Thursday, March 27, 2008

Ode to The Simpsons

I love you if you know the episode.

From Future Weapons, a show on that Discovery Channel.

Host: We’re going to see an utterly ruthless weapon capable of unparalleled destruction. The engineers at Lockheed Martin have been working furiously for the past five months to unveil their newest doomsday device exclusively to you here on Future Weapons.

[Focus on bald head, shifty eyes. Tableau. Deeper focus.]

Host: Tell us about your weapon.

Scientist: We’ve been working on this weapon for months. Properly wielded, we believe it’ll be able to take the lives of countless third-country souls. But its beauty lies in its production cost: three ha’pence a piece.

Host: Wonderful. Wait, what?

Scientist: The unit is assembled in Guernsey.

Host: Acknowledged. Let’s see this masterpiece.

[A 2x4 with a nail is swung at the Host’s head.]

Host: That was too close.

Scientist: As you can see, it’s an effective weapon. The swing alone took the lives of thirteen “terrorists.” Here are their bodies.

[Host watches bodies uncarted. Turns to see the nail impaled into someone’s eye.]

Host: How?

Alright, I think what we can take from this is why does Lockheed Martin not register on MS Word’s spell check?

Also, I wrote this while completely plastered.

Wednesday, March 26, 2008

Star Trek

My friends, forget the Law and Order scene, I’ve trumped it with something so delicious it would seem that my writing skill has been increasing exponentially. Without further ado, my absolute greatest work, my magnum opus.

We begin after Star Trek: The Next Generation’s series finale, after Captain Picard saves humanity.

"Ensign, warp factor ass, engage!"

"Sir, I don't-- "

"Number One, lock this ass in her quarters and activate a stasis field around her ass."

"Captain, that's impossible."

"Riker, do as I say. Warp factor ass, engage!"

"I don't know. Do you know what's wrong with him?"

"What's that muttering back there?"

"Working on warp factor ass, captain."

"Excellent. Number One, how is that stasis field coming along?"

"Captain, it remains impossible to isolate a stasis field around one woman's ass."

"Jean-Luc, maybe you should get some rest."

"Beverly, kiss my ass, warp factor eight. Engage!"

Tuesday, March 25, 2008

More Flags, More Enthusiasm

Is it me or has the Asian man become more zealous when shouting his more flags more fun bit?

He sure beats the hell out of that old, dancing guy. Man, could that guy move, though.

I’m going to interview him. I’m sure he lives in LA. He has to. Both of them.

Wednesday, March 12, 2008

Success at the Beach Part 1

"Garçon!” I called, “a pitcher of rum and ice for each of us!”

The sand burned my feet and sweat rolled down my temple, around my jaw and down my neck. It was hot and dry but the beach breeze felt cool against my arms and chest. I dug my feet into the lower layers of moist sand and so did she.

“I’m not a boy,” she said handing me a Dixie cup brimming with rum and five cubes of ice.

“Stand,” she said. I stood. “Turn, please.” I did so. She pulled on the waist of my trunks, dropped an ice cube into them and laughed.

“You, madam, are a bitch.” I reached down and pulled out the offending cube and plopped it into her half-filled, iceless cup of rum.

“Damn,” she said still laughing and threw the warm rum on my chest. She poured herself another half-rum and we sipped.

“Garçon!” I called, but she’d already begun uncapping the rum. She took my cup and scooped more ice from the cooler before handing it back to me. She tipped the neck of the bottle into my cup until it overflowed over my thigh and crotch. The ice cooled the rum and the cold rum felt fine on me and she knew this and smiled. “And you?”

“I’m going to take a dip,” she said as she laid out a beach towel before my chair. She got on all fours and smoothed it out, pointing her ass at me with her knees together, reaching and arching her back like a stretching cat. It was a beautiful sight and she did it on purpose. She stood, reached into her bag, came to me, dropped a lighter and cigarettes on my now-dry crotch, and gave me a peck on my cheek. “I’ll be back in a few and we’ll have another drink,” she said smiling before running off delicately to the water, barely kicking up sand.

Tuesday, March 11, 2008

Writer's Block, More Filler

“Come on, man, say it.”


“Just say it once."

“No, I’m not going to say it.”

“Just once.”

“Stop. Please.”

“Say it. Why can’t you say it?”

“One flag! Six flags! More flags, more fun!”

“Awesome! You totally said it!”

“. . . .”

“Could you say it again?”

“Get the fuck out of my apartment.”