Oh, why not
I stand upon the crest of a hill, facing the future that winds ahead of me like a road on a dusty plain, narrowing to nothing at the blur of the horizon. But I cannot leave this spot. The past has its claws in me; it refuses to undo my bonds until I turn and face it.
Where do I come from? Where am I going to? My story can't move ahead until I confront what has gone on behind.
In the beginning there was a man and a woman and a moment...
"Yo. Yo, barkeep! Give me another drink!"
"I want another drink, you filthy, ugly, smelly indigent excuse for a bartender. You hear that, I called you INDIGENT!"
"All right, all right. Where are all the hotties? Where are all the hot, hot girls looking for filthy rich men like me?"
"What's this? Blueberry Rum Punch? I shouldn't drink this, I’m fructose intolerant. You hear that, you miserable liquid nectar, my lower intestine does not tolerate you! That’s what happens when you’re filthy rich and the only partner worthy of marrying a Landgraab is another Landgraab! Yeah! I’m a purebred Landgraab! No stinking mutt genes in my family! I’m so purebred I could win Best in Show every year even though I only have a passing resemblance to a dog!"
"Hey, hey barkeep, did I tell you yet how rich I am? I’m so rich I paid a scientist to gold-plate my spleen and he did it! Yeah! You wanna see my scar? The only thing worthy of holding folds of Landgraab skin together is pure diamond. Yeah! I had diamond thread stitches! Diamond! Until I tried to chew them off and the vet had to put this cone thing over my head to make me stop. That week at school was weird..."
"Hey, where'd my drink go?"
"You punk! You stinking punk mutt thief! You know I buy mutts like you for breakfast and eat them and spit out their hair plugs in my shiny solid gold spittoons. Did you hear that? I said Spittoon! Yeah!"
"Ah, you know what, barkeep? Let the poor people have my drink, I can always buy them. I mean I can buy the poor people. That's how rich I am. I’m so rich I’m gonna buy the whole country and rename it Malcolmia and everyone will have to wear masks of my face over their own hideous mugs and change their name to Malcolm or they’ll be fed to a special attack dog that I’ve paid Malcolmian scientists to breed. It’s called the Dobermalcolm and it enjoys eating insolent Malcolm-haters and drooling acid from it’s platinum fangs when my cellphone rings. Listen to my ringtone, it says ‘Malcolm Malcolm bo Balcolm fananna nanna fo falcolm fee fi Mo Malcolm'. You hear that? I said Mo MALCOLM. Did you hear me, barkeep? I said PLATINUM FANGS! And my dog, I let it piddle on the priceless 14th century tapestry I use as a welcome mat because it smells like peppermint and gold. Have you ever smelled gold? My butler brews me a fresh cup of coffee sprinkled with gold dust every morning after he's spent the whole night mining for gold in the cave outside my mansion. I LIKE MY GOLD FRESH, DAMMIT!"
"Barkeep, did I say I was filthy rich? I'm not, I'm morbidly obese rich! I’m soiling my pants rich! I’m the grimiest, slimiest, muckiest, yuckiest richiest rich ever and damn proud! If there were an Olympics of richness I would win all the medals and have perfect scores! No, I would judge the contest because there is no one else even close to being qualified to assess the richness of my richness. And after I award myself all the medals, the Malcolmian National Anthem would play and everyone would cry because they are all citizens of Malcolmia and the song’s so beautiful because I can afford to hire scientists to bring back Beethoven and Jim Morrison from the dead to write it and it would be the BEST SONG EVER and win major awards not just on this planet but on every planet in the MALCOLMIAN UNIVERSE."
"YEAH! This hottie over here knows what I'm talking about, doncha girl?"
"Oh, God - it's old - it hurts my eyes. Get lost, hag! Where are all the hot young things? Where are all the hot young hotties who want a hot stinking, filthy hot man with a gold-encrusted spleen? No, barkeep I don't care if I've had fourteen drinks already, I want another!"
"Hello, gorgeous...care to dance?"
"Well, knit me a poodle skirt and call me Betty...I'd - I'd - I'd love to dance, Miss..."
"So, um, you come here often?"
"Shut up and dance."
"What are you smiling at?"
"Um, I was just thinking what beautiful eyes you have. So clear, so large. I can see almost all of downtown reflected in them."
"Whoa, this is a little fast, but okay! Wait, hold on a moment."
"Hey sewer-tenant, you and your PJs want to move down to the poor person's dance floor? Your smell and disgusting gyrations are disturbing me and my lady friend!"
(The Slob leaves and considers going to college to study, because that would be a more appropriate place to do it - as opposed to the middle of a nightclub. Oi.)
"Oh, gosh, golly gee. So pretty."
"And such a great dancer. What is that move called, the leapfrog?"
"Oh, I'm having so much fun! Usually I pay my servants to move my limbs to make me dance, but this is so much better!"
"Wow. I mean Wow. I'm dizzy and I don't think it was from the dancing and the fourteen Blueberry Pum Runches I drank. You're awesome. You're even better than freshly brewed gold coffee in the morning."
"You're a sweetheart babe, a real sweetheart. Just don't wait for my call; I am a Landgraab and we Landgraabs have to be careful about who we date, so unless you can prove you've got Landgraab blood or some sort of golden royal or Goth family pedigree, this is, sob, goodbye."
"What the hell? I'm not even out the door yet and that sewer-tenant is already putting the moves on my girl?"
"That's IT! Come on, babe! You're leaving with me! Let's ditch this crappy bar that allows walking toenail fungus scum inside. But babe, you're gonna have to drive cuz I don't know where I put my chauffeur."
"You see this, bar! I'm leaving with the best hottie hot girl in the world because I'm rich! I don't need you and your blummy punches! I’m so rich I’m gonna buy this bar and rename it the National Malcolmian Space Center and lure the best astrophysicists here with topless alien mud wrestling. Then I’m gonna send my highly trained hit squad of ninja go-go dancers in here to kidnap them and they’ll force those scientists to build a fructose powered spaceship. Then I’m gonna buy myself a giant robot with a great big claw hand that can lift up this whole damn bar and put it inside the spaceship. Then the ship will take off with your bar inside and just when it leaves our planet’s orbit my giant robot will blast it with it’s killer deathray, smattering it into a billion gazillion tiny pieces. And those billion gazillion pieces will rain on the earth like radioactive snowflakes, and I’ll pay one simoleon to every little child who brings me a piece of the wreckage that falls to earth and I’ll still be so rich after I’m done paying off all those kids cuz I HAVE SO MUCH MONEY! Yeah I do."
"Wait. Why am I standing outside?"
"Oh yeah. My lovemunchkin awaits!"
"Take me anywhere, beautiful. Just drive, just drive."
Later...
"Oh God...OUCH...Where have my brain cells gone? And why did they leave tiny dwarves with jackhammers in their place?!"
"Why don't I smell GOLD COFFEE BREWING!? Wait - this isn't my chamber?! Where the hell am I?"
"Oh there's a lady in the bed! A pretty--"
"Oh, it's a cockroach in the bed! It's a cockroach! I need an exterminator! I need some clothes! I need to stop the jackhammering dwarves in my head! I'm getting out of here!"
Nine months later, I was born...
My mother perished in a smustling accident not long after. My father refused to have anything to do with me...refused to even acknowledge that I was alive. His disregard for my very existence is what made me who I am today..
Chucky, Lord of the Boolprop! Master of Malevolence! Evil Overlord of Modification!
And now that I have shown you my embarrassing past perhaps I can get over it and move on to the future and show you some more disgusting townies and their disgusting offspring. But before I do, do you now understand why I can never grow up? Why I choose to remain forever an innocent(-looking), diaper-clad nooboo?
Because with parents like these, could anyone ever stomach what I look like as a toddler?
Where do I come from? Where am I going to? My story can't move ahead until I confront what has gone on behind.
In the beginning there was a man and a woman and a moment...
"Yo. Yo, barkeep! Give me another drink!"
"I want another drink, you filthy, ugly, smelly indigent excuse for a bartender. You hear that, I called you INDIGENT!"
"All right, all right. Where are all the hotties? Where are all the hot, hot girls looking for filthy rich men like me?"
"What's this? Blueberry Rum Punch? I shouldn't drink this, I’m fructose intolerant. You hear that, you miserable liquid nectar, my lower intestine does not tolerate you! That’s what happens when you’re filthy rich and the only partner worthy of marrying a Landgraab is another Landgraab! Yeah! I’m a purebred Landgraab! No stinking mutt genes in my family! I’m so purebred I could win Best in Show every year even though I only have a passing resemblance to a dog!"
"Hey, hey barkeep, did I tell you yet how rich I am? I’m so rich I paid a scientist to gold-plate my spleen and he did it! Yeah! You wanna see my scar? The only thing worthy of holding folds of Landgraab skin together is pure diamond. Yeah! I had diamond thread stitches! Diamond! Until I tried to chew them off and the vet had to put this cone thing over my head to make me stop. That week at school was weird..."
"Hey, where'd my drink go?"
"You punk! You stinking punk mutt thief! You know I buy mutts like you for breakfast and eat them and spit out their hair plugs in my shiny solid gold spittoons. Did you hear that? I said Spittoon! Yeah!"
"Ah, you know what, barkeep? Let the poor people have my drink, I can always buy them. I mean I can buy the poor people. That's how rich I am. I’m so rich I’m gonna buy the whole country and rename it Malcolmia and everyone will have to wear masks of my face over their own hideous mugs and change their name to Malcolm or they’ll be fed to a special attack dog that I’ve paid Malcolmian scientists to breed. It’s called the Dobermalcolm and it enjoys eating insolent Malcolm-haters and drooling acid from it’s platinum fangs when my cellphone rings. Listen to my ringtone, it says ‘Malcolm Malcolm bo Balcolm fananna nanna fo falcolm fee fi Mo Malcolm'. You hear that? I said Mo MALCOLM. Did you hear me, barkeep? I said PLATINUM FANGS! And my dog, I let it piddle on the priceless 14th century tapestry I use as a welcome mat because it smells like peppermint and gold. Have you ever smelled gold? My butler brews me a fresh cup of coffee sprinkled with gold dust every morning after he's spent the whole night mining for gold in the cave outside my mansion. I LIKE MY GOLD FRESH, DAMMIT!"
"Barkeep, did I say I was filthy rich? I'm not, I'm morbidly obese rich! I’m soiling my pants rich! I’m the grimiest, slimiest, muckiest, yuckiest richiest rich ever and damn proud! If there were an Olympics of richness I would win all the medals and have perfect scores! No, I would judge the contest because there is no one else even close to being qualified to assess the richness of my richness. And after I award myself all the medals, the Malcolmian National Anthem would play and everyone would cry because they are all citizens of Malcolmia and the song’s so beautiful because I can afford to hire scientists to bring back Beethoven and Jim Morrison from the dead to write it and it would be the BEST SONG EVER and win major awards not just on this planet but on every planet in the MALCOLMIAN UNIVERSE."
"YEAH! This hottie over here knows what I'm talking about, doncha girl?"
"Oh, God - it's old - it hurts my eyes. Get lost, hag! Where are all the hot young things? Where are all the hot young hotties who want a hot stinking, filthy hot man with a gold-encrusted spleen? No, barkeep I don't care if I've had fourteen drinks already, I want another!"
"Hello, gorgeous...care to dance?"
"Well, knit me a poodle skirt and call me Betty...I'd - I'd - I'd love to dance, Miss..."
"So, um, you come here often?"
"Shut up and dance."
"What are you smiling at?"
"Um, I was just thinking what beautiful eyes you have. So clear, so large. I can see almost all of downtown reflected in them."
"Whoa, this is a little fast, but okay! Wait, hold on a moment."
"Hey sewer-tenant, you and your PJs want to move down to the poor person's dance floor? Your smell and disgusting gyrations are disturbing me and my lady friend!"
(The Slob leaves and considers going to college to study, because that would be a more appropriate place to do it - as opposed to the middle of a nightclub. Oi.)
"Oh, gosh, golly gee. So pretty."
"And such a great dancer. What is that move called, the leapfrog?"
"Oh, I'm having so much fun! Usually I pay my servants to move my limbs to make me dance, but this is so much better!"
"Wow. I mean Wow. I'm dizzy and I don't think it was from the dancing and the fourteen Blueberry Pum Runches I drank. You're awesome. You're even better than freshly brewed gold coffee in the morning."
"You're a sweetheart babe, a real sweetheart. Just don't wait for my call; I am a Landgraab and we Landgraabs have to be careful about who we date, so unless you can prove you've got Landgraab blood or some sort of golden royal or Goth family pedigree, this is, sob, goodbye."
"What the hell? I'm not even out the door yet and that sewer-tenant is already putting the moves on my girl?"
"That's IT! Come on, babe! You're leaving with me! Let's ditch this crappy bar that allows walking toenail fungus scum inside. But babe, you're gonna have to drive cuz I don't know where I put my chauffeur."
"You see this, bar! I'm leaving with the best hottie hot girl in the world because I'm rich! I don't need you and your blummy punches! I’m so rich I’m gonna buy this bar and rename it the National Malcolmian Space Center and lure the best astrophysicists here with topless alien mud wrestling. Then I’m gonna send my highly trained hit squad of ninja go-go dancers in here to kidnap them and they’ll force those scientists to build a fructose powered spaceship. Then I’m gonna buy myself a giant robot with a great big claw hand that can lift up this whole damn bar and put it inside the spaceship. Then the ship will take off with your bar inside and just when it leaves our planet’s orbit my giant robot will blast it with it’s killer deathray, smattering it into a billion gazillion tiny pieces. And those billion gazillion pieces will rain on the earth like radioactive snowflakes, and I’ll pay one simoleon to every little child who brings me a piece of the wreckage that falls to earth and I’ll still be so rich after I’m done paying off all those kids cuz I HAVE SO MUCH MONEY! Yeah I do."
"Wait. Why am I standing outside?"
"Oh yeah. My lovemunchkin awaits!"
"Take me anywhere, beautiful. Just drive, just drive."
Later...
"Oh God...OUCH...Where have my brain cells gone? And why did they leave tiny dwarves with jackhammers in their place?!"
"Why don't I smell GOLD COFFEE BREWING!? Wait - this isn't my chamber?! Where the hell am I?"
"Oh there's a lady in the bed! A pretty--"
"Oh, it's a cockroach in the bed! It's a cockroach! I need an exterminator! I need some clothes! I need to stop the jackhammering dwarves in my head! I'm getting out of here!"
Nine months later, I was born...
My mother perished in a smustling accident not long after. My father refused to have anything to do with me...refused to even acknowledge that I was alive. His disregard for my very existence is what made me who I am today..
Chucky, Lord of the Boolprop! Master of Malevolence! Evil Overlord of Modification!
And now that I have shown you my embarrassing past perhaps I can get over it and move on to the future and show you some more disgusting townies and their disgusting offspring. But before I do, do you now understand why I can never grow up? Why I choose to remain forever an innocent(-looking), diaper-clad nooboo?
Because with parents like these, could anyone ever stomach what I look like as a toddler?