Monday, September 11, 2006

so this weekend sucked

when bad luck rears its ugly fuckin face, it looks, smiles, makes you think that maybe all the past stuff is behind you, then right before you are about to give it a kiss on the cheek and welcome it anew, throws up the vodka and hurricane mix it drank until 3 am the night before all over your white travolta suit you were hoping to wear to your ex-wife's funeral. so lets just say, when i found out the new findings about my families death, i was pretty fuckin upset. fuckin upset. fuckin upset (gets quieter each time, like a belowing yell of pain into hell's cavernous depths). Now, the DA of my eskimo village (which is named after me, and if i told you the name of it, obviously you would know who i was... so ladies, don't go naming your illegitimates quite yet, this DNA test is yet to be determined) contacted me via the chip inserted into my brain by the CCCP during the Great Eskimo Conquest. The russians kidnapped me back in 88, mostly to track my whereabouts, but also to eventually master my brain and operate me like a remote control kung-fu master. It would have been the greatest weapon since the lazer beam if i was half the man. But during one of my retreats to Mt. Pie near my eskimo village, i meditated... this meditation eventually gave me control of the chip. so i decided, what the hell, lets make this big piece of silicon and copper something useful. I first tried to use my chip as a garage door opener, but if i was driving my snowmobile toward an open garage door and lets say i started to sing along to my favorite Doors song, it would close the garage door and i would then crash into it. My Snow Chopper would be in the shop for a week and i was left cheating on my wife by means of snowshoe... not fun, but gave me a longer opportunity to come up with a great excuse. My favorite being, " what this hickey? i dont know where i got it..." then i would jump panther kick her in the forehead, knock her unconcious, give her amnesia and wait a week, kick her in the head again, knock her out again, then she would wake up, not remember any of the kicks or the amnesia period, and my hickey had healed. i eventually made the brain chip a cell phone, my custom ringtone right now is the new justin timberlake song.
Back to my story, the DA brain called me to my chip and gave me an update in my families death. Apparently, since we all lived on Oil fields in the Arctic Tundra, we always had oil creeping up through the floor boards of our colonial style igloo, and although it was great for keeping our oakfloors we recovered from an old spanish yukon monastary from drying out, fire hazards were always a problem. The DA now claims that it wasn't the oil company setting fire to my home that killed my family, but a bag of popcorn i accidently left in the microwave for 245 minutes instead of the usual 2:45 minutes i am positive i set it at. I think this is yet another attempt to pin the fault on myself. i think this is some total crap, and i will not allow it to stand. So was is Orville Redenbocker that killed my family? doubt it. orville makes my life wonderful, he is the father i never had (my father never wore bow ties)


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