"The evil henchman Bobbe was captured by the Matadors and slowly had his limbs sawed off with a rusty butterknife. Also, they forced him to drink American beer, which killed him instantaneously".
Excuse? No excuse. Just saw an opportunity to do evil, and then one thing led to another I guess.
DOING something to me?
C'mon, Steve. I mean, I bow in deference to your *AHEM* advanced years...But how much damage could a wheelchair do, anyway? I suppose you COULD throw the remnants of that poor brick at me. Unless you've moved on to breaking graham crackers. You know, something with more of a challenge.
You'd be surprised at the number of people who wind up in the ER with wheelchair marks up their backs.
And it so easy when the victims swill down stale Nazi beer to the point where they pass out -- what's that in your case? half a bottle? -- and just lie there like broke-leg hippos hoping the crocs don't get 'em ...
Hey, it's not just that Soylent Green is people, is that Nazi beer is people *pee.* You guys who need to run it through for a second time?
So sad ...
Is that wrench in your hand to tighten the screw loose in your head? Or to open the clogged pipe in your septic tank and allow all that beer sludge to drain, hmmm ... ?
And YOU'D be surprised at the number of people who get attacked by houses. Exactly zero. But at least you're training for it! With a little work, who knows what you could do? I'd suggest you go after thoise damn mailbox posts next. Arrogant bastards. Thery're just asking for it.
Oh, that Nazi beer you keep ragging on? It's aged in the bottle with active yeast. It's a little trick we call "Fermentation". It's all the rage these days. And hundreds of years ago. Figured you of all people would remember, but then they say that the memory IS the first to go. Remind me to spring for some Geritol for you.
The wrench is to fend off masters of "Brick-Fu", whose hands are so deadly they must register them as...Bruised Hands!
Fermented pee or unfermented pee? Some choice. You may keep both.
Houses fall on people all the time. Can you say "Earthquake?"
The ability to tunnel through the falling debris is useful. I was in California when that photo was taken, after all. Two, three times a week the ground shook.
Plus when Samson pulled the temple down, it really came in handy.
Many is the time since I escaped death from falling bricks just because I had that ability.
Of course, those of you Generation X'er's raised in the no-information age wouldn't see the use in such skills. If, soused to the gills on Herr Himmler's's Urine Trouble Brew, you'd even, uh, *notice* the house had fallen on you.
But since I gave all that up when I came across silat, finding it easier to just avoid the debris by sensing when the quake was going to happen and going outside, I don't need it anymore; still, better to have it and not need it than to need it an not have it.
And actually, memory is the second thing to go -- I told you that last time we met. Don't you, uh, recall?
That pickling brine you slosh down has truly shrunken it all to just a couple dendrites, hey?
Steve, I’m more than a touch disappointed. I expected you to rip me a new one and I barely get my toes nibbled. I’ve seen quad-amputees kick more ass.
I’m sure you feel confident in your abilities to go Jackie Chan on any offending building that crosses your path, and to be sure, digging your way out of an Earthquake-induces pile of rubble could be a necessity in California.
Others just choose to live somewhere that the ground doesn’t want to kill us. In the Zombie universe we simply call that “Brraaiiinnnsssss”
And personally, if I had the choice to fight off the Chrysler building in unarmed combat or slug down some of Mengele’s Malted Messerschmitt, well, just put me down for a case of booze from the Axis of Evil. Make it two.
(Er…I suppose if I was being attacked by the Chrysler building it would at minimum drive me to drinking anyway).
I mean for God’s sake Steve, YOU’RE HITTING A BRICK WHILE SPORTING A GOATEE! And you freely admit to being in California…What’s next, your secret life with the Manson family? Jeebus, you look like you should be on the back cover of the “Hotel California” album.
Won? Not even in the game, Kid. The bat boy doesn't even get a chance to step up to the plate in the Show with the real players.
As it happens, Charlie went all helter-skelter about the time that picture was taken in L.A. It's like the title of Elmer Keith's book "Hell, I was *There!*
Charlie and the girls used to roam the tennis courts down the street from our place when the lights went out.
And the ground? Why, it wants to kill us everywhere. Look at a quake zone map lately? You live on the Ring of Fire, boy. Last big quake up north of you cracked swimming pools in east Texas.
Best you get some bricks and start practicing. Vulcan is limbering up his hammer.
But, I do understand. All those insecurities you have, why you try and drown 'em that fermented Nazi pee. I mean, when it got out that your wife kept asking for an electron microscope every Christmas, just so's she could actually get a glimpse of your teeny-weeny, uh, weenie?
Why, I can see how that would drive you to drink.
And in the Zombie universe, surely somebody woulda shot you in the head by now -- though I loved your turn in *Thriller." I hear you and Michael Jackson were really close.
10 comments:
You could end up in Steve's next book if you are not careful. It wouldn't be pretty
Probably already there...
"The evil henchman Bobbe was captured by the Matadors and slowly had his limbs sawed off with a rusty butterknife. Also, they forced him to drink American beer, which killed him instantaneously".
"Young" and "foolish," are, of course, redundant most of the time, and never more true than in your case, lad ...
Me, I was but a tender and foolish twenty-one when I chopped that brick in twain.
What, uh, is your excuse for this behavior ... ?
You know what the Cisco Kid had inscribed on the barrel of his gun?
"Don't make me hurt you ..."
The only questions are, how much and when am I gonna do it?
Or, as Geena Davis said to the bar girl Jeff Goldblum picked up in The Fly:
"Be afraid. Be very afraid ..."
"Death came for him in a bottle of Black Butte Porter"
actually, it wouldn't be a first...
Excuse? No excuse. Just saw an opportunity to do evil, and then one thing led to another I guess.
DOING something to me?
C'mon, Steve. I mean, I bow in deference to your *AHEM* advanced years...But how much damage could a wheelchair do, anyway? I suppose you COULD throw the remnants of that poor brick at me. Unless you've moved on to breaking graham crackers. You know, something with more of a challenge.
You'd be surprised at the number of people who wind up in the ER with wheelchair marks up their backs.
And it so easy when the victims swill down stale Nazi beer to the point where they pass out -- what's that in your case? half a bottle? -- and just lie there like broke-leg hippos hoping the crocs don't get 'em ...
Hey, it's not just that Soylent Green is people, is that Nazi beer is people *pee.* You guys who need to run it through for a second time?
So sad ...
Is that wrench in your hand to tighten the screw loose in your head? Or to open the clogged pipe in your septic tank and allow all that beer sludge to drain, hmmm ... ?
And YOU'D be surprised at the number of people who get attacked by houses. Exactly zero. But at least you're training for it! With a little work, who knows what you could do? I'd suggest you go after thoise damn mailbox posts next. Arrogant bastards. Thery're just asking for it.
Oh, that Nazi beer you keep ragging on? It's aged in the bottle with active yeast. It's a little trick we call "Fermentation". It's all the rage these days. And hundreds of years ago. Figured you of all people would remember, but then they say that the memory IS the first to go. Remind me to spring for some Geritol for you.
The wrench is to fend off masters of "Brick-Fu", whose hands are so deadly they must register them as...Bruised Hands!
Fermented pee or unfermented pee? Some choice. You may keep both.
Houses fall on people all the time. Can you say "Earthquake?"
The ability to tunnel through the falling debris is useful. I was in California when that photo was taken, after all. Two, three times a week the ground shook.
Plus when Samson pulled the temple down, it really came in handy.
Many is the time since I escaped death from falling bricks just because I had that ability.
Of course, those of you Generation X'er's raised in the no-information age wouldn't see the use in such skills. If, soused to the gills on Herr Himmler's's Urine Trouble Brew, you'd even, uh, *notice* the house had fallen on you.
But since I gave all that up when I came across silat, finding it easier to just avoid the debris by sensing when the quake was going to happen and going outside, I don't need it anymore; still, better to have it and not need it than to need it an not have it.
And actually, memory is the second thing to go -- I told you that last time we met. Don't you, uh, recall?
That pickling brine you slosh down has truly shrunken it all to just a couple dendrites, hey?
"Mmm. Nazi Beer. Mmmm ..."
You and Homer ...
Advantage: old guy. Your serve, Kid ...
Steve, I’m more than a touch disappointed. I expected you to rip me a new one and I barely get my toes nibbled. I’ve seen quad-amputees kick more ass.
I’m sure you feel confident in your abilities to go Jackie Chan on any offending building that crosses your path, and to be sure, digging your way out of an Earthquake-induces pile of rubble could be a necessity in California.
Others just choose to live somewhere that the ground doesn’t want to kill us. In the Zombie universe we simply call that “Brraaiiinnnsssss”
And personally, if I had the choice to fight off the Chrysler building in unarmed combat or slug down some of Mengele’s Malted Messerschmitt, well, just put me down for a case of booze from the Axis of Evil. Make it two.
(Er…I suppose if I was being attacked by the Chrysler building it would at minimum drive me to drinking anyway).
I mean for God’s sake Steve, YOU’RE HITTING A BRICK WHILE SPORTING A GOATEE! And you freely admit to being in California…What’s next, your secret life with the Manson family? Jeebus, you look like you should be on the back cover of the “Hotel California” album.
I’ve won this one, Old Man.
Won? Not even in the game, Kid. The bat boy doesn't even get a chance to step up to the plate in the Show with the real players.
As it happens, Charlie went all helter-skelter about the time that picture was taken in L.A. It's like the title of Elmer Keith's book "Hell, I was *There!*
Charlie and the girls used to roam the tennis courts down the street from our place when the lights went out.
And the ground? Why, it wants to kill us everywhere. Look at a quake zone map lately? You live on the Ring of Fire, boy. Last big quake up north of you cracked swimming pools in east Texas.
Best you get some bricks and start practicing. Vulcan is limbering up his hammer.
But, I do understand. All those insecurities you have, why you try and drown 'em that fermented Nazi pee. I mean, when it got out that your wife kept asking for an electron microscope every Christmas, just so's she could actually get a glimpse of your teeny-weeny, uh, weenie?
Why, I can see how that would drive you to drink.
And in the Zombie universe, surely somebody woulda shot you in the head by now -- though I loved your turn in *Thriller." I hear you and Michael Jackson were really close.
*Really* close ...
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