Wednesday, November 16, 2005

Musical Methadone & Mental Masturbation - Volume 5

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It was just the opening that Superdaddyman had been looking forward to the entire week, as the rain was falling throughout the streets of Megalopolis, and especially upon the headquarters of the Diabolical Pink Mafia. The plans for “Operation Get Paco Taco” {OGPT} or better know through the codename of “The Mother of all Pranks” {MAP} had finally arrived, and we didn’t know if we were going to have another opportunity like this one before Superdaddyman, is forced into the exile of toilet scrubbing, and office maintenance, so we all set upon the diabolical scheme that my trusty sidekicks and I had been working on for days. The scheme as it was laid out, took and amazing amount of sneaky preparation, and as King Paco Taco, was on to us, we needed to be extra careful. The big bruise on the side of his forehead {left behind by an obvious defect in the wheels of his chair ~winks~} was his reminder to remain constantly vigilant. To that end I have had the second biggest idiot that I have ever met, be my shadow for the last 3 shifts. What he lacks in brains, he does make up for in “ineffectual, middle management, suck up skills” and this made the tasks that much more difficult. Superdaddyman had to leave most of the last second duties to his two accomplices that we shall call Agent T and Agent A {T&A for short}.

Now a little background, on the art of a really good prank, I truly feel is in order, as I have never really gone into the details of what it takes to be a high quality prank in my book. There are those people who think that the simple “Short Sheeting” of life’s bed is a perfectly acceptable way of pranking, and I say, “If vanilla be your ice cream, then you may rarely be disappointed” … Superdaddyman {a once super evil mastermind turned “Guardian of the Evils’s” … “Virginity Defender” … and major player in the “Taking Down of the Pink Mafia” } is far more complex than that you see. The easiest way to describe a good prank is knowing that you have left your victim … oops … um … I mean … Friend … yeah … with that feeling of “Wile E. Coyote” after all is said and done, and this seriously takes more than a whoopee cushion kids. I apologize ahead of time to anyone who took that whole “Inflatable Sheep” scenario seriously as it was merely a ruse to keep King George from tipping of King Paco Taco, to the absolute hell, and wrath … oops … good spirited fun, that was coming for him {come to find out this morning that King George never said a word, and although disappointed at missing out on the photographs, gave HUGE style points anyway}.

I was being tailed by Corky Pig, the entire night, so I needed to create a flank while T&A were off creating the final preparations, and the cover of my usual antics at work, did the trick quite nicely. The perfect song came on the radio, and rather than resort to the whole “Musical Methadone” angle of it all I went strait for the “Mental Masturbation” angle instead. The song … Bon Jovi’s “You Give Love A Bad Name” {don’t laugh, you’ll see how this works in a minute} … I immediately ramped it up, for humor purposes “Shot for my ass! .. And you’re to BLAME! … You gave the ol’ shmekie a BAD PAIN!” … oh yeah, the laughter starts pretty quickly {well except for the brain surgeon following me around, but he is a mental microbe amongst planets} … Now the real trick is to keep going until nobody is able to think about anything but that stupid song. Once they start worrying about what comes out of your mouth next, you have them. “You left your scar … on my favorite VEIN! … Thanks to your VD! … I ain’t the same!” … As time continues, you start answering everyone’s questions with the song, {I think you’re so dumb … Why ain’t you got a brain? … And your momma dresses you … pretty lame} until they start calling King Paco Taco, to come down and deal with “Under Fruit” cuz he is getting annoying.

More background … Behind the shop are the huge silos that hold 4 things … Asphalt … Flux {Petroleum} … Granules {Silica} … Filler {Talc} … I often found it strange that King Paco Taco would obsessively go out and check all of these readings himself without letting the people who were supposed to be doing it {me} go out and do it. The Super Evil of the Superdaddyman investigated the situation and found out that he was secretly meeting with another Jose out in the filler silo, Mr. Cuervo {ok that was total bullsh*t it was actually his Buddy Weiser, but I thought the other sounded more creative}, and that was when it hit me, that the Talc, mixed with a little water might be kinda fun … muahahahaha … I spent many days widdling away my spare time taking the storm roof apart over the door that he goes out {right under the dump spout from the roof} and replacing the two bolts that hold the thing up with Cotter Pins, so that it could be taken off and the door would open up to a water fall. The harder part was hooking up the vacuum timer so that it would blow into the silo, and get all of the loose talc at the bottom swirling around like a tornado, so that when the door got opened up … poof … huge cloud of talc. The tools I needed were in the metal shop, and King Paco Taco banned me from there when he realized my superior welding skills . The tools were snuck out to me for moments during the nights leading up to the unveiling.

I finally escaped from Corky Pig after a confrontation where he mumbled something and I said “I could here you better if you get that dick out of your mouth,” which he of course had the snappy comeback of “Well then get your dick out of my mouth,” … um … yeah … ok … You know I had to say “If I close my eyes, I can at least pretend you are a woman do you do the same?” which led to the argument that had us sent to our rooms {mine being the Mini-Van for lunch} and the idiot, back to his fork truck. The whole ordeal made King Paco Taco need a break too, and I was at the front door, when I heard “YOU MOTHER F*CKER” come booming down the hallway from the side door, the only question remaining was answered when I got to the door of the Mini-Van and heard “I’M GOING TO F*CKING KILL YOU” come from the general vicinity of the silo’s … Idle threats, as Superdaddyman had his beer, safely tucked away in King George’s locker, where King George told Superdaddyman to put it as a cover for the “other” prank he thought he was going to come into this morning. I’m glad that some Kings, never forget their loyal Underbosses ;8o)

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Nothing that was printed here was intended to offend anyone, and if it did, fuck ya, you begged for it. If you believe that there are some measures that can be taken to change me, then please feel free to pray for me, and while you are at it yourself, because you read this far, and if you hated every minute of it, then you are an idiot, not me, or the other people who like what I have to say! .. Jeremy

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Jeremy Fink and The Crow's Nest