, you know? He's liable to freak out over his overactive adolescent hormones and make a completely humiliating public spectacle of himself, and be traumatized forever over it.
So here's what happened:
Glenda32, a self-proclaimed "Domestic Goddess Vixen With A Wild Side", turned out to be Glen64, a hairy unemployed pervert from Des Moines.
This really sucks because I can see Mr. Insanity through the IHOP window, apparently pre-occupied with reading the menu instead of watching for the subtle "OHMYFUCKINGGODABORT!!" signal we worked out. In a chauffeur’s outfit --completely oblivious to everything-- he's waiting by the door of the Volkswagen Rabbit I borrowed, to open the door classy-like for me and what was supposed to be a hot Russian blonde nubile circus contortionist, defecting from the Motherland or someplace. Then Mr. Insanity was to drop us off at Casa de LOBO, where I could properly woo her out of her scandalous lack of citizenship, military secrets, and finally, virtue.
So when "Glenda32" --in dire need of a shave-- walks in and spots me in my Tuxedo, multiple simultaneous and violent aneurisms prevent me from fleeing until it's far too late. "She" sits and crosses her nyloned, hairy legs Sharon Stone-style and say's in squeaky, supressed baritones "LOBO?"
"No", I say stammered quickly. "Uh, LOBO's waiting for you outside." I blurted, pointing through the window at the oblivious Mr Insanity.
"Hm", says Glenda32 wistfully, eyeing the pup like a steak.
"--And if his bitch ass don't get me $200 today," I said, thinking quickly "I'm sending him back to that Monastery in Rome once and for all."
"Glenda32" lets out a feminine gasp and gives me $200. I count it as she leaves. "Give him a Chicken McNugget every six hours or so. The kid's a damn fool for Chicken McNuggets."
As the screeching tires and screaming faded off into the distance, my blueberry pancakes arrive. If my buddy ever sees that Volkswagen Rabbit again, he'll probably want to burn it. But he's probably insured, and I didn't care much for the color anyway.
I smiled, warm and fuzzy, knowing that my efforts have made so many people so very happy today. Ethan gets a fact-checker, Glenda finds love, Mr. Insanity gets his story, My buddy gets a new car, and I get $200.
My pancakes were delightful.
[LOBO]
Mr. Insanity, our new fact-checker, was all Predator Press could afford thanks to all you readers' latent back subscription fees.
Ethan let me hold the $100 bill for a minute, and I kissed and hugged it tightly.
"Know what we can buy with that $100?" Ethan asked me.
"A present for 100 of our closest friends at Dollar General?" I suggested.
"No, try again," replied Ethan.
I guessed. "Two fifty-dollar hookers?"
Ethan winced.
"Fifty two-dollar hookers?" I was getting excited.
"Fact checker" he says, exhasperated.
Fiddle-fuckin-sticks.
So we go to Harvord, Stanford, ... hell all the Ivey-league colleges that end in "ord", but none of the prospective applicants were falling for the old "$100 bill-on-the-ground-tied-to-the-end-of-a-string" trick.
Except Mr. Insanity. He bent over and seized the thing, an holding it up to the sky, he proclaimed "HA! A STRING!" Well, that's what was going to happen, but fearing losing our string, Ethan hit 'im high and I hit him low. Soon, the 187-pound drooling, moaning, burlap-bagged bundle-o-joy was flying cargo-class home to Pianosa.
We forgot to cut air holes, but the kid's still pretty talented as far as we can tell. The main drawback is that every three or four days the kid whines for food nonstop like he was dyin or something. (You deadbeat readers should be ashamed of yourselves, as outlined in the class-action lawsuit subpoenas you will be receiving in the mail Monday.)
For example. Having eaten a leftover donut that was licked clean of icing by a dog four days ago, Mr. Insanity decides to do a story on Online Dating. He's only fourteen years old, and I'm wondering if this is some pre-pubescent curiosity manifesting ... or maybe just a side effect of eating a leftover donut that was licked clean of icing by a dog four days ago. Either way, I don't really think he's old enough for an adult story like that, you know? He's liable to freak out over his overactive adolescent hormones and make a completely humiliating public spectacle of himself, and be traumatized forever over it.
So here's what happened:
Glenda32, a self-proclaimed "Domestic Goddess Vixen With A Wild Side", turned out to be Glen64, a hairy unemployed pervert from Des Moines.
This really sucks because I can see Mr. Insanity through the IHOP window, apparently pre-occupied with reading the menu instead of watching for the subtle "OHMYFUCKINGGODABORT!!" signal we worked out. In a chauffeur’s outfit --completely oblivious to everything-- he's waiting by the door of the Volkswagen Rabbit I borrowed, to open the door classy-like for me and what was supposed to be a hot Russian blonde nubile circus contortionist, defecting from the Motherland or someplace. Then Mr. Insanity was to drop us off at Casa de LOBO, where I could properly woo her out of her scandalous lack of citizenship, military secrets, and finally, virtue.
So when "Glenda32" --in dire need of a shave-- walks in and spots me in my Tuxedo, multiple simultaneous and violent aneurisms prevent me from fleeing until it's far too late. "She" sits and crosses her nyloned, hairy legs Sharon Stone-style and say's in squeaky, supressed baritones "LOBO?"
"No", I say stammered quickly. "Uh, LOBO's waiting for you outside." I blurted, pointing through the window at the oblivious Mr Insanity.
"Hm", says Glenda32 wistfully, eyeing the pup like a steak.
"--And if his bitch ass don't get me $200 today," I said, thinking quickly "I'm sending him back to that Monastery in Rome once and for all."
"Glenda32" lets out a feminine gasp and gives me $200. I count it as she leaves. "Give him a Chicken McNugget every six hours or so. The kid's a damn fool for Chicken McNuggets."
As the screeching tires and screaming faded off into the distance, my blueberry pancakes arrive. If my buddy ever sees that Volkswagen Rabbit again, he'll probably want to burn it. But he's probably insured, and I didn't care much for the color anyway.
I smiled, warm and fuzzy, knowing that my efforts have made so many people so very happy today. Ethan gets a fact-checker, Glenda finds love, Mr. Insanity gets his story, My buddy gets a new car, and I get $200.
My pancakes were delightful.
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