A Moving Tale

'I know I said it, but I was just upset, I didn't mean it, I don't need the ENTIRE world on my side, I just need YOU on my side' said Clarice, with a tear in her eye, and love in her voice, to her husband Greg. 

This panicked him. 

Not because as a surprise he'd hired three local gardeners to start digging up the entire Western Hemisphere and start dumping it on her side of the bed, with at least several wheelbarrow loads expected by the time breakfast was finished, and that he didn't know how to tell her that after braking a handle one of them had borrowed HER shovel.

Nor because as another surprise he'd already had seventeen thousand bulldozers work overnight to dump the entire Eastern Hemisphere onto her side of the bed, and he didn't know how to tell her that some of them had forgotten to take their shoes off before climbing in the bedroom window.

Nor even because he had forgotten to tell those shovel wielders and  bulldozer operators to remember exactly where each individual bit they'd dug up came from so they could put them back exactly where they got them from, meaning now that those bits WERE going back that the odd bit may be put back in the wrong place. 

Not even because of the overtime pay he was going to have to fork out to all these workers to try and figure it out so that the bits were back in at least some place near their origin by the end of the work day so no one would complain at him about their bits missing, knowing full well that once word got out about the pay structure that the bulldozer operators were going to complain about having to share between seventeen thousand for half the world, but the other guys only had to do a three way split, and probably were going to get several more days work than they got too.

And not even because of the complaints he now realized he was going to get from people pointing out that East and West aren't true hemispheres and that if you're going to dump the entire world somewhere to at least break it up into Northern and Southern. 

No he was panicking because he didn't WANT to be on her side of the bed, 'if I did then why the fuck did I spend all that money for the ample space of a king sized' He wanted to scream.

But he didn't. He was more worried about how to tell her that due to a bulldozer operator mistakenly and stupidly taking the suggestion that he 'take a break' literally, that one of her prized paintings of famous sports injuries resulting in horrendous broken bones had been stolen. 

Which was so sad, those were a gift from him that he'd stolen from the Broken Bone Hall Of Fame after she'd told him that 'when it came to present gifting in the near future he should take a break'.

Asshole. If you can't trust a bulldozer operator then who can you trust? It really is just so hard to find good help these days.

Delicious Flying Solutions

I know what you're thinking...

"Dave, I'm constantly being challenged to 'Make A Milkshake Out Of One Of Your Old Shoes' competitions, but I'm just too scared to enter, because they seem so hard to win, help please?"

And you're right, you SHOULD be scared, you're life is on the line! Always! I mean just think about meteorites, ALWAYS think about meteorites. Fact - no one that's ever been killed by a meteorite has since gone on to say 'and it was funny, because I was thinking about meteorites AS it hit me'. Not one. 

And you SHOULD think in question form. Fact - if you think exclusively in questions then by definition you will be unable to answer anything and therefore you will never be wrong again, except maybe about choices in friends, I mean seriously? Harry? That dick NEVER thinks about meteorites. 

And you're questions SHOULD be addressed to me. Fact - I'm ace. 

So I'm proud of you. You're doing great. 

But you're still an idiot. Because 'Make A Milkshake Out Of One Of Your Old Shoes' competitions are fucking EASY to win. You morons.

You just have to go back in time and spend a few months wearing shoes made out of milk. 

Boom. 

Ps. For more information about how to avoid being hit by meteorites buy my book - How To Avoid Being Hit By Meteorites (Advice From Someone You Can Trust Cause He's Been Hit By Less Than Three Meteorites, Or More Precisely Two) By David Tieck, available now at all your favorite meteorite themed Cafe Bookstores (exclusively in the Southern Hemisphere).

Whoops, just gave away another of the tricks - stay in the Southern Hemisphere, I mean duh, they come from UP you morons. 

Don't jump to conclusions!

So this is weird. Get this bullshit. Get a load of this crap. My friend, Joseph, just said to me, 'Dave' he said 'why did you just turn into a living poster advertising the coming tour of a metal band that sings film Noir styled songs, then climb a tree and turn a rainbow into a cloud before burping up some kitchen linoleum flooring'? 

And I'm like 'mate', 'mate' I said, 'you KNOW my dad was part living poster advertising a thrash band that sings Romantic Comedy styled songs and I WILL NOT BECOME MY FATHER, I WILL NOT! So don't question why I didn't become that.

And my friend Roger, the candy flavored rocking-horse was on fire, and the fire was black because it, obviously, was being fueled by dried kraken jawbone, and everyone knows, EVERYONE knows, that if you try to put out a black fire fueled with kraken jawbone with standard rain from a cloud that never was and NEVER will be a rainbow then the black fire rejects the water and instead turns into a brush with a cute stranger whom you can never track down, and that sucks, so I don't know how you treat YOUR friend candy flavored rocking-horses, but no fucking way am I going to do that to MY friend candy flavored rocking-horse, I mean he's already on fire, how much pain do you want him to be in, plus he wouldn't taste as nice all burned. 

And linoleum kitchen flooring just TASTES GOOD! Duh. Of course I ate too much of it. I like the classic black and white checker myself, but an old school pale yellow can be nice too, and I know you think it's out of fashion, but taste doesn't go out of fashion, taste is absolute, taste you can fucking rely on! But ok, I guess it's a tad weird I burped up some scuffed grey. But my linoleum kitchen floor guy is out of town, so I ate some left over from a sample basket he gave me once. Like you've never eaten something that wasn't your absolute favorite because it was free, of course you fucking have. 

So don't be a dick, Joseph' I explained. 

It still sucks though. You know? It's like some people just WANT to think you're weird, even when there is a perfectly logical explanation for everything you do. I mean what a dick. 

I'm so mad I barely sky dived off a bag of scandal like I normally do before bed. 

Oh no, I can't win, now he's going to think missing my routines is weird! 

Fuck you Joseph. 

Prognosis Partiality

'There was a segment of ear phones there' he said to me. 

And I replied 'oh okay' and walked away as fast as I possibly could. 

I did NOT want to hear more about that. Seems like these days when people find segments of things they then don't want to shut the fuck up about them. On and on and on they go. NO ONE CARES. It's just a segment of something. 

We've all been there:

'Hey, I found part of a car, let me bore you with tales of it for six hours' they'll say. 

'Yo, I discovered a bit of a t-shirt in my underwear draw, and I'll now succumb you to a coma by sharing some source theories' they'll go.

'Oh I found a segment of that missing

seven million dollars from the bank in my wife's handbag, and when I confronted her on it she admitted that she'd been responsible for the crime, and also seven murders, twelve convenience store heists, and had once stolen an entire freight train which she had buried in our back yard but when I tried to to dig it up all I found was a full sized dead alien that was still eighty percent inside its spaceship that was made from laughter, happiness, opportunity, and fairness in such massive qualities that endless worldwide elation could be produced by merely sneezing on it, and I was hoping to borrow some pepper to help make it happen' they'll begin. 

Shut the fuck up! Talk to me

when you've found the ENTIRE of something you dick. I DON'T want to hear another fucking segment story. Some people. My god. So fucking boring. 

Oh on another note, I've lost a segment from my ear phones, if anyone finds them please tell me, it's so fucking annoying having to buy WHOLE new ones, when all you need is a segment. 

Star upon a dream

His mommy had told him to 'dream big'. And his daddy had told him to 'chase his dreams as hard as he could'. And luckily Harold DID have a dream, and he dreamed about it as often as he could, and he was going to chase it as HARD as he could. 

Fortunately for him all Harold dreamed of was to jump over a puddle one day. 

Unfortunately for him there were a few slight problems with this dream, including: 

- It hadn't rained where Harold lived in like forever. 

- He didn't own any gumboots. 

- Even if he did, gumboots would be hard to jump in. 

- And he didn't own any better jumping shoes. 

- And he couldn't jump at all without shoes on. 

- And he didn't know where he could get shoes.

- And even if he did he didn't know how to put on shoes. 

- Also he didn't have any toes, so no shoes would really work out for him.

- Especially seeing as he had no feet.

- Also he didn't have any legs.

- Which meant that even if he attained toes or feet he'd have nowhere to put them.

- And even if he found somewhere to put them it would probably be really expensive to put them there. 

- And putting them there would be nowhere near as good as having them attached there.

- And having things attached is often even more expensive than having things put. 

- Which is bullshit because finding a good put guy can be just as hard as finding a good attach guy. 

- And in these economically downturned times who has the time to put into spending money on finding people? 

- Especially to put into finding an inadequate put guy. 

- As it was Harold ALREADY had significantly limited time to spend on leisure time. 

- Because he didn't even know what the word 'leisure' meant. 

- So why isolate time for it.

- And even if he did he isolate time for it, he didn't own any leisure clothes to leisure in. 

- And even if he did he attain some leisure clothes, he didn't know what leisure clothes were, so he wouldn't be able to grab them. 

- Let alone know how to put them on. 

- And even if he did know what they were, and how to put them on, what would be the point of wearing leisure clothes if he didn't have any shoes.

- Or knowledge of what to do with shoes.

- And he DIDN'T even have toes.

- Or feet.

- Or legs. 

- Also it was a stupid, stupid, stupid dream. 

- As he was around water ALL the time anyway, the stupid idiot. 

- So why not dream about some completely dry spot?

- What a moron.

- It's almost like that tiny brain of his barely even worked. 

- And his brain WAS tiny.

- Because he was a fish

- And it was hard being a fish.

- Because when your a fish if you dream of somewhere dry people call you a moron.  

- Plus he didn't know yet that his girlfriend, the pretty star, was secretly planning to eat him. 

- Also he thought he was dating a completely different species which was cool.

- But he didn't know the star was a starfish. 

- Which is just another kind of fish. 

- At least in name.

- And what sort of stupid fish wants to date a stupid fish? 

- Plus he didn't even know he was a fish. 

- And even if he did know that he was a fish he probably wouldn't like it.

- Because he'd probably soon find out that he did in fact have a gumboot.

- In fact he lived in a sunken one.

- And who wants to find out that they've been telling people that they don't even know what gumboots are when it turns out they live in one? 

But on a nicer note he liked the taste of his own poop. 

Awww.

Happy endings sure are nice. 

Burrowing In the Apple

Jerry, the bookworm, was in a bookstore looking for a book on the topic of  - Things that you cannot find on your typical train – Things like:

-       Elephants talking to small illiterate dogs.

-       People who respect their fellow humans right to be humans that follow fashionable friendship protocol to forget highfaluting fantasies involving regular acceptable human emotions as filtered through an unstoppable need to at least twice a day scream “skyscraper” at several two to four story buildings that have clearly failed to live up to their potential floor number capabilities.

-       Clean floors.

But this particular bookstore only had books on - Things that you can always find on your typical atypical train – Things like:

-       Sandwich faced hat-making ghosts.

-       Floating self aware machines that can’t tell the difference between hope and harpooned scarecrows, but that are flawless at telling the difference between sand-papered scalps and sand-blasted bubbles of knowledge generated by unscrupulous tactics in carnation growing farming.

-       Dirty floors.

With the type of book he was looking for grossly unrepresented Jerry decided to not purchase anything on this trip to the bookstore.

Patrice, the bookstore owner, was saddened by this lack of purchase. Partly because she really needed the sale, or else the bookstore risked bankruptcy, and because she had ordered that book in specifically thinking it was right up Jerry’s alley, especially seeing as he had previously purchased books on – Things you can sometimes find on some trains but not other trains depending on when you’re on the train – and even weird books like – Things on boats.

In frustration she decided to write her own book on – Things that she wished she could find on your regular every day typical train – Things like:

-       Magazines that are no longer published covering topics of gross misinformation regarding what it should take to uncover the meaning behind greasy clouds giving speeches on the lack of opportunities they’re given to shine in social settings versus the regular hate mechanics which percolate beneath the surface of giant clocks which can’t fit on your average train leading to unlikely collusion with purple dyed silk dresses, due to their mutual friendship with the thought making miscreants of the overlord controlled underclasses.

-       Tennis players with no hands, or feet, and with personalities peppered with influence caused by their life long highlights being inconsequential meetings with high class leading religious leader’s hand maiden turncoats conspiracies

-       Floors that were recently cleaned but subsequently had a bit of dirt get on them.

Jerry bought a copy, and the bookstore was saved!

The end.

Ps. Yay, isn’t a happy ending nice sometimes?

Pps: And they also ended up getting together romantically.

Ppps: Awwww, isn’t a SUPER happy ending nice sometimes?

Pppps: Then the elephant sat on the illiterate dog.

Ppppps: God damn it!

Ten - Piercing Insight

I'm a very perceptive guy. 

Like when I find a severed foot on a golf course I can usually tell within three or four minutes if it came off me.

I don't need to put salt on my fries because I'm smart enough to boil them in sea water. 

If I have erectile dysfunction I just dip it in it hard drying hair gel.

I can solve any math problem merely by adding in the element of a ghost monkey and then declaring the whole thing implausible. 

I always cook blind folded so that EVERY ingredient is a secret sauce, I'm so good that I can even make something a simple as finely sliced carrots taste like a really, really bloody steak. 

I've never had my house robbed because I've put so many locks on it even I can't get inside anymore. 

Whenever I'm riding my bike I make SURE to crash into a wall because I believe that if you don't help your helmet to fulfill its destiny, then why would it ever help you fulfill yours? 

When it's raining I don't need to use an umbrella because I just pretend I'm swimming and that I'm very, very bad at it. 

I'll never be the victim of an unsolved murder because I have a clause in my will that says 'if I was murdered just look for the dick!'

I've managed to go my entire life without spending a cent on dishcloths saving truckloads, anytime I need to do the dishes I merely stay a night in a fancy hotel, pack all my dishes, and wash them in the bathroom sink using a face cloth. 

I once pretended I didn't know what 'horticulture' was for an entire day without a single person calling me out on it.

So yep, clearly I'm a perceptive guy, I'm a VERY perceptive guy, and as I looked at the waiter now my perceptions were telling me that if I was being perceptive right now there'd be a benefit to perceiving everything perceptible in this situation, unfortunately I couldn't concentrate on my perceptions right now, because the waiter was distracting me by yelling at me. That dick. 

'You're a hero!' He was yelling 'your six beautifully timed kicks to my kneecap has fixed my decades long kneecap displacement, thank you, thank you, thank you, THANK YOU! I can walk without pain again! I'll be able to play with my kids again! I can finally visit my mother who is bed ridden on the third floor of a hospital, I thought I wouldn't get to see her ever again, it was the hardest most heart breaking thing of my life! But I can walk again, I can WALK again! This is real, my life can matter again, my life has changed, because of you!! This man, EVERYONE applaud this man. I can never repay you. But here, here's my car keys, have my car, I'm WALKING home tonight!' He was yelling.

I mean what a dick, who just yells like that, plus 'this man' I have a name dick. And does this car come with my insurance, and a parking spot? Where am I supposed to put it? Plus it was SEVEN kicks, was he ignoring the hot sauce? Because I sure as hell wasn't. Plus I wasn't trying to fix him, I was trying just getting through the wait for my food the same way everyone does. Worst of all though his noise was completely blocking out my perception skills, and so I instead was forced to rely on my wits. 

Fortunately my wits were flying, and I used them to know EXACTLY what the waiter was trying to say with his speech, he was trying to say 'I'm hard to get a read on'. And I knew exactly WHY he was saying what he was saying, to say to me 'seriously, I'm hard to read'. And after some serious pondering I knew EXACTLY what this meant for me - that this man was going to be hard to read. 

I had a number of options of what I could do next. 

- Pretend I still had access to my skills of perception but then use my flying wits to get through this. 

- Pretend I couldn't see or hear him, and give focus on the many important things that were already important to me, like making sure Kev didn't notice that I didn't find what I promised would be in the cloakroom, making sure the whole restaurant didn't think I was an idiot for indicating that I thought you could eat the menu itself, and getting retribution against the waiter, all of which needed me to do something BIG and do it NOW! 

- Pretend I was a BIGGER man than him and pretend to accept his apology. 

- Pretend I was a ghost monkey. 

Obviously this was a BIG decision, and  when it's OBVIOUS that the decision you have to make is BIG, then there is only one time you can make it, NOW! 

To be answered*

*well obviously there was an obvious choice, and seeing as this was obviously BIG, I CHOSE the obvious choice, and pretended to be a ghost monkey, but THEN what happened is still to come* 

*Which is another way of saying 'to be continued*

*I hope I haven't used that one yet. 

Nine - Accidental Fingering Not On

I took off the elephant tusks I was wearing as shoes, then I took off the stop sign that I was wearing as elephant tusks, then I took off the shoes I was wearing as a stop sign, and put the stop sign where the shoes had been, the elephant tusks where the stop sign had been, and the shoes where the elephant tusks had been, and then I realized I was wearing something in the place EVERYONE wears it, the stop sign, which was lame, and something I would NEVER stand for, so I flipped the tusks and the sign, took a quick look in the mirror, and then ran and booted the waiter hard in the kneecaps.

Now I counted how many condiments were on my table, and counted how many condiments were on the adjacent table and then went and booted the waiter in the kneecap six times for the six condiments I was shy. I mean he knew that just moments before I'd kicked them all off to make more space to briefly rest my elephant tusks, but he hadn't replaced them! What dick. 

Next I replaced all the tampons in the vending machine in the ladies bathroom with messages from the crips. (See how easy replacing things is!)

Then I purposely falsely fingered a fellow diner for fingering food in the salad bar, demanded free finger food as compensation, and then laughed in his foolish face while I ate it with my feet while screaming 'NO ONE tells me what is and what is not finger food, you dicks!!!'

Then I started a new fashion trend, which was easy, I just saw a guy across the room who'd replaced his teeth with chop-sticks, which made them WAY easier to use, and I did that, so starting that trend. 

After this I cursed myself for throwing out all the tampons, I had a lot of blood coming out of my face and without tampons the only thing I had to wipe it on was the table cloth of the family at the adjacent table, when they complained I yelled 'obviously I threw all my tampons out you dicks' and that made them smile and giggle almost as if they were nervous, I guess some people find happiness hard to take with its fleeting nature and all, but I was happy I'd made them happy, sometimes just telling people the truth makes people happy. I vowed to remember that, but instead remembered to buy super glue for the next time I replaced my teeth with chop-sticks, which was foolish because by the time I'd make it to the hardware store I was sure I'd have switched to sticking hamster skeletons in there, that's just how fashion works. 

Next I approached someone with a fork stuck in their leg and yelled 'well this ones done, huh huh? Get it? Cause like the saying "stick a fork in him, he's done"' Unfortunately stupid Kev hadn't followed my earlier instructions, so I had to instead jam a fork into a stranger to make it work, but I still got my desired and expected outcome, I discovered that not a single person in the restaurant had a sense of humor, seriously not one laugh. People sure are sad these days. Must be the fleeting nature of happiness again. If people want to focus on something fleeting I don't know why people don't instead focus on the fleeting nature of steam? Steam is fleeting, but it's also FLAWLESSLY good! It's literally impossible to come up with a bad use for steam.

Next I began to viciously scold a pretend infant under my table, yelling stuff like 'I told you in the car if you hide under the table you won't get to eat', and 'that'll be six days in a row with zero food if you don't come out' and 'emancipation does not go with all your burns!' and 'don't make me steam you again', and other fun things, and then when a fellow diner came to 'check on her' and looked under the table I'd accuse him of kidnapping her. 

It was only when I finished the last of this list of things that I assume we all always do in a restaurant immediately after ordering our food to make the wait less tedious, I mean they make it so tedious, right? If they're not going to provide entertainment then we'll do it. But that's when a memory hit me, and it hit me NOW, and it hit me BIG!

I remembered what I was supposed to be doing, getting BIG retribution from the waiter for having a dig at me, and it had to happen NOW, and the retribution had to be BIG, and I'd already kicked him in the kneecaps, so that couldn't be it, that's just one of our regular things I do, I needed a new plan, and I had to think of it NOW, and it had to be BIG. 

I looked up at him, trying to spot a weakness,  and what I saw changed everything, and also changed this specific thing, and this specific thing is definitely part of everything, and it changed it BIG and the repercussions were going to affect me NOW! 

To be followed with more*

*Followed like how idiots follow fashion, even though it's just as easy to start all new trends yourself, idiots. Here's some fashion tips for you from me, so YOU don't end up looking like an idiot - walrus tusks make great elephant tusk alternatives, and are often easier to pull off said animals head (for some reason elephants don't like you tugging on them till them come out, so selfish). No Parking signs make awful stop sign alternatives (why would anyone have been thinking of parking on your head?). And pretty much anything but shoes make great shoes, one time I tried saber tooth tiger tusks I stole from the museum as shoes. You'd never guess how excited people were, all sorts of authority figures chased me just to see them in action, it was very exciting!

Hop to it

I like to think that if I was ever trying to wear-in stiff new shoes by hopping on my bad leg on the roof of a merry-go-round that was on top of the spire that was on top of a mega-sized skyscraper that was on top of an increasingly straining beach ball that was on top of a recently sharpened tooth pick that was balancing on twelve perfectly stacked grains of sand that were held in place by the collective optimism for the future of earth by all mankind that was fueled by what most people think when they discover the elevators are broken, that whoever was in charge of building this contraption remembered to wear his or her safety helmet, I fucking hate risk takers. Oh plus who sharpened a toothpick? Gums could be stabbed open with the side flat side of a postage stamp. Some people really are weird. 

Breaking News: The term 'itsy bitsy' banned at the water spout

The cheers heard around the world's most famous water spout today have now echoed through the chambers of progress after, in a coup for differently sized spiders, officials officially banned the term 'itsy bitsy' near their spout with an official (yet scary to many in attendance) whack of a gavel. 

The head of the committee in charge of the campaign to ban the term, Rodger, a Goliath Bird-Eating Tarantula, was quoted as saying 'suck on that you stupid little spiders, I'm sick of being shamed because I'm not as svelte as you. It's not fair. It's not at all fair. Why is everyone so obsessed with size? Judgmental assholes. I shouldn't have to be treated differently just because I'm different! But we beat the dicks, and this was a quick campaign with swift success, which is good, hard work is not my forte, and besides I'm getting a shipment of just hatched raven babies delivered from my butcher tonight and I plan on serving them raw with a sauce of puréed praying mantis larvae, and stuffing my face with that till I can't walk for a week. Hopefully I can find a nice ladies favorite pair of shoes to sleep it off in'.

When reached for comment the world's most famous itsy bitsy spider, itsy bitsy himself was understandably distraught, crying into the phone 'being itsy bitsy and climbing that water spout has been the focus of my life for decades, what am I going to do? What the hell am I going to do? I don't know who I am anymore? I don't even remember my real name. Was it Steve? Oh fuck please don't let it have been Steve, Daddy Long Steve already has a stronghold on the world of famous spiders named Steve. I can't rebrand now. I just had seven thousand new t-shirts printed for my next tour. This will ruin me, RUIN ME????'

Then the phone call ended abruptly with a loud bang. We're pretty sure he didn't shoot himself, the little guy was way to small and weak to use a gun. He probably just got whacked with a shoe. We probably shouldn't have organized for him to take our call at that 'Clowns with Arachnophobia' benefit, but we also needed to get a quote from Bonkos  on the recent changes in clown law making it illegal for children to laugh 'at' clowns, with only 'with' laughter tolerated now, which lead to the recent mass execution of most attendees at Suzie's fourth birthday party, and we didn't want to fork out for two phone calls. 

A list of alternative ways to describe spiders of different sizes wishing to climb water spouts was requested with the response coming 'I don't know, just because we violently objected to something doesn't mean we've spent any time considering an alternative, that's not how the world works you dicks. YOU come up with it. But it better not offend us, or we'll take you to court, and watch out, because we can be offended by just about ANYTHING!'

After losing several millions of dollars in lawsuits from our suggestions of 'size unimportant', 'a size that fits in the rainbow of sizes, and 'sized somewhere between grab the bug spray to we're moving house', our fourth suggestion of 'differently boned' was immediately accepted with quote 'cool, did you just come up with that? That way I can say "Don't call me fat you dick, I'm big boned!" Yeah that totally works'.

Please Note: Bonkos official quote was 'the laws didn't go far enough, I'm told that sometimes those laughing "with" are ALSO doing it for the wrong reasons. I just don't know if I'll ever be able to trust laughter again. What am I going to do, what the hell am I going to do?' Then the phone call ended abruptly with a loud bang. 

Please Note Two: Three spiders have since become stuck and died in the water spout. When reached for comment the lawyer at the head of the ban the term itsy bitsy campaign was quoted as saying 'it's not our fault, maybe if the fat fucks laid off the flies and went for a walk occasionally they'd be okay, although if you call them fat in your story I'll sue the shit out of you, the official term is "big boned"'.

Please Note Three: A leading Arachnologists has now warned that if spiders, a traditionally boneless species, are now evolving to not just have an exoskeleton, but also bones, and already sometimes big bones then, quote 'we are all fucked, spiders will soon take over the world, there's probably one in your bed waiting to get you as we speak'.

Please Note Five: After a recent announcement made by an Arachnologists for some reason a swarm or a 'pratfall' of clowns has been seen 'freaking the fuck out'.

Please Note Six: The Coulrophobia (fear of clowns) Society has issued a statement saying 'we told you clowns were evil and would one day go psycho and try and take over the world, we TOLD you, but you all just laughed at us, you dicks. It's not nice to treat people differently just because they're different. There should be a term to describe idiots like you, I know, let's call you "dicks", yeah I like that. Ha ha, let's all laugh at the stupid "dicks"! 

Please Note Seven: It turns out Bonkos possibly did not shoot himself. Apparently little Suzie's mother was upset about the official complaint Bonkos had made about Suzie and most of her party guests, and had sought out Bonkos looking for 'revenge'. Seriously revenge? It's sickening, some people are just so damn sensitive. 

A beautiful Valentine's Day poem

Joel had a plan for the best Valentines Day present imaginable! 

He was going introduce his girlfriend Sally to something for the first time ever. 

Something splendid and wonderful.

Something gorgeous and radiant. 

Something elegant and ornate and awesome.

Something delectable and delightful and devine! 

He was to introduce her to cheese!

It was going to be epic. 

cheese.

Cheese.

CHEESE!!! 

But it turned out she'd already tried cheese.

It ruined his whole plan.

He was planning to say to her 'how have you never tried cheese before? Are you fucking crazy. It's cheese. For fucks sake, cheese. Cheese. CHEESE!!!'

But it was ruined. 

So they just had sex instead.

It was the worst Valentine's Day ever. 

And now, with love, here is an illustrated history of a piece of cheese 

Dream Success - A poem

Candida, a farmer from French Guina, claimed she 'never, ever, ever, totally, ever, ever, ever, never want to step foot in a museum!' 

Fortunately for her, her captors wanted nothing more than to shrink her head.

Loud Run

'Don't scream at me!!!' Screamed Helga. And it was TOTALLY out of character for her to be so flippant.

Yet barely anyone even remembered that it had happened. 

Which would have been strange in itself. If this incident hadn't happened three seconds before every human right eye on earth turned into a living baby elephant.

Plus Helga had just been screamed at for merely asking her sister to call their brother for once.

Which was a totally reasonable request.

So that may also be why no one remembered her also screaming.

I guess we'll never know which.