Monday, January 24

Come back in a week, kids. That's when the story will continue. Continue in a big, really awesome sort of way.

Thanks.

Friday, January 21

Part Three in the story.

Part one=Wednesday, January 19, 2005
Part two=Thursday, January 20, 2005

Bloodbath and Arpit walk side by side through the worst traffic jam in history. No one is moving an inch in forever. Grandmas are sleeping on the hoods of their cadillacs and children are jumping from car roof to car roof, laughing and having fun.

But as they turn the corner they see the cause of the traffic.



There's a giant in the road, surrounded by a fiery inferno of destruction, eating cars and people like Halloween Candy.

"Wow, a giant!" yells Arpit.

Bloodbath scratches his head with the sword in his left hand.

Arpit runs up to the giant and starts climbing on the foot. The giant looks down at Arpit climbing on his big toe, smiles, and picks the child up between two enormous fingers.

Bloodbath looks around to see if anyone else is watching this shit.

The giant's hand raises Arpit slowly up and up towards the enormous mouth in the sky.

Bloodbath sticks the tip of his tounge out between his teeth, rears back, and throws a sword up at the giant's face. It sticks in the giant's forehead, but his forhead is about the size of a football field, so he barely notices at all. Arpit is almost to the giant's mouth, almost eaten by a giant person.

Bloodbath rears back and throws again. This time the sword lands neatly in the giant's left eye and gets caught under his lower eyelid.

The giant blinks. He closes his mouth and blinks again.

The giant roughly puts Arpit back on the ground, and with that hand rubs furiously at his eye.

The enormous orb, covered in red viens and tears, spins circles in its socket. But the sword sits lodged in there, and no amount of rubbing and blinking will remove it.

Without warning, the giant stands up and walks away, fists digging into his face moaning like a sick old lady.

With the giant gone, traffic begins slowly flowing past, slowly weaving it's way through the rubble.

Arpit looks up at Bloodbath. Bloodbath reaches into his jacket and pulls out two new swords.

"Limpy Blimpy's Happy Fun Time Place!" yells Arpit as loud as he has probably ever yelled anything. His fist pump in the air.

At the theme park, Arpit concentrates real hard, and throws the baseball at the tire. He misses the hole, and hits the guy running the prize booth in the stomach.

"Okay, that's the last time, kid," he barks as he grabs the last baseball from Arpit's hands.

In the background, the giant shuffles by, rubbing his eye. He isn't looking where he's going and knocks over a Ferris Wheel.

Thursday, January 20



Bloodbath the unemployed pirate captain and his best friend, suburban teenager Arpit, are stuck in traffic. It is almost noon, but it is completely dark out except for the moon and the street-lamps. It's the second day in a row the sun hasn't come up.

They are driving an old tan car. While the two friends were hanging out in the parking lot, a man pulled up real quick to pick something up from his apartment, leaving his car unlocked and turned on. Arpit and Bloodbath took it. Arpit wanted to go to Limpy Blimpy's Happy Fun Time Place, his favorite theme park.

Their new car sitting in dead-still traffic, Arpit is singing as loud as he can.
"Limpy Blimpy, you are so much fun!
We like to laugh and sing and dance
As you hurt everyone, oh!"
He looks over at Bloodbath in the passenger seat. "Hey Bloodbath, aren't you so excited about Limpy Blimpy's Happy Fun Time Place? Huh? I sure am!"

Someone behind them honks their car horn. "Huh, Bloodbath? Aren't you excited? I sure am!"

"I just don't get that show," Bloodbath says. "He just walks around hurting everyone. There be no plot or story or anything..."

"My dad says Plots and Morals are for suckers. Remember that one episode where that one fish kid of laughs at Blimpy's way of walking, so Blimpy breaks into his house and puts broken glass in his cereal? And the fish eats it and thinks it tastes all good, but then starts vomiting blood?"

Bloodbath nods his head, looking at the immobile cars surrounding them.

"Yeah, that was awesome. Just like Limpy Blimpy's Happy Fun Time Place is going to be!" and he starts singing again.
"Oh... He's Limpy, he's Blimpy, he has to use a cane!
He's Limpy, he's Blimpy, he loves to cause you pain!
So never get in his way,
for you will so dearly pay,
for all of your misdeeds,
so please shut your mouth please,
and let's all look away...
for here comes Limpy Blimpy! Yay!" Arpit claps his hands happily. Bloodbath rubs his head as he rolls down the window.

Arpit sings the song again.

And again.

And again.

And some more.

Bloodbath swings open the passenger side door and steps out into the sea of cars, the air full with the low hum of countless car engines patiently idling. No one's moved in over an hour.

"Hey," yells Arpit. "Hey, where you going Bloodbath?"

Bloodbath notices that there isn't a single car passing on the other side of the highway going South. He stands on his toes trying to see the cause of the traffic, but the road curves and he can't see around it.

"Hey," yells Arpit. "Where you going?" Bloodbath doesn't answer as he walks quickly going North, walking carefully between the cars so as not to scratch them with his swords. Arpit jumps out of the car and runs after his pirate friend. "Wait up!"

(to continue another day)

Wednesday, January 19

"Good morning, Mr. Happy Puppet Head," I say. "Time to get up."

"Go away," he says, burrowing deeper into his pillow.

"Come on, we have to film that Educati-FUN video." I shake his bed with my knee.

"It's still dark..."

I look out the window over his bed and realize that it is still dark, at nine in the morning. The sun should have risen around 7:30 or so. Huh.

Me and Mr. Happy Puppet Head go outside and stand on our front lawn, watching the clear star-filled sky, waiting. It's cold and a slight breeze ruffles my cape. The streetlamps are on a timer and turn off when the sun is supposed to come up. The only source of light is the half-sliver of moon hanging above us.

We watch as cars cruise slowly up and down the street, their headlights revealing confused-looking children with their parents sitting on their front porches and lawns, waiting, just like us.

"What do you think's happening?" I ask Mr. Happy Puppet Head.

"Nuclear winter," he says matter-of-factly. "Or some sort of modern-day apocalypse."

"You don't believe in apocalypse."

"I don't believe in lots of stuff," he says as he takes a couple of gulps from his hip flask.

So now we can't shoot the episode we had planned because the busses aren't running and it's too dark to film. I'm also worried about this whole missing-sun thing. It was going to be so great, too, tentatively titled "Mating is Good." Me and Mr. Happy Puppet Head came up with all sorts of ideas, shown here scribbled hastily on several napkins.




The purple is berry pie. It was messy, but delicious.

Hopefully the sun will show up, making our day delicious like that berry pie. And messy like a slovenly fat teenager, full of angst over her parents refusal to buy her a car in which to go to the beach with her other slovenly fat teenage friends. But if she'd just clean her room sometimes, they'd buy her the car. Just like the sun.

No, it isn't just you, that last joke felt very forced.


Rock and Flower.

Not upside-down.

"I'm hungry," says Rock.

Flower waves in the wind.

"I miss Jennifer," says Rock. "Remember her?"

Flower doesn't wave in the wind.

"I once saw a car," says Rock. "It was filled with old tires and it tipped over. The tires went everywhere."

Flower is eaten by a goat.

"Wait," says Rock.

Someone throws rock into the lake in order to make a splash.

Rock lands upside-down.

"I remember this place," says Rock.

Tuesday, January 18

She said she wanted to be a bank manager, and something interesting about her is that she is getting married. People congratulated this tall fat woman with the pale, pockmarked face. They were probably surprised. Maybe she was lying.

I imagine most of her insides a dull grey color. All grey except for that tiny bright bit next to her heart, ensconsed in grey, which, if let out, would tell her to smile more and move away to the beach.

Thursday, January 13

In the studio where The Midnight Mailman Show is taped, we had a janitor named Eugene. Me and Mr. Happy Puppet Head were always friendly with him. We'd say in unison, "Hey there, Eugene. You sure have a great janitor name. If you were maybe named Fantasmo or Horatio, no one would know you were a janitor at all." All three of us would laugh, because Eugene was the type of janitor who was an old friendly guy who'd seen everything. He thought cleaning up vommit and melted children was funny. We did, too. Still do.

But we don't know if he still thinks so, becuase now he's gone.

Mr. Happy Puppet Head had been working on a project in his dressing room. He'd found this hot-looking manequin girl and wanted to make her come to life. Being the smart floating puppet-friend he is, he mixed just the right amount of Amino Acids, Chemical Flakes, and Electricity, and brought that hot-looking manequin to life. He named her Deborah LaGrange LaRou. And they danced around and licked each other's faces.

But Deborah didn't want to come home with Mr. Happy Puppet Head at the end of the night. "The studio is my home," she said. "This is where our magic happens. Let's not ruin it."

So they aggreed, parting with tears and saliva-kisses. Deborah curled up in a corner and fell asleep.

The next morning Eugene came to work, chuckling over something the morning radio dj had said, and woke Deborah up.

"Hello, Eugene, old friend," she said as she smiled, rubbing her hot-manequin sleepy eyes. "Now I'm alive."

Eugene had been making out with hot-manequin Deborah for so long, wishing she had been a real girl as he fondled her plastic parts that his wish had built up so much that it's realization was simply too much. He collapsed with heart attack.

He didn't die, but in the hospital, holding my hand for support, he said "Midnight, I can't do it. What if she's not the girl I'd hoped she would be if she ever came alive? What if she disappoints? I just can't do it."

"She's my hot-manequin come alive, Eugene," Mr. Happy Puppet Head said. "You can't have her anyways."

"That's fine, too," he said. "But either way I quit."

So we'll miss you Eugene. It's going to be totally lame having to clean all this shit up from now on. Sure, you all say we should just make Deborah do it, but she's kind of mean sometimes.


Wednesday, January 12

A NEW MOVIE FOR YOU TO WATCH!

It's called "A Funny Joke" and it's another Big Scary Monster movie.

Tell your friends.



"Great!" he yells. "How am I supposed to sort through all this? There isn't time to sort through it all!"

"Um." she says. "What do your arms look like?"

"How should I know?" he yells as he stomps around in circles. "There's a right and a left! Four fingers, two palms, some elbows! Hurry!"

"Oh." she leans down and shuffles through the pile of arms with her still-attatched feet. "Hey, there's my left hand. You can tell because of the unicorn I drew on it with my pen."

He yells in a fit of furiousness, stomps some more, and kicks her unicorn-adorned arm as hard as he can.

"Hey," she shuffles over to where it landed and leans down to inspect it. "I need my arms, too."

"How am I supposed to get my arms back with all this chitter-chatter going on?" he jumps up on the pile of arms and starts kicking, severed limbs going every which way. "I can't do anyting without my arms, and I have lots and lots to be doing! Important lots of things!" And he yells again with the furiousness.

She finds her other arm. She knows it's hers because of the plastic ring she got from the quarter machine at the grocery store. It's shiny metal with a plastic pink stone on it.

With her feet she gently pushes both arms together a safe distance away from the yelling man. She turns back to help him find his arms.

But he keeps kicking and yelling and she keeps getting hit in the face by airborne limbs. Eventually she decides to leave him to himself, and shuffles back home to have her own arms sewn back on. She's going to need them to hug all of her friends, feed her pets, do handstands, and tie that cute boy next door to her bed so she can impregnate herself on him and finally have the family she's always wanted.



A lot of things have happened since January the second. One of those things is that Potato's sister Loraine is now named Patty.

The other thing is that Roboctopus, Potato and Patty's secret best friend, has burried Patty alive in their backyard.



"Roboctopus! No!" Potato yells. "If there is ever a good time to bury my sister alive, this would be the worst!"

As it turns out, Potato and Patty's parents are now on their way up to the children's shared bedroom for a Cleanliness Inspection. If even one thing is out of order, they'll be grounded for a week and won't be able to have fun with Roboctopus, whom they love so dearly. This is such an especially bad time for Patty to be underground because Potato knows for a fact that there is a sock, a little pink and yellow one, on the floor next to Patty's bed. She had thought she'd pick it up later, but now she's buried alive.

"It isn't too late," says Potato, clenching his fists dramatically. "They haven't gotten to our room yet, they're still on the stairs. I'll just dig fast."

"Hurry!" comes Patty's muffled yell from under the pile of freshly turned earth.

Potato starts digging as fast as he can, but after only a few scoops Roboctopus grabs the shovel and whacks the boy a few times with it. "Roboctopus, quit playing," Potato says as he takes back the shovel. But now it's harder to dig with one arm maybe broken and his vision so blurry. "Still have time..."

"I can't breath!" yells Patty.

And then the phone rings. Potato stops his one-armed digging and looks into the kitchen. "Aw, not now!" A week ago Potato had ordered a model submarine from a catalog. He'd been saving his money forever, and he was sure they were calling because he'd forgotten to specify whether he'd wanted the blue or the red one, and he sure as Hell didn't want the blue one. The blue one is for fat kids.

So he drops the shovel and hobbles into the kitchen as fast as he can, picks up the phone and yells into it "The red one! I want the red one!" before hobbling back out into the yard. He has to wrestle with Roboctopus for the shovel for a moment before the phone rings again. Potato figures they must need to verify the address, so he runs back inside, picks up the phone and yells, "1121 Thompson Avenue!" and back out into the yard for more fighting with Roboctopus for the shovel.

Patty, under so much dirt, surrounded by darkness and with the weight of death pressing hard on her, starts screaming.

And the phone rings yet again. And his parents are so close to his room now, but he wants that submarine so bad he can taste it, taste it stronger than the slimy tentacle Roboctopus is shoving down his throat. So he runs back inside, grabs the reciever and yells "What else could you possibly need to know?"

"Um..." the grownup on the other line says. "Are your parents home? This is an important business call."

Potato almost faints from relief and shovel-induced head trauma. He calls for his parents, who pick up the phone instantly, giving the damaged and nerve-wracked boy time to dig up his nearly-suffocated sister, hose each other off, and run upstairs to tidy up the sock.

The inspection goes as well as could be expected, in that their parents aren't horribly disappointed. Later, in the backyard, the children wrap their arms around Roboctopus's metal head and cheer for their freedom. Roboctopus grabs Patty's hair and pulls, but they all laugh because it doesn't really hurt too bad.

Sunday, January 2



An Educati-FUN Video!
*********************

Hygene is Good



We took away his toothbrush as well as all his other hygenic implements. For weeks the boy just got dirtier and dirtier, dust and refuse surrounding him in a cloud.

"My teeth are falling out," he says. Me and Mr. Happy Puppet Head stand back from him in order to avoid the awful stench.

"My eyes burn from infection," he says as he collapses on the floor. "I think the pain in my stomach is some sort of worm," as he rolls about, one hand on his stomach, the other rubbing his eyes furiously.

"You knew this would happen," I say. "We told you, but you wanted it this way. You wanted no more baths, no more soap, no more toothbrushes."

"I just want to have fun..." He passes out.

A fly has found it's way into the house and buzzes around the unconcious, dirty child.

"You think he's okay?" I ask Mr. Happy Puppet Head.

"Sure." He looks around the boy's room, decorated in race cars and rocket ships. "I'm gonna go look in his dad's room for porn."

Mr. Happy Puppet Head leaves the room, and I watch as another fly joins the other. It lands on the boy's puffy, pink eyelid.

I nudge the kid with my boot. He groans a little, eyes flutter, sending the fly off into the air for a moment before it lands again in his hair.

I put the toothbrush and toothpaste on the ground next to his head. Now he'll know the importance of brushed teeth and stuff.

"Hey Mr. Happy Puppet Head?" I yell.

"Yeah?" he answers from the room down the hall.

"Were those muffins I saw in the kitchen?"

"I think so."

Good. I could sure go for a muffin right now.