Have You Ever…

…wondered what it would be like if rules legitimately did not apply to you?  If you were given an actual “Get-Out-Of-Jail-Free” card?  Well, if it were me, I would gather (steal) as many guns I could find, jack some tree-killing Hummer, armor myself to the teeth and reenact the entire Grand Theft Auto video game series –spin-offs included.  I would set up real people to act as each character as I wreak havoc on city after city.  Explosions, car chases, and pointless killing would paint a stain of red across the Earth (Remember, this is all hypothetical.  I am not a serial killer, and most likely will never be).  Police would be powerless in trying to stop me –not only because they couldn’t arrest me, but they also would have all of their weapons replaced by wooden guns.  And cupcakes.  Nutella-icing cupcakes (I have a minor Nutella addiction, coming to a close second to my YouTube addiction).  Oh, how I revel in the sound of their cupcakes smacking the side of my H3 as their futile assaults are crushed beneath my hellish wrath (remember, NOT a psychopath)!

Cupcakes aside, I would only set up this real-life simulation so I can explicitly not follow it and just blow stuff up –like I do in the game anyway.  Come to think of it, it may actually be easier to play the actual game instead…

Nah, real explosions are more fun.  Especially with Nutella cupcakes.



The UberSandwich

First:  a slice of bread*, caked in Nutella.  Toasted.

Second:  banana slices, just ripe enough.

Third:  strawberry jam, mixed with blackberries.

Fourth:  another slice of bread, caked in Nutella.  NOT toasted.

Fifth:  any leftover candy from Halloween I can cram together and melt down into a steamy, pulsing spread of processed delicacy.

Sixth:  twelve slices of capicola (cured in sweaty basements of a Sicilian home for eleven years, three months, and seven days)twenty eight strips of the finest pig and buffalo bacon, still sizzling.

Seventh:  a final slice of bread*–smothered, not caked, in Nutella.  Toasted.


If there is anything that you would like to add to the UberSandwich, please specify in this post’s comment section.  Thank you.Image

*Can be (and should be) replaced by any kind of bagel–ANY KIND.  Preferably cinnamon.

That’s No Iceberg…

Our lips are parted by the crash of the room’s circular window being forced open.

“What was that?” I whisper to Jack.

“Nothing, Rose.  Just the wind,” he coaxes, leaning in to continue the kiss.

“Stop,” I insist,”listen.”

Cries cut the cold air like saw-blades in a forest.  We leap to the window to see why the Titanic is in an uproar on its maiden voyage.  Passengers and crewmen bustle about furiously on the frosted decks.  Before we could ask someone of what the turmoil was about, our door bursts open.

“The ship!  It’s…it’s sinking!” the crewman yells, blood splattered across his uniform.  “There’s a–”

He never finished, for he was flung from our door as the ship tilted violently towards the bow.  I looked into Jack’s eyes.

“It really is sinking, is it?” he stated nervously.

A thunderous shake of the vessel encourages us to find our way to the top deck.  Banquet trolleys and chandeliers crash on the red carpeted floors in a storm of fallen grandeur.  It takes all of my strength to hold onto Jack’s hand.  When we reach the top, with only the night sky illuminating the now darkened ship, we stand in astonishment over what has risen from the depths to crumple the Titanic.  I can only scream.

“What the hell is that thing?” Jack shouts, fear laced into his voice.

A mass of green scales and rigid bones towers above us, crowned by a head brimming with teeth.  Red eyes glare at the carnage below, his claws ripping through the steel hull as if it were butter.  His roar shatters the night.

“What can we do?” Jack says.

I turn to Jack, knowing I won’t be able to look at him for much longer.  “Nothing.”

We hold each other in our arms one last time before the monster’s hyper-beam incinerates us.  It then proceeds to tear the ship in half, sinking it to the ocean floor, and leaving only one survivor on an ice floe.

“It’s Godzilla!” the Japanese immigrant cries through a poorly timed lip-dub.


Procrastination Apologization

 Sorry I haven’t uploaded in a while.  I’ve been really busy and will experience writer’s block at times.  Last week was one of those times.  I promise to produce at least two posts per week, hopefully before Saturday.  This, I count as a post too, for I am enjoying procrastination far too much at the moment (those falling-asleep-while-standing-puppy-videos are not going to watch themselves!) to actually create something like “griffin farts”  or “talking toilet beats out Kanye West for US Presidency”.  But you have not heard the end of me yet.  There is still much that I am going to write– starting tomorrow.Image

The Most Frightening Thing Anyone Could Think Of

The “Stay Puft Marshmallow Man.”  Now, hear me out:  he is more than 100 feet of sugary, corn syrup soaked evil that terrorizes cities at the command of the all powerful “Gozer.”  The man-lady god-thing is scary by itself, but add the marshmallow, and it’s is downright horrific.  His power cannot be matched by any other colossal giant of sweetness.  I mean, come on, he’s got frickin’ laser-eyes!  None could escape his malicious wrath as he pounded down the streets of Manhattan.  The only thing scarier is the crossing of the streams that finally killed the thing.  Well, it was actually the explosion that destroyed him.  You know, come to think of it, any fire could have done the monster in.  I wonder if he ever could have been not evil?

Nah, we’d probably roast and eat him either way.  For all the power the Stay Puft Marshmallow Man had, I can’t help but feel a little sorry for him.  It ain’t easy being sweet.