(no subject)
Here's a little nonsense I wrote a while back, thought I'd post it up.
MR SUSPICIOUS
Bob woke with a long yawn that forced his mouth to open way above it's pre-calculated yawning size, which nearly caused him to inhale his ears. He sat there for a moment on the hammock -feet not quite touching the ground, stretching his arms upwards to wake them up.
But a one-man Mexican wave should never be attempted in a hammock, because, like Bob, you will fall backwards and the hammock will flick you off like a fly on a bun.
After coming to a complete stop, and now sitting in his closet amongst a collection of week old unwashed socks and boxers, he recalled the dream he had, then remembered that it was full of aliens and he was on a table being plugged in - and not in a nice place - with a device that looked like a large L-shaped mango, and being slapped in the face after calling the alien to his right a short ugly bastard.
He stood up - a little too fast for someone sitting in a closet -through the shirt that now covered his freshly lumped head, he let out a long and terrified yell."AAAAAAAAAARGH! I'VE BEEN ABDUCTED BY SHORT UGLY BASTARDS!"
He made his way to the window rubbing his lump - the one on his head, Mavis - and noticed that half the residents in the street were standing outside his house, and looking up at his bedroom window. It was then that he realised that he'd left the microphone on his karaoke machine switched on all night.
"Aliens?" The crowd asked in unison. Bob, still rubbing his head replied,"no, I think it's just dandruff".
."Head and shoulders," the crowd said. Bob replied "no, just my head."
After a shower - a slip - and a new lump - he made his way downstairs.
He immediately picked up the phone and called his shrink, telling him all about his abduction experience in fast forward.
The shrink told him to come straight over and see him, so Bob grabbed his keys left the house and got in his car.Then got back out again and ran into the house after realising that he hadn't dressed yet.
"Mr Wankle will see you now," said the shrink's secretary. "okay thanks," mumbled Bob through a mouthful of twinky, and walked into the room with the long leather chair that made whoever sat on it sound as if they were farting for an olympic gold medal in flatulence.
"I'm going to try some hypnosis on you, Bob, how do you feel about that?" asked the shrink, pulling out a small maglite torch from his pocket.
"Fine," replied Bob,now staring at the shrink in panic mode.
"Just stare at the moving light, Bob, left to right - all you see now is the light and nothing else."
Bob resisted the urge to inform him that he could also see his massive nose expelling two small hairy bushes, before he fell asleep.
"Now tell me what you remember about last night, Bob."
"I remember seeing aliens and then two small sliding door things that met in the middle then opened again." said Bob.
"They didn't make you fuck a robot, did they?" asked the shrink.
."No! they didn't do that, wait a minute -I think they did!" yelled Bob.
"Tell me what they looked like".
"Um! - well - they look a bit like a potato".
"A potato?" said the shrink, laughing. "Yes - a potato with two large eyes and a tiny dick-shaped nose, and they're walking towards me," replied Bob.
"You should have told them to pull their pants up," said the shrink.
The next day Bob awoke, and removed the matches from his eyes. But the homemade metal boxer shorts with a piece of paper taped to the back saying, KEEP YOUR WIERD MANGOS AWAY FROM ME YOU LITTLE BASTARDS! were going to take some time to remove. He made his way to the metal cutting scissors placed on top of a laundry basket on the other side of the room, but being unable to walk in his make-shift shorts he had to hop. He then discovered almost immediately that hopping there was a bad move, and after waiting for the pain to subside decided instead to crawl. "Why the hell didn't I leave them on the inflatable Ingrid by the bed?" he moaned.
All that his mind and mumbling was telling him now, is that he had to take an emergency piss. He'd had twenty cans of coke and eight mugs of coffee the night before, in an attempt to stay awake, clasping a baseball bat in one hand and a plastic uzi in the other, just incase any uninvited little mango weilders came a-calling. He managed to crawl past the poster sized print-out he'd made, which showed a picture of himself strangling a chicken, with a message in blood red ink written below reading, DON'T BECOME THE CHICKEN ALIEN!
Two hours later.
The city was bustling with life. Bob made his way past the library, glancing briefly at its automatic sliding doors and getting an immediate picture of a robot with pointed metal breasts yelling," I'll never get a headache."
"WELL I WILL, YOU BITCH!" He yelled, just as he was passing an elderly nun. He quickly hid his face with a newspaper he grabbed from a garbage can, and made his way to Jake's bar on the corner of the street.
"How are ya, Bob? Haven't seen you in here for a while, what you been doing?" asked the barman.
"I... I... I've been killing mangos... I mean drilling bongos," he replied all confused.
"Man, you need a drink! Here, try this new cocktail some short guy made up last night, it's called mango in the hole."
"WHAT!" yelled Bob," NO! - give me a dozen whiskies. Did you say short guy? What did he look like?" Bob asked.
"Well he was a wierd one, he wore a cloak with a hood, and well - looked a bit like a potato."
Bob downed three whiskies then grabbed the remaining glasses in both hands and made his way to a seat by the window over-looking the street.
Looking out of the window he took the opportunity to examine everyone passing in the street.
"Brunette, mmm, another brunette...shit I should be out there," he said. "Wait! that guy in the cloak dragging that garbage bag, no - that's Jerry the street cleaner."
He turned his attention to the other side of the street, and saw a small cloaked figure standing by the bus stop. He immediately got up and knocking his whisky all over his pants in the process, ran out of the bar. "Now people will think I've wet myself he groaned." He didn't care; all he wanted was to get to the other side of the street to get a closer look at the cloaked figure.
Dodging traffic, and blurting out a rather loud girlish scream as the number 42 bus suddenely braked behind him with a screech. He jumped onto a parked car and rolled over its roof onto the sidewalk.
His eyes were focused only on one thing, and that was the seven foot Masai warrior whose foot he was standing on. " Nice shoes," he said, and stepped off the man's foot. He moved closer to the shop windows, moving stealthily, focusing one eye on the cloaked figure and the other on the warrior, he stopped, suddenly, realising that his eyes weren't meant to roll around that far, and let out a cry of "Aah! Fuck!" just as the nun he'd passed earlier walked by.
"That's it - I'm pissed," he groaned. "We can see that!" said an old guy pointing his walking stick at his wet patch.
He ran to the garbage can and looked for something to whack the suspected cloaked alien with. He reached in and pulled out a half eaten pizza."That's no good!" he said,throwing it behind him, straight onto a passing dog's head. "Wait!what's this?" He pulled out a foot long stale baguette and said,"yes - maybe I'll turn the tables on the little mango bastard."
He noticed the bus was coming in the distance, and realising he hadn't much time to act, he ran to the cloaked figure and shoved the baguette hard between it's butt cheeks. "AAAAAAARGH!" cried the old lady in a rain cloak.
"What have I done?" he yelled, and ran as fast as he could in the direction of far away as humanly possible.
THE END.
MR SUSPICIOUS
Bob woke with a long yawn that forced his mouth to open way above it's pre-calculated yawning size, which nearly caused him to inhale his ears. He sat there for a moment on the hammock -feet not quite touching the ground, stretching his arms upwards to wake them up.
But a one-man Mexican wave should never be attempted in a hammock, because, like Bob, you will fall backwards and the hammock will flick you off like a fly on a bun.
After coming to a complete stop, and now sitting in his closet amongst a collection of week old unwashed socks and boxers, he recalled the dream he had, then remembered that it was full of aliens and he was on a table being plugged in - and not in a nice place - with a device that looked like a large L-shaped mango, and being slapped in the face after calling the alien to his right a short ugly bastard.
He stood up - a little too fast for someone sitting in a closet -through the shirt that now covered his freshly lumped head, he let out a long and terrified yell."AAAAAAAAAARGH! I'VE BEEN ABDUCTED BY SHORT UGLY BASTARDS!"
He made his way to the window rubbing his lump - the one on his head, Mavis - and noticed that half the residents in the street were standing outside his house, and looking up at his bedroom window. It was then that he realised that he'd left the microphone on his karaoke machine switched on all night.
"Aliens?" The crowd asked in unison. Bob, still rubbing his head replied,"no, I think it's just dandruff".
."Head and shoulders," the crowd said. Bob replied "no, just my head."
After a shower - a slip - and a new lump - he made his way downstairs.
He immediately picked up the phone and called his shrink, telling him all about his abduction experience in fast forward.
The shrink told him to come straight over and see him, so Bob grabbed his keys left the house and got in his car.Then got back out again and ran into the house after realising that he hadn't dressed yet.
"Mr Wankle will see you now," said the shrink's secretary. "okay thanks," mumbled Bob through a mouthful of twinky, and walked into the room with the long leather chair that made whoever sat on it sound as if they were farting for an olympic gold medal in flatulence.
"I'm going to try some hypnosis on you, Bob, how do you feel about that?" asked the shrink, pulling out a small maglite torch from his pocket.
"Fine," replied Bob,now staring at the shrink in panic mode.
"Just stare at the moving light, Bob, left to right - all you see now is the light and nothing else."
Bob resisted the urge to inform him that he could also see his massive nose expelling two small hairy bushes, before he fell asleep.
"Now tell me what you remember about last night, Bob."
"I remember seeing aliens and then two small sliding door things that met in the middle then opened again." said Bob.
"They didn't make you fuck a robot, did they?" asked the shrink.
."No! they didn't do that, wait a minute -I think they did!" yelled Bob.
"Tell me what they looked like".
"Um! - well - they look a bit like a potato".
"A potato?" said the shrink, laughing. "Yes - a potato with two large eyes and a tiny dick-shaped nose, and they're walking towards me," replied Bob.
"You should have told them to pull their pants up," said the shrink.
The next day Bob awoke, and removed the matches from his eyes. But the homemade metal boxer shorts with a piece of paper taped to the back saying, KEEP YOUR WIERD MANGOS AWAY FROM ME YOU LITTLE BASTARDS! were going to take some time to remove. He made his way to the metal cutting scissors placed on top of a laundry basket on the other side of the room, but being unable to walk in his make-shift shorts he had to hop. He then discovered almost immediately that hopping there was a bad move, and after waiting for the pain to subside decided instead to crawl. "Why the hell didn't I leave them on the inflatable Ingrid by the bed?" he moaned.
All that his mind and mumbling was telling him now, is that he had to take an emergency piss. He'd had twenty cans of coke and eight mugs of coffee the night before, in an attempt to stay awake, clasping a baseball bat in one hand and a plastic uzi in the other, just incase any uninvited little mango weilders came a-calling. He managed to crawl past the poster sized print-out he'd made, which showed a picture of himself strangling a chicken, with a message in blood red ink written below reading, DON'T BECOME THE CHICKEN ALIEN!
Two hours later.
The city was bustling with life. Bob made his way past the library, glancing briefly at its automatic sliding doors and getting an immediate picture of a robot with pointed metal breasts yelling," I'll never get a headache."
"WELL I WILL, YOU BITCH!" He yelled, just as he was passing an elderly nun. He quickly hid his face with a newspaper he grabbed from a garbage can, and made his way to Jake's bar on the corner of the street.
"How are ya, Bob? Haven't seen you in here for a while, what you been doing?" asked the barman.
"I... I... I've been killing mangos... I mean drilling bongos," he replied all confused.
"Man, you need a drink! Here, try this new cocktail some short guy made up last night, it's called mango in the hole."
"WHAT!" yelled Bob," NO! - give me a dozen whiskies. Did you say short guy? What did he look like?" Bob asked.
"Well he was a wierd one, he wore a cloak with a hood, and well - looked a bit like a potato."
Bob downed three whiskies then grabbed the remaining glasses in both hands and made his way to a seat by the window over-looking the street.
Looking out of the window he took the opportunity to examine everyone passing in the street.
"Brunette, mmm, another brunette...shit I should be out there," he said. "Wait! that guy in the cloak dragging that garbage bag, no - that's Jerry the street cleaner."
He turned his attention to the other side of the street, and saw a small cloaked figure standing by the bus stop. He immediately got up and knocking his whisky all over his pants in the process, ran out of the bar. "Now people will think I've wet myself he groaned." He didn't care; all he wanted was to get to the other side of the street to get a closer look at the cloaked figure.
Dodging traffic, and blurting out a rather loud girlish scream as the number 42 bus suddenely braked behind him with a screech. He jumped onto a parked car and rolled over its roof onto the sidewalk.
His eyes were focused only on one thing, and that was the seven foot Masai warrior whose foot he was standing on. " Nice shoes," he said, and stepped off the man's foot. He moved closer to the shop windows, moving stealthily, focusing one eye on the cloaked figure and the other on the warrior, he stopped, suddenly, realising that his eyes weren't meant to roll around that far, and let out a cry of "Aah! Fuck!" just as the nun he'd passed earlier walked by.
"That's it - I'm pissed," he groaned. "We can see that!" said an old guy pointing his walking stick at his wet patch.
He ran to the garbage can and looked for something to whack the suspected cloaked alien with. He reached in and pulled out a half eaten pizza."That's no good!" he said,throwing it behind him, straight onto a passing dog's head. "Wait!what's this?" He pulled out a foot long stale baguette and said,"yes - maybe I'll turn the tables on the little mango bastard."
He noticed the bus was coming in the distance, and realising he hadn't much time to act, he ran to the cloaked figure and shoved the baguette hard between it's butt cheeks. "AAAAAAARGH!" cried the old lady in a rain cloak.
"What have I done?" he yelled, and ran as fast as he could in the direction of far away as humanly possible.
THE END.