A Short Story For My Cousin on His Birthday (Which He Ignored)

Hi friends! No, I’m not dead (at least not physically). For those who have read my blog before, sorry I haven’t posted anything in a year. I promise to finish the Kim Kardassian posts soon. For those of you who are unfamiliar to my bullshit, welcome! Thank you for wasting your time with me.

I assume you’re happy to be here as well.

So, the reason I called you all here is because the worst thing that could ever happen to a person happened to me a few weeks ago: I wrote an excellent Happy Birthday post on my cousin’s Facebook page and he ignored me.

I know. I was mortified too.

Here’s what happened- last month, I was with my immediate family when my sister pointed out that it was our cousin’s (whom, for purposes of this blog, we shall call Joey Jojo Shabadoo) Birthday. But since I was with family, I chose to wait until later to wish Joey Jojo a happy Birthday. And then I forgot. I’ll be the first to admit that that part was on me. And I felt bad that I missed it, so I decided to write a story for him as an apology/ a birthday gift, because who doesn’t love being forced read things shortly after their birthday?

So, I wrote him the story, a story that centuries from now will be hailed as the greatest literary triumph of our time, and posted it to his page a mere two days late. Two! And he didn’t even “like” it, the monster.

So that’s why I’m posting it here today, because someone needs to read it. And if it won’t be the intended recipient, it will be strangers on the Internet.

Enjoy!

Happy Belated Birthday Joey Jojo! I’m so sorry I missed your birthday Sunday, but I have a really good reason! See, it was midday on Sunday, and I was sitting outside at one of the hundreds of French bistros that litter Columbus Ohio, eating a croissant and drinking a latte that Columbus is known worldwide for, when I checked my phone and saw that it was your birthday. “I must think of something profound to write my cousin on this day,” I thought to myself, “he only deserves the best.”

I closed my eyes, just for a moment, to concentrate on the perfect musing to send your way. As I concentrated, a sentence formed in my mind. It shown like a golden beacon of enlightenment amongst an impenetrable night of mindless well wishes. I had found my profound wish to you.

But when I opened my eyes again, my phone was gone! Snatched! Pilfered!

“Son of a wrench… bojangles… Smith!” I thought to myself. “Sweet Virgin mother of dirty fucks!” I shouted because that’s far more coherent than what I thought. I turned to my fellow diners and asked if they saw the phone thief. They all babbled unintelligible nonsense, but all pointed the same direction: towards a weaselly looking man running towards the river. I gave chase, and almost immediately toppled over some weird guy in a beret.

“Sacre bleu!” The human obstacle cried.

“Lousy gibberish! I yelled back.

I continued my chase through the scenic beauty of Columbus Ohio until phone thief and I reached the Scioto river, or as the locals call it, the Seine.

By mistake, the villain ran onto a bridge that was closed halfway across due to construction. I had him trapped.

“Give me back my phone, fuck stick,” I ordered.

The weaselly man gave me a weaselly smile, and without a word, dove over the railing. I ran to where he jumped off and looked over the edge. And wouldn’t you know it, that phone thief landed right on one of the used Kleenex barges that traverse the river every hour. The man waved goodbye to me and laughed a weaselly laugh as he passed the Eiffel Tower.

Wait. Eiffel Tower? Of course! I wasn’t in Columbus at all- I was in Paris! Normally, finding yourself in Paris is a bad thing, but it just so happened that I have a friend who lives in Paris that has helped me in many similar situations before. I needed Draxyl.

Draxyl was one tough customer with a pale face with small, black triangles tattooed above and below his eyes. Beyond his intimidating exterior, Draxyl was a man of few words and many actions; and he isn’t like that just because he’s a mime.

No one ever suspects the mime. But you should.

I found Draxyl on his normal street corner, performing a mime show for a group of tourists. As soon as he saw me amongst the gawkers in the crowd, he collapsed to the ground and began faking a heart attack. Many of the tourists groaned in disappointment and shuffled away. See, most tourists don’t realize that mimes are actually people, so when one dies, they move onto the next one. Draxyl uses this ignorance to his advantage.

Once the crowd had dispersed, Draxyl stood up, brushed himself off, and gestured for me to follow him.

He lead me, as we walked against the wind, to his hideout, which was an abandoned warehouse in the middle of the city.

He opened the door for me, and as soon as I entered, I was greeted by the thick, musty air and a thin young man with tan skin babbling at me.

“Minigan welcome. We’ve been expecting you,” the young man said to me in a Brooklyn accent , “I am Vinny Tyrese Archibald Patrick Saiid Makoto Borowitz-Gutierrez, but you can call me ‘#TheMouth.’

“Uh, hey,” I replied, “why were you expecting me?”

“Because we knew you were coming,” two voices answered in unison from behind me.

I turned to see a pair of identical twins, dressed in the same out fit and identical haircuts on their blond heads, staring past me.

“We are the Sagittarius Twins,” they said in unison again.

“Nice to meet you,” I replied, “but why Sagittarius? Shouldn’t you call yourselves the Gemini Twins?”

“No,” they said together, “because our last name isn’t Gemini.”

“Fair enough.”

“The Sagittarius Twins are our experts in the mystic arts. They melded their minds about three years ago, and now they are one being in two different bodies,” #TheMouth explained. “We have one more teammate for you to meet,” he continued, “once she decides to make her entrance…”

“I’m coming, I’m coming,” a seductive Russian voice said from the shadows.

From those shadows emerged a stunning woman with jet black hair and hips that swung from side to side with every step she took in her black leather catsuit.

With a seductive smile, she stepped in close to me and breathed, “Hello, Minigan, I am Svetlana Lustnaughtlov, and I am-how do you say- charmed to meet you.”

“Well, Svetlana,” I replied with a smile, “It’s a pleasure to meet you too.” Then, putting my hands on her shoulders, I added, “Now, if you would please step the fuck off, you’re crowding me.”

I pushed her by her shoulders three full fucking steps backwards. Her smile melted into a look of shock and rejection. Fucking Russians, man.

“So, Minigan,” #TheMouth said, “we knew that you were coming, but not why. So, what brings you here looking for our help?”

“Someone stole my phone!” I cried.

The team began to gasp, but then exchanged puzzles looks.

“You can get a new phone. You don’t need us for that.”

“You don’t understand,” I pleaded, “today is my cousin’s birthday, and I need to wish him a happy birthday. He is such an amazing, such an opulent specimen of humanity that he makes makes all other humans, but especially my siblings, look like sweaty garbage. ” I then explained the words of wisdom I wanted to share with you. Their jaws dropped. The air became less musty. The Sagittarius Twins shed identical tears.

Draxyl looked at me with awe and said, “Minigan, you slick son of a-“

“Ok we’ll do it!” #The Mouth interrupted, “I’ll get on my computer and track your phone number. Svetlana, I want you to use your spy connections to find out why someone would take Minigan’s phone. The Twins, I need you to search through Minigan’s memories for any clues.

It took twelve hours. Twelve. Fucking. Hours. Before anyone was able to find anything. And the entire time, #TheMouth talked at me about mundane bullshit that wasn’t about where my phone was. Apparently, my phone was stolen in a worldwide, coordinated attempt to use a app to gain control over the world’s volcanos.

“That’s the dumbest thing I’ve ever heard.” I said to this group of idiots wasting my time.

“It’s true, Darling,” Svetlana replied, “My sources told me that an American’s phone is the key to taking control of the volcanoes. I believe that it’s your phone.”

“What? Why my phone?”

The five of them shrugged.

“Great,” I sigh, “well, what are we going to do now? It’s already passed midnight here, which means that it’s 6:00 in the evening back in the States. I only have 6 hours left to get my phone back.”

“And save the world!” #TheMouth added.

“Meh, let’s get my phone first, then we can worry about the world.”

“Alrighty then,” #TheMouth replied, “Let’s get a move on then. We need to get to Mount Vesuvius in Italy. That’s where the chain reaction is supposed to start.”

Great. First it ruins Pompeii, and then it’s central to a nefarious plot to steal my phone. Ugh. This mountain is the worst.

Draxyl lead us to the chopper, and within minutes, we were darting across the Parisian night sky on our way to Italy.

At some point during the trip I fell asleep, and when I awoke, the morning sun was already peaking over the horizon and #TheMouth was still taking about whatever the fuck he was talking about before we left. Shit. I asked for the time. It was 7:15. Double shit. I missed your birthday by an hour and a half. But I knew I could recover from that, as long as I could deliver the musing to you soon.

“We’re getting close!” #TheMouth yelled, “I can see Naples now.

“What’s our plan once we get there, Mouth?” I asked.

“Huh?” He replied, “That’s not my nickname.”

“Sorry. #TheMouth.”

He gave me a weird look. “Hey, you’re pronouncing the first part of my name all wrong. You need to say it like someone who isn’t a millennial.”

I was about to respond when an explosion rocked the cabin of the helicopter. Alarms went off. Svetlana and I screamed. She tried to grab onto me, but I swatted her away.

“We’ve been hit!” #TheMouth yelled from his seat up front, “We’re going down!”

A couple enemy helicopters flew past us, then turned to face us head on.

“Sagittarius Twins,” #TheMouth yelled, “Do something to stop them!”

The Sagittarius Twins stood up from their seats, and pressed their hands against the window. Suddenly, the cabin shook again, and I watched as a Great white shark flew past us and towards our attackers. In no time at all, the shark had destroyed the helicopters and vanished into nothing.

We all cheered.

“Great job you two!” I said to the Twins.

Draxyl called back from the pilot’s seat, “Minigan, you slick son of a-“

The cabin door exploded open, and the resulting pressure drop pulled one of the twins out of the cabin. The remaining one fell to the floor, thrashed and shrieked for a few seconds before laying comatose on the floor.

We were still going down- barreling straight towards The side of Mount Vesuvius. Reaching as far as I could, I grabbed the remaining Sagittarius Twin and pulled him close to me. We hit the ground on an angle, and we all lurched forward until the mangled remains of the fuselage came to a stop.

I got up from my seat, my head pounding and my legs weak, and rushed to the twin, who had slipped from my grasp when we hit ground.

“Other Sagittarius Twin, are you ok?” I asked as I shook him.

He didn’t respond.

“I think this one is Scorpio,” #TheMouth replied.

I looked at him, “really? Scorpio Sagittarius?”

“Yep. The other one was named Taurus.”

“I don’t know their parents, but I already hate them,” I spat.

#TheMouth scolded me, “Don’t day that! Both their parents died last year!”

“That is terrible!” Svetlana cried as she wrapped her arms around me, making

sure to place one hand on my chest.

I slapped her away. “What the fuck did I tell you? Stay out of my personal space!” Then, looking to #TheMouth, I asked, “How did they die?”

“Cancer.”

“You’ve got to be shitting me.”

Deafening pangs of metal against metal shook us from our conversation and

brought us back to the task at hand.

#TheMouth said, “Minigan, go with Svetlana and Draxyl and get to the peak of Vesuvius. I’ll stay here and tend to Scorpio.”

Draxyl handed me a gun with a wink, and then kicked open the still intact door and started firing. He then grabbed onto an invisible rope and pulled himself out of the mangled helicopter. Svetlana and I followed.

Shots rang out from all around us as we sprinted for cover and fired at any enemy we saw.

When we made it part way up the mountain, the gunfire stopped and everything was still. The three of us took a sigh of relief and lowered our rifles. Draxyl strode ahead of us and then stopped abruptly. He put his hands out in front of them, and they hit an invisible barrier. He spun around, annoyed, opened his mouth to say something. But before he could say anything or even take a step, he hit another invisible wall. Svetlana and I ran to him. He pounded on the walls of the invisible box he was trapped in. Screaming things that couldn’t reach our ears.

“Look!” Svetlana yelled as she pointed to a nearby boulder, “An axe!”

She was right. Sitting against the boulder was a gleaming axe. She ran for it and brought it back to us.

“I’ll get you out of there, Draxyl!” She screamed as she swung the blade at the prison.

The axe passed through the invisible barrier and missed Draxyl by a fraction of an inch. He jumped back and screamed something we couldn’t hear. He pointed to the ground. There was nothing there. He made a chopping motion and then pointed to the same spot. I shrugged to Svetlana and reached to where he was pointing. Then, my hand touched something where there was nothing. I grabbed ahold of what felt like a handle, and moved my hand up to find a head. It was an axe.

I spun back to Draxyl and raised the invisible axe above my head and swung down. There was a crack and then a shatter. Draxyl tumbled out of the broken box.

“Minigan,” he gasped, “You slick son of a-“

“Thank me later,” I said, pulling him to his feet, “let’s just get my phone and stop this volcano thing or whatever.”

We reached the top of Vesuvius within a half an hour and without further altercations. The crater atop Vesuvius was deserted. We looked over the side. Down, deep in the crater we could see the glow of the magma, smell the stench from the sulfur, and feel the heat hitting our faces.

Just as we were about to step back from the precipice, three sets of arms grabbed ahold of us and dragged away.

“Well, well, well, it looks like we found our intruders,” a man with a British accent and an eyepatch said to us. “You must be the famous Mercenary Draxyl Gruntmuffin. Then this must be your sexy assassin Svetlana Lustnaughtlov.” The man looked to me and gave me a cruel grin. “I take it that you are the owner of this phone.”

Belligerent Crumblebrunch! I should have known!

He waved my phone at me. I tried to lunge for it, but the goon holding me was too strong. The man laughed.

“It is perfect that you came here, because it turns out that I need you to open the app that starts the chain reaction.”

“I never downloaded any app that controls volcanoes, idiot. You got the wrong guy.”

The man smiled and replied in a calm tone, “but let me ask. If you had downloaded the app, would you tell me you did?”

“Well, no.”

The man’s smirk grew.

“Ok,” I conceded, “Give me the phone and I’ll open whatever app you want.”

The goon let me go, and Eyepatch handed me the phone. I let out a sigh of relief feeling my phone back in my hands. And then, I kicked the goon that was holding me in the stomach and ran off. The goon stumbled backwards and fell screaming into the crater.

“GET HIM!”

I sprinted to the other side of the mountain, looking through the apps to find the one they were looking for. Hidden deep on the third apps page was “Volcano King 2000!” I opened it. Suddenly, the earth shook around me. J looked up and found myself on the other side of the crater from Eyepatch and his goons.

“HE OPENED THE APP. GET THE PHONE FROM HIM!”

The ground rumbled again, and the crater in front of me grew. The earth crumbled beneath the goons feet, and the two of them tumbled in. Then, Draxyl picked up the invisible axe and swung it at Eyepatch’s face. He dodged the attack, only to get kicked into the fiery hole by Svetlana.

I jumped and cheered for the team. And then I felt the ground give way below my feet. I dove away from the hole, but it wasn’t enough, and I was just able to grab onto the ledge with my free hand.

Svetlana was the first to reach me.

“Give me the the phone,” she ordered.

“Pull me up!” I yelled back.

“No. You refused my advances all this time. Give me your phone. I shall be the one controlling the world’s volcanoes.”

“Ok first of all, I rejected your advances because you kept getting in my space.”

“And what’s second?” She asked.

“This,” said a voice from behind her.

Svetlana rose into the air on her own, and then soared down into the magma pool, screaming until she was submerged.”

Gross… that she always insisted on invading my personal space.

“Scorpio!” I cried as he pulled me out of the hole, “You saved me!”

“I am not Scorpio.”

“Taurus!?”

“No. Taurus managed to assimilate three others before he died. We are now the

Sagittarius Quadruplets now.”

“Oh ok,” I replied, “That’s not alarming at all.”

I deleted the app off my phone, and once I did, I could feel the Earth go calm.

Draxyl walked up to me and clapped his hand on my back. “Minigan, you slick son of a-“

“Draxyl, take me home.” I interrupted, “I have a birthday apology to write.

And that (plus the fact that this totally real explanation of totally real events took me a day to write) is why my birthday greeting is so late. And I would share with you the profound musing I came up with, but in all the excitement, I totally forgot what it was. Sorry, and I hope your birthday was amazing.

See? That totally deserved a response, and not just a measly Facebook like. Anyway, I hope you all enjoyed the story more than my ungrateful cousin. And together, maybe we can shame him into reading it and basking in its glory.

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Della’s Birthday: A Tale of Horror

“What the hell do you want this time, Minigan?” an ungrateful Della grumbled when she walked into the dark room. For a brief second, a flash of lightning from the roaring storm outside  illuminated the room, and for that second, I could see her face clearly. Her eyes were squinted with suspicion, as if that was going to help her see into my head. Foolish girl, she should’ve known that I was prepared for such mental attacks. That’s why I was wearing the foil hat.

“Hello Della” I said as creepily as I could.

She didn’t respond, but glared at me and let the white noise from the rain fill the void of silence from her lack of words. After the few seconds of tense silence between the two of us, she added harshly, “And why are you naked in my living room?”

Oh, and also that. But don’t worry, my hand was covering up, well, mostly everything.

“Oh God, are you here to rape me?” She asked.

“Wha- NO!” I cried, “What kind of monster do you think I am?”

“Do I really need to answer that?”

“No, please don’t,” I replied. There was another flash of lightning and an explosion of thunder. The winds picked up and made the entire house creak as it fought against the gusts. “I’m here to celebrate your birthday!” I exclaimed, trying to ease the newly formed tension.

“Those six words have never been more terrifying to me than they are right now.”

“Hey honey,” Della’s husband, Matt, began as he walked in. He immediately stopped once saw me sitting on his couch and then continued with the question, “What in the flying hell is going on here?!?”

“I’m going to celebrate Della’s Birthday with you guys!” I answered brightly.

“My birthday was last week.”

“I know that,” I replied, “but it snuck up on me so I had to wait until today to celebrate it with you.”

“But why are you naked?” Matt asked, clearly jealous of my awesome body.

“To keep Della distracted enough so that she cannot read my mind.”

“Then what’s the foil hat for?” Della queried.

“It’s another preventative measure to keep you from reading my mind,” I explained.

“You know when I said that we were mentally connected THREE DAMN YEARS AGO, I was only joking around, right?” Della asked, with some pity.

“Yeah, OK,” I scoffed, “You say that so that I will let my guard down and then you’ll invade my mind, make me eat garbage and then steal an elephant. I know your little games, you vile temptress. You just want my treasures, the ones in and outside of my head.”

“First of all, the eating garbage and stealing an elephant was all your idea. Don’t you dare try to blame that on me. Secondly, I doubt you have any treasure in that waste of neurons you call a brain. And finally, I cannot imagine there is anything you have that I would ever want.”

“Oh, yeah?” I shouted as I jumped to my feet. I then pressed my bare ass against the back cushion of the couch and began to slowly drag it up and down. I stared directly into their eyes as I cried wildly, “How about now, Della, now do I have something you want?! Huh?!”

“No because now all I want is for you to stop rubbing your ass on my couch!” She yelled. Even through the dark I could tell that she had tears in her eyes. Man, I’m just so bad at celebrating friends’ birthdays. I promptly stopped rubbing my buttocks on her furniture and sat back down. She took a deep breath and then asked, “How was that supposed to make me want whatever it is you want me to want, anyway?”

I paused for a moment to gather my many well thought out intentions and then replied, “I dunno. I guess I just figured it would work. Did it?”

“NO!” Della and Matt said in unison.

Offended, I retorted “Fine. Well I guess I’ll just put my pants back on and we can get to your birthday surprise.”

“Yes,” Della sighed with bitchy relief, “Let’s do that.”

I grumbled to myself as I rerobed, and reached over the couch for my gift to Della. The wind was picking up, and the hard tapping on the roof assured us that the hail the weatherman had promised had arrived.  Another lightning strike cracked the sky and briefly broke the dense black of the night. With some effort and careful balance, I lifted her present up from behind the couch and placed it on the coffee table in front of me.

Neither Della nor Matt spoke, clearly in awe of my awesome gift. It was a cake- but not just any cake- it’s the most beautiful and perfect cake ever created by man’s imperfect hands. It was a star shaped tower with five tiers. The icing was a golden yellow with silver fondit stars arranged in a complex wave pattern. Trailing each star was a light dusting of a glittery substance which I assured them was edible. When another strike of lightning illuminated the room, the cake’s decorations shimmered and dazzled those of us lucky enough to witness it.

“Who did you steal that from,” Della snapped, completely ruining the moment, the bitch.

“No one!” I shouted over the booming thunder, “I made it with my bare hands! I slaved for you!”

“I don’t believe you,” that awful woman said coldly, “You must’ve stolen it from someone.”

“NO!” I cried as I held the palms of my hands out to her, “These hands! These hands held the whip that I used to encourage a slave to make this cake. It was tough, grueling work, but I struggled through it for you, Della!”

“So that whole, ‘I slaved’ part…”

“Yes,” I replied frankly, “That was a pun.”

“You’re a terrible person.”

“A terrible person that brought you the greatest cake ever!” I exclaimed as the wind howled outside the window, “Now who wants a slice?”

I pulled out my trusty machete and was about carefully carve into the cake when Matt suggested that he go get a “proper knife” for cutting the cake. As he left the living room, he tried flicking the light switch on, but it didn’t work.

“The power must be out,” he said rather stupidly. It’s not like the light switch just decided to not work that day.

“Must be,” I decided to say instead of, “No fucking shit.”

He hurried back with some candles, a lighter, some plates and forks, and a less manly knife. Over the pounding rain, and the howling wind, you could hear the snapping of nearby tree branches. There was a loud bang, and then the wind flooded the house. It flew down the hallway, picking up an old newspaper, and carried it, sheet by sheet, into the living room where it swirled over us like a vortex of bad news and poorly written editorials. Matt ran back out of the room and slammed the front door closed. The wind died, and the sheets of newspaper wafted down to the floor.

“That was weird,” Matt quipped as he reentered the living room, “I remember locking the door when we came in.”

“C’mon,” Della said, sounding exhausted, “Let’s just get this over with.”

Matt (not trusting me with the lighter) lit the candles and we sang for Della. I made sure that I snuck in as many curse words as I could. Della managed to blow out all of the candles with one breath, which shouldn’t have surprised me what with that big, gaping mouth of hers. She then sliced the cake and handed a piece to Matt and me. She then took a piece for herself. Then, they both waited.  So did I. We stared at one another, not saying a word, as the storm raged on outside.

Finally, Matt asked, “Aren’t you going to try the cake that your slave made for you, Minigan?”

“It’s impolite to eat before the birthday girl,” I replied merrily.

Della and Matt had a grim looks plastered on their faces. Clearly they didn’t trust me, the jerks.

“Fine,” I said, “I’ll take the first bite. But I swear I didn’t do anything to the cake.”

I took a bite. Sweet diabetic fuck, the cake was delicious. The cake itself was a dense chocolate chocolate chip, but there pieces of strawberry baked into it too. The icing was a standard buttercream, but it also had the light taste of strawberries added to it too. Within seconds, I was scarfing down my slice of cake and ready for another. More confident, Matt and Della tried their pieces, and then began to shovel the dessert into their mouths like a couple of savages.

We each took a second piece. And then a third. I eventually took a fourth, and by the time I had finished that piece, we were leaning back in our seats with no desire to move.

“Ok, Minigan,” Della said as she stared lazily up at the ceiling, “This officially makes up for half of the horrible things you’ve ever done.”

“Yep,” I murmured as I let the heavy cake settle in my stomach. I was about to let myself drift into a sugar induced coma when the entire house began to shake.

I sat up, as did Della and Matt. I looked out the widow behind me, and realized that the storm had become “end of days” bad.  The wind picked up from a howl to a roar, and you could see it uprooting trees like they were weeds in loose soil. Lightning was flashing so often that was as if someone turned on a strobe light right outside the window. The pounding rain sounded like thousands of fists punching the room and the siding of the old house, which creaked like it was about to fall apart any second. And while I could figure out what was causing all that stuff, I couldn’t figure out an explanation for the walls shaking.

Apparently, neither could Matt or Della because in unison, they said, “What the hell is going on?!”

“Is that something that all married couples do, or are you two just especially creepy?” I asked.

Before they could answer (or probably ask what the hell I was talking about) a faint hissing started from behind the wall. The shaking and the hissing grew louder, and before long, it became obvious that both were coming from within the walls themselves. The banging on the inside of the walls grew to be so strong that dust started to fall from the newly formed cracks in the ceiling.

And that’s when the snakes started pouring into the room… from the walls.

Della shrieked in terror as the cracks in the drywall spread apart and snakes started pouring in like a scaly, hissing waterfall.

“You did this,” Della shouted as she jumped onto her chair, not noticing the crack above her head. The crack spread and dumped dozens of the limbless creatures onto her unsuspecting head. Della thrashed her head around, trying in vain to remove the serpents from her hair.

“How would I have done this, Della?” I shouted back at her.

“You put some of your crazy hallucinogenic drugs into the cake you dick!” she snapped once she got the last snake out of her hair. “You’re probably controlling this whole situation!”

“I swear I’m not!” I cried, “I have no clue what’s going on right now, I promise!”

The last snake slithered out of the hole in the wall, but the banging had become deafening. It was the pipes. You could see them banging against both sides of the wall, cracking the dry wall more and more with each hit. Then, all at once, the pipes cracked and started spraying sewage onto the living room. Almost instantly, the floor was covered and the stench assaulted our nostrils

All three of us screamed as much as our lungs would allow, and headed for the hall. We were fighting over who would get through the doorway first when the banging and sewage spraying stopped, and was replaced with a weird bubbling sound. Slowly, we turned around, and what we saw will probably haunt Della and Matt for years to come. From the lake of sewage that used to be their living room floor, reached a long and strong looking arm, made entirely out of shit. We stood there, petrified, as we watched the arm grow a shoulder, and then a torso, and then another arm, and then legs, and finally a head. The shit creature stood before us, standing at a good eight feet tall, and roared at us.

“Fuck this!” I screamed as I squeezed past Della and Matt and ran into the hall. They immediately followed, and we raced towards the front door. With one powerful kick, I blasted the door off its hinges and I sprinted out into the violent storm, screaming like a manly little girl. Della and Matt Followed.

Shielding my eyes from the rain’s vicious assault, I ran as fast as I could through the rising water. I heard Della and Matt shout things from behind me, but my own survival out ranks my listening capabilities, especially when it comes to cruddy friends that blame things on me. Unfortunately for me, they somehow caught up with me.

“What the hell was that about, Minigan?!” Della ask-screamed.

“I don’t fucking know!” I scream-screamed back.

“Well, this shit all started when we ate the cake you brought,” Della snapped, “What did you put in the cake?”

“I DIDN’T PUT ANYTHING IN THE GODDAMN CAKE!” I roared, “If I survive this, I promise to ask my gypsy slave what he added to it, but I’m still going to have to survive this ordeal with you two dicks first.”

“Wait,” Della said as she grabbed me by the shoulder and pulled be back to face them, “You enslaved a gypsy?”

“Well, who was I going to enslave? A black guy? That’s kind of illegal, Della.”

“I’m pretty sure enslaving anyone is illegal,” Matt added.

“Ooh,” I retorted as I threw my hands up in the air defensively, “Look at the cop lecturing me on what’s legal.”

“But why would you choose a gypsy?” Della asked, “You know they can curse you right?”

“What?!” I cried, “Oh, I’m going to fuck that guy up when I get back home.”

A faint scream made all three of us look back at Della’s now battered looking house.

“Hannah!” Della gasped, “Oh my God. We left her in there with that thing!”

Dell and Matt turned around and hurriedly sloshed through the water back to the house.

Staying far away from that doomed building, I called, “Just leave her! It isn’t worth it!”

“But it’s my sister!” I heard Della reply foolishly.

“I’ll buy you a new one!” I yelled back.

Impressively, this stopped the normally foolish Della. She turned back to face me, and with a concerned face, she asked, “Why do you always treat other humans as objects?”

“Hu-mons aren’t objects?”

She rolled her eyes (what a bitch) and headed back to the house. She and Matt entered, and I stood there, one hundred yards from what was possibly the gates of Hell, when I realized that I was all alone. Before I knew it, I was sprinting back to the house, thinking to myself, they’ll probably need my help anyway. I am  the only one who has fought immortal monsters before.

I kicked the front door open again (I had to prop it back up in the doorway first- I wanted to make an entrance) and sprinted back into the living room, where the sewage monster had Della, Matt, and Hannah cornered. The wall of stench nearly knocked me out, but through my own heroic fortitude, I muscled through the smell and grabbed my abandoned machete.

I stepped up behind the monster, plunged the machete through its back and muttered, “Eat shit and die.” Then, with both hands, I pulled my blade up, slicing the monster in half.

For a second, the monster stood there as if what I had done had no effect on him. But then, it fell to the ground and melted back into a pool of pooey filth water. The rain stopped pounding. The lightning stopped flashing. The wind stopped roaring. When the lights came back on, the four of us finally caught our first glimpse of the damage done to the living room. There were holes in the walls and ceiling large enough to fit a midget through. Various pipes- I doubt that all of them were for sewage- stuck out from those holes. The floor was littered with thousands of poo covered snake corpses, and hundreds more terrified snakes had gathered on the various pieces of furniture.

“My house is ruined!” Della cried.

“Yeah,” I replied as I scratched the back of my head, “My bad.”

“I’m never going to get the smell of shit out of the carpet,” she muttered, tears pouring out of her eyes and down her rain and poo water covered cheeks.”

“I know Della, I know,” I cooed to her, “And I know that this Birthday gift to you was kind of a bust…”

“KIND OF?!?!”

“But I have an idea that might make you feel better,” I continued as if I hadn’t been so rudely interrupted.

“Nothing will ever make me feel better, Minigan!”

With a fiendish little grin, I replied, “Not even force feeding the rest of the cursed cake to my gypsy slave?”

Immediately, she stopped crying. She looked right at me. Her eyes were still red and puffy, but the glimmer behind them told me she liked what she heard.

“That would actually make me feel better,” she answered, and for the first time ever, I had respect for her.

“Awesome!” I exclaimed, “Now Matt, load that cake into my car. I say it’s about time we serve some payback to a goddamn two timing, curse happy, gypsy slave.”

How I Do Birfdayz, Yo

Before I start rambling this time around, I would like to thank Takeru Kobayashi (the Asian dude who eats hotdogs to become famous) for being a douchebag and interrupting a eating contest. Because of this, he made the news and people prayed to the all knowing Google (blessed be thy name) for the answer as to who the fuck this dude is. Google, in turn directed them to my blog. I got almost 100 hits on July 4th and got 120 on July 5th because of this, and you have no idea how happy I am because of this. Seriously, I just came…

Anyway, now that I have cleaned myself up, Lets get to the blog.

I have been having these strange feelings lately. Everyday Hu-mons tell me that this feeling that I am feeling is called compassion. (Did I spell that right?I’ve never heard or used that word before. In fact, I am a little suspicious that you Hu-mons made it up to confuse me.) In any case, for reasons unbeknownst to me, becoming oddly sentimental lately.  I don’t know what’s causing this, or how to stop it, but I thought it might be amusing for you all if I share how some instances that I have attempted at being nice.

On June first, 4 of my friends had a birthday, and I decided to wish them all a happy birthday. However, I did not want to put a lot of effort into it. I was originally going to wish them a happy birthday via status update, but I soon became distracted my other things on the internet. No, I am NOT talking about porn. I was looking at Captionunrelated.com and decided that I could do the same thing, so I set out to do just that. I found a site that can add captions to images, and started to make my own pictures with unrelated captions when it hit me: I could do this for their birthday!  So, going the completely opposite route work-wise than what I originally intended, I made the four. These first four are really just insults, but still, I MADE them birthday cards (electronically). See? Sentimental.

Anyway, I like the idea so much that I thought that I would continue with this throughout the month of June, and made as many as I could. These are those birthday cards:

This first one was for my friend Dan Miller. I went to high school with him and was one of my good friends in the band. I also made out with his sister at a dance, but that is a different story all together. After I moved to Ohio, he quickly fell into the chasms of nerdom and began to play Dungeons and Dragons. I currently know of a dork that plays it (and refuses to not talk about it), and I can assure all of you non-nerdy people that how retarded you think it sounds, it 100 times dumber than that. For his birthday, I made him this card:

Happy Birthday Danny!

The second person is also someone I went to high school with, but Watkins this time. I was also in the band with him, he dated my one of my good friends, and I was at one point the singer in his band. We hadn’t talked in a while, but I felt this would be a good time to start a new conversation. I actually chose one of my favorite quotes that I have come up with but have never had a chance to use.  That probably makes me a self-indulgent prick, but hey, do you expect anything else from me? I made a NCAA bracket tournament to decide the name of my dick. C’mon, even I admit that I am self absorbed. Anyway, here is my birthday card to Dominic:

Happy Birthday Dominic!

The third person was the owner of the Old School Gym, Dustin. Last year, he taught me some ab work outs. And by doing so, he basically challenged me to an abdominal off. If any of you are jealous of my amazing abs or at least annoyed with how much I talk about them, you have Dustin to blame.

You created this monster, Dustin.

I eventually caught up to, and surpassed him in the stomach muscle region. And for those of you who  are familiar with the ending of Mary Shelley’s “Frankenstein,” understand that since I am the monster, it would only be a matter of time that I would beat him in the worst possible way. His birthday card pointed out that I was finally better than him:

Happy Birthday Dustin!

Then, there was Zach. I worked with him at The Geagle before he got his dumb ass fired, and I see him every once in a while at the gym. He is a good guy and all, but at times I want to back hand him for being so stupid. He also has a tendency to write all of his status updates in all caps. I don’t know if he knows that that is the way you yell at someone over the computer, or if he doesn’t know that his caps lock is on, but it bothers the Hell out of me and it must stop. Anyway, I did not have a good insult for him at the time, so I basically used one of my “caption unrelated” pictures. Here it is:

Happy Birthday, Zach!

I still think it is fitting for him.

After I made these original four, I decided that I had a good idea on my hands, and I decided to continue with this idea throughout the month of June. These next ones are a bit out of order date-wise, but you probably don’t know these people, so who the fuck cares?

This next one I made was for my cousin, Sam. He turned 13 or something. The one I made for him just might be my favorite of the group, mainly because the rest seem to fit into a phrasing formula that this one does not. Also, with this one, the picture and the caption work with each other, whereas the pictures on the other ones only add to the caption. For Sam’s card, it is funnier when you have both the picture and the caption. See for yourself:

Happy Birthday Sam!

Next up was my Aunt June. For hers, I wanted to do something also dealing with violence, so I decided to take a picture I had stumbled upon a while back. I am not the biggest fan of the caption, but I was trying to avoid a cliché, and this was the best I came up with. Don’t judge me!

Happy Birthday June!

Next up: my cousin Kelsey. She is the daughter of June and the older sister of Sam. This means that  every birthday except for one  in that household fell in the month of June. (Way to fuck things up, Kirsten!) Here is my card to Kelsey:

Happy Birthday Kelsey!

These next two were for my two friends from highschool. They are twins, so I decided to go with that theme for their cards.

Happy Birthday Kelsie or Kayla!

Ok, this one was definetly for Kelsie; everyone knows that Kayla is the evil one.

This next one was for one of my best friends from Watkins. He was one of those artsy types, and I would normally never associate with those people, but he made me this kickass pottery bowl-thing, so he’s cool in my book. He probably will not take that as a complement, and I do not blame him; I am a terrible judge of character. Anyway, For his birthday I wanted to tell him how he makes me feel- mostly nauseous:

Happy Birthday Joel!

This next one was for my friend Jordan. He works out at the gym, and he was one of the first non-band people I met after I moved to Ohio. I’m pretty sure he hated me back then. Anyway, he wears these retarded green shoes at the gym, and I cannot help but laugh to myself whenever I see them. So, in lue of that, I made him this:

Green shoes? WTF Jordan?

For the rest of the birthdays, I do not remember who I made the pictures for, so I am just going to throw them up here and let you people sort it out. Enjoy:

Happy Birthday “?”!

Happy Birthday “?”!

Happy Birthday “?”!

Well, I guess I still have a long road ahead of me compassion-wise. But at least I am on the right road! C’mon, baby steps, people, baby steps.

Anyway, these are all of the e-cards that I made. I would continue to make these, but I have lost all interest in doing so. This actually was difficult to do on a regular basis, and I quickly ran out of ideas. You might be wondering how I would run out of ideas, but fuck you. What am I, a writer? Oh, yea…

Oh, and this is my 25th blog post! In celebration of this historic event, I have made myself a picture with a caption. (I know what I wrote in my last paragraph, but whatever.)

Wow, this hurts. I’m a dick.

Peace

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