You desire to do something epic, something noteworthy, something that society will remember forever, so you've decided to gather a group of your friends, sneak into the zoo, and go blow up a giraffe. The three of you have been planning this for weeks, trying to find the best way to gather the necessary materials without attracting the attention of the Feds. Thermite, for example, is way too obvious, and they'd catch on. Plus, it wouldn't explode the giraffe so much as melt it.
This isn't going to be as easy as you thought it would be. It turns out that you can't just go to your local superstore, and buy TNT. Luckily for you, you have a close buddy who runs a fireworks stand, so that giraffe is totally going to have artillery shells blowing out of his ass.
Early on the appointed morning, you sneak into the zoo. The cameras see you but nobody reacts right away because really, How often does somebody break into the zoo to try to blow up the giraffes? One of your friends will break his leg when he jumps into the pen and misses the tree that he was aiming for. It's about a fifteen foot fall. Really though, it's okay, because he's just the camera guy, and can film the explosion from where he is.
You and your other friend sneak up to the giraffe with the home-made M-One million-billion. There's enough gunpowder in that sucker to restart the Vietnam War. The tough part is getting it on the giraffe. First, you try holding some leaves next to it to see if you can get the giraffe to swallow it. It eats the leaves and ignores the improvised explosive device. Next, you try sticking it up its ass, but for some reason the giraffe isn't okay with that either. Luckily for you, you brought your duct tape. You manage to sneak up close enough to the animal to tape it to its tail. That's going to have to do.
By this time, the zoo park guards have finally noticed you and are beginning to work their way into the pen shouting things like,
"Stop it!"
and
"Get out of there, you stupid idiot!"
The two of you quickly light the fuse, and then walk away in slow motion like you're in a movie or something. At the last second, the tail swings in your direction and the bomb explodes in your faces, peeling the skin off your cheeks and blinding you in one eye.
"Coooooooool."
You say.
You'll look over to your injured friend to see if he got it all on tape, but by then he'll have passed out from internal bleeding and shock.
Now you know.
Tuesday, September 21, 2010
Friday, September 17, 2010
What if...Gregorian chanters?
This morning you going to win a contest that you didn't even know you had entered. It was from some unusual soda company that you had never heard of before called Bearoin.
"Feel like a bear, drink Bearoin." Was printed on the label.
You were disappointed and didn't feel all too bearish. You had opened the soda cap, drank your beverage, and thrown the bottle away, failing to notice the small print under the cap stating
"Throw this cap away for a chance to have a choir follow you around all day singing Gregorian chant"
The chanters arrive at your house and start doing their thing right at dawn, waking you to the sound of holy ancient men singing ominously in what could be Latin. When you slowly get out of bed, crack your back, and scratch yourself, everything seems to be moving in slow motion. Everything seems more interesting, more dramatic. You strike a pose while you are brushing your teeth, and raise both of your eyebrows suspiciously as you theatrically devour your Lame-Os (TM).
When you finally finish dressing yourself, you head outside and see them for the first time. There are about twenty of them, dressed in old brown robes.
"Why are you singing?" You say.
"You won a contest."
"Oh. Okay."
You get into your car, and the choir all piles into a tour bus that they had parked in the street next to your house. They roll down their windows and continue to sing while they follow you. Throughout the heavy traffic, the bus manages to stay right behind you the whole way. Every red light, the dramatic music crescendos into a peak frenzy. A guy cuts you off on the road and the choir sings in fortissimo.
When you walk into work, the choir follows you from a distance, still singing. The building security guard attempts to stop them. You explain,
"It's okay, I won a contest."
They all cram into the elevator with you. AS you go up 20 floors, they sing from a low to a high pitch,
"ooooooOOOOOOOAAAAAAAHHHHHH!"
They stand outside of your cubicle and sing as you check your E-mail, as you try to make a phone call to a client, and as you walk over to the water cooler to talk about that one new Tarantino movie you haven't seen yet. Several curious employees will ask you what the deal is with the choir. You will be forced to explain the contest thing to them over and over. By the lunch hour, you'll just resort to telling people to go away.
Your boss walks up to you and attempt to have you get rid of them. You explain that you just don't have the heart, and besides, you won a contest. He threatens you with your job.
Your boss finally tells you to take the day off, to get rid of the choir. They follow you in the bus again. On the way home, you get into a terrible car accident. Your leg bends in ways that it shouldn't, and a scrap of the car's twisted wreckage penetrates just past your right eye socket.
The bus full of chanters don't get out to help you though. Instead, they'll stay on the bus, singing all the more dramatically of your pain. It makes your death solemn, memorable, and special.
The choir will not stay around for your funeral, however, because the prize only lasts for a day.
Now you know.
"Feel like a bear, drink Bearoin." Was printed on the label.
You were disappointed and didn't feel all too bearish. You had opened the soda cap, drank your beverage, and thrown the bottle away, failing to notice the small print under the cap stating
"Throw this cap away for a chance to have a choir follow you around all day singing Gregorian chant"
The chanters arrive at your house and start doing their thing right at dawn, waking you to the sound of holy ancient men singing ominously in what could be Latin. When you slowly get out of bed, crack your back, and scratch yourself, everything seems to be moving in slow motion. Everything seems more interesting, more dramatic. You strike a pose while you are brushing your teeth, and raise both of your eyebrows suspiciously as you theatrically devour your Lame-Os (TM).
When you finally finish dressing yourself, you head outside and see them for the first time. There are about twenty of them, dressed in old brown robes.
"Why are you singing?" You say.
"You won a contest."
"Oh. Okay."
You get into your car, and the choir all piles into a tour bus that they had parked in the street next to your house. They roll down their windows and continue to sing while they follow you. Throughout the heavy traffic, the bus manages to stay right behind you the whole way. Every red light, the dramatic music crescendos into a peak frenzy. A guy cuts you off on the road and the choir sings in fortissimo.
When you walk into work, the choir follows you from a distance, still singing. The building security guard attempts to stop them. You explain,
"It's okay, I won a contest."
They all cram into the elevator with you. AS you go up 20 floors, they sing from a low to a high pitch,
"ooooooOOOOOOOAAAAAAAHHHHHH!"
They stand outside of your cubicle and sing as you check your E-mail, as you try to make a phone call to a client, and as you walk over to the water cooler to talk about that one new Tarantino movie you haven't seen yet. Several curious employees will ask you what the deal is with the choir. You will be forced to explain the contest thing to them over and over. By the lunch hour, you'll just resort to telling people to go away.
Your boss walks up to you and attempt to have you get rid of them. You explain that you just don't have the heart, and besides, you won a contest. He threatens you with your job.
Your boss finally tells you to take the day off, to get rid of the choir. They follow you in the bus again. On the way home, you get into a terrible car accident. Your leg bends in ways that it shouldn't, and a scrap of the car's twisted wreckage penetrates just past your right eye socket.
The bus full of chanters don't get out to help you though. Instead, they'll stay on the bus, singing all the more dramatically of your pain. It makes your death solemn, memorable, and special.
The choir will not stay around for your funeral, however, because the prize only lasts for a day.
Now you know.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)