April 18th, 2007

  • roybot

partly cloudy with 20% chance of mass murder.

the weather is the only thing to look forward to
the only place they wont talk about the dead
only cold fronts and upper level lows
countrywide is on your side
abc tells me that more insomniacs get their news from abc news
america turns to who for answers?
gun control is a bingo game played in the sky
got a story to tell, call brian williams
magical smile, veternarian, ryan the tuba player
when a child dies, a universe of possibility and unequated proponates of harm towards others dies as well.
most probably had it coming.

Posted by Supporter of Ham #2361
  • roybot

rtqp also writes some fiction

i cruised slowly down the suburban streets, at a speed i would consider "unusually polite" in light of my normal habits. the opening bass exporations of amon tobin's "golfer vs. boxer" wafted from my stereo.

then, BAM: it hit me. socioeconomic watology. clinical infomatology. the possibilities were simply limitless. this is why you stop and smell the roses.

the roses having been smelled, i downshifted to second and pulled my car into a tight curve, narrowly avoiding the curb, but failing to avoid a "children playing" sign some poor sap had mistakenly left in the street. i laid down a patch in its place and headed towards the interstate. i intended to make it to poland by sundown.

* * *


"Poland?!" the clerk cried. "You can't drive to Poland... you gotta fly there!"

"well," i said, "i'd prefer to drive there, if that's alright with you."

he stared at me incredulously for a moment, and reached his conclusion. i triumphantly waited for my directions to poland.

"GET OUTTA MY GAS STATION!!" he bellowed.

"wat" i muttered, startled.

he leaned foward to smack me, but having muttered the holy word, i was safe. one fell down from the sky and dashed him to the ground, incapacitating him. i grabbed a Chocoloco (tm) bar and headed towards the door.

"payment is in the safe," i said, in case he was still conscious. it wasn't and he wasn't. the safe had dealt him such a buffet on the head that he no-longer was concerned with candy thievery.

it was utterly critical that i reach poland by sundown. at this point there ensued a few hours of trials of the soul so foul and odious i would wish them on no man. but at last, i stood at the door of poland.

i stepped in.

there was a desk, with a clerk at the desk.

"is this poland?" i asked.

"Why, yes, this is stu's house of poles. What sort of pole are you looking for - barber, fire, stripper... other?"

i stared at him blankly.

"how many poles are there in poland?" i demanded.

"Well," he replied, "we have over 30,000 poles in stock."

"and what is your favorite pole?" i queried.

"Well..." he began, pausing to think, "I'd have to say catalogue number 34-E10, the platinum ridged dancing pole... some fond memories, you know."

i nodded, understanding. then i turned around and left. this was obviously a false poland, designed to mislead me. an ersatz poland existant merely to trick me into following the wrong path - the path of platinum ridged dancing poles.

i would get revenge someday on this foul and godless establishment, someday. for now, however, i needed to find poland.

say, do you know where poland is?

Posted by Reverend Tedward Q. Porktanker
  • roybot

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Posted by HYPERFUKBOT