Thursday, May 31, 2012

Recognizing Some Awards and Random Questions and Things About Myself and Stuff

*UPDATE* Formatting fixed.
The following are awards I received from bloggers that are way better writers than I:

Awarded by 
Jeremy at Geeky Tendencies and 
Chuck at Apocalypse Now:

Awarded by Laura at My Baffling Brain:

I was challenged by Blondie McBaffled to complete a set of 11 questions she provided me. Since I don't take well to defeat, I decided to complete her challenge.

1. If you were an animal, what would you be and why?
I would be a golden retriever for sure because every house a golden retriever resides in is pristine and lavish. I've never met a poor, hillbilly bumpkin who owns a retriever. Retriever owners are usually rich and arrogant, but most important of all, they have a pool. Also, with the arrogance that accompanies their wealth, they're going to make sure I outshine the other peasant dogs in the neighborhood. That means baths and brushes every day. Oh, and I don't have to work, and I can sleep all day.

2. If you could have any super power you wanted, what would it be and how would you use it?
I want to control time. Say some hot stranger is talking to me. Moments after she leaves, my friend comes over to me and says, "That girl was hitting on you. Are you a fucking retard?" Instead of wallowing in regret, I can simply reverse time and pick up on her obscure form of flirting. Then again, if I could control time, I'd be the wealthiest man alive and wouldn't need to worry about such things.

3. If you could only eat one food for the rest of your life but you could chose what it would be, what food would you choose?
Bacon. Without a doubt. You can feed me some dude's dick, and as long as it's wrapped in bacon, I'll gladly wrap my mouth around it. Wow, that just got weird. It sucks because no one ever cooks enough bacon for me to be satisfied. They always ask the stupid question, "Do you want bacon?" and when I nod my head; they slap two slivers on my plate because they only cooked like ten pieces for five people. Amateurs.

4. What's the weirdest thing you've ever eaten or put in your mouth?
Funny that this question came up right after I was talking about sucking dick. But truthfully, the strangest thing I used to do when I was younger was chew on tinfoil and tiny pebbles. I liked the taste of tinfoil and enjoyed crushing the pebbles between my teeth. Dentists always blame my cavities on my lack of flossing, but I know the real reason.

5. If a movie was made about your life, which actor/actress would play you?
Although Paul Giamatti is my favorite actor, I'd say the characters that Michael Cera plays would be a perfect representation of my younger self. As I am now, basically any character can capture my personality, but Michael Cera can probably represent my extreme awkwardness as a child the best. I was very soft spoken and oblivious.

6. Name at least three of your pet peeves or quirks.
a) I lose consciousness every time I witness someone not use their blinker, whether they cut me off or are 40 miles ahead of me.
b) This usually occurs in sitcoms, but I dislike when a show/movie drags on a joke for an awkwardly long time. They say, "blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah," when it should have ended at "blah blah blah." Know what I mean?
c) TMZ Magazine and how it has a show.

7. What was your first kiss experience? (How old, where, open or close mouthed, etc.)
Well I don't know if it should count because she was passed out from the roofies I slipped into her drink. So, my real first kiss was outside a Middle School basketball game in the parking lot. No tongue was used, I was somewhat loose-lipped, and I'm pretty sure I had a chubby. It was surprisingly lame.

8. If you could have a get out of jail free card to beat the shit out of anyone in the world, who would you use it on and why?
Without a doubt, Bill Maher. Besides none of his jokes being funny and having a ridiculously punchable face, I despise this man for his lackadaisical, half-hearted attempts at racy, political jokes that actually make news headlines. "But Mitt, we have a picture of you giving money to a homeless person... I did NOT give a bum money! I was paying him to blow me!" Sorry if you find this guy funny, but I just don't see it.

9. What's the naughtiest thing you ever did as a kid and do your parents know you did it?
I live near a junk lot, and when I was younger, my friends and I would always sneak onto the property and steal the car ornaments and decals. The owners had some very unfriendly Rottweilers and would release them if they spotted us. Luckily the dogs were loud enough for us to tell when they were released, giving us enough time to hop back over the rock wall. Once in a while they would chase us in a truck if they were bored enough, but by the time they reached us, we were already close enough to the woods for them to not give a fuck anymore.

10. What's the worst pickup line you've ever heard or used?
"Hi, my name is Chiz."

11. What's the best pickup line you've ever heard or used, and did it work?
"Hi, my name is Steve." It didn't work nearly as well as I'd hoped. I've never actually used a pickup line. I usually just engage the other in conversation.
               

 And, now for 11 random things about myself:

1. My favorite band is The Dear Hunter, and I’m a big fan of concept albums. My biggest guilty pleasure is the album Razia’s Shadow by Forgive Durden (sounds like a Disney musical).  My favorite genres consist of all varieties of rock and metal, but I can tolerate all music, as long as it’s not country.
      2. I watch a handful of anime usually consisting of action, psychological thrillers, or comedies (it’s difficult to find any that are actually funny, though). If I had to list some of my favorites, they would be Paranoia Agent, Golden Boy, Cromartie High, Samurai Champloo, and Bleach (too lazy to think of more). I am currently reading the Bleach manga at the moment since the series ended.
      3. I managed to write, direct, and perform in a one-act play entitled Cinnamon Toaster Strudel that had a massive audience of like 20 people or something.
      4. When I use a porta-potty, I like to unravel a little toilet paper, roll it into a ball, toss it in the toilet, and pee all over it.
      5. I’ve got about 40 minutes of a Screenplay written, but decided to stop when I noticed that it had the same exact plot as the movie, 21 Jump Street. It had the genius title of Under Wraps.
      6. I’m actually not too bad at drawing despite the pictures you’ve seen on my blog. I’m no Picasso, but I can draw the shit out of a goofy looking bird.
      7. I’m in the process of writing a novel. It’s going horrible, but I think it’s a unique concept as long as I can finish the damn thing before I die. It’s somewhat of a sci-fi/dystopian future novel. I figure the dystopian genre will be the trend following vampires, so why not jump on that bandwagon? I don’t want to reveal too much, but it contains aliens, reanimated minions, and war.  That give you a hard-on or what?
      8. I didn’t learn how to efficiently wipe my ass until I saw Tenacious D and The Pick of Destiny.
      9. I once gave $20 to a homeless dude. He wanted to know my address so he could hopefully pay me back some day. I didn’t give him my address.
     10. I was big into urban exploration when I was younger. I covered everything from abandoned insane asylums (my favorite) and hospitals to theme parks and schools.
     11. I once had sex outside… on a rock… with a very promiscuous girl… without wearing protection. I was later covered in an itchy, red breakout around my private area. I got tested later to find out it was poison ivy and that I was STD free. Wear protection, kids.
     12. BONUS: No one will sit next to me on the train because the sunburn on my face makes it look like I have leprosy.

Wow, that was actually difficult. Who the hell am I?!

Alright. If you couldn't tell by all the ignorant comments I leave about myself on your blogs, I love to talk about myself. So, now that this is out of the way, I'll hopefully be back tomorrow with a regular post. 

Monday, May 28, 2012

How To Insult Your Boss (A Lame Comic By Me)

So I saw someone drawing one of those hand turkeys the other day. So, I did what any other person would do. I drew a lame comic about it. 























Don't worry. I'll have a real post this week. I'm just recovering from a long weekend, and my face feels like a thousand suns.

Monday, May 21, 2012

The Traditional Children's Game Trials: Part IV

The dark silhouette stood over me. I had already unloaded one shit into my pants, and I felt I was overdue for round two when the shadow offered out his hand. "I'm terribly sorry, mister. I thought you were part of the search party." He shook his head, "I mean game." The silhouette stepped out of the shadows and revealed itself as a young boy.

"I preble bleh mah." I struggled to find my tongue which was lodged somewhere in my esophagus. "Sorry, I actually am part of the game." The child looked perturbed. "I mean to say, I've been forced into this game, you see? I need to find this boy named Brendan, and in order to do so, I mus--"

"Brendan? What business do you have with a child? You're like 80-years-old."

I repeated an Inuit calming mechanism in my head to subdue the rage boiling inside me. "I'm seeing these visions. I hear Brendan is learned in the ways of paranormal phenomenon... And mayyybe, there might be some candy in it for him if he helps me out," I hinted.

"You're not making a strong argument for yourself," the child remarked. "Are you acquainted with a Mr. Chris Hanson?"

"Listen, Brendan. I need your help. I don't know what's happening to me, but I fear I may be losing my mind."

"Alright, alright. I'll see what I can do. Tell me of these visions you speak."

I went on to tell him every detail of the day's previous events. "It's seems you've made enemies with both the Red Rovers and the House of Manhunters. Building up your reputation so quickly isn't the best idea 'round these parts," Brendan cautioned. "It's a dangerous game you're playing, Chiz. If it weren't for these unavoidable circumstances, I'd suggest you leave town. But don't you fret, I know of the origin of these visions."

"You do?!" This is the best news I've heard since TGI Friday started offering two dollar drafts on Tuesdays.

"I used to know a man who had similar visions. He would wake in the middle of the night and venture to the pool. He would creep around the pool and swim cautious laps as if he were attempting to traverse the water unnoticed. When asked what the meaning of it was, he would simply respond, ‘Shh! I'm a minnow and if I'm not careful, the shark will have me for lunch.' The man believed he was being pursued by sharks. Strange as it was, I was intrigued with this man’s unfortunate syndrome. I studied his pattern every night until I discovered that his vision coincided with the rule set of the children’s game ‘Sharks and Minnows’. I came to the conclusion that this man was suffering from childhood nostalgia. He had trouble letting go of the leisures of his past. That’s when I confronted the man. Told him to, ‘let go of the past’. To essentially, ‘embrace the sharks.’” Brendan paused for a moment. “Know why it was so simple for me to come to this conclusion? Why I cared so much for this man’s debilitating condition? Because, Chiz, this man was my father.”

I looked at him in astonishment. I can’t believe this child really held the key to freedom. “S-so what do you propose?”

“Embrace the impending destruction of your childhood… Embrace the destructive power.”

A bead of sweat trickled down my face. Though, to my dismay, I soon found out it was not the revelation that caused my increase in temperature; it was the rapidly approaching lava that began to pursuing me from the rear. “It’s back!” I cried.

“Embrace the fire, Chiz!”

I turned toward the lava, but the heat was too intense. “Ahhh, it’s singeing my ball sack!” I screamed as I began retreating.

“Chiz! You can’t run forever! It will eventually engulf you in a fiery vengeance far more painful!” Brendan’s voice faded as I fled the cemetery.

Just like before, I was on the run from the persistent molten lava, and as before, I came to the conclusion that the water tower was my best bet. But, what about the Red Rovers? They’ll never let you pass. I clung the hope that the beast rested at this hour.

The water tower peeked its head above the trees. I was almost there and no sign of the Red Rovers. That’s when I heard someone scream, “There he is! The traitorous nerd!” I looked over my shoulder as three members of the House of Manhunters began their pursuit. Why were these children out this time of night?!

My legs began buckling and hope drained my body like… well, never mind. The water tower seemed so close, yet so far. But I had to continue lest I die a horrifically painful death. The nearer the water tower, the faster my legs moved. I can do this! I’m almost there! Only a few more… That’s when the Red Rovers emerged from the forest in formation. My legs slowed to a jog. And, if things couldn’t get worse, there was a familiar face among the formation… Billy…

My feet felt like magnets until I eventually stopped completely. Red Rovers in front and a vicious alliance of lava and Manhunters approached my flank.

“Chiz!” I heard Billy yell. “I’m sorry! I never meant for it to end like this!” his voice cracked. “I had no choice but to join Red Rover. It was the only way to gain refuge… to gain protection from the Manhunters. I’m sorry!” But, his words meant less to me than an infomercial selling masturbatory socks.

A hollow sound reverberated around my stiffened body. Echoes of blood cries and crackling fire meshed into a horrific, hellish resonance. The world was a blur as I attempted to grasp the concept of my certain death.

Just then the girl from the House of the Manhunters played in my head. What she said upon our initial interaction… “I'd like to think we've bestowed upon you a chance to prove yourself. To prove you aren't just one of them." She was right! Until now I had been one of them. One of the fugitives… one of the prey… constantly running from my problems instead of facing them dead on.

I felt a rush of energy lift me up as I proceeded toward the Red Rovers. I built up speed and I faced their formation with a new sense of determination. I could see fear in their eyes as my feet tore up the ground. I studied the line searching for a weak link. That’s when I noticed Billy nod as he let go with his right hand in defiance and a last act of camaraderie. The soldier next to him shot him a confused stare and gripped his lifeless hand. Now was my chance.

I lowered my shoulder and hit the wall. I could feel the two boys’ arms shattering against my shoulder as they fell to the ground. I paused and looked back. Billy was writhing in pain as he attempted to piece together his dismembered arm. “Go!” he yelled, “Now’s your chance!”

I looked back as the Manhunters and hot lava were still in pursuit. I reached the water tower and began scaling the ladder to the top. The Manhunters began climbing below me as the lava crashed against the water tower. I finally reached the top and looked over the edge, the world was engulfed in molten fire, yet nothing was being harmed.

“Embrace the fire!” I heard Brendan’s voice echo. I closed my eyes and took a deep breath… and then I jumped. Down into the lava I fell, but I could no longer feel the heat as I approached. I had finally come to terms with my loss, the end to my childhood. That’s when the world went black.

…………………………………………………

I awoke from slumber. “It was all a dream?” I thought as I breathed a sigh of relief. “All… a… dream…”

“No it wasn’t,” a voice interjected. I looked up and saw a woman in white. “You really jumped from the tower. Broke both your legs and released an unhealthy amount of your bowels.”

“Wuh?” I struggled to comprehend the situation.

“Sir, you are in the hospital. You seemed to have a life-threatening amount of LSD in your system... In scientific terms, you were tripping out of your fuckin’ marbles.”

“How could this happen? I hadn’t taken LSD intentionally in like 4 days!”

“Well, sir,” she continued. “We found this note on your unconscious body. Tell me if it makes any sense to you.” She handed me the note.
If you're new to my blog and a bit confused, here's the background story: IntroChoz 1Choz 2, and Choz 3.

"That doesn't mean you're out of the blue, sir," the nurse continued. "You still have pending assault and battery, manslaughter, and illegal substance abuse allegations."

The End?
Normal posts resume whenever the fuck I feel like, but most likely Wednesday.

Saturday, May 19, 2012

The Traditional Children's Game Trials: Part III

"Not too much further. We're almost out of this mess," Billy whispered.

"I feel like we've been walking for hours," I grumbled.

"That's because you're old and out of shape. We've only been moving for about 4 minutes."

"I think I'm going to die," I cried. I could see pieces of my soul escaping with each drop of sweat. I hadn't had a bag of Cheetos or a drop of beer in close to 4 hours. I was beginning to wither away. "Please. Can we slow down?" I begged.

"And allow the Manhunters to gain ground on us? I don't think so."

It felt as if the Grim Reaper was so near that I could feel the blunt end of his scythe between my butt cheeks. If I didn't rest soon, I was surely going to shit my pants and die.

Billy grew impatient. "Let's go!" he shouted. "We're in this together, only a few mo—" Billy's sentence was interrupted as he was taken down by one of the Manhunters.

"I got you now, you thieving fartlicker!" laughed the Manhunter with a devilish grin.

"Chiz! Help!" cried Billy. "Don't let them take me back!"

I began to panic. What was I to do? "Uhh..." I hesitantly said. "I think it's illegal for me to hit a child, let alone touch them."

"But, they're going to torture me. Please! Do somethi--"

"Yeah, uh, I'm pretty sure there's a law that states that I'm not even allowed to hang out with you, so..." I interjected.

Billy let out a cry of pain as the Manhunter began initiating the Indian-sunburns. It was almost too gruesome to bear. He started with his forearms and then began Indian-sunburning the shit out of his leg. Enough! I must do something! I looked around for an instrument to break up this senseless violence.

Billy began losing consciousness from the excruciating pain. That was before the Manhunter ceased the torture as a trail of blood trickled down his face. His eyes rolled back into his head as he crashed downward onto the forest brush. I stared down at the blood-stained rock in my hand and then up to Billy.

He struggled to produce words as he fell in and out of consciousness. "Y-you saved my life," he murmured.

"I- I guess I did," I smiled. That's when we heard the rest of the Manhunters approaching. "We've got to get out of here!" I yelled, leaning over to get Billy back on his feet. But, it was no use. Billy cringed and fell back to the ground.

"Go on without me!" he mumbled. That's when I noticed the severity of the Indian-sunburn on his calf. "I won't be able to go on with an injury like this."

"I'm not leaving you behi—"

"Go! The graveyard is about 2 minutes west. I'll try to stall the Manhunters for as long as I can. No sense in us both being captured."

I looked at toward the sounds of the approaching enemy, then back to Billy.

"Go!" he shouted one last time.

I shot him an appreciative nod and headed West toward the graveyard. I was only a minute away when I heard his screams, but it was too late; I had to press onward.

Another minute passed, and I emerged from the forest with the elegance of a two-legged foursome. Ahead of me, I could barely make out the graveyard through the thick of night. Night had crept in unsuspectingly during my, roughly, 15 minute jaunt in the forest. I could hear faint voices in the distance.

“Hello?” I shouted as I approached the voices. “I need some assistance!” There appeared to be 5 children in all.

I grew nearer, and the children grew visibly wary. “We weren’t going to go in the graveyard; I swear!” one of the children yelled in a shaky tone.

“It’s… not that.” I put my hands on my knees and panted. “You’re… the ones… that don the name… ‘Ghosts of the Graveyard,’ am I correct?”

“Sir, are you okay?” one of them inquired.

“You probably shouldn’t be straining yourself. A man of your age can easily have a heart-attack,” another one cautioned.

“I’m twenty-thr—” I calmed myself down. “Never mind. Are any of you named Brendan?” Silence filled the air. “None of you? Do you know who I speak of?” I continued.

“Yeah, we know Brendan, but he’s a bit tied up at the moment.”

“Well, where is he? I need to speak with him urgently.” I grew impatient.

“We’re kind of in the middle of a something. We’re… hunting a ghost,” one of them hesitantly replied.

My face grew red with rage and my eye began doing that twitchy thing that occurs moments before you lose consciousness and wake up hours later staring at a dead hooker in your bed with no recollection of the events preceded that moment.

“Mister! Mister!” One of them hollered while gesturing me to calm down. “We’ll help you find Brendan! We just need you assistance in flooding out this ghost.”

There was nothing I could do. I was going to have to play another stupid game with these retarded children. “Alright, I’ll play your game if you promise to lead me to Brendan afterward.”

“Agreed. Follow us to that willow tree down yonder.” Little did he realize, he was actually pointing to a withered pine tree, but it’s not my job to correct the failures of our educational system.

We reached the tree and the children gathered around. The lot of children began chanting slowly. “One o’clock… Two o’clock… Three o’clock…” What on Earth were they doing? Had I become a part of some satanic ritual? “…Seven o’clock… Eight o’clock…” Billy was right; these children are wack-jobs. “Eleven o’clock… Midnight!” They shouted. Nothing happened as I suppose I should have expected. “The ghost is out tonight!” Startled, I look about, but saw nothing.

With that, the children dispersed into the graveyard. I grabbed one of them by the shirt collar before they disappeared. “What’s going on?” I inquired.

“We’ve got to find the ghost in the graveyard,” he giggled.

“By the cock of Zeus, why would you do such a thing?” I looked out into the depths of the graveyard. “I think it’s better that you leave the spirits of the dead to rest.”

“But, orders are orders mister. I must abide by Brendan’s law,” he said.

“There you go with Brendan again. Where is h—“

The boy wrestled his shirt collar from my grasp and started for the cemetery. “Help us find the ghost, and you’ll know everything,” his voice faded into the abyss.

I had no choice but to follow the gang of lunatics into the land of the dead. I began tiptoeing past the graves. I could feel a heavy pressure on my chest, much like the sensation of having a duck sit on your chest. ‘Eerie’ couldn’t even begin to describe the atmosphere.

“I found a gho—rarrghhh plsffft.” What in the shit was that? It sounded like one of the children had been ambushed.

I wearily continued. That’s when I saw it; a shadowy figure retreated behind a tombstone. I tilted my head in confusion. My heart was racing faster than a heart beating of normal speed, but I had to figure out what it was. Maybe if it were in fact a ghost, I could finally get the help I need.

Closer and closer, I approached. I had finally reached the tombstone, and began peering above it.

Blarghhhh!” the shadow shouted. I fell to the ground and crawled backward on my elbows. I struggled to talk, but my face was frozen in fear. The silhouette approached until he was standing directly over me. Surely, this is the moment I die.

And…

TO BE CONTINUED! YAY! Isn’t this fun, guys?! Don’t worry, I’ll wrap this shit up Monday.

Thursday, May 17, 2012

The Traditional Children's Game Trials: Part II


"Hey kid! Wake up!" a high pitched voice echoed.

"Huh?" I murmured. I painfully pried open my eyes. I must've been unconscious for quite some time as my vision was momentarily impaired by the setting sun.

"Get up! We need your help!" said the blurred silhouette.

"Blurghferrr blehg ehh," I enthusiastically replied. "Wh-where am I? And why aren't I dead?" I looked about and realized I was surrounded by trees in an area of the forest I was unfamiliar with. I also came to notice that there wasn't one silhouette standing over me but several.

"What are you talking about? We found you unconscious in a field and dragged you into the woods," another one of the strangers said. I was instantly struck with fear in my butthole.

Another voice interjected, "What Jimmy means to say is we thought we could make due with another able body in our ranks. Welcome to our faction, The House of Manhunters." My eyes were finally beginning to focus. The silhouettes transformed into young boys and girls. There were six children in all.

"I can't thank you enough for saving my life, but if you would please point me the direction home, I'll find a way to repay you another time. I have to escape the lava." The children were visibly puzzled by my statement.

"I'm sorry, we can't allow a valuable asset such as you to depart. We'll let you go once the job's complete," said one of the girls. "And... there's no need to worry about lava about these parts," she mockingly added. The rest of the children let out prepubescent giggles.

"Am I being held captive?" my voice cracked.

"If you choose to see it that way, but I'd like to think we've bestowed upon you a chance to prove yourself. To prove you aren't just one of them." She was eerily convincing, but I still had my doubts.

"Them?"

"The ones we're after," replied a ginger boy. "The fugitives, or, what I like to call, the prey." There was something about his voice that threw me off. "Grave injustices have been committed by these folk. One stole a soccer ball that was innocently lying outside Cindy's house the other evening. And, don't get me started on that Billy-fella, that no-good, pie-stealin' cacahead. Now they're all out hiding in these woods. It's time for the Manhunters to bring these thieving, Indian-giving, tattle-taling, sons of bitches to justice!" The others gasped at the utterance of his swear. "Let the Manhunt begin!"

"Ready or not, here we come!' cried one of the girls. With that, the group scattered into the woods.

I remained a statue until one of the children kicked me in the shin. "Get moving, doodoohead!" he shouted. "Don't try anything funny you hear? We'll reward you kindly should you return with any of the hiders."

I nodded and proceeded onward into the strange wilderness. As I moved along I began racking my brain with inquiries. Why was I blindly following orders from kids half my age? Where exactly am I? What happened to the trailing lava? And furthermore, how on Earth am I still alive? Now, I was in a full sprint. The sooner I find one of these "fugitives," the sooner I can get home and figure out what's wrong with me.

I frantically searched high and low, but it was no use, everything looked the same. Panic began to set in as I was beginning to apprehend my current predicament. Trees flew by in a blur. My breathing became so heavy that it was like being lightly strangled by a dominatrix who refuses to acknowledge a 'safe word' (not that I would know what that's like or anything). In my frenzy, I lost sight of where I was going and lost my traction on a flat rock causing me to collide with a tree. I let out a shriek of pain as I felt to the ground. The pain was severe but temporary as I steadily got back on my feet. While brushing the pine needles and woodland critter feces off my clothing, I felt a hard thud against the top of my head. I looked to see what had caused the pain, and there beside me, was a shoe. I picked it up, glared at it for a moment, and traced the shoe’s fall to the top of the tree where a boy was hiding amongst the branches.

A fugitive! I thought to myself. We both hesitantly looked at one another. That’s when he spoke out in a hushed voice. “Are you one of them?”

“If you are referring to a member of the House of Manhunters, no, but I am working under their orders,” I replied.

“Working under their orders? You’re like 40 years old!” he impatiently shouted before immediately covering his mouth.

I began yelling back in a hushed voice, “I am not 40! I only look old; I’m actually only twenty-thr—”

“Spare me. I suppose you’re here to bring me in, huh?”

“Unfortunately, as soon as you climb down, I will be forced to bring you in, but rest assured, I am doing this only so I can get home. I have no ill feelings toward you,” I regretfully responded.

“A recruit, huh? You don’t want to be bringing me in do ‘ya? Tell you what, you don’t report me to the House of Manhunters, and in exchange, I’ll show you the way out of these woods. I know them like the back on my hand.”

I thought it over. This “Manhunt” did seem quite ridiculous. After a moment of contemplation, I nodded in agreement.

“Excellent,” he whispered as he made a speedy exit from the tree. “To be honest, I don’t think you’d be able to catch me. Y’know, with your old age and all getting’ in the way.”

“I told you I’m only—”

“Never mind that. I’m Billy,” he held his hand out, “nice to meet you.”

“Chiz,” I replied. “So you’re the pie thief they were talking about.”

“Pie thief?! Mrs. Dingleberry gave me that pie after she saw me eyeballin’ it from afar! Just like them Manhunters to jump to conclusions. You see these?” Billy rolled up his sleeves revealing swollen red patches on his forearms.

“What happened to you?” I wincingly said.

“Indian sunburns. Those cacafahts relentlessly tortured me despite my pleas of innocence. After about a day or so, they decided to set us free in the wild. They called this sadistic exercise ‘a game’ which they called Manhunt.”

“Wow, I apologize. I had no id—”

“It’s over now. Let’s just get out of here. Follow me and I’ll show you the way out.”

We began our journey. Along the way, I updated him on all the paranormal occurrences that I had been cursed to bear.

“You don’t want no part of the Red Rover Gang, let me tell you that,” advised Billy. “As for the lava… you got me there. I do know someone who might be able to help you, though… Brendan of the Ghosts of the Graveyard. Despite their House name, they’re actually not all that daunting. A bunch of wackos if you ask me. But, Brendan knows all about paranormal activity and strange events. He’s your best bet.”

Without hesitation, I agreed. “Take me to this Brendan of the Ghosts in the Graveyard.”

And so we ventured on into the unforgiving forest.

To be continued…

I know, you hate me, but this post was getting well above 1000 words. The conclusion is to come, even if it’s a 2000 words post.

Tuesday, May 15, 2012

The Traditional Children's Game Trials


How I ended up in the mess was beyond my comprehension. I was almost certain a majority of the LSD had left my system. Even so, I could've dismissed my current predicament as a post-hallucination if it weren't for the intense heat emitted by the lava that now coated the floors of my home. Somehow, the furniture in the house was unscathed, but I wasn't about the wait around to discover how long that would last. I looked over the rear of the couch and noticed that outside seemed safe enough. So, I began to plot out my exit strategy. I'll move from the couch to the coffee table; from there, I'll make a daring leap to the decorative couch by the mudroom. At that point I will formulate my next plan of action.
 Let the games begin.
I cautiously bridged the gap between myself and the coffee table. Beads of sweat perspired from my body leaving thick, sopping puddles in my socks and underpants, but I managed to secure myself upon the Ikea table. It was rickety as I had expected. I looked to the decorative couch near the entrance of the mudroom. Measuring the distance with my eyes, I'd say it was probably a good 700 yard leap, nothing I couldn't handle. I clawed the edge of the table and firmly planted my feet. 3... 2... 1... the stunt table Ikea coffee table exploded into 40 billion pieces or something as I careened through the hot, dense air. I crashed into the couch breaking one of the wooden legs. I held tight as the couch slowly began capsizing. Death seemed imminent, or so I thought when I saw an ottoman only 40 feet away. This was my only chance. Without a moment of hesitation (except for that second or so I thought about jumping), I pounced off the coach and grappled the ottoman with every single one of my limbs (I have 4 limbs). Luckily, the ottoman had wheels and it shot forward, leaving a small 45 miles gap between me and the door.

But, I had to act fast; it appeared as though the lava was rising. I looked about frantically for something to get me out of this jam. That’s when I noticed an umbrella hanging just within reach. Surely an umbrella could withstand the blazing, hot lava. I got a handle of the umbrella and began to use it as leverage to push the ottoman onward toward the front door. I appeared to be correct about the umbrella’s immunity to lava. I finally reach the door and fell forward onto my deck. It was finally over. I breathed a deep sigh of relief. I can’t believe I made it through that perilous situa—What’s that? It smells like something is… BURNING! I glanced backward and saw my shoe ablaze. I quickly batted the flame out and was instantly stricken with horror as I watched the lava seep beneath the doorway. I lifted myself up and sprinted for the street. I looked back over my shoulder and noticed the lava picking up speed. What was happening to me!? Quickly, I thought of my next plan. I’ll go to the water tower!

After sprinting for approximately 2 miles, I finally caught sight of the water tower. I began feeling a sense of relief as I was sure the water tower would be my safest bet. I looked back once more and noticed that I was keeping the lava at a safe distance. I focused my attention forward when I started to notice a gathering of children up ahead. Confused, I yelled for their assistance. Maybe they had some explanation about this apparent curse set upon me.  However, as I moved onward, the crowd of children began filing in a line. Interlinking their hands, they seemed to be forming some sort of barricade between me and the water tower. What on Earth were they doing?

“Red Rover!” I heard them shout. What were they talking abo—“RED ROVER!” they belted again. “Send that pale, scrawny kid over!” I look over my shoulder. Surely they couldn’t be talking to me, but to my dismay, they were. I had no choice; I had to press onward despite their attempts to prevent me from passing. I got closer and the shouts became louder “Red Rover! Red Rover! Send that pale, scrawny kid over!” This was it! All or nothing! I directed my entire chi into my chest, but it was to no avail, the sheer power of the children’s linked hands bested me. My ribs crashed against my lungs, forcing the life out of me. I lay on the ground gasping for air and helplessly watched the lava rapidly close the distance. That’s when world went black and I lost consciousness.
 To be continued…

Monday, May 14, 2012

Shitty Post About Dead Bodies and Stuff

If you don't want to read about gore and death and such, skip this post. I'll have a funny one tomorrow.

Article: Man struck by train in Foxboro

I'll have a funny post tomorrow hopefully, but as for now, let me tell you a little about the end my day. So, I'm on my way home from work when the train operator comes over the intercom saying that there has been a fatality on one of the rails up ahead. It didn't really come as too much of a shock as I hear about train suicides all the time. Anyway, I took this chance to work a bit on my manuscript which is severely lacking.

After approximately 45 minutes of waiting, the train operator said we were set to move on through as one of the rails was cleared. On we went at an amazing speed of 5.5 mph when I saw a man in an orange vest giving the train a "don't look" gesture as we passed by. So, being a human being and all, that is obviously going to prompt me to stare the shit out of whatever's about to come. I attentively waited as I began seeing cops appear in steady intervals. That's when the first caution sign appeared. On the track beside us, lay a red bulbous organ. I couldn't tell you what it was; all I know is I should have stopped there.

Several yards down the track, I saw the second caution. An even larger pile of organs lay on the track (more that I thought could fit in any human body). Well, that was my last chance to turn away to avoid the big finale. Several more yards down was what remained of this poor gentleman. I'm assuming the bottom half of his body must have disintegrated because all that remained of the man was from the top of his waist up. He essentially looked like an empty shell as his organs had all been thrown from his body. His head was caved in and his hole body pale as a ghost. Quite frankly, it was definitely one of the most disturbing things I've seen in my life.

Anyway, why am I telling you this? Bah, I don't know. I guess it's to further drive home the fact that life is fragile, and although I complain about several things on my blog, it's basically all in good fun. Why did I tell it in such a gruesome manner? Suspense, I assume? I don't know. But, to prove to you that I'm not sadistic, I did get a bit queasy once I saw the victim.

Woah, I've got to go tweak my car to regain some of my manliness. Although, that's hard to do with a Nissan Versa. Maybe I'll just watch some 16 and Pregnant and go to bed instead. Sorry for the dreary post.

Friday, May 11, 2012

The Problem with Business Attire

I've already touched upon the inhumane ritual of tie-wearing: Origin of the Tie. However, today I'm going to address business attire as a whole and discuss the damaging social effects it has on the wearer.

If you’ve ever been to an industrial area in the city, have you ever noticed that not every person in business attire is a dick, but everyone’s who’s a dick is dressed in business attire? No? Well, that’s how I feel anyway.
"I'm a unique individual." "Me too!" "Yeah, what he said."
Moving on; why is it that company’s force us to dress in attire that emits an aura of copious bags of douche? It’s not even a fact of what I prefer anymore; this style of clothing has a reflection on the company. Say I become a business man one day, when I walk into the office as a potential client, what part about strangulating shirt collars and fashionable nooses is supposed to be appealing to me? Who was the guy who decided this is the model of success? Because I for one think it’s a perfect model for self-mutilation. I’d rather see everyone in comfortable attire: something that will allow them more mobility to wrestle the bullshit flying at them day in and day out.

More so, when someone bumps in to me on the street whilst donning normal, loose-fitting clothes, I let it fly. They’re probably touring the city and are too preoccupied with admiring the skyscrapers to notice me in front of them. I can’t get mad at them for that. But, say a man in business attire does so much as graze my shirt sleeve, it’s: “Oh, it figures it would be a snooty business man! Ooo, look at me! I have important things to do like send faxes and arrange bagels in the break room! Was I walking too slow for you, you fuck?!” When the reality of the situation is that the man probably had to rush to the store before work to buy his daughter a stuffed animal or something. But, that doesn’t dawn on me as I’m already charging him on all-fours in a blind fit of rage.
This is Chad. He donates 10% of every check to charity.
That doesn't alter the fact that you want to punch him square in the face.

Admit it. You see a man in a business suit in the city getting his shoes shined while reading a newspaper; don’t you just get this intense urge to rip the newspaper out of his hands with your teeth and tear it to shreds like a rabid platypus? No? So, it’s just me again I see. Anyway, that’s how I feel. I see a man in business attire and automatically assume he’s a dick. That’s why I feel I never get thanked for holding a door open; people automatically think I’m going to slam the door behind me. They don’t have time to work a “thanks” through their lungs in time.

I suppose none of this makes sense since I’m not a businessman, but I’m forced to wear the same snobby clothing. I don’t think there’s a point to this post, but then again, I’m writing this while having the shakes and cold sweats due to lack of nutrition or something stupid and unimportant. Man, I hate being employed!

P.S. Sorry. Still suffering for writer’s block. I’m just pulling this out of my ass as if it wasn’t noticeable enough.

And, since this post wasn't really funny:

Tuesday, May 8, 2012

The Secret Kaleidoscope


So I was babysitting my neighbor’s kid a while back. He was prancing around the room with his toy kaleidoscope, giggling like a little jerk. He was gazing into the device and mockingly waving it in my face. That son of a bitch knew I was curious about what wonderments bless the confines of that silly mechanism. Finally, I had enough. I darted from the coach and charged him at full force. I lowered my shoulder into him as he careened into a pile of toys I TOLD HIM TO PUT AWAY, and I snatched the kaleidoscope away to see what the big fuss was about.
I somehow find, you and I, kaleid...oscope.
It was so much better than I had imagined. The colors mirrored off one another and battled for dominion for which my eyes to gaze upon or something. Back and forth I twisted the kaleidoscope, revealing unexplainable wonder. If it wasn’t for the overcooked chicken potpie that was setting the house ablaze, I would’ve never averted my attention from this curious contraption. After I stomped out the fired and threw away the charred curtains, I returned and continued my adventure.

 After approximately three more hours, I started to notice the colors and triangular shapes were forming what appeared to be some sort of map. I slightly adjusted the filter until it couldn’t be any clearer… it was a map of the house.

I drew out the map on a piece of notebook paper and studied it for a moment. It first led me to the parents’ room. Inside the closet, the map depicted what appeared to be a small door and man standing before it donning lingerie. I assumed the figure was meant to be me. So without hesitation, I scoured the room in order to find the most appealing lingerie. After I had dressed myself in the most slimming lingerie, I approached the door. There was a cliff note on the map that said I must knock in rhythm with the Brady Bunch theme song. Upon doing so, a stout man with a great, big, bushy beard unhinged the door. He looked me up and down and nodded in approval. With a flick of his wrist, he urged me to follow.
Every once of heterosexuality I had is now gone.
Down a cramped corridor I crawled. At the end of the tunnel glowed a yellow hue. My curiosity was aroused and apparently my penis too. Closer and closer we got to the warm glow of the mysterious beyond. Finally, I emerged into a room larger than any I’d ever seen. Every ounce of floor space was covered in gold doubloons and TGI Friday’s gift cards. I couldn’t hold back the tears that flooded forth. Saying it was beautiful would be an understatement. That’s when I heard the footsteps. I furiously looked about but saw nothing. I decided to leave the riches to return to later, when the coast was clear.

I reached the top of the tunnel. I could hear voices just outside the closet. I fastened my lingerie for what I assumed to be an epic battle of even epic-er proportions. I started the countdown. 3…2…1… I burst forth from the closet in a fit of rage. I tackled the two intruders to the floor. What is it you’re after? I shouted. I think this was about the time the LSD started to wear off as the intruders started to look more and more like my neighbors.

It took some time for them to calm me down, but after the hallucinogenic drugs wore off, they allowed me to leave. They even let me keep the lingerie! Unfortunately, they never hired me to babysit again.

P.S. I am out of creativeness. Work is getting the better of me at the moment. I'll try harder in the future.

Thursday, May 3, 2012

The Science Behind Why People Don't Use Their Blinkers


I've noticed an increasing trend of terrible drivers on the road. Most common are those that refuse to signal their blinker. The staggering amount of driver’s that overlook the performance of such a simple, courteous, and lifesaving act was so overwhelming, that it convinced me to perform a social experiment. I refused to believe there are this many stupid and lazy people in the world. Thus, I present to you my conclusions:
Silly dog! Dogs can't be taillights.
I was initially prompted to analyze the physical routine involved in flicking the blinker. What I discovered was astonishing. Did know that the motion it takes to turn on your blinker burns upwards of 0.003 calories? Already I was beginning to notice the benefits of ditching the blinker and blindly cutting lanes with no regard for human life. 

We are overdue for another ice age seeing as it’s been like a couple hundred years since the last one or something. The threat of an ice age is so imminent that we could wake up tomorrow to frozen oceans and ferocious windigos knocking at our front doors. With the onset of such harsh conditions, every ounce of fat counts. Not one calorie can be frivolously wasted. Therefore, by avoiding the physical movement of switching on one’s blinker, they are essentially gearing themselves for the forthcoming ice age.
Meh, doesn't seem so bad.
Furthermore, with our economy making no vast improvements, the price of blinker fluid has become an unwarranted aggravation. Even purchasing synthetic blinker fluid leads to late car payments and delayed hair appointments. In addition, since synthetic blinker fluid is the most affordable, people have resorted to these products that rapidly eat away at blinkers making them unresponsive. These drivers have children to feed and their lives to hate; I ask that you tolerate their actions as they are simply looking out for what’s best for their family.
Go KaleCo!
Lastly, flicking on your blinker delays the process of switching lanes by 0.00043 seconds. In total, if you frequently switched lanes while signaling, you could delay the time it takes you to get home by almost an entire quarter of a second. 

Consider Billy: Billy just got out of work at 5:03pm. It takes him 28 minutes to get home. Unfortunately for Billy, 16 and Pregnant starts at 5:30pm. Billy has some lost time to make up. He cannot waste precious milliseconds with the hassle of flicking his index finger up a centimeter. If he wants to catch the start of the show, he’s going to have to ruthlessly haul ass without consideration for the well-being of his fellow drivers. Again, I ask for your tolerance when such people are forced into these dire and unfortunate situations.
I'll just let the picture do the talking.
According to science, I have proven to you that these people are in fact not stupid or ignorant. Through my studies, I have learned to pity those who cannot be hassled by the excruciating task of flicking on their blinker when they switch lanes. No longer will I speed up behind them and flash my high beams into their retinas. From this point forward, I will respect those who take the lives of themselves and others in their hands in order to complete the task set before them.

This is a submission to the 3rd Dude Write Challenge!

Tuesday, May 1, 2012

An A to Z Reflection


I barely escaped with my life, but the battle is over. I have come out victorious over the vicious onslaught of letters. Who knew there were so many letters in the alphabet?

Anyway, I would like to congratulate all of you whom have participated in the A to Z Challenge. It’s tickled me pink to have so many incredible blog posts to read every day. I would also like to extend thanks to those who have kept up with my blog throughout the month of April. Even if you did not participate in the challenge, it was great that you could find the time to read the work of your fellow bloggers as I’m sure that your blog rolls were steadily feeding you post after post every day; I know mine was.

Through this challenge, I have run into to so many incredible blogs that I wish I had stumbled upon sooner. I’ve also gained a multitude of dedicated followers whom I am very thankful for. I’m surprised you’ve stuck with me for this long after discovering how profoundly insane my posts can get.

But, most of all, I am thankful to the A to Z Challenge for shaping my fingers into mini Herculeses. Seriously, my fingers are so muscular that I feel the need to oil them and enter all 10 of them into a strongman competition. I’ve already punched holes in 4 keyboards due to their overwhelming, inherited strength. Bah, enough bragging about my jacked fingers.

However, the challenge has made me come to realize just how little words are in the English language. I would spend hours scouring the internet trying to find words. P… P… hmm… poop… pee… puh- puh- puh… what other words begin with P?!


I completed the entire A to Z Challenge, and all I got was this badge.

Anyway, I’m going to completely rip off Muppets for Justice (but it's okay because I hyperlinked his site) and provide you with a list of my favorite posts from A to Z Challenge participants, in no particular order.

Muppets for Justice for H - Homoerotic - Put simply, all of his posts were incredibly hilarious, and I'd be here all night should I try to pit my favorite. But, homoerotic is a funny word, so here you go.

The Incoherent Ramblings of a Moose! for Inappropriate Lyrical Content. And The Power Of Subliminal messaging. (A-Z Challenge) - Every single post brought tears to my eyes; her dialogues with Spawn especially.

Apocalypse Now for Today's Apocalypse Sign: Quid Pro Quo... - I feel like I learned more in his A-Z posts than I did throughout my entire college career. This post especially caught my eye.

HILL BLOCKS VIEW for Underwear Salesman. Door To Door. - Another blog that I could've spent all night pondering over. I decided to pick this one because not only is the post itself hilarious, but so is the title.

Seriously-WTH? for E is for The Epidemic - Kids for Sale? - The post is as the title explains. I'm glad Shay participated in the challenge; I find every one of her posts littered with genius.

Living In An Estrogenic Flux for Y is for My Youth - It would do this post injustice to "make a long story short," but let me just say it involves Your Dirty Bird working with wolves. Yes, wolves as in the real-life mammals.

Far Away Series for W - This post describes the unbelievable life of Mickey. Farawayeyes keeps the memory of Mickey by telling his story.

Elton Says Things for U, V and W are for Unemployment's Vacant Wideness - Elton never fails to deliver. Ever. Anyway, learn how he started off blogging through this post.

[A Daft Scots Lass] for Ginger Ninja Goals - First of all, congrats on quitting smoking. I did so too, and it was torture. Anyway, her topic revolved around insults; although this one was about her epic nickname of Ginger Ninja.

Crazy California Claire for A-Z Challenge: T - Teenager - One of the epic blogs I encounter during the A to Z Challenge. This post is particularly hilarious.

Universal Gibberish for Alphabet Wishes - Z Is For... - A great poem to wrap up the challenge. How she managed to write unique rhymes everyday is beyond me.

My Baffling Brain for D is for... Dragons! - Obviously my favorite post because it was all about dragons, but  Loopyloo managed to cover a wide variety of fairy tale components throughout the challenge.

Alright, congratulations to every one. If I left you out, let me know, and I will add you to the list. But, for now I'm done because that list took way to long. Way past my bedtime.