Wednesday, March 30, 2011

Something Special Just fo Meeeee

Under a log I waited... waited... waited. My meal was grazing in the pasture, not moving much at all. So I continued waiting.

Several intense hours passed without event. My neck was getting stiff and my arms were getting tired from crouching. But I could not give in to weakness. I waited...

After a couple more hours of waiting for my meal to move, I got tired. So I suddenly pushed the log asside and ran out to meet my food.

The donut sat there as if it weren't alive. I was too smart for that. If it gave nutrients, it must be alive somehow, and if it is alive it can move. It was trying to play dead.

I jumped upon it with lightning speed. Unfortunately, lightning never strikes the same place twice (because it's really bad at aiming). So missed and was sent tumbling down the hill.

"Think yer so smart, do ya?!" I shouted at it.

I ran up the hill and tackled the beast. Still pretending to be dead it laid there in my hand. I didn't give it time to fight back. With one swift motion I popped the creature into my mouth, and swallowed it like a snake (without chewing).

I gave a gorrilla yell at my triumph. I beat my chest like a lunatic and began the donut dance (which consists of me going in circles until I got dizzy).

Suddenly, from out of nowhere, more than 20 police men surrounded me from the undergrowth. I started to panic.

"No! My donut! Not yours! Get yer own! I STOLE this! It's MINE!!!"

I ran, trying to break the circle of piggies. They shouted something about Operation RedRover. They all suddenly locked arms. I dove under their arms and ran as fast as I could.

Then I hid behind a vending machine. So I waited until they stopped looking for me. So I waited.... waited... waited...

Sunday, March 27, 2011

Look! Free Money!

I thought I'd post something about money. The money categorie on the side bar was getting lonely, so I helped it out. Make sure not to comment.

Friday, March 25, 2011

Ma Fia's Travel's (One more time!)

Old Ma Fia's at it again. This time she went and stole a garbage truck. She was immediately caught when she was using it as a transportation device for over 5,000 pounds of marijauna.

The police tried to arrest her, but couldn't find any handcuffs big enough to go around her wrists. While calling the headquarters for some suggestions, the police officers were eaten on the spot.

Ma Fia delivered her goods that afternoon with a smile, like a good employee for the Gangsta Inc.

This garbage truck is now hidden in a trailer park, disguised as a trailer. Ma Fia didn't even need to do anything to it(except put some weeds around it).

So the search continues...

Wednesday, March 23, 2011

Hello Cat

Once upon a time there was a cat named Hello Cat. Everyday as she walked to the grocery store everyone would say, "Hello, Cat!".

Hello Cat led a happy life, full of flowers, frolicing, and fun. Too bad good things never last.

One day an evil wizard named Hello Human came along. It took in the stray cat and put her in his castle. Then he put her in some witch's brew as a wart remover.

The End

Friday, March 18, 2011

100 is a magical number

I have wrote a poem about the number 100. I will paraphrase my own work. It goes a-something like this:

One Hundred is a Number by justGeorge

One hundred is a number that is really nice
One hundred is a number that won't give you lice

One hundred is a number that does not wear pants
One hundred is a number that won't eat my plants

One hundred is a number that is plain to see
One hundred is a number hee hee hee

One hundred is a number dee doodlee doo
One hundred is a number and I made a big poo

One hundred is a number, not a chicken fajita
One hundred is a number working at the diner like Juanita

One hundred is a number I think I am rambling
One hundred is a number I always win when I'm gambling

One hundred is a number that is true
One hundred is a number I love you

One hundred is a number this is a hidden message
One hundred is a number the acces code to the building is

One hundred is a number the following numbers in this order:
One hundred is a number your nephew's age multiplied by two

One hundred is a number the year you were a freshman at college
One hundred is a number my favorite prime number

One hundred is a number and finally the last copyright date on my favorite book
One hundred is a number and now, back to the stupid poem

One hundred is a number, not a turtleneck sweater
One hundred is a number, though one hundred and one is better

One hundred is a number a train goes choo choo
One hundred is a number a baby goes goo goo

One hundred is a number, as you can see
One hundred is a number hee hee hee

Isn't that poem amazing? I'm thinking about quiting my day job as a hobo and become a poet (they're practically the same thing, only poets are more emotional). Well, now that I've just wasted your time with an extrememly long poem that had no meaning at all, I think I'm going to type an extremely long sentence to complement it; and by doing so, I will have wasted even MORE of your time; that's how evil I am; I'll use semi-colons instead of periods when I think applicable; this makes me TRIPLE evil; nay, I am INFINITE TIMES EVIL, according to this sentence that I should probably end by now; so I think I will end it; so there you go; it's ended.

Oh by the way, this was my 100th post.

Thursday, March 3, 2011

The Vegetables of Wrath

A long, long time ago in a country far away...

Joey McCrazy was sitting watching TV. He had his laptop in his lap (one that he supposedly used to research churches for, but y'know what he REALLY used it for). On the table beside him was his trusty remote control for the TV and his Sprite. He had a stupid grin on his face, a twisted, vile-looking grin that sent shivers down one's spine.

His little children had grown up into annoying teenagers, his own body was changing faster than the teenagers' though. His legs became useless, his mind a slush of disjointed worms. The only part of his body that could be used for anything was his vocal cord, which he strained day and night from yelling all of the time.

He often shouted at the most stupid things, though mostly he shouted commands at his children, yelling at them to help him with simple tasks he could easily have done.

"ZEKE!" he would shout annoyingly, though his son was only a couple of feet away, surfing the web. "ZEKE! I NEED YOU TO HAND ME THE REMOTE!"

His son looked at him, and furrowed his brow.

"You mean the remote that's right on the table that's easily within your grasp?" he asked in a meloncholy voice.


Zeke fought back tears and handed the stupid remote to the crazy guy. Then he turned an ran into his room, only stopping long enough to log himself out of facebook.

Joey McCrazy looked, slightly startled. He hadn't expected anyone to show emotion around him. But, he saw the commercials were over and his favorite TV show was on, so he ignored it.

"Stupid kid," he muttered to himself, "I'll have to remember to yell at him later."

The next couple of hours were extremely awkward for Zeke. He sat in his room, wishing that he had Allen's dad.

Allen's dad was the best dad on Earth. The worst thing he's ever done is swore one time when he leg was ripped off. He regretted what he said immediately, was chastised by the priests, and hail-maried a few times. This was his only sin, the only reason he needed God.

Zeke sat and waited in his room for a while until he heard an annoying voice from downstairs.


Zeke slowly walked downstairs, fighing tears. Joey McCrazy was still sitting there, but that's not really that suprising (the only time he ever got up was to punch a kitten, kill some Jewish people, or go to the bathroom. He never ate. His nourishment was hatred.)

Zeke suddenly had a brilliant idea.

He suddenly pulled out a Pokeball and captured his father. Joey McCrazy was caught and never let out of the Pokeball.

Is this realistic? No. It was the only simple solution to this problem I could think of. Too bad there are no happy endings to s*** like this.

The best plan is to just endure it. Yes, most of the time your parents are wrong. That doesn't mean that you're right though. Try not to hold any long-term grudges. Just forget about them after you're gone.

To hate someone is to give them a little victory. They will always be in your memory and in this way they will live forever to haunt you. Don't let them survive (poetically speaking).

Often situations are blown out of proportion. You can always find someone better off than you, but you can always find someone worse off too.

Try to endure what you can, ignore what you can't.

Wednesday, March 2, 2011

Donuts and Dumbells

Once upon a time there was a guy who really loved donuts. It was his life, his passionate wives, and his only reason for living.

One day his doctor told him to lose some weight. You see, over the years, he accumulated jiggly fat faster than a rolling stone gathering fans (grass or whatever; its supposed to be symbolic or something). Every year he gained 50 pounds for 20 years. The question is: how much did he weigh if he started at 150 pounds?

Well, he broke the scale, so a little math had to be used.

Unfortunately, no one in the medical profession can solve word problems. So they guessed he weighed approximentally 30 pounds or so.

Thankfully no one was sued for malpractice.

Anyway, this guy decided to give up donuts and lift weights. This was his Valentine's Day Resolution.

The going was tough, but he stuck with it. He finally was able to THINK about quiting the donuts. He even lifted a dumbell (it was in his way). Then he suddenly gave up his dream of losing the donuts habbit.

His friends encouraged him to go to Dounuts Anonymous. This was the organization designed to help people like him.

He dragged out of his house via crane and dropped into a car. He drove to the center. Unfortunately, he couldn't fit in the door and listened from outside. All he heard was the word "donut".

This made him instantly hungry and tried to walk toward the car. Unfortunately, the car was stolen by Ma Fia.

He was alone, stranded without a car or cell phone. He would have to walk.

The journey of 1000 miles began with one step, a step that made him trip and stumble. He rolled down a hill to his house and was plunked at his front door. The crane put him back in his easy chair.

He sighed with relief as he turned on his television to watch more TV. Then he yelled at his kids for being stupid, and drank only coca-cola for the rest of his life.

Then he got in a car wreck and died because he was such a bad driver.

The End.

Oh, if you don't know who I'm talking about, ask your dad. He'll be just as clueless. But it'll be funny, just cuz it's about him.

The End (fo real this time).

Tuesday, March 1, 2011

Hi #8, and a comment

I know the "hi" posts don't do too well.

But that's too bad. I'll post whatever I feel like, and there ain't nothing holding me down.

So there.