Normally I have something to write in this space. Today I do not. Why is that? Perhaps I am just presently too tired to think of something. Perhaps writing twenty installments of this article has simply made me dumber. Who knows?
It’s a long and GRIPPING tale... Even more gripping than those wonderful trailers for the MONSTER-HIT movie “Enough”... So I’ll try my best not to jumble the events in my current state of wild excitement!
Plus the music. That damn music. The damn whipper-snappers and their hazy-eyes. I'll show them how to REALLY tie a shoe. I mean, REALLY. Can't even make a decent loop.
Some nice white shoelaces. That's what they need.
Mmmh.
It all started with my usual daily routine of passing my day by staring blankly at this box of Deus Ex (which the guards have been so MERCILESS as to throw in my cell to TORMENT me, since I have no way of actually PLAYING the game). There I sat, in a puddle of my own excrements (I never actually move from my seat while staring at said box), contemplating why, OH WHY, it’s taken so long for my rescue thus far. I mean... THIS ARTICLE IS ON PLANET DEUS EX... THE MOST FAMOUS OF ALL INTERNET SITES EVER... Someone should’ve NOTICED and broken me out of this crap-basket by now...
Well, just as I had gone without blinking for eight consecutive hours, the most unexpected of visitors paid me a... uh... visit.
Lemme tell ya, I’ve been unexpectedly visited by solid-color cartoon characters before, but this guy just FREAKED ME OUT... The guy wears a big green overcoat and a funny hat... He’s so LAID-BACK... You know what he wears beneath that zippy outfit? The man is naked!
So he was gunna break me out, and, uh, things like that, you know, generally require plans. And though I get, well, enough of said plans on a daily basis to fill my own pants, they’re all BURNING MATERIAL! GARBAGE FOR THE GARBAGE BIN! WORHTLESS! UTTERLY USELE-... Uh... I mean, how nice of you to send them, eheh, uh, I...
...
Well, after the guards CONFISCATED our MASTERFULLY CREATED YODA THRONE(after marveling for a moment at why there was a greenish cartoon guy in my cell, and then realizing, oh, it’s because they’re all idiots and will stare at anything shiny, hey, look, a quarter, on the floor, OH, JESUS SHINE THE BRIGHTNESS CHRIST), which we spent TWELVE HOURS on (and used Legos fashioned entirely from one empty bottle of Preparation H), they then proceeded to play twenty seven consecutive games of “who can drink an entire gallon of chunky milk without vomiting all over themselves and their surroundings,” which really wasn’t a bright idea to begin with. What was I saying? Oh, yes. Yoda is the man.
Uh... Then we got the REAL DEAL... Blueprints of the compound, baby (obtained from that ominous old man in the vents. Seriously, who can live without an ominous old man in the vents? You guys don’t know what you’re missing)... we had our work laid out for us... Oh yeah... Just had to get a couple of MAGIC MARKERS and scribble out the GAME PLAN...
Honestly? We had no idea what the hell we were doing.
But that Cheney... what a sexy anima-...
I mean. Yoda is the man.
...
OKAY... GETTING A LITTLE HOT IN HERE, EHEH... WELL... YOU’RE ALL LOOKING AT ME SO FUNNY... UHM... LET’S JUST... TAKE A GANDER INTO THE MAILBAG... YES... EXACTLY...
Witness my new mail-answering methods of madness.
Hi Ghandiah!
Hello!
Before the cheese envelops me and forces me to be captured by men in black who will spontaneusly combust when I stab them with a Spork with Foons attatched,I'd like to say that your articles are cool. (Twiglet tries to find a way of saying "you're a deranged freak" nicely)Here's another escape plan that you can inexplainably avoid.
Me? Avoid escape plans? Nonsense. Tell me more about your shirt.
Escape plan ALpha Charlie Bravo Pi (Mmmmm, Pie)
Step one: Sit on the cow.
It's red, isn't it?
Step two: Ride the cow into the cage door
Your shirt, I mean. Striped?
Step three: Dance around like a lunatic untill the guards restrain you and repair the door
What door? We're talking about your shirt.
Step four: Pull the LAW out of your pockets. Wow. The pockets. (Believe me, the LAW is there, just look very carefully)
Pockets? Stop interrupting me. So, your shirt. It has sleeves?
Step five: Fire the LAW at the cow. (explain to the cow that it will be a worthy sacrifice)
You're ignoring me.
Step Six: Use the remaining parts of the cow's carcass as a ravaged cow suit
Fine.
Step Seven: Walk casually out of the MJ12 Base + use the minisub they give you. The MJ12 will go all sad and cry because they saw a poor raveaged cow.
Hooray, You are free. You can now eat cheese without the cameras seeing you because the cow suit will make the survailence guys go "ahhh".
Ahhh?
BUT WAIT!
ACK!
Maybe Ghandiah doesn't WANT TO ESCAPE! Shock horror! That explains lots of things, why he constantly igonores perfectly good escape plans, and well, why he constantl goes on about cheese. Read the hidden meaning. Sorry, English Exams are getting to me. And I'd like to warn you that I've sent a squad of Jedi Masters to kill you for A) Disgracing the force by having a bendy lightsaber and B) YOU ARE ON THE DARK SIDE!!! YOUR LIGHTSABER IS RED!
Your ex biggest fan before he accidentally swallowed a spork and twelve foons,
Twiglet
YES... JOIN ME, OBI TWIGLET, AND TOGETHER WE WILL CRUSH THE GAMESPY!
No... NO! Must deny FilePlanet-smashing urges... ACTUALLY A GOOD SERVICE... ACTUALLY A GOOD SERVICE... KEEP IT TOGETHER... Keep it together... NO! HULK SMASH!
*Punches self in the face.*
*Begins ominously vibrating.*
Dude... Having a red lightsaber doesn’t constitute evilness. That’s profiling, man. ILLEGAL. ILLEGAL PROFILING. BAD. Almost as bad as KILLING POOR, DEFENSELESS COWS.
*Keeps vibrating.*
I mean, come on. Look at Darth Maul. He was so adorable. He was just defending himself. Everybody just ASSUMED he was EVIL because of his red lightsaber. Pffft. You know he just wanted to be friends and sing songs about pretty flowers... But those damn “GOOD” Jedi never gave him a CHANCE. Hell, everyone knows the Empire is really the good side, anyway...
*Continues vibration.*
It’s those damn Ewoks. It’s all their fault.
Was I saying anything remotely practical?
No?
Good.
*Vibration continues. Ghand look around the room.*
What is that?
Oh.
I'll show those insolent youngsters who's boss...
*Bangs randomly generated broom against the wall.*
*Silence fills the room.*
There.
Hello!
Go away.
After seeing how many times your escapes haved failed in the very last minute, I've finally noticed one thing. It seems to me like you are not being treated fairly and according to regulations by your captors.
What regulations?
I haven't even fully understood *why* you are being held locked up in a cell like you are. So to get things right, I think what you need is the help of someone special, some superhuman being, someone with the power to change to world.
We're of course talking about hiring BEN MATLOCK here! (
http://www.angelfire.com/biz2/benmatlock/ ) I am confident that with his aid
you should be able to get away.
-- zenzelezz
Matlock? Of the Andy Griffith Show fame? Wait... Meatlock? Meatlocker? I knew a man named Meatlocker once. Big guy. Real beefy. Scared the hell out of me.
I now have an incredible phobia of beef...
...
*Shudders.*
THAT WAS IT... WE HAD A PLAN... We knew how to ESCAPE... I could already taste the sweet, sweet sensation of FREEDOM on my tongue...
We were going to stage a false kidnapping. Those damn MJ12 would be blubbering with sorrow at the loss of my presence! They'd pay the ransom money to get me back, which the SpyGuy would then use to BUY MY FREEDOM! We would be using THEIR OWN MONEY! It was FLAWLESS!
Except it wasn't.
...
...
...
I mean, we all know... I'm the master of disguise...
...
It's those beets.
HEY, WHATEVER HAPPENED TO THAT NATHANK AND HIS MAILBAG? WHAT A BASTARD. IGNORING ALL HIS MAILBAG FANBOYS SO THAT HE CAN PRANCE IN HIS PERSONAL ENDEAVORS. WHAT ABOUT THEIR NEEDS, NATHAN? WE WANT THE REAL NATHAN BACK. THE MAN WE KNEW AND LOATHED.
*Spontaneously mashes his head against his keyboard.*
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