Dumping After Hours Is Strictly Prohibited

The people waiting downstairs will have to wait until we’ve sorted few things out. The constant stomping and stinking will just have to go on a few minutes longer. We still have the problem of the cat to deal with: It isn’t nearly drunk enough. And the sheets in here are really nasty. A can of disinfectant will need to be put to quick work. After that, the phones will have balloons placed over them to prevent the obvious trouble, and of course the floors will suffer terribly, but there’s nothing to be done about it now. Just one more thing: Any munk tracks on my pillow, and there’s a fucking war in this house. Got it?

Nothing Ventured

Without the cover of the bushes to protect them, twelve young men, many of the unshowered variety, were easily located and driven into the river by a pair of hippopotamuses. Once underwater, the group of men were quickly swept away by the rapids, and those who were not permanently towed under the waves were thrown against the rocks until the guts oozed from their slacken mouths. One of the men did manage to cross the river with his life, but he soon realized that he had crossed over into Montague County, and fuck that. One of the hippos looked across the river at the man and shrugged her shoulders. He quickly swam back across the river, and she kissed him, and the three carried on like horny mice until they were sore, pink and stinky.

Pummeled Oysters with Bad Attitudes

Running the water all night long might’ve been a mistake. The faucet won’t swing from left to right anymore and the stuff coming out of it sure as shit isn’t water. The plates and cups in the sink will have to be moved to another location while the situation is being sorted out. IMPORTANT: Don’t breathe a word of this to His Majesty; there may be a way to cover this whole thing up before he even finds out. If not, we’re all doing the hot squats for sure. Get the parachutes ready, just in case. And no more singing in the bell tower, and you know why.

Plates are Spinning in Your Heart

Ugly is one of the words most overused by Americans to describe things that are actually more shabby, gaudy, violent, or arty-farty than they are ugly in the original sense of the word. For something to be truly ugly, there need to be three of them in the same room, and they all need to have droopy tits.

Stop Smelling My Farts

The ownership of the ferns remained in hot dispute, and in the absence of proper documentation or an ounce of common ground among the parties, it looked like the only way out was a big fat punch in the ass. So, fuck you.

Message For Those With Good Reasons

Since last week’s briefing, the Third Sub-Committee has successfully met Objective Square-Seven. The project to discover inexpensive and offensive military applications of the Pee Cramp (SW-7XJ1) has yielded bountiful and forbidden fruit. The members of the Third Sub-Committee are hereby ordered to submit a full report to the Secret Section by the end of the Winter, and six (6) half-hour segments are expected to run on network television news programs not more than ten (10) days following the opening of the Peach Festival. With any luck, no one will pay any attention and the enemy will be taken by brute force and lots of shooting. Those objecting to the use of the Pee Cramp on innocent civilians are advised to grow up and watch a prepared videotape, which is being made available to the Full Committee, until you can show us a goddamn smile. The tape (VT-9TS6) features images of men getting hit in the nuts with tennis balls. Heh. That is all.